In the days of Queen Elizabeth the Pinta, a very small vessel, sailed away from the shore of England. The people were all crowded on deck looking at the carved rocks around which many small streams cut their channel. But soon nothing except the blue wates could be seen, and they retired to their rooms below.

The first six days of the voyage all went well, but when they were nearing the shore of North America, large, black clouds could be seen floating in the sky, and a terrific storm arose, drifting the ship into the bay of New York.

After the sky was clear and they could once more go on deck, they saw a large stretch of land covered with tall trees and beautiful flowers. Some of the men took a little boat and sailed along the shore to find a more convenient place to build their homes, but did not succeed so they returned to the ship and said that the best place was near New York bay.

The following day the men staid on shore, chopped and hewed the logs for their huts. During the time the huts were being built, the women and children staid on the ship but rowed out every day to plant corn, potatoes and pumpkins.

A few months were spent in their new homes and they gathered the corn and pumpkins. Thanksgiving day was arriving and the men were hunting for turkeys, while the women were busy preparing for the Thanksgiving dinner.

The next day just as the people were about to sit down and eat their Thanksgiving dinner, they heard an Indian war whoop which excited them very much. The men jumped up and grabbed their rifles, while the women took their children and ran to the blockhouse.

The white men fought very bravely but soon fell back, and the Indians slaughtered all the men except Mr. Bently, who fled to the woods. After the Indians had slaughtered all the men, they returned to the blockhouse, captured the women and children, and set the houses on fire.

After the Indians returned to their camp Mr. Bently came back to his home to look for his daughter, but he did not succeed, but only found everything destroyed except an old hatchet which the Indians had forgotten.

Mr. Bently took the old hatchet and went to the woods to build a log hut for himself. After he did this he dressed like an Indian and went to the camp of the Indians to look for his daughter, and found her tied to a tree. While he was talking to her he noticed that she was dying and the last words she spoke to her father were, "You will not forget me, will you?" and before he could answer her questions, she died.

Mr. Bently took his daughter's body and buried it near his cottage, and as a year or two passed he saw a little blue flower growing on her grave and he named it the "For-Get-Me-Not" because those were the last words of his loving daughter.

{Note: This story was included in the booklet, Origin of Flowers, which was written in June 1906}

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