But the Pilgrims were not destined to remain in Holland. Their residence there had begun at the beginning of the twelve years’ truce between Holland and Spain, and it was not unreasonably feared that a renewal of hostilities might result in the triumph of Philip, and a persecution of the little band more serious than any they had before encountered. They were also gradually losing their identity among strange people with strange language and habits, with whom, like a river flowing to the sea, they might be merged and lost. Having determined, then, to leave Leyden, their place of destination became the subject of serious and prolonged discussion. Virginia, however, was decided upon, and arrangements were at once made for their departure. It is unnecessary to trace their progress further; the story of their voyage is a familiar one. The little band, which disappeared from the eyes of the world, as what is mortal in man enters the valley of the shadow of death, has like his risen spirit emerged into a glorious immortality. The manor-house where they worshipped has gone to ruin; their sanctuary in Leyden is unknown; of the little house on the hill in Plymouth where their first prayers in the New World were uttered, no relic remains; but the little one has become a thousand, and wherever in this happy land a modest tower or spire rears its head above the trees, there may be found a Scrooby church. Transcriber’s Notes New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain. Perceived typographical errors have been silently corrected.