A Boston Thanksgiving Story
Once upon a time Boston, and indeed the whole land, was covered with trees instead of houses; and there were no streets, no stores, no churches, no big buildings of any kind. Yet people lived here – Indians—who loved to live in the woods. There were no carpenters among the Indians, so they did not build real houses, but had tents or wigwams.
By and by some people like us came to this land; but as they came in winter the farmers could not plant anything, the ground being frozen; and so the miller had no wheat to grind into flour, and the baker had no flour to make bread of, and there was very little for the people to eat. They had fish, and clams, and such things, but often had to go hungry. A ship, which they had sent across the great ocean to bring them more provisions, had been gone so long that it seemed as if it must be lost; and the poor, hungry people did not know what they should do.
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