THE GREAT REPUBLIC BY THE MASTER HISTORIANS: THE PERIOD BEFORE COLUMBUS.

HUBERT H. BANCROFT.

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  • ON THE ORIGIN OF THE AMERICANS.
  • THE KINGDOM OF FU-SANG.
  • DISCOVERY OF AMERICA BY THE NORTHMEN.
  • THE ABORIGINES OF AMERICA.
  • THE ERA OF DISCOVERY.
  • THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA BY COLUMBUS.
  • THE DISCOVERY OF THE PACIFIC BY BALBOA.
  • RETREAT OF CORTES FROM THE CITY OF MEXICO.
  • HERNANDO DE SOTO.
  • THE DISCOVERY OF THE ST. LAWRENCE.
  • THE MASSACRE OF THE FRENCH PROTESTANTS.
  • THE COLONIES OF SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
  • THE ERA OF SETTLEMENT.
  • JOHN SMITH AND THE JAMESTOWN COLONY.
  • THE INDIAN MASSACRE IN VIRGINIA.
  • THE SETTLEMENT OF MARYLAND.
  • THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS.
  • THE PEQUOT WAR.
  • CHAMPLAIN AND THE IROQUOIS.
  • THE SETTLEMENT OF NEW YORK.
  • THE QUAKER COLONY.
  • THE "GRAND MODEL" GOVERNMENT.
  • LOUISIANA AND THE NATCHEZ.
  • PROGRESS OF THE COLONIES.

  • ON THE ORIGIN OF THE AMERICANS.

    [The written history of America begins with the year 1492, the date of the first voyage of Columbus to its previously-unknown shores. Yet there pertains to the preceding period a considerable variety of interesting material of a semi- historical character, — is part traditional, legendary, and speculative, in part based on researches into the languages, race-characteristics, customs, and antiquities of the American aborigines. Some attention to the abundant literature relating to this earlier epoch seems desirable as a preface to the recent history of America. This literature is in no proper sense American history, yet it is all we know of the existence of man upon this continent during the ages preceding the close of the fifteenth century. It is far too voluminous, and, as a rule, too speculative, to be dealt with otherwise than very briefly, yet it cannot properly be ignored in any work on the history of the American continent. The more speculative portion of this literature has been fully and ably treated by Hubert H. Bancroft, in his "Native Races of the Pacific States," from which we make our opening Half-Hour selection, lack of space, however, forbidding us from giving more than some brief extracts from his extended treatise on the subject.]

    WHEN it first became known to Europe that a new continent had been discovered, the wise men, philosophers, and especially the learned ecclesiastics, were sorely perplexed to account for such a discovery. A problem was placed before them, the solution of which was not to be found in the records of the ancients. On the contrary, it seemed that old-time traditions must give way, the infallibility of revealed knowledge must be called in question, even the Holy Scriptures must be interpreted anew. Another world, upheaved, as it were, from the depths of the sea of darkness, was suddenly placed before them. Strange races, speaking strange tongues, peopled the new land; curious plants covered its surface; animals unknown to science roamed through its immense forests; vast seas separated it from the known world; its boundaries were undefined; its whole character veiled in obscurity. Such was the mystery that, without rule or precedent, they were now required to fathom..

    When, therefore, the questions arose, whence were these new lands peopled? how came these strange animals and plants to exist on a continent cut off by vast oceans from the rest of the world? the wise men of the time unhesitatingly turned to the Sacred Scriptures for an answer. These left them no course but to believe that all mankind were descended from one pair. This was a premise that must by no means be disputed. The original home of the first pair was generally supposed to have been situated in Asia Minor; the ancestors of the people found in the New World must consequently have originally come from the Old World, though at what time and by what route was an open question, an answer to which was diligently sought for both in the sacred prophesies and in the historical writings of antiquity..

    Noah's ark, says Ulloa, gave rise to a number of such constructions, and the experience gained during the patriarch's aimless voyage emboldened his descendants to seek strange lands in the same manner. Driven to America and the neighboring islands by winds and currents, they found it difficult to return, and so remained and peopled the land. He thinks the custom of eating raw fish at the present day among some American tribes was acquired during these long sea- voyages. That they came by sea is evident, for the north—if indeed the continent be connected with the Old World—must be impassable by reason of extreme cold. Ulloa, though he would not for a moment allow that there could have been more than one general creation, does not attempt to account for the presence of strange animals and plants in America; and I may observe here that this difficulty is similarly avoided by all writers of his class. Lescarbot cannot see why "Noah should have experienced any difficulty in reaching America by sea, when Solomon's ships made voyages lasting three years." Villagutierre, on the contrary, thinks it more probable that Noah's sons came to America by land; an opinion also held by Thompson, who believes, however, that the continents were not disconnected until some time after the flood, by which time America was peopled from the Old World.

    [Many other writers have advocated this theory, basing their belief on the numerous deluge-myths which exist among the traditions of the American tribes, and which bear a certain resemblance to the Biblical story of the deluge, even in some cases describing the subsequent building of a tower of refuge, and the disconcertion of the builders in their impious act by the gods, or by the Great Spirit. Yet most modern writers consider these myths to have been of local origin.]

    Let us now turn from these wild speculations, with which volumes might be filled, but which are practically worthless, to the special theories of origin, which are, however, for the most part, scarcely more satisfactory.

    Beginning with eastern Asia, we find that the Americans, or in some instances their civilization only, are supposed to have come originally from China, Japan, India, Tartary, Polynesia. Three principal routes are proposed by which they may have come, — namely, Bering Strait, the Aleutian Islands, and Polynesia. The route taken by no means depends upon the original habitat of the immigrants: thus, the people of India may have immigrated to the north of Asia, and crossed Bering Strait, or the Chinese may have passed from one to the other of the Aleutian Islands until they reached the western continent. Bering Strait is, however, the most widely advocated, and perhaps most probable, line of communication. The narrow strait would hardly hinder any migration either east or west, especially as it is frequently frozen over in winter. At all events, it is certain that from time immemorial constant intercourse has been kept up between the natives on either side of the strait; indeed, there can be no doubt that they are one and the same people. Several writers, however, favor the Aleutian route..

    The theory that America was peopled, or at least partly peopled, from eastern Asia, is certainly more widely advocated than any other, and, in my opinion, is moreover based upon a more reasonable and logical foundation than any other. It is true, the Old World may have been originally peopled from the New, and it is also true that the Americans may have had an autochthonic origin; but, if we must suppose that they have originated on another continent, then it is to Asia that we must first look for proofs of such an origin, at least so far as the people of northwestern America are concerned. "It appears most evident to me," says the learned Humboldt, "that the monuments, methods of computing time, systems of cosmogony, and many myths of America, offer striking analogies with the ideas of eastern Asia, — analogies which indicate an ancient communication, and are not simply the result of that uniform condition in which all nations are found in the dawn of civilization."

    [Closely similar opinions are expressed by Prescott, Dr. Wilson, Colonel Smith, Dupaix, Tschudi, Gallatin, and other writers. In addition to the theory of a Chinese settlement in the fifth century, which we shall consider subsequently, there are theories of Mongol and Japanese settlement.]

    In the thirteenth century the Mongol emperor Kublai Khan sent a formidable armament against Japan. The expedition failed, and the fleet was scattered by a violent tempest. Some of the ships, it is said, were cast upon the coast of Peru, and their crews are supposed to have founded the mighty empire of the Incas, conquered three centuries later by Pizarro. Mr. John Ranking, who leads the van of theorists in this direction, has written a goodly volume upon this subject, which certainly, if read by itself, ought to convince the reader as satisfactorily that America was settled by Mongols, as Kingsborough's work that it was reached by the Jews, or Jones's argument that the Tyrians had a hand in its civilization. That a Mongol fleet was sent against Japan, and that it was dispersed by a storm, is matter of history; but that any of the distressed ships were driven upon the coast of Peru can be but mere conjecture, since no news of such an arrival ever reached Asia..

    A Japanese origin, or at least a strong infusion of Japanese blood, has been attributed to the tribes of the northwest coast. There is nothing improbable in this; indeed, there is every reason to believe that on various occasions small parties of Japanese have reached the American continent, have married the women of the country, and necessarily left the impress of their ideas and physical peculiarities upon their descendants. Probably these visits were all, without exception, accidental; but that they have occurred in great numbers is certain. There have been a great many instances of Japanese junks drifting upon the American coast, many of them after having floated helplessly about for many months. Mr. Brooks gives forty-one particular instances of such wrecks, beginning in 1782, twenty-eight of which date since 1850. Only twelve of the whole number were deserted. In a majority of cases the survivors remained permanently at the place where the waves had brought them. There is no record in existence of a Japanese woman having been saved from a wreck. The reasons for the presence of Japanese and the absence of Chinese junks are simple. There is a current of cold water setting from the Arctic Ocean south along the east coast of Asia, which drives all the Chinese wrecks south. The Kuro Siwo, or "black stream," commonly known as the Japan current, runs northward past the eastern coast of the Japan Islands, then curves round to the east and south, sweeping the whole west coast of North America, a branch, or eddy, moving towards the Sandwich Islands. A drifting wreck would be carried towards the American coast at an average rate of ten miles a day by this current..

    We may now consider that theory which supposes the civilized peoples of America to be of Egyptian origin, or, at least, to have derived their arts and culture from Egypt. This supposition is based mainly on certain analogies which have been thought to exist between the architecture, hieroglyphics, methods of computing time, and, to a less extent, customs of the two countries. Few of these analogies will, however, bear close investigation, and, even where they will, they can hardly be said to prove anything..

    Turning now to western Asia, we find the honor of first settling America given to the adventurous Phoenicians. The sailors of Carthage are also supposed by some writers to have first reached the New World; but, as the exploits of colony and mother-country are spoken of by most writers in the same breath, it will be the simplest plan to combine the two theories here. They are based on the fame of these people as colonizing navigators more than upon any actual resemblance that have been found to exist between them and the Americans. It is argued that their ships sailed beyond the Pillars of Hercules to the Canary Islands, and that such adventurous explorers having reached that point would be sure to seek farther. The records of their voyages and certain passages in the works of several of the writers of antiquity are supposed to show that the ancients knew of a land lying in the far west..

    Diodorus Siculus relates that the Phoenicians discovered a large island in the Atlantic Ocean, beyond the Pillars of Hercules, several days' journey from the coast of Africa. This island abounded in all manner of riches. The soil was exceedingly fertile; the scenery was diversified by rivers, mountains, and forests. It was the custom of the inhabitants to retire during the summer to magnificent country-houses, which stood in the midst of beautiful gardens. Fish and game were found in great abundance. The climate was delicious, and the trees bore fruit at all seasons of the year. The Phoenicians discovered this fortunate island by accident, being driven upon its coast by contrary winds. On their return they gave glowing accounts of its beauty and fertility, and the Tyrians, who were also noted sailors, desired to colonize it..

    [Several authors have believed these "Fortunate Islands" to be America, but in all probability they were the Canary Islands.]

    The theory that the Americans are of Jewish descent has been discussed more minutely and at greater length than any other. Its advocates, or at least those of them who have made original researches, are comparatively few; but the extent of their investigations, and the multitude of parallelisms they adduce in support of their hypothesis, exceed by far any we have yet encountered.

    Of the earlier writers on this subject, Garcia is the most voluminous. Of modern theorists, Lord Kingsborough stands pre-eminently first, as far as bulky volumes are concerned; though Adair, who devotes half of a thick quarto to the subject, is by no means second to him in enthusiasm—or rather fanaticism—and wild speculation.

    [The idea advanced is that America was settled by the ten lost tribes of Israel, in support of which a multitude of similarities between American and Jewish customs and characteristics are adduced, yet none of them sufficient to influence any cool-headed critic.]

    We now come to the theory that the Americans, or at least part of them, are of Celtic origin. In the old Welsh annals there is an account of a voyage made in the latter half of the twelfth century by one Madoc, a son of Owen Gwynedd, prince of North Wales. The story goes, that after the death of Gwynedd his sons contended violently for the sovereignty. `Madoc, who was the only peaceable one among them, determined to leave his disturbed country and sail in search of some unknown land where he might dwell in peace. He accordingly procured an abundance of provisions and a few ships, and embarked with his friends and followers. For many months they sailed westward without finding a resting-place; but at length they came to a large and fertile country, where, after sailing for some distance along the coast in search of a convenient landing-place, they disembarked and permanently settled. After a time Madoc, with part of his company, returned to Wales, where he fitted out ten ships with all manner of supplies, prevailed on a large number of his countrymen to join him, and once more set sail for the new colony, which, though we hear no more about him or his settlement, he is supposed to have reached safely..

