er in search of Coppin's harbor, which afterward proved to be Cut
River and the site of Marshfield, but to explore the landlocked harbor
lying before them.

Carefully sounding as she went, the shallop felt her way through the Cow
Yard or Horse Market, around Beach Point, and having the flood tide with
her rode triumphantly over Dick's Flat and Mother White's Guzzle, until
finally, with furled sails and her head to the wind, she lay within a
biscuit toss of the shore.

"See, there are cleared fields and a river full of fish, and all things
ready to our hand," cried Howland excitedly.

"Bring her up to the beach, then, and we will land and explore," replied
Carver, smiling at the young man's enthusiasm.

"There is a rock a few rods ahead set ready for a stepping-stone,"
announced Howland standing in the bows.

"Lay her up to it, men," growled English, and in a moment the bows of
the shallop caressingly touched the cheek of that great gray Rock,
itself a pilgrim, as has well been said, from some far northern shore,
brought here by the vast forces of Nature, and laid to wait in grand
patience, until the ages should bring it a name, a use, and a nation's
love and honor.

"Jump then, lad, and see thou jump not five fadom deep, as thou didst
out there in mid-seas!" cried Hopkins, and Howland leaping lightly from
the boat to the rock cried in his blithe voice,--

"And I seize this mainland for King James, even as Master Clarke did yon
island."

"Only thou dost not claim it for thine own under the king as he did,"
replied Coppin.

"It seemeth to me," said Carver as he stepped on shore, "as if this
place were fairly laid down on Smith's map that we were studying. Think
you not so, Master Winslow?"

"Ay, I believe it is the place he hath called Plymouth after our English
town."

"Why, then, if we are minded to tarry here, it were well befitting that
we should continue the name, for our Plymouth brethren cheered and
comforted us marvelously in our sad outsetting," replied the governor,
and Bradford added,--

"They were in very truth kinder than our own."

"'T is a better harbor than English Plymouth can boast," said Coppin
turning to survey the bay.

"Harbor! English Plymouth's harbor is no better than a slaughter pen!
Not less than ten good ships were pounded to pieces there in the last
year," said the sailor Alderton.

"Yes, 't is worse than the Goodwin Sands, if that can be," echoed
English.

"While here i