    Claims have also been put in for an Irish discovery of the New World. St. Patrick is said to have sent missionaries to the "Isles of America," and early writers have gravely discussed the probability of Quetzalcoatl [the Mexican white deity] having been an Irishman. There is no great improbability that the natives of Ireland may have reached, by accident or otherwise, the northeastern shores of the new continent in very early times, but there is certainly no evidence to prove that they did.

    [The evidences in favor of the several theories described by Mr. Bancroft, as presented by the many writers upon these subjects, are given by him in considerable detail, and their probability discussed, with the final conclusion that none of the theorists have succeeded in proving that the Americans were of Old-World origin, and that "no one at the present day can tell the origin of the Americans: they may have come from any one or from all the hypothetical sources enumerated in the foregoing pages, and here the question must rest until we have more light upon the subject."

    A brief reference to the Atlantis theory, omitted in our extract from Bancroft, is here in place. The story of a land that formerly lay in or beyond the Atlantic, and was subsequently submerged, is mentioned by several Greek writers, and is said by Plutarch to have been communicated to Solon by the priests of several Egyptian cities. According to Plato, these priests declared that the events related to Solon had taken place nine thousand Egyptian years previously. In the Platonic version the priestly story was to the effect that beyond the Pillars of Hercules there was an island larger than Asia Minor and Libya combined. From this island one could pass to other islands, and thence to a continent which surrounded the sea containing them. In the island of Atlantis reigned three powerful kings, whose dominion extended to some of the other islands and to part of the continent, and reached at one time into Africa and Europe. Uniting their forces, they invaded eastern Europe, but were defeated and their army destroyed by the Athenians, independence being gained by all the subject countries east of the Pillars of Hercules. Afterwards, in one day and night, earthquakes and inundations overwhelmed Atlantis and sunk it beneath the sea, which became impassable on account of the mud which the sunken island left in its place.

    The theory that there actually existed such an island, extending to the vicinity of, or perhaps continuous with, the American continent, has been held by several writers, principal among them being the Abbe Brasseur de Bourbourg. The recent advocacy of the theory is based on the fact that traditions and written records of cataclysms similar to that described by the Egyptian priests have been found among the American nations. Yet the story is in all probability one of those fabulous statements of which many can be found in the works of ancient writers.]

    THE KINGDOM OF FU-SANG.

    S. WELLS WILLIAMS.

    (TRANSLATION.)

    [In addition to the speculative theories above described are two historical documents of considerably more value, one given in the Chinese annals, and one in the Scandinavian literature, which appear to point to discoveries of America centuries before the era of Columbus, first by the Chinese, afterwards by the Northmen.

    The argument of several writers, that the Chinese discovered America early in the Christian era, is based upon a curious historical statement in the works of Ma Twan-lin, one of the most notable of Chinese historians. It is professedly an extract from the official records of China, embracing a traveller's tale told in the year 499 A.D. by a Buddhist priest named Hwui Shin, on his return from a journey he had made to a country lying far to the east. This story seems to have been considered of sufficient importance to be recorded by the imperial historiographer, from whom Ma Twan-lin copied it. It describes the people and natural conditions of a country known as Fu-sang, and has given rise to considerable controversy, some writers asserting that Japan was the country visited, others claiming this honor for America. The literature of the subject is summed up in E. P. Vining's "An Inglorious Columbus," a recent work, in which the Chinese record is exhaustively reviewed, and the balance of proof shown to incline towards the American theory.

    Of the various translations of the Chinese record we present that of Professor S. Wells Williams, prefacing it with the statement of Li-yan-tcheou, the original historian, that in order to reach this distant country one must set out from the coast of the Chinese province of Leao-tong, to the north of Peking, reaching Japan after a journey of twelve thousand li. Thence a voyage of seven thousand li northward brings one to the country of Wen-shin. Five thousand li eastward from this place lies the country of Ta-han. From the latter place Fu- sang may be reached after a further voyage of twenty thousand li. (The li is a variable measure, ordinarily given as about one-third of a mile in length.)]

    IN the first year of the reign Yung-yuen of the emperor Tung Hwan-hau, of the Tsi dynasty (A.D. 499), a Shaman priest named Hwui Shin arrived at King-chau from the Kingdom of Fu-sang. He related as follows:

    Fu-sang lies east of the Kingdom of Ta-han more than twenty thousand li; it is also east of Middle Kingdom [China]. It produces many fu-sang trees, from which it derives its name. The leaves of the fu-sang resemble those of the tung tree. It sprouts forth like the bamboo, and the people eat the shoots. Its fruit resembles the pear, but is red; the bark is spun into cloth for dresses, and woven into brocade. The houses are made of planks. There are no walled cities with gates. The (people) use characters and writing, making paper from the bark of the fu-sang. There are no mailed soldiers, for they do not carry on war. The law of the land prescribes a southern and a northern prison. Criminals convicted of light crimes are put into the former, and those guilty of grievous offences into the latter. Criminals, when pardoned, are let out of the southern prison; but those in the northern prison are not pardoned. Prisoners in the latter marry. Their boys become bondmen when eight years old, and the girls bondwomen when nine years old. Convicted prisoners are not allowed to leave their prison while alive. When a nobleman (or an official) has been convicted of crime, the great assembly of the nation meets and places the criminal in a hollow (or pit); they set a feast, with wine, before him, and then take leave of him. If the sentence is a capital one, at the time they separate they surround (the body) with ashes. For crimes of the first grade, the sentence involves only the person of the culprit; for the second, it reaches the children and grandchildren; while the third extends to the seventh generation.

    The king of this country is termed yuch-ki; the highest rank of nobles is called tui-li; the next, little tui-li; and the lowest, no-cha-sha. When the king goes abroad he is preceded and followed by drummers and trumpeters. The color of his robes varies with the years in the cycle containing the ten stems. It is azure in the first two years; in the second two years it is red; it is yellow in the third; white in the fourth; and black in the last two years. There are oxen with long horns, so long that they will hold things,—the biggest as much as five pecks. Vehicles are drawn by oxen, horses, and deer; for the people of that land rear deer just as the Chinese rear cattle, and make cream of their milk. They have red pears, which will keep a year without spoiling; water-rushes and peaches are common. Iron is not found in the ground, though copper is; they do not prize gold or silver, and trade is conducted without rent, duty, or fixed prices.

    In matters of marriage it is the low that the [intending] son-in-law must erect a hut before the door of the girl's house, and must sprinkle and sweep the place morning and evening for a whole year. If she then does not like him, she bids him depart; but if she is pleased with him they are married. The bridal ceremonies are for the most part like those of China. A fast of seven days is observed for parents at their death; five for grandparents; and three days for brothers, sisters, uncles, or aunts. Images to represent their spirits are set up, before which they worship and pour out libations morning and evening; but they wear no mourning or fillets. The successor of the king does not attend personally to government affairs for the first three years. In olden times they knew nothing of the Buddhist religion, but during the reign Ta-ming of the emperor Hiao Wu-ti of the Lung dynasty (A.D. 458), from Ki-piu five beggar priests went there. They travelled over the kingdom, everywhere making known the laws, canons, and images of that faith. Priests of regular ordination were set apart among the natives, and the customs of the country became reformed.

    [In addition to this statement, the Chinese annals contain an account of the "Kingdom of Women." of the "Great Han country," and of the "Land of Marked (or Tattooed) Bodies," all related in situation to Fu-sang. That given, however, is the most matter-of-fact of these several narratives, and appears to describe an actual country, though its details do not tally very closely with the known conditions of either Japan or Mexico, which latter country is believed by Mr. Vining to be the true Fu-sang. In his view the maguey represents the fu-sang tree, and he brings many analogies to bear in favor of his theory, though the actual location of Fu-sang, like those of Atlantis, the Fortunate Islands, and Vinland, must always remain a matter of doubt and controversy.]

    DISCOVERY OF AMERICA BY THE NORTHMEN.

    ARTHUR J. WEISE.

    (TRANSLATION.)

    [In considering the reputed discovery of America by the Northmen we stand upon much firmer ground, and the story, though it has not been without dispute, is accepted by many writers as describing an actual event. In fact, it is of high probability on its face, since the daring navigators who successively sailed to and colonized Iceland and Greenland might very easily have made a farther voyage to the American continent.

    The Scandinavian vikings, in their single-masted, many-oared galleys, often ventured far out on the waters of the Atlantic, and in the year 860, Naddoddr, one of these Norse pirates, was blown by an adverse wind upon the coast of Iceland. In 876 another navigator, driven beyond Iceland by a storm, saw in the distance the coast of an unknown land. About the year 981, Eric the Red, an Icelandic outlaw, sailed in search of this land, and discovered a new country, which he named Greenland as an inducement to immigrants.

    The sagas or written legends of Iceland, which describe these events, relate that subsequent to the discovery of Greenland the vikings made frequent voyages to the south, to a land which had been discovered there by one Bjarni, and which received the name of Vinland. Some writers consider these stories as too vague and mythical to be of any value, while others accept them as containing definite and trustworthy information concerning the eastern coast of America at that date. This new land is said to have been first discovered by Bjarni in 985, during a voyage from Iceland to Greenland. We select from "The Discoveries of America to the year 1525," by Arthur James Weise, a translation of some of the more significant portions of these sagas.]

    As soon as they had fitted for the voyage, they intrusted themselves to the ocean, and made sail three days, until the land passed out of their sight from the water. But then the bearing breezes ceased to blow, and northern breezes and a fog succeeded. Then they were drifted about for many days and nights, not knowing whither they tended. After this the light of the sun was seen, and they were able to survey the regions of the sky. Now they carried sail, and steered this day before they beheld land. . [They] soon saw that the country was not mountainous, but covered with trees and diversified with little hills. . Then they sailed two days before they saw another land (or region). . They then approached it, and saw that it was level and covered with trees. Then, the favorable wind having ceased blowing, the sailors said that it seemed to them that it would be well to land there, but Bjarni was unwilling to do so. . He bade them make sail, which was done. They turned the prow from the land, and sailed out into the open sea, where for three days they had a favorable south- south-west wind. They saw a third land (or region), but it was high and mountainous and covered with glaciers. . They did not lower sail, but holding their course along the shore they found it to be an island. Again they turned the stern against the land, and made sail for the high sea, having the same wind, which gradually increasing, Bjarni ordered the sails to be shortened, forbidding the use of more canvas than the ship and her outfit could conveniently bear. Thus they sailed for four days, when they saw a fourth land [which proved to be Greenland].

    [The second voyage to this newly-discovered region was made by Leif, the son of Eric the Red, about the year 1000. He first reached a land of icy mountains, with a plain between the mountains and the sea covered with flat stones. This region Leif named Helluland. Afterwards he reached a level country covered with trees, which he named Markland.]

    [Leaving Markland] they sailed on the high sea, having a northeast wind, and were two days at sea before they saw land. They steered towards it, and touched the island lying before the north part of the land. When they went on land they surveyed it, for by good fortune the weather was serene. They found the grass sprinkled with dew, and it happened by chance that they touched the dew with their hands and carried them to their mouths and perceived that it had a sweet taste which they had not before noticed. Then they returned to the ship and sailed through a bay lying between the island and a tongue of land running towards the north. Steering a course to the west shore, they passed the tongue of land. Here when the tide ebbed there were very narrow shoals. When the ship got aground there were shallows of great extent between the vessel and the receded sea. So great was the desire of the men to go on land that they were unwilling to stay on board until the returning tide floated the ship. They went ashore at a place where a river flowed out from a lake. When the tide floated the ship they took the boat and rowed to the vessel and brought her into the river and then into the lake. Here they anchored, carried the luggage from the ship, and built dwellings. Afterwards they held a consultation and resolved to remain at this place during the winter. They erected large buildings. There were not only many salmon in the river, but also in the lake, and of a larger size than they had before seen. So great was the fertility of the soil that they were led to believe that cattle would not be in want of food during winter, or that wintry coldness would prevail, or the grass wither much.

    [During the winter one of the men, named Tyrker, exploring the country, discovered wine-wood and wine-berries (vinvid ok vinber). On the approach of spring they spent some time in gathering wineberries and loading the ship with wood, after which they set sail for Greenland, Leif naming the region Vinland (Wine-land), from its productions.

    In the spring of 1007 an expedition comprising three ships sailed for this new land. In two days they reached Helluland, and in two more Markland. Departing from Markland, they continued their voyage.]

    They then sailed far to the southward along the coast, and came to a promontory. The land lay on the right, and had a long sandy beach. They rowed to it, and found on a tongue of land the keel of a ship. They called this point Kjlarnes (Keel Cape), and the beach Furdustrandir (Long Strand), for it took a long time to sail by it. Then the coast became sinuous. They then steered the ship into an inlet. King Olaf Tryggvason had given Leif two Scotch people, a man named Haki and a woman named Hekja. They were swifter than animals. . When they had sailed past Furdustrandir they put these Scots ashore and ordered them to run to the south of the country and explore it and return within three days. . They were absent the designated time. When they returned, one brought a bunch of wine- berries, the other an ear of wheat. When they were taken on board the ship sailed farther. They came into a bay where there was an island around which flowed rapid currents that suggested the name which they gave it, Straumey (Stream Island). There were so many eider ducks on the island that one could hardly walk about without stepping on their eggs. They took the cargo from the ship and made preparations to stay there. They had with them different kinds of cattle.

    It is now to be told of Karlsefne that he, with Snorro and Bjarni and their people, sailed southward along the coast. They sailed a long time, till they came to a river which ran out from the land and through a lake into the sea. The river was quite shallow, and no ship could enter it without high water. Karlsefne sailed with his people into its mouth, and called the place Hop. He found fields of wild wheat where the ground was low, and wine-wood where it was higher. There was great number of all kinds of wild animals in the woods. They remained at this place a half month, and enjoyed themselves, but did not find anything novel. They had their cattle with them. Early one morning, when they were viewing the country, they saw a great number of skin boats on the sea. . The people in them rowed nearer and with curiosity gazed at them. . These people were swart and ugly, and had coarse hair, large eyes, and broad cheeks. They remained a short time and watched Karlsefne's people. They then rowed away to the southward beyond the cape.

    [In the spring the natives returned and trafficked with the Northmen.]

    The people preferred red cloth, and for this they gave skins and all kinds of furs. They also wanted to purchase swords and spears, but Karlsefne and Snorro would not sell them any weapons. For a whole skin the Skraelings took a piece of red cloth a span long, and bound it around their heads. In this way they bartered for a time. Then the cloth began to diminish, and Karlsefne and his men cut it into small strips not wider than one's finger, and still the Skraelings gave as much for these as they had for the larger pieces, and often more. It happened that a bull, which Karlsefne had with him, ran out from the wood and bellowed loudly. This frightened the Skraelings so much that they rushed to their boats and rowed away to the southward around the coast.

    [Three weeks afterwards a large number of Skraelings returned in their boats, uttering loud cries.]

    Karlsefne's men took a red shield and held it towards them. The Skraelings leaped from their boats and attacked them. Many missiles fell among them, for the Skraelings used slings. Karlsefne's men saw that they had raised on a pole something resembling an air-filled bag of a blue color. They hurled this at Karlsefne's party, and when it fell to the ground it exploded with a loud noise. This frightened Karlsefne and his men so much that they ran and fell back to the river, for it seemed to them that the Skraelings were enclosing them on all sides. They did not stop till they reached a rocky place, where they stoutly resisted their assailants.

    [The Skraelings were finally frightened off by the valiant behavior of Freydis, the wife of Thorvard.]

    Karlsefne and his men now perceived that, notwithstanding the country was fruitful, they would be exposed to many dangerous incursions of its inhabitants if they should remain in it. They therefore determined to depart and return to their own land.

    [Many subsequent visits were made by the Northmen to Vinland, these continuing as late as the fourteenth century. But they seem to have made no effort to colonize this region as they had done in the cases of Iceland and Greenland. Just where Vinland was situated is one of those geographical problems that will probably never be settled. Some writers place it as far south as the coast of Rhode Island. Others conceive it to be no farther south than Labrador, or possibly south Greenland. The description of the Skraelings is considered to apply more closely to the Esquimaux than to the North American Indians. Whether the so-called wine-berries were actually grapes is questionable. In fact, no positive proof exists that the Northmen discovered the continent of America. The balance of probabilities is that they did so, though how far south their excursions extended can never be definitely decided.]

    THE ABORIGINES OF AMERICA.

    CHARLES MORRIS.

    [The preceding pages have been devoted to the history of the relations between the inhabitants of the Eastern and Western Continents, and to the various statements that indicate a possible knowledge of, and voyages to, America in the era before Columbus. To complete this preliminary survey a brief account of what is known of the American aborigines in this early era is necessary. In relation to this period of American history there exists an abundance of literary material, comprising researches into the languages, raceconditions, customs, antiquities, traditions, and manuscript annals of the tribes and nations of the aborigines. None of this material is historical in the full sense of the term, though much of it may be considered as indirectly so. The editor of this work, however, has been unable to meet with any general statement in a form sufficiently condensed to yield a brief yet comprehensive review of the whole subject. He has, therefore, himself prepared a paper which may serve imperfectly to fill this vacancy, and to complete the examination of the history of America prior to Columbus.]

    ON the discovery an exploration of America it was found to be everywhere inhabited, from the north polar region to the extreme south, by peoples differing in degree of culture from abject savagery to a low stage of civilization. Though at first all these peoples were looked upon as members of a single race, later research has rendered this questionable, marked diversities in ethnological character having been perceived. In language a greater unity appears, philologists generally holding that the American languages all belong to one family of human speech, though the dialects differ widely in character and in degree of development. The American languages approach in type those of northern Asia, though not very closely. The same may be said of the American features. Yet if the Americans and Mongolians were originally of the same race, as seems not improbable, their separation must have taken place at a remote period, to judge from the diversities which now exist between them.

    The aboriginal inhabitants of the United States, when first discovered, differed very considerably in political and social condition. Those of the north were in a state of savagery or low barbarism. The southern Indians were much more advanced politically, while the Natchez people of the lower Mississippi possessed a well-organized despotic monarchy, widely different in character from the institutions of the free tribes of the north. In Mexico existed a powerful civilized empire, despotic in character, possessed of many historical traditions, and having an extensive literature, which was nearly all destroyed by the Spanish conquerors. In this region were two distinct linguistic races, the Nahuas of Mexico and the Mayas of the more southern region. To the latter are due the remarkable architectural remains of Yucatan and Guatemala. In South America was also discovered an extensive civilized empire, of a highly-marked despotic type,—the Inca empire of Peru. This rather low form of civilization extended far to the north and south in the district west of the Andes, while the remainder of South America was occupied by savage tribes, some of them exceedingly debased in condition.

    Of late years it has been made evident, through diversified archaeological discoveries, that at some epoch, perhaps not very remote, the whole region of the Mississippi Valley was the seat of a semi-civilized population, probably some-what closely approaching in customs and condition the inhabitants of the Gulf States when first seen by the Spanish and French explorers. This people had utterly vanished from the region of the northern United States at the earliest date of the advent of the whites, and perhaps many centuries before that era; yet the whole region of their former residence is so abundantly covered with their weapons, utensils, ornaments, and architectural remains, that we are not only positively assured of their former existence, but are enabled also to form many conjectures as to their probable history.

    What are here spoken of as architectural remains consist principally of earth mounds, of considerable diversity in character and appearance, and some of them of enormous dimensions. There is in this fact alone nothing of peculiar interest. Earth mounds, generally sepulchral in purpose, exist widely throughout the older continents. But the American mounds are remarkable for their excessive numbers, their peculiarities of construction, their occasional great size, and the diversity of their probable purpose. They are found abundantly over the whole region from the Rocky Mountains to the Alleghanies, and from the Great Lakes to the Gulf, and to some small extent beyond these limits. In the State of Ohio alone there are said to be more than ten thousand mounds, with perhaps fifteen hundred defensive works and enclosures. About five thousand of them are said to exist within a radius of fifty miles from the mouth of the Illinois River, in the State of Illinois. In the South they are equally abundant. The Gulf States are full of them. From Florida to Texas they everywhere exist, of the greatest diversity in size and shape. Smaller examples occur beyond the limits of the region above outlined, though in much less abundance. These mounds are usually from six to thirty feet high and forty to one hundred in diameter, though some are much larger. To the vanished race to whose labors they are due has been given the name of the "Mound-Builders."

    Many of these structures were evidently erected for defensive purposes, and they constitute an extensive system of earthworks on the hills and river-bluffs, indicating a considerable population in the valleys below. Other works are remarkably regular earthworks on the valley levels, forming enclosures in various geometrical patterns, which comprise circles, squares, and other figures. The purpose of these peculiar enclosures is unknown, though it was probably connected with religious observances. Of the smaller mounds, some are supposed to have been used as altars; but the most numerous class are the burial-mounds, in which skeletons have often been found. In Wisconsin, and to some extent elsewhere, are found mounds rudely imitating the shape of animals. But the most extraordinary of these erections, from their great size and the enormous degree of labor which they indicate, are the so-called "temple mounds," of which the one at Cahokia, Illinois, measures seven hundred by five hundred feet at base and ninety feet in perpendicular height. It was probably the seat of a temple. Many similar mounds, though none so large as this, exist in the Gulf States.

    The mounds contain very numerous relies of the arts of their builders, these consisting of various articles of pottery, stone pipes of highly-skilful construction, in imitation of animal forms, stone implements in great variety, ornaments of beaten copper, pearls, plates of mica, fragments of woven fabrics, and other articles, indicative of much industry and a considerable advance in the simpler arts.

    Whether the semi-civilization of this people developed in the region in which their remains are found, or is due to the northward movement of a civilized people from the south, cannot be decided. That they were a numerous agricultural people, under the control of a despotic government, and of strong religious superstitions, seems evident from the vast labors which they performed and the religious purpose of the greatest of these works. There is abundant reason to believe that they were in hostile relations with tribes of savages, perhaps the original inhabitants of the country, to the northward and eastward. Against the assaults of these the earthworks were built. These assaults were finally successful. The "Mound-Builders" were conquered, and either annihilated or, more probably, driven south. It is highly improbable that they constituted a single empire, or a series of extensive governments. We may more safely consider them as a congeries of strong tribal organizations, probably to some extent mutually hostile, who were weakened by intestine wars and conquered piecemeal by their numerous and persistent savage foes.

    Before considering the political and other relations of the northern Indians, some reference may be made to the architectural remains of the other aborigines of America. Remarkable ruins exist in the mountain-region of the west, in parts of Colorado, New Mexico, Utah, Arizona, and northern Mexico. Principal among these are the Pueblo buildings, huge communistic structures, of several stories in height, and some of them capable of sheltering a whole tribe within their very numerous apartments. Of these edifices some are of adobe, others of stone. They are probably of considerable antiquity, and most of them are in ruins, though several are still inhabited. Still more remarkable are the "cliff dwellings," recently discovered in the river-canons of this region. These exist at considerable heights, occasionally as much as six hundred to eight hundred feet, in almost inaccessible situations in perpendicular cliffs, in which they occupy clefts or natural terraces. They were doubtless intended as places of refuge from dangerous foes, though they occur in localities now so barren that it is not easy to perceive how their inhabitants obtained subsistence.

    The architectural remains of Mexico, Central America, and Peru are far too numerous and important to be described in the brief space at our command. Some of the more imposing of those of Mexico are pyramidal mounds, not unlike the temple mounds of the north, though occasionally much larger. Of these the most extensive is the great pyramid of Cholula, which covers twice the area of the great Egyptian pyramid of Cheops. The height is variously estimated at one hundred and seventy-seven to two hundred and five feet. This huge structure is built of small sun-dried bricks, alternated with layers of clay. It may have been moulded on a natural eminence, though this is doubtful. The temple of the deity Quetzalcoatl, which once occupied its summit, was destroyed by the Spanish invaders.

    In Yucatan, Chiapas, Honduras, and Guatemala have been found the ruins of enormous and profusely-sculptured stone edifices, built on truncated pyramids, of which that of Palenque measures two hundred and sixty by three hundred and ten feet, and is forty feet high. Its sides were originally faced with cut stone, while the building displays a considerable advance in the arts of architecture and sculpture. Numerous other such structures exist, which display great boldness and skill in architecture. As to who built these forest-buried edifices no positive knowledge exists, though there is some reason to believe that they were still in use, and surrounded by cities, at the epoch of the Spanish conquest.

    With the ruins of Peruvian art we are less directly concerned. It will suffice to remark that they are not surpassed in boldness of execution, in the great labor indicated, and in practicality of purpose, by any similar erections on the Eastern continent. Many of these works are very ancient, having been built by a people who occupied that region anterior to the origin of the Inca empire. In this respect they agree with the architectural monuments of Mexico, which were attributed by the Aztecs to the Toltecs, a mythical race who preceded them. All this indicates not only a very considerable antiquity in the civilization of this continent, but a general overthrow of the primary civilizations, the Mound- Builders being replaced by the modern Indian tribes in the north, the builders of the Mexican monuments by the more barbarous Aztecs, and the architects of the early works of Peru by the conquering Inca race.

    The Indian tribes of the northern United States, at the advent of the whites, were found in a state of savagery in some particulars, though their political and social institutions may be classed as barbarian. Though usually considered as hunting tribes, they were in reality largely agricultural, and not unlike the ancient Germans in organization. They were communistic in habit, holding their lands, and to some extent their houses, as common property. The tribes were divided into smaller sections on the basis of family, affinity, and governed by two sets of elected officers, — the war-chiefs, selected for their valor, and the Sachems, or peace-officers, whose office was to a considerable extent hereditary. In the election of these officers the whole tribe took part, women as well as men having a vote. The religion of these tribes was of a low type, being a Shamanism of the same character as that of the Mongolian tribes of northern Asia. Demon-exorcising "medicine-men" were the priests of the tribes, and the conception of a supreme "Great Spirit," which has been attributed to them, was possibly derived from early intercourse with the whites, though it may have been an inheritance from the Mound-Builders.

    The Indians of the southern United States, comprising the Creek confederacy and other tribes, were considerably move advanced in institutions and ideas. With them agriculture had attained an important development, and the lands were divided into fields on a communistic basis, they remaining the property of the tribe, though cultivated by separate families. The government was in the hands of a council of the principal chiefs, presided over by an officer called the Mico, corresponding to the Sachem of the north. His dignity was hereditary, and his power to some extent despotic. Warlike matters were controlled by a head chief, under whom were inferior chiefs. These chiefs were elected to their positions, and composed the council presided over by the Mico, whose authority was subject to their control. One peculiar feature of the Creek organization was the possession of a public storehouse, in which a portion of all products of the field and the chase had to be stored, for general distribution in case of need. This was under the sole control of the Mico.

    The religious ideas were much superior to those of the northern tribes. Shamanistic worship and the medicine-man existed, but in addition to this there was a well developed system of sun-worship, with its temples, priests, and ceremonies. The sacred fire was preserved with the greatest assiduity, and when extinguished at the close of each year, to be rekindled with "new fire," serious calamities were feared. The Mico was looked upon as a high dignitary in this worship, and as, in some sort, a representative of the sun. The degree of despotism which he exercised was very probably in great measure due to this religious dignity and the superstition of the people.

    But the most remarkable of the Indians of the United States was the small tribe of the Natchez, occupying a few villages east of the Mississippi at the period of Spanish and French discovery, and long since extinct. The language of this tribe is believed to have been quite unlike those of the neighboring tribes. Its political organization was a well-developed despotism, the ruler being a religious autocrat whose authority was beyond question. This dignitary was known as the Sun, and was looked upon as a direct and sacred descendant of the solar deity. All members of the royal caste were called Suns, and had special privileges. Beneath them was a nobility, while the common people were very submissive. The chiefs' dwellings were on mounds, and the mounds were also the seat of temples, in which the sacred fire was guarded with superstitious care by the priesthood. La Salle, who visited the Natchez in 1681-82, describes them as living in large adobe dwellings. The temple of the sun was adorned with the figures of three eagles, with their heads turned to the east. The Natchez possessed a completely-organized system of worship, with temples, idols, priests, keepers of sacred things, religious festivals, and the like, while the people were thoroughly under the control of their superstitions. The ruler had the power of life and death over the people, as also had his nearest female relative, who was known as the Woman Chief, and whose son succeeded to the throne. The extinguishment of the sacred fire in the temples was deemed the greatest calamity that could befall them. The death of the Sun cost the life of his guards and many of his subjects, while few of the principal persons died without human sacrifices. Captives taken in war were sacrificed to the sun, and their skulls displayed on the temples.

    The customs and religious ceremonies of this tribe are of particular interest, as there is reason to believe that in the Natchez we have the most direct descendants of the Mound-Builders, and that in the despotism of their chief and the superstition of the people there survived until historical times the conditions under which the great works of the Mississippi Valley were erected. The destruction of the tribe by the early French colonists has been a serious loss to archaeological science.

    It is believed by some writers that the Mexican civilization was a direct development of that of the Mound-Builders. Among the peoples of Mexico and Central America traditions of an original migration from the north were common, while the affinity between the customs and religious ideas of the Aztecs and the Indians of the southern United States was so great that the civilization of the former may with some assurance be considered an outgrowth from the semi- civilization of the latter.

    Land-communism was the general practice in Mexico, and the Creek public storehouse, under the control of the Mico, was imitated by the Aztec public stores, under the control of the emperor, in which a fixed portion of all produce had to be placed. The Creek council of chiefs and elders was represented by a similar council in Mexico, by whose decisions the emperor was controlled. Worship of the sun was an early form of the Mexican religious ideas, though it was afterwards replaced by worship of the god of war. Human sacrifice had grown to enormous proportions, and the sacrifice of war-captives by the Natchez had its Aztec counterpart in vast warlike raids for the purpose of obtaining victims for sacrifice to the terrible wargod. The sacred fire was guarded with the utmost care, and dire calamities were predicted if it should be extinguished. It was voluntarily extinguished once every fifty-two years, and rekindled after a week of lamentation and mortal dread. The passage of the "new fire" through the country was the occasion of universal joy and festivity.

    We have already indicated the resemblance between the temple mounds of the two regions, and other points of affinity might be named, but the above will suffice to show the great probability that the civilization of the Mississippi Valley and that of Mexico and Central America were directly connected and formed parts of one general growth of American culture. As for the actual history of the aborigines prior to the advent of the whites, very little is known. Numerous legends and traditions exist, though few of these can be considered of historical authenticity. The Indians of the United States, indeed, possess no records that can be accepted as historical. What seem most so are stories of migrations; yet none of these can be taken as representative of actual events, but are rather to be viewed as vague remembrances of some of the many movements which must have taken place.

    The only traditions that are to any extent historical are those of the Nahuas and Mayas of Mexico and Central America. These describe the movements, during a number of centuries preceding the Spanish conquest, of several successive peoples, as the Toltecs, the Chichimecs, and the Aztecs of Mexico, and a parallel series in the Maya region. Extensive details of the history of these and other tribes are given, much of which is undoubtedly authentic, yet the actual is so mingled with the mythical in these records that no trust can be placed in any but their latest portions, and even these are not to be accepted without question.

    The traditions of migrations from the north and east are so generally reiterated that they seem to indicate actual events, and the same may be said of the very common tradition of the coming of a great hero or deity from the east, the Quetzalcoatl of the Aztecs, the Votan of the Mayas, and similar deities of other tribes. These are fabled to have brought civilization and taught habits of industry and lessons of political subordination to the previously uncultured tribes. They may represent the actual advent of civilized navigators from Europe or elsewhere, though this is a problem that can never be solved.

    Much might here be said concerning the historical records of the Nahuas and Mayas, had we space to review them, yet a consideration of the whole leads to the conclusion above avowed, that the American aborigines had no records that can be considered absolutely of historical value previous to the discovery of America by Columbus. We may, therefore, look upon their trustworthy history as beginning with that event, since in their earlier records it is impossible to distinguish between the mythical and the actual.

    THE ERA OF DISCOVERY.

    COLUMBUS IN EUROPE.

    WILLIAM ROBERTSON.

    [From the age of Phoenician enterprise to the fifteenth century of the Christian era, covering a period of more than two thousand years, maritime enterprise in Europe lagged, and the boldness of the ancients was emulated by none of their successors. The Mediterranean long continued the theatre of commerce. In later years, in which the Atlantic coast became the seat of an active sea-going trade, the only sailors who ventured far out of sight of land were the half-barbarous Scandinavian pirates.

    A bolder spirit appeared in the discovery of the Canary Islands by Spanish navigators in 1334. No further step in discovery was made until 1419, when the Portuguese discovered the Madeira Islands. The Portuguese from this time developed a new spirit of enterprise, and advanced point by point along the coast of Africa until 1486, in which year Bartholomew Diaz discovered the Cape of Good Hope. This event rendered it evident to the experienced sailors of Portugal that Africa could be circumnavigated and the East Indies reached by this route. While preparations were being made for the important voyage which should prove the truth of this theory, a yet more important event occurred, in the discovery of America by Columbus. The steps leading to this great enterprise we may give in the words of a noted historical work of the last century, "The History of America," by William Robertson.]

    AMONG the foreigners whom the fame of the discoveries made by the Portuguese had allured into their service was Christopher Colon or Columbus, a subject of the re-public of Genoa. Neither the time nor place of his birth are known with certainty; but he was descended of an honorable family, though reduced to indigence by various misfortunes. His ancestors having betaken themselves for subsistence to a seafaring life, Columbus discovered, in his early youth, the peculiar character and talents which mark out a man for that profession. His parents, instead of thwarting this original propensity of his mind, seem to have encouraged and confirmed it by the education which they gave him. After acquiring some knowledge of the Latin tongue, the only language in which science was taught at that time, he was instructed in geometry, cosmography, astronomy, and the art of drawing. To these he applied with such ardor and predilection, on account of their connection with navigation, his favorite object, that he advanced with rapid proficiency in the study of them. Thus qualified, he went to sea at the age of fourteen (1461), and began his career on that element which conducted him to so much glory. His early voyages were to those ports in the Mediterranean which his countrymen the Genoese frequented. This being a sphere too narrow for his active mind, he made an excursion to the northern seas (1467), and visited the coasts of Iceland, to which the English and other nations had begun to resort on account of its fishery. As navigation, in every direction, was now become enterprising, he proceeded beyond that island, the Thule of the ancients, and advanced several degrees within the polar circle. Having satisfied his curiosity by a voyage which tended more to enlarge his knowledge of naval affairs than to improve his fortune, he entered into the service of a famous sea-captain, of his own name and family. This man commanded a small squadron, fitted out at his own expense, and by cruising sometimes against the Mahometans, sometimes against the Venetians, the rivals of his country in trade, had acquired both wealth and reputation. With him Columbus continued for several years, no less distinguished for his courage than for his experience as a sailor. At length, in an obstinate engagement, off the coast of Portugal, with some Venetian caravels returning richly laden from the Low Countries, the vessel on board which he served took fire, together with one of the enemy's ships, to which it was fast grappled. In this dreadful extremity his intrepidity and presence of mind did not forsake him. He threw himself into the sea, laid hold of a floating oar, and by the support of it, and his dexterity in swimming, he reached the shore, though above two leagues distant, and saved a life reserved for great undertakings.

    As soon as he recovered strength for the journey, he repaired to Lisbon, where many of his countrymen were settled. They soon conceived such a favorable opinion of his merit, as well as talents, that they warmly solicited him to remain in that kingdom, where his naval skill and experience could not fail of rendering him conspicuous. To every adventurer, animated either with curiosity to visit new countries, or with ambition to distinguish himself, the Portuguese service was at that time extremely inviting. Columbus listened with a favorable ear to the advice of his friends, and, having gained the esteem of a Portuguese lady, whom he married, fixed his residence in Lisbon. This alliance, instead of detaching him from a seafaring life, contributed to enlarge the sphere of his naval knowledge, and to excite a desire of extending it still further. His wife was a daughter of Bartholomew Perestrello, one of the captains employed by Prince Henry in his early navigations, and who, under his protection, had discovered and planted the islands of Porto Santo and Madeira. Columbus got possession of the journals and charts of this experienced navigator, and from them he learned the course which the Portuguese had held in making their discoveries, as well as the various circumstances which guided or encouraged them in their attempts. The study of these soothed and inflamed his favorite passion; and while he contemplated the maps, and read the descriptions of the new countries which Perestrello had seen, his impatience to visit them became irresistible. In order to indulge it, he made a voyage to Madeira, and continued during several years to trade with that island, with the Canaries, the Azores, the settlements in Guinea, and all the other places which the Portuguese had discovered on the continent of Africa.

    By the experience which Columbus acquired during such a variety of voyages to almost every part of the globe with which, at that time, any intercourse was carried on by sea, he was now become one of the most skilful navigators in Europe. But, not satisfied with that praise, his ambition aimed at something more. The successful progress of the Portuguese navigators had awakened a spirit of curiosity and emulation, which set every man of science upon examining all the circumstances that led to the discoveries which they had made, or that afforded a prospect of succeeding in any new and bolder undertaking. The mind of Columbus, naturally inquisitive, capable of deep reflection, and turned to speculations of this kind, was so often employed in revolving the principles upon which the Portuguese had founded their schemes of discovery, and the mode in which they had carried them on, that the gradually began to form an idea of improving upon their plan, and of accomplishing discoveries which hitherto they had attempted in vain.

    To find out a passage by sea to the East Indies was the great object in view at that period. From the time that the Portuguese doubled Cape de Verd, this was the point at which they aimed in all their navigations, and in comparison with it all their discoveries in Africa appeared inconsiderable. The fertility and riches of India had been known for many ages; its spices and other valuable commodities were in high request throughout Europe, and the vast wealth of the Venetians, arising from their having engrossed this trade, had raised the envy of all nations. But how intent soever the Portuguese were upon discovering a new route to those desirable regions, they searched for it only by steering towards the south, in hopes of arriving at India, by turning to the east, after they had sailed round the farther extremity of Africa. This course was still unknown, and, even if discovered, was of such immense length that a voyage from Europe to India must have appeared, at that period, an undertaking extremely arduous and of very uncertain issue. More than half a century had been employed in advancing from Cape Non to the equator; a much longer space of time might elapse before the more extensive navigation from that to India could be accomplished. These reflections upon the uncertainty, the danger, and tediousness of the course which the Portuguese were pursuing, naturally led Columbus to consider whether a shorter and more direct passage to the East Indies might not be found out. After revolving long and seriously every circumstance suggested by his superior knowledge in the theory as well as practice of navigation, after comparing attentively the observations of modern pilots with the hints and conjectures of ancient authors, he at last concluded that by sailing directly towards the west, across the Atlantic Ocean, new countries, which probably formed a part of the great continent of India, must infallibly be discovered.

    Principles and arguments of various kinds, and derived from different sources, induced him to adopt this opinion, seemingly as chimerical as it was new and extraordinary. The spherical figure of the earth was known, and its magnitude ascertained with some degree of accuracy. From this it was evident that the continents of Europe, Asia, and Africa, as far as they were known at that time, formed but a small portion of the terraqueous globe. It was suitable to our ideas concerning the wisdom and beneficence of the Author of Nature, to believe that the vast space still unexplored was not covered entirely by a vast un- profitable ocean, but occupied by countries fit for the habitation of man. It appeared, likewise, extremely probable that the continent on this side of the globe was balanced by a proportional quantity of land in the other hemisphere. These conclusions concerning the existence of another continent, drawn from the figure and structure of the globe, were confirmed by the observations and conjectures of modern navigators. A Portuguese pilot, having stretched farther to the west than was usual at that time, took up a piece of timber artificially carved, floating upon the sea; and as it was driven towards him by a westerly wind, he concluded that it came from some unknown land situated in that quarter. Columbus's brother-in-law had found, to the west of the Madeira Isles, a piece of timber fashioned in the same manner and brought by the same wind, and had seen, likewise, canes of an enormous size floating upon the waves, which resembled those described by Ptolemy as productions peculiar to the East Indies. After a course of westerly winds, trees, torn up by the roots, were often driven upon the coasts of the Azores, and at one time the dead bodies of two men, with singular features, resembling neither the inhabitants of Europe nor of Africa, were cast ashore there.

    [Columbus was of the opinion, from the statements of several ancient writers, that India was a country of immense size, extending far to the east, and that it might be most easily reached by sailing westward around the spherical globe. He had no conception of its actual distance, and no dream of an intervening continent.]

    To a mind less capable of forming and of executing great designs than that of Columbus, all those reasonings and observations and authorities would have served only as the foundation of some plausible and fruitless theory, which might have furnished matter for ingenious discourse or fanciful conjecture. But with his sanguine and enterprising temper, speculation led directly to action. Fully satisfied himself with respect to the truth of his system, he was impatient to bring it to the test of experiment, and to set out upon a voyage of discovery. The first step towards this was to secure the patronage of some of the considerable powers in Europe capable of undertaking such an enterprise. As long absence had not extinguished the affection which he bore to his native country, he wished that it should reap the fruits of his labors and invention. With this view, he laid his scheme before the senate of Genoa, and making his country the first tender of his service, offered to sail under the banners of the republic in quest of the new regions which he expected to discover. But Columbus had resided for so many years in foreign parts that his countrymen were unacquainted with his abilities and character; and, though a maritime people, were so little accustomed to distant voyages that they could form no just idea of the principles on which he founded his hopes of success. They inconsiderately rejected his proposal, as the dream of a chimerical projector, and lost forever the opportunity of restoring their commonwealth to its ancient splendor.

    [His next application was to John II. of Portugal, to whom his abilities were known, and who listened graciously to his project. But the parties to whom the monarch referred the scheme induced him dishonorably to despatch a vessel, with strict secrecy, in the direction indicated by Columbus. The pilot chosen, however, returned after a short voyage, and declared the project dangerous and impracticable. When Columbus learned of this treacherous proceeding, he indignantly left Portugal and proceeded to Spain, then under the joint rule of Ferdinand and Isabella. Here he spent years in seeking to enlist the monarchs in his favor, until finally, despairing of success, he sent his brother to England and prepared to visit that country in person.]

    About that time Granada surrendered, and Ferdinand and Isabella, in triumphal pomp, took possession of a city (January 2, 1492) the reduction of which extirpated a foreign power from the heart of their dominions and rendered them masters of all the provinces extending from the bottom of the Pyrenees to the frontiers of Portugal. As the flow of spirits which accompanies success elevates the mind and renders it enterprising. Quintanilla and Santangel, the vigilant and discerning patrons of Columbus, took advantage of this favorable situation in order to make one more effort in behalf of their friend. They addressed themselves to Isabella, and, after expressing some surprise that she, who had always been the munificent patroness of generous undertakings, should hesitate so long to countenance the most splendid scheme that had ever been proposed to any monarch, they represented to her that Columbus was a man of a sound understanding and virtuous character, well qualified, by his experience in navigation, as well as his knowledge of geometry, to form just ideas with respect to the structure of the globe and the situation of its various regions; that by offering to risk his own life and fortune in the execution of his scheme he gave the most satisfying evidence both of his integrity and hope of success; that the sum required for equipping such an armament as he demanded was inconsiderable, and the advantages which might accrue from his undertaking were immense; that he demanded no recompense for his invention and labor but what was to arise from the countries which he should discover; that, as it was worthy of her magnanimity to make this noble attempt to extend the sphere of human knowledge, and to open an intercourse with regions hitherto unknown, so it would afford the highest satisfaction to her piety and zeal, after re-establishing the Christian faith in those provinces of Spain from which it had been long banished, to discover a new world, to which she might communicate the light and blessings of divine truth; that if now she did not decide instantly, the opportunity would be irretrievably lost; that Columbus was on his way to foreign countries, where some prince, more fortunate and adventurous, would close with his proposals, and Spain would forever bewail the fatal timidity which had excluded her from the glory and advantages that she had once in her power to have enjoyed.

    These forcible arguments, urged by persons of such authority and at a juncture so well chosen, produced the desired effect. They dispelled all Isabella's doubts and fears: she ordered Columbus to be instantly recalled, declared her resolution of employing him on his own terms, and, regretting the low state of her finances, generously offered to pledge her own jewels in order to raise as much money as might be needed in making preparations for the voyage. Santangel, in a transport of gratitude, kissed the queen's hand, and, in order to save her from having recourse to such a mortifying expedient for procuring money, engaged to advance immediately the sum that was requisite.

    Columbus had proceeded some leagues on his journey when the messenger from Isabella overtook him. Upon receiving an account of the unexpected revolution in his favor, he returned directly to Santa Fe, though some remainder of diffidence still mingled itself with his joy. But the cordial reception which he met with from Isabella, together with the near prospect of setting out upon that voyage which had so long been the object of his thoughts and wishes, soon effaced the remembrance of all that he had suffered in Spain during eight tedious years of solicitation and suspense. The negotiation now went forward with facility and despatch, and a treaty or capitulation with Columbus was signed on the seventeenth of April, one thousand four hundred and ninety two.

    THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA BY COLUMBUS.

    WASHINGTON IRVING.

    [It is a somewhat remarkable evidence of the rapid progress of nations in modern times that after years of doubt and deliberation the utmost provision which the kingdom of Spain could make for the discovery of a new world was a fleet of three frail vessels which would now be considered scarcely fit for a coasting voyage, and which thousands of individuals might provide at an hour's notice. Only one of these vessels was decked, and the boldness of ignorance alone made so many men willing to dare the risk of crossing an ocean in such crazy craft. One hundred and twenty persons in all took part in the expedition, which set sail from the port of Palos on the 3d of August, 1492. One of the vessels was in distress when they were but three days from port, and the fleet was obliged to put in to the Canary Islands for repair. Here they lay for a month before they were ready to set sail again. While there the admiral learned that three Portuguese caravels were hovering about the islands, and, fearing that the King of Portugal was seeking to stop the expedition, he hastened to put to sea, to escape this first danger to his long-cherished scheme. In continuation of the story of this remarkable voyage we cannot do better than offer the following selection from Irving's "Life and Voyages of Columbus."]

    EARLY in the morning of the 6th of September, Columbus set sail from the island of Gomera, and now might be said first to strike into the region of discovery,— taking leave of these frontier islands of the Old World, and steering westward for the unknown parts of the Atlantic. For three days, however, a profound calm kept the vessels loitering, with flagging sails, within a short distance of the land. This was a tantalizing delay to Columbus, who was impatient to find himself far out of sight of either land or sail,-which, in the pure atmospheres of these latitudes, may be descried at an immense distance. On the following Sunday, the 9th of September, at day-break, he beheld Ferro, the last of the Canary Islands, about nine leagues distant. This was the island whence the Portuguese caravels had been seen; he was therefore in the very neighborhood of danger. Fortunately, a breeze sprang up with the sun, their sails were once more filled, and in the course of the day the heights of Ferro gradually faded from the horizon.

    On losing sight of this last trace of land, the hearts of the crews failed them. They seemed literally to have taken leave of the world. Behind them was everything dear to the heart of man,—country, family, friends, life itself; before them everything was chaos, mystery, and peril. In the perturbation of the moment, they despaired of ever more seeing their homes. Many of the rugged seamen shed tears, and some broke into loud lamentations. The admiral tried in every way to soothe their distress, and to inspire them with his own glorious anticipations. He described to them the magnificent countries to which he was about to conduct them: the islands of the Indian seas teeming with gold and precious stones; the regions of Mangi and Cathay, with their cities of unrivalled wealth and splendor. He promised them land and riches, and everything that could arouse their cupidity or inflame their imaginations, nor were these promises made for purposes of mere deception; he certainly believed that he should realize them all.

    [Columbus now directed the commanders of the other vessels that in the event of separation they should continue to sail due west-ward, but that after sailing seven hundred leagues they should lie by from midnight to dawn, as he confidently expected to find land at about that distance. That the crews might remain ignorant of the real distance traversed, he kept two reckonings, a private and correct one for himself, and a log-book for general inspection, in which the actual distance sailed was decreased.]

    On the 13th of September, in the evening, being about two hundred leagues from the island of Ferro, Columbus, for the first time, noticed the variation of the needle,—a phenomenon which had never before been remarked. He perceived, about nightfall, that the needle, instead of pointing to the north star, varied about half a point, or between five and six degrees, to the northwest, and still more on the following morning. Struck with this circumstance, he observed it attentively for three days, and found that the variation increased as he advanced. He at first made no mention of this phenomenon, knowing how ready his people were to take alarm, but it soon attracted the attention of the pilots, and filled them with consternation. It seemed as if the very laws of nature were changing as they advanced, and that they were entering another world, subject to unknown influences. They apprehended that the compass was about to lose its mysterious virtues, and, without this guide, what was to become of them in a vast and trackless ocean?

    [Columbus succeeding in allaying their apprehensions by an ingenious though incorrect explanation of the cause of the variation of the compass, a phenomenon which, in fact, remains yet unexplained.]

    On the 14th of September the voyagers were rejoiced by the sight of what they considered harbingers of land. A heron, and a tropical bird called the Rabo de Junco, neither of which are supposed to venture far to sea, hovered about the ships. On the following night they were struck with awe at beholding a meteor, or, as Columbus calls it in his journal, a great flame of fire, which seemed to fall from the sky into the sea, about four or five leagues distant. These meteors, common in warm climates, and especially under the tropics, are always seen in the serene azure sky of those latitudes, falling as it were from the heavens, but never beneath a cloud. In the transparent atmosphere of one of those beautiful nights, where every star shines with the purest lustre, they often leave a luminous train behind them which lasts for twelve or fifteen seconds and may well be compared to a flame.

    The wind had hitherto been favorable, with occasional, though transient, clouds and showers. They had made great progress each day, though Columbus, according to his secret plan, contrived to suppress several leagues in the daily reckoning left open to the crew.

    They had now arrived within the influence of the trade wind, which, following the sun, blows steadily from east to west between the tropics, and sweeps over a few adjoining degrees of ocean. With this propitious breeze directly aft, they were wafted gently but speedily over a tranquil sea, so that for many days they did not shift a sail. Columbus perpetually recurs to the bland and temperate serenity of the weather, which in this tract of the ocean is soft and refreshing without being cool. In his artless and expressive language he compares the pure and balmy mornings to those of April in Andalusia, and observes that they wanted but the song of the nightingale to complete the illusion. "He had reason to say so," observes the venerable Las Casas; "for it is marvellous the suavity which we experience when half-way towards these Indies; and the more the ships approach the lands, so much more do they perceive the temperance and softness of the air, the clearness of the sky, and the amenity and fragrance sent forth from the groves and forests; much more certainly than in April in Andalusia."

    They now began to see large patches of herbs and weeds drifting from the west, and increasing in quantity as they advanced. Some of these weeds were such as grow about rocks, others such as are produced in rivers; some were yellow and withered, others so green as to have apparently been recently washed from land. On one of these patches was a live crab, which Columbus carefully preserved. They saw also a white tropical bird, of a kind which never sleeps upon the sea. Tunny-fish also played about the ships, one of which was killed by the crew of the Nina. Columbus now called to mind the account given by Aristotle of certain ships of Cadiz, which, coasting the shores outside of the straits of Gibraltar, were driven westward by an impetuous east wind, until they reached a part of the ocean covered with vast fields of weeds, resembling sunken islands, among which they beheld many tunny-fish. He supposed himself arrived in this weedy sea, as it had been called, from which the ancient mariners had turned back in dismay, but which he regarded with animated hope, as indicating the vicinity of land. Not that he had yet any idea of reaching the object of his search, the eastern end of Asia; for, according to his computation, he had come but three hundred and sixty leagues since leaving the Canary Islands, and he placed the main land of India much farther on.

    On the 18th of September the same weather continued; a soft steady breeze from the east filled every sail, while, to use the words of Columbus, the sea was as calm as the Guadalquivir at Seville. He fancied that the water of the sea grew fresher as he advanced, and noticed this as proof of the superior sweetness and purity of the air..

    Notwithstanding his precaution to keep the people ignorant of the distance they had sailed, they were now growing extremely uneasy at the length of the voyage. They had advanced much farther west than ever man had sailed before, and though already beyond the reach of succor, still they continued daily leaving vast tracts of ocean behind them, and pressing onward and onward into that apparently boundless abyss. It is true they had been flattered by various indications of land, and still others were occurring; but all mocked them with vain hopes: after being hailed with a transient joy, they passed away, one after another, and the same interminable expanse of sea and sky continued to extend before them. Even the bland and gentle breeze, uniformly aft, was now conjured by their ingenious fears into a cause of alarm; for they began to imagine that the wind, in these seas, might always prevail from the east, and, if so, would never permit their return to Spain.

    Columbus endeavored to dispel these gloomy presages, sometimes by argument and expostulation, sometimes by awakening fresh hopes and pointing out new signs of land. On the 20th of September the wind veered, with light breezes from the southwest. These, though adverse to their progress, had a cheering effect upon the people, as they proved that the wind did not always prevail from the east. Several birds also visited the ships; three, of a small kind which keep about groves and orchards, came singing in the morning, and flew away again in the evening. Their song cheered the hearts of the dismayed mariners, who hailed it as the voice of land. The larger fowl, they observed, were strong of wing, and might venture far to sea; but such small birds were too feeble to fly far, and their singing showed that they were not exhausted by their flight.

    On the following day there was either a profound calm, or light winds from the southwest. The sea, as far as the eye could reach, was covered with weeds,— a phenomenon often observed in this part of the ocean, which has sometimes the appearance of a vast inundated meadow. This has been attributed to immense quantities of submarine plants, which grow at the bottom of the sea until ripe, when they are detached by the surface. These fields of weeds were at first regarded with great satisfaction, but at length they became, in many places, so dense and matted as in some degree to impede the sailing of the ships, which must have been under very little headway. The crews now called to mind some tale about the frozen ocean, where ships were said to be sometimes fixed immovable. They endeavored, therefore, to avoid as much as possible these floating masses, lest some disaster of the kind might happen to themselves. Others considered these weeds as proofs that the sea was growing shallower, and began to talk of lurking rocks, and shoals, and treacherous quicksand; and of the danger of running aground, as it were, in the midst of the ocean, where their vessels might rot and fall to pieces, far out of the track of human aid, aid without any shore where the crews might take refuge. They had evidently some confused notion of the ancient story of the sunken island of Atlantis, and feared that they were arriving at that part of the ocean where navigation was said to be obstructed by drowned lands and the ruins of an engulfed country.

    To dispel these fears, the admiral had frequent recourse to the lead; but, though he sounded with a deep-sea line, he still found no bottom. The minds of the crews, however, had gradually become diseased. They were full of vague terrors and superstitious fancies; they construed everyting into a cause of alarm, and harassed their commander by incessant murmurs.

    [The discontent of the crew rapidly augmented, until it rose to the verge of mutiny. Indications which Columbus considered favorable they viewed as questionable, and he was kept busy in efforts to allay their fears. The cloud- forms in the distance frequently deceived them with the illusion of land, the people varying from the excitement of joy of deep depression as these illusory hopes vanished.]

    For several days they continued on with the same propitious breeze, tranquil sea, and mild, delightful weather. The water was so calm that the sailors amused themselves with swimming about the vessel. Dolphins began to abound, and flying- fish, darting into the air, fell upon the decks. The continued signs of land diverted the attention of the crews, and insensibly beguiled them onward.

    On the Ist of October, according to the reckoning of the pilot of the admiral's ship, they had come five hundred and eighty leagues west since leaving the Canary Islands. The reckoning which Columbus showed the crew was five hundred and eighty-four, but the reckoning which he kept privately was seven hundred and seven. On the following day the weeds floated from east to west; and on the third day no birds were to be seen.

    The crews now began to fear that they had passed between islands, from one to the other of which the birds had been flying. Columbus had also some doubts of the kind, but refused to alter his westward course. The people again uttered murmurs and menaces; but on the following day they were visited by such flights of birds, and the various indications of land became so numerous, that from a state of despondency they passed to one of confident expectation.

    Eager to obtain the promised pension, the seamen were continually giving the cry of land, on the least appearance of the kind. To put a stop to these false alarms, which produced continual disappointments, Columbus declared that should any one give such notice, and land not be discovered within three days afterwards, he should thenceforth forfeit all claim to the reward.

    [On the 7th of October land was again proclaimed, but with the same result as before. There were now seen, however, "great flights of small field-birds going towards the southwest," and Columbus concluded to sail in that direction, from the fact that the Portuguese had discovered the most of their islands by following the flight of birds.]

    For three days they stood in this direction, and the farther they went the more frequent and encouraging were the signs of land. Flights of small birds of various colors, some of them such as sing in the fields, came flying about the ships, a then continued towards the southwest, and others were heard also flying by in the night. Tunny-fish played about the smooth sea, and a heron, a pelican, and a duck were seen, all bound in the same direction. The herbage which floated by was fresh and green as if recently from land, and the air, Columbus observes, was sweet and fragrant as April breezes in Seville.

    All these, however, were regarded by the crews as so many delusions beguiling them on to destruction; and when on the evening of the third day they beheld the sun go down upon a shoreless ocean, they broke forth into turbulent clamor. They exclaimed against this obstinacy in tempting fate by continuing on into a boundless sea. They insisted upon turning homeward and abandoning the voy-age as hopeless. Columbus endeavored to pacify them by gentle words and promises of large rewards; but, finding that they only increased in clamor, he assumed a decided tone. He told them it was useless to murmur; the expedition had been sent by the sovereigns to seek the Indies, and happen what might, he was determined to persevere until, by the blessing of God, he should accomplish the enterprise.

    Columbus was now at open defiance with his crew, and his situation became desperate. Fortunately, the manifestations of the vicinity of land were such on the following day as no longer to admit of a doubt. Beside a quantity of fresh weeds, such as grow in rivers, they saw a green fish of a kind which keeps about rocks; then a branch of thorn with berries on it, and recently separated from the tree, floated by them; then they picked up a reed, a small board, and, above all, a staff artificially carved. All gloom and mutiny now gave way to sanguine expectation; and throughout the day every one was eagerly on the watch, in hopes of being the first to discover the long-sought-for land..

    The breeze had been fresh all day, with more sea than usual, and they had made great progress. At sunset they had stood again to the west, and were ploughing the waves at a rapid rate, the Pinta keeping the lead, from her superior sailing. The greatest animation prevailed throughout the ships; not an eye was closed that night.

    As the evening darkened, Columbus took his station on the top of the castle or cabin on the high poop of his vessel, ranging his eye along the dusky horizon, and maintaining an intense and unremitting watch. About ten o'clock he thought he beheld a light glimmering at a great distance. Fearing his eager hopes might deceive him, he called to Pedro Gutierrez, gentleman of the king's bed-chamber, and inquired whether he saw such a light; the latter replied in the affirmative. Doubtful whether it might not yet be some delusion of the fancy, Columbus called Rodrigo Sanchez of Segovia, and made the same inquiry. By the time the latter had ascended the roundhouse, the light had disappeared. They saw it once or twice after-wards in sudden and passing gleams, as if it were a torch in the bark of a fisherman, rising and sinking with the waves, or in the hand of some person on shore, borne up and down as he walked from house to house. So transient and uncertain were these gleams that few attached any importance to them; Columbus, however, considered them as certain signs of land, and, moreover, that the land was inhabited.

    They continued their course until two in the morning, when a gun from the Pinta gave the joyful signal of land. It was first described by a mariner named Rodrigo de Triana: but the reward was afterwards adjudged to the admiral, for having previously perceived the light. The land was now clearly seen about two leagues distant, whereupon they took in sail, and laid to, waiting impatiently for the dawn.

    The thoughts and feelings of Columbus in this little space of time must have been tumultuous and intense. At length, in spite of every difficulty and danger, he had accomplished his object. the great mystery of the ocean was revealed; his theory, which had been the scoff of sages, was triumphantly established; he had secured to himself a glory durable as the world itself.

    It is difficult to conceive the feelings of such a man at such a moment, or the conjectures which must have thronged upon his mind, as to the land before him, covered with darkness. That it was fruitful, was evident from the vegetables which floated from its shores. He thought, too, that he perceived the fragrance of aromatic groves. The moving light he had beheld proved it the residence of man. But what were its inhabitants? Were they like those of the other parts of the globe? or were they some strange and monstrous race, such as the imagination was prone in those times to give to all remote and unknown regions? Had he come upon some wild island far in the Indian sea? or was this the famed Cipango itself, the object of his golden fancies? A thousand speculations of the kind must have swarmed upon him, as, with his anxious crews, he waited for the night to pass away, wondering whether the morning light would reveal a savage wilderness, or dawn upon spicy groves, and glittering fanes, and gilded cities, and all the splendor of Oriental civilization.

    It was on Friday morning, the 12th of October, that Columbus first beheld the New World. As the day dawned he saw before him a level island, several leagues in extent, and covered with trees like a continual orchard. Though apparently uncultivated, it was populous, for the inhabitants were seen issuing from all parts of the woods and running to the shore. They were perfectly naked, and, as they stood gazing at the ships, appeared by their attitudes and gestures to be lost in astonishment. Columbus made signal for the ships to cast anchor, and the boats to be manned and armed. He entered his own boat, richly attired in scarlet, and holding the royal standard; whilst Martin Alonzo Pinzon, and Vincent Janez his brother, put off in company in their boats, each with a banner of the enterprise emblazoned with a green cross, having on either side the letters F. and Y., the initials of the Castilian monarchs Fernando and Ysabel, surmounted by crowns.

    As he approached the shore, Columbus, who was disposed for all kinds of agreeable impressions, was delighted with the purity and suavity of the atmosphere, the crystal transparency of the sea, and the extraordinary beauty of the vegetation. He beheld, also, fruits of an unknown kind upon the trees which overhung the shores. On landing, he threw himself on his knees, kissed the earth, and returned thanks to God with tears of joy. His example was followed by the rest, whose hearts indeed overflowed with the same feelings of gratitude. Columbus then rising drew his sword, displayed the royal standard, and assembling around him the two captains, with Rodrigo de Escobedo, notary of the armament, Rodrigo Sanchez, and the rest who had landed, he took solemn possession in the name of the Castilian sovereigns, giving the island the name of San Salvador. Having complied with the requisite forms and ceremonies, he called upon all present to take the oath of obedience to him, as admiral and viceroy, representing the persons of the sovereigns.

    THE DISCOVERY OF THE PACIFIC BY BALBOA.

    THOMAS F. GORDON.

    [The discovery made by Columbus was followed up by the Spaniards with an activity in marked contrast to the supineness displayed by other nations in exploring and settling the American continent. Within twenty years from 1492 the four largest islands of the West Indies were the seats of active colonies, while more than a century passed ere any other nation founded a permanent colony on the American shores, with the exception of the small settlements of the Portuguese in Brazil. This was rapidly followed by the conquest of the two great empires of Mexico and Peru, and the exploration of the region of the southern United States, while yet other nations were contenting themselves with occasional voyages of discovery along the coasts of the new continent. The great fertility of the islands first settled by the Spaniards, the mildness of their climates, and, above all, the frequent discovery of gold, pearls, and other rich prizes, were the main causes of the Spanish activity, and served as inducements to repeated exploring expeditions.

    Columbus made four voyages in all to the New World, discovering the South American continent near the mouth of the Orinoco in the third, and reaching Honduras and the coast to the south of this region in the fourth. To the day of his death he continued under the delusion that the land he had reached was the eastern extremity of Asia. Other voyagers quickly followed. Ojeda, who had already visited Hispaniola with Columbus, sailed on his own account and explored four hundred leagues of the coast of South America in the region already discovered by Columbus. He was accompanied by Amerigo Vespucci, who made three subsequent voyages to America and wrote the first account of it that was published. This was in a Latin work printed in 1507 and prepared by a German scholar, Martin Waldseemuller, who proposed the name of America for the new continent. The suggestion was universally accepted, and Columbus lost the honor of giving his name to the New World.

    Other voyagers were Pedro Alonzo Nigno, who sailed to the same region of South America and passed from the Gulf of Paria to the shores of the present republic of Colombia, and Vincent Yanez Pinzon, who had commanded one of the vessels of Columbus on his first voyage, and who was the first Spaniard to cross the equinoctial line. He discovered the mouth of the Amazon River, and from there sailed north to the Caribbean Sea and the Gulf of Mexico. About the same time (1499) Diego Lope reached the coast of South America at Cape St. Augustine, which he doubled and sailed to the southwest for a considerable distance. In 1500, Rodrigo Bastides touched South America at Cape Vela, and coasted to the present seaport of Nombre de Dios, a point which Columbus had reached in sailing south from Honduras.

    At a subsequent period the settled islands of the West Indies became centres of exploration for the reckless or disappointed spirits who had failed to find there the fortunes they sought. Among others, Ojeda, under a grant from the King of Spain, founded the settlement of San Sebastian, in the Gulf of Uraba. With him had engaged to sail Francisco Pizarro and Hernando Cortes. The latter was detained by illness, but the former thus made the first step in his famous career. The colony left by Ojeda was forced by the Indians to abandon the settlement. One vessel foundered. The other, commanded by Pizarro, reached Carthagena, where was found Enciso, a lawyer of San Domingo, who was conveying men and provisions to the colony. With him was Vasco Nunez de Balboa, an adventurer whose debts made him fly the town, and who managed to smuggle himself on board the ship in what purported to be a cask of provisions. On leaving shore he emerged from his cask, fell on his knees to Enciso, and begged pardon for his trick and permission to accompany the expedition. The colony having been deserted, Balboa proposed that they should sail for Darien, which coast he had already visited with Bastides. This proposal was accepted, and a new town established, which was named Santa Maria de la Antigua del Darien. Troubles ensured among the colonists, which ended in the imprisonment of Enciso, and the establishment of Balboa as alcalde of the colony. The subsequent story of this able adventurer is told in detail in "The History of the Spanish Discoveries in America," by Thomas F. Gordon, from which we make the following selection.]

    In the mean time the natives of Darien, weary of their unbidden guests, and calculating that the same passions which brought them to their shores would tempt them to remove, represented that the neighboring district of Coyba was richer than that of Santa Maria, both in provisions and gold. Balboa sent Pizarro, with six men only, to explore the country. Whilst ascending the river, they were surrounded by four hundred Indians, commanded by the cacique Zemaco, with whom the Spaniards unhesitatingly engaged, and in a very short time slew on hundred and fifty, and wounded many others. All the Spaniards were severely hurt, and one, dangerously wounded, was left on the field. The others retreated to Santa Maria. But Balboa, conceiving it to be a stain on his reputation that a living man should be thus abandoned, compelled Pizarro, with another party, to bring him off.

    [Balboa soon after conquered Coyba, and formed a league with its cacique, who became a useful ally.]

    Adjacent to Coyba, at the foot of a range of high mountains, lay the district of Comagre, governed by a cacique of the same name, who, struck with admiration of the Spaniards, invited them into his territories, treated them with much hospitality, and displayed greater civilization than they had yet seen in the New World. His palace, one hundred and fifty paces in length and eighty in breadth, was enclosed by a wall of timber of ingenious workmanship, and divided into convenient apartments, stored with abundance of provisions. One of these chambers was the receptacle of the dried and embalmed bodies of his ancestors of many generations, which, clothed in mantles of cotton, embroidered with gold, pearls, and precious stones, were suspended from the walls.

    The eldest son of the cacique presented his guest with a rich offering of gold, valued at four thousand pesos, and seventy slaves. A fifth of the metal was set apart for the king; but in the division of the remainder a strife arose among the Christians, which surprised and provoked the young Indian. "If," said he, addressing the Spaniards, and indignantly striking over the balance, "if you are so fond of gold as for its sake to desert your own country and disturb the peace of others, I will lead you to a province where your utmost desires may be gratified, — where gold is more abundant than iron in Spain, and is used in the fabric of ordinary domestic utensils. But to conquer this country you must provide a larger force than you have here, since you will have to contend with mighty chieftains, who will vigorously defend their possessions. When you shall have passed these mountains," continued he, pointing to a range in the southwest, "you will behold another ocean, on which are vessels inferior only to those which brought you hither, equipped with sails and oars, but navigated by a people naked like ourselves." It is supposed that the young chief alluded to the people of Peru.

    Balboa received with rapturous delight this first certain intimation of the existence of another ocean. He exulted in the hope of discovering the East Indies, which had been so dearly cherished by Columbus, and conjectured that the country now described to him formed a part of that vast and opulent region. He immediately set about preparation for this great enterprise, cultivating the good will of Comagre and other chieftains, and administering to the former and his sons the rite of Christian baptism.

    [He sent the gold intended for the royal treasury to St. Domingo, and occupied himself in subduing the neighboring tribes while waiting to obtain the sanction of the king to his government of the colony. So much gold was obtained, and such extravagant accounts of the riches of the country were carried to Spain, that the region received the name of Golden Castile (Castilla del Oro), and Balboa was sent the commission of captain-general by Passamonte, the king's treasurer at St. Domingo.]

    But the pleasure of Nunez, on this occasion, was not unmixed. Enciso had carried his complaints to the foot of the throne, and Balboa was commanded to repair his losses, to proceed immediately to court, and submit himself to the king's pleasure. He might, therefore, hourly expect a successor, to deprive him of the fame and wealth he anticipated from his intended enterprise. To prevent a calamity greatly deprecated by his ambitious spirit, he determined to effect the passage to the South Sea with the force then under his command.

    The Isthmus of Darien is not above sixty miles in breadth, but a chain of lofty mountains, a continuation of the Andes, covered with almost impenetrable forests, runs through its whole extent. Its valleys, divided by large and impetuous rivers, and inundated by rains which prevail near two-thirds of the year, are marshy and unhealthy. Its inhabitants, advanced but a few degrees in civilization, had done nothing to remove or alleviate the difficulties of the passage from sea to sea; nor after a lapse of three hundred years has it become more facile or commodious.

    The attempt of Balboa may justly be considered the boldest which had been made by the Spaniards in the New World; but he was in all respects fitted to insure its success. The quality of courage he possessed, only, in common with the meanest of his army; but his prudence, generosity, and affability, and those nameless popular talents which inspire confidence and secure attachment, were peculiarly his own. In battle his post was that of the greatest danger, and in every labor that of the greatest fatigue; whilst his regard for the ease of his troops was ever active and anxious. He desired for his undertaking a force of one thousand soldiers, but he commenced it with one hundred and ninety only, and some fierce blood-hounds, which were efficient auxiliaries. A thousand Indians, who accompanied him, were chiefly useful in the transportation of the baggage.

    Balboa set forth on the 1st of September (1513), after the rainy season had passed. He proceeded by sea to the district of Coyba, and thence marched into that of the cacique Ponca. At his approach, that chieftain fled to the deepest recesses of his mountains; but, attracted by promises of favor, and a liberal donation of Spanish implements and toys, he returned to his village, and gave the Spaniards a small quantity of gold, some provisions, and guides. Further progress was sternly opposed by a warlike tribe, armed with bows and arrows, and a species of sling, by which they threw staves hardened in the fire with such force as to pass through the body of a naked adversary. But the novel and terrific effect of the firelock, the keen edge of the sword, and the ferocity of the bloodhounds, scattered them in dismay, with the loss of their cacique and six hundred of inferior note. Among the prisoners were the brother of the cacique, and several chiefs, who were clothed in tunics of white cotton; and, being accused of unnatural crimes by their enemies, they were torn to pieces by the dogs, at the command of the Spaniards.

    This defeat made the neighboring tribes fearful of provoking hostility, and disposed them to render such assistance as the Christians required. But great labor and patience were necessary to overcome the natural difficulties of the way. Disease and fatigue broke down some of the hardy veterans, and they were left behind to recruit their health. A journey estimated by the Indians to be of six days only had already occupied twenty-five days, when Nunez approached the summit of a mountain from which he was informed the great ocean might be seen. He commanded the army to halt, and advanced alone to the apex, whence he beheld the great South Sea opened before him, in boundless extent. Casting himself on his knees, he poured forth his grateful thanks to heaven for conducting him in safety to this glorious object. The army, beholding his transports, rushed forward, and joined in his admiration, his exultation, and his gratitude. Then, with formal ceremony, he took possession of land and sea, making a record thereof, carefully attested, don. The design of the conquest of Peru, which he was thus prevented from accomplishing, was finally carried out by Pizarro, as able a man as Balboa, and a much more unscrupulous one. Three years after the death of Balboa, a Spanish fleet, under Magellan, entered the South Sea after sailing around the southern extremity of the continent. This great ocean, which Magellan named the Pacific, from the pleasant weather with which he was steadily favored, was crossed by his ships to the islands of the Indian archipelago. Laden with spices, the fleet returned to Europe by way of the Cape of Good Hope, having thus completed the circumnavigation of the globe.]

    RETREAT OF CORTES FROM THE CITY OF MEXICO.

    WILLIAM H. PRESCOTT.

    [The first step towards the discovery of Mexico was made by Francisco Fernandez de Cordova, who, in 1517, explored the northern coast of Yucatan. Instead of finding naked savages, as in former explorations, he was surprised to discover well-clad people and large stone edifices. The natives were so bold and warlike as to drive off the Spaniards, killing many of them, and mortally wounding Cordova. In the following year, Juan de Grijalva explored a portion of the southern coast of Mexico, and obtained much treasure by traffic with the inhabitants. Velasquez, governor of Cuba, who had fitted out this expedition, now determined to attempt the conquest of the wealthy country that had been discovered, and prepared an expedition of ten vessels, manned by six hundred and seventeen men, which he placed under the command of Hernando Cortes, and adventurous cavalier who had already shown much military ability. He landed in Mexico on March 4, 1519, where his ships, his horses, and his artillery filled the natives with wonder and terror and caused them to regard the Spaniards as divine beings. After several victories over the natives, who were repulsed with great slaughter, Cortes founded the city of Vera Cruz, burned his vessels to cut off all thought of retreat from the minds of his soldiers, and commenced his march towards towards the Mexican capital. He was opposed by the people of Tlascala, enemies of the Aztecs, but he conquered this warlike republic and converted its inhabitants into useful auxiliaries. In the city of Cholula, where an ambuscade had been laid for him, he defeated his enemies with terrible slaughter. He finally reached the city of Mexico, which was situated on an island in a lake and connected by causeways with the mainland. Here he took Montezuma, the Aztec emperor, prisoner, and converted one of his palaces into a fortress. Velasquez had, meanwhile, sent an expedition under Narvaez to deprive Cortes of his command. Leaving two hundred men in the city, he marched against Narvaez, defeated him, and enlisted his men under his own banner. During his absence the Mexicans attacked the Spanish garrison. Their attacks were continued after the return of Cortes with such fury that Montezuma was mortally wounded by his own subjects, and many of the Spaniards were slain. So persistent and threatening became the Mexican assaults that the invaders found themselves in imminent peril of being entirely destroyed, and their leader was forced to order a retreat. There is nothing more exciting in fiction than the story of this terrible night march, the "noche triste" of Spanish historians. We give it in Prescott's eloquent description from his "Conquest of Mexico."]

    THE general's first care was to provide for the safe transportation of the treasure. Many of the common soldiers had converted their share of the prize, as we have seen, into gold chains, collars, or other ornaments, which they easily carried about their persons. But the royal fifth, together with that of Cortes himself, and much of the rich booty of the principal cavaliers, had been converted into bars and wedges of solid gold and deposited in one of the strong apartments of the palace. Cortes delivered the share belonging to the crown to the royal officers, assigning them one of the strongest horses, and a guard of Castilian soldiers, to transport it. Still, much of the treasure, belonging both to the crown and to individuals, was necessarily abandoned, from the want of adequate means of conveyance. The metal lay scattered in shining heaps along the floor, exciting the cupidity of the soldiers. "Take what you will of it;" said Cortes to his men. "Better you should have it, than these Mexican hounds. But be careful not to overload yourselves. He travels safest in the dark night who travels lightest." His own more wary followers took heed to his counsel, helping themselves to a few articles of least bulk, though, it might be, of greatest value. But the troops of Narvaez, pining for riches of which they had heard so much and hitherto seen so little, showed no such discretion. To them it seemed as if the very mines of Mexico were turned up before them, and, rushing on the treacherous spoil, they greedily loaded themselves with as much of it, not merely as they could accommodate about their persons, but as they could stow away in wallets, boxes, or any other means of conveyance at their disposal.

    Cortes next arranged the order of march. The van, composed of two hundred Spanish foot, he placed under the command of the valiant Gonzalo de Sandoval, supported by Diego de Ordaz, Francisco de Lujo, and about twenty other cavaliers. The rear-guard, constituting the strength of the infantry, was intrusted to Pedro de Alvarado and Velasquez de Leon. The general himself took charge of the "battle," or centre, in which went the baggage, some of the heavy guns,—most of which, however, remained in the rear,—the treasure, and the prisoners. These consisted of a son and two daughters of Montezuma, Cacama, the deposed lord of Tezcuco, and several other nobles, whom Cortes retained as important pledges in his future negotiations with the enemy. The Tlascalans were distributed pretty equally among the three divisions; and Cortes had under his immediate command a hundred picked soldiers, his own veterans most attached to his service, who, with Cristoval de Olid, Francisco de Morla, Alonso de Avila, and two or three other cavaliers, formed a select corps, to act wherever occasion might require.

    The general had already superintended the construction of a portable bridge to be laid over the open canals in the causeway. This was given in charge to an officer named Magarino, with forty soldiers under his orders, all pledged to defend the passage to the last extremity. The bridge was to be taken up when the entire army had crossed one of the breaches, and transported to the next. There were three of these openings in the causeway, and most fortunate would it have been for the expedition if the foresight of the commander had provided the same number of bridges. But the labor would have been great, and time was short.

    At midnight the troops were under arms, in readiness for the march. Mass was performed by Father Olmedo, who invoked the protection of the Almighty through the awful perils of the night. The gates were thrown open, and on the 1st of July, 1520, the Spaniards for the last time sallied forth from the walls of the ancient fortress, the scene of so much suffering and such indomitable courage.

    The night was cloudy, and a drizzling rain, which fell without intermission, added to the obscurity. The great square before the palace was deserted, as, indeed, it had been since the fall of Montezuma. Steadily, and as noiselessly as possible, the Spaniards held their way along the great street of Tlacopan, which so lately had resounded with the tumult of battle. All was now hushed in silence; and they were only reminded of the past by the occasional presence of some solitary corpse, or a dark heap of the slain, which too plainly told where the strife had been hottest. As they passed along the lanes and alleys which opened into the great street, or looked down the canals, whose polished surface gleamed with a sort of ebon lustre through the obscurity of night, they easily fancied that they discerned the shadowy forms of their foe lurking in ambush and ready to spring on them. But it was only fancy; and the city slept undisturbed even by the prolonged echoes of the tramp of the horses and the hoarse rumbling of the artillery and baggage-trains. At length a lighter space beyond the dusky line of buildings showed the van of the army that it was emerging on the open causeway. They might well have congratulated themselves on having thus escaped the dangers of an assault in the city itself, and that a brief time would place them in comparative safety on the opposite shore. But the Mexicans were not all asleep.

    As the Spaniards drew near the spot where the street opened on the causeway, and were preparing to lay the portable bridge across the uncovered breach, which now met their eyes, several Indian sentinels, who had been stationed at this, as at the other approaches to the city, took the alarm and fled, rousing their countrymen by their cries. The priests, keeping their night-watch on the summit of the teocallis, instantly caught the tidings and sounded their shells, while the huge drum in the desolate temple of the war-god sent forth those solemn tones which, heard only in seasons of calamity, vibrated through every corner of the capital. The Spaniards saw that no time was to be lost. The bridge was brought forward and fitted with all possible expedition. Sandoval was the first to try its strength, and, riding across, was followed by his little body of chivalry, his infantry, and Tlascalan allies, who formed the first division of the army. Then came Cortes and his squadrons, with the baggage, ammunition- wagons, and a part of the artillery. But before they had time to defile across the narrow passage, a gathering sound was heard, like that of a mighty forest agitated by the winds. It grew louder and louder, while on the dark waters of the lake was heard a plashing noise, as of many oars. Then came a few stones and arrows striking at random among the hurrying troops. They fell every moment faster and more furious, till they thickened into a terrible tempest, while the very heavens were rent with the yells and war-cries of myriads of combatants, who seemed all at once to be swarming over land and lake!

    The Spaniards pushed steadily on through this arrowy sleet, though the barbarians, dashing their canoes against the sides of the causeway, clambered up and broke in upon their ranks. But the Christians, anxious only to make their escape, declined all combat except for self-preservation. The cavaliers, spurring forward their steeds, shook off their assailants and rode over their prostrate bodies, while the men on foot with their good swords or the butts of their pieces drove them headlong again down the sides of the dike.

    But the advance of several thousand men, marching, probably, on a front of not more than fifteen or twenty abreast, necessarily required much time, and the leading files had already reached the second breach in the causeway before those in the rear had entirely traversed the first. Here they halted, as they had no means of effecting a passage, smarting all the while under unintermitting volleys from the enemy, who were clustered thick on the waters around this second opening. Sorely distressed, the vanguard sent repeated messages to the rear to demand the portable bridge. At length the last of the army had crossed, and Magarino and his sturdy followers endeavored to raise the ponderous framework. But it stuck fast in the sides of the dike. In vain they strained every nerve. The weight of so many men and horses, and above all of the heavy artillery, had wedged the timbers so firmly in the stones and earth that it was beyond their power to dislodge them. Still they labored amidst a torrent of missiles, until, many of them slain, and all wounded, they were obliged to abandon the attempt.

    The tidings soon spread from man to man, and no sooner was their dreadful import comprehended than a cry of despair arose, which for a moment drowned all the noise of conflict. All means of retreat were cut off. Scarcely hope was left. The only hope was in such desperate exertions as each could make for himself. Order and subordination were at an end. Intense danger produced intense selfishness. Each thought only of his own life. Pressing forward, he trampled down the weak and the wounded, heedless whether it were friend or foe. The leading files, urged on by the rear, were crowded on the brink of the gulf. Sandoval, Ordaz, and the other cavaliers dashed into the water. Some succeeded in swimming their horses across. Others failed, and some, who reached the opposite bank, being overturned in the ascent, rolled headlong with their steeds into the lake. The infantry followed pell-mell, heaped promiscuously on one another, frequently pierced by the shafts or struck down by the war-clubs of the Aztecs; while many an unfortunate victim was dragged half stunned on board their canoes, to be reserved for a protracted but more dreadful death.

    The carnage raged fearfully along the length of the causeway. Its shadowy bulk presented a mark of sufficient distinctness for the enemy's missiles, which often prostrated their own countrymen in the blind fury of the tempest. Those nearest the dike, running their canoes alongside with a force that shattered them to pieces, leaped on the land, and grappled with the Christians, until both came rolling down the side of the causeway together. But the Aztec fell among his friends, while his antagonist was borne away in triumph to the sacrifice. The struggle was long and deadly. The Mexicans were recognized by their white cotton tunics, which showed faint through the darkness. Above the combatants rose a wild and discordant clamor, in which horrid shouts of vengeance were mingled with groans of agony, with invocations of the saints and the blessed Virgin, and with the screams of women; for there were several women, both natives and Spaniards, who had accompanied the Christian camp. Among these, one named Maria de Estrada is particularly noticed for the courage she displayed, battling with broadsword and target like the stanchest of the warriors.

    The opening in the causeway, meanwhile, was filled up with the wreck of matter which had been forced into it,—ammunition-wagons, heavy guns, bales of rich stuffs scattered over the waters, chests of solid ingots, and bodies of men and horses, till over this dismal ruin a passage was gradually formed, by which those in the rear were enabled to clamber to the other side. Cortes, it is said, found a place that was fordable, where, halting, with the water up to his saddle-girths, he endeavored to check the confusion and lead his followers by a safer path to the opposite bank. But his voice was lost in the wild uproar, and finally, hurrying on with the tide, he pressed forward with a few trusty cavaliers, who remained near his person, to the van; but not before he had seen his favorite page, Juan de Salazar, struck down, a corpse, by his side. Here he found Sandoval and his companions, halting before the third and last breach, endeavoring to cheer on their followers to surmount it. But their resolution faltered. It was wide and deep; though the passage was not so closely beset by the enemy as the preceding ones. The cavaliers again set the example by plunging into the water. Horse and foot followed as they could, some swimming, others with dying grasp clinging to the manes and tails of the struggling animals. Those fared best, as the general had predicted, who travelled lightest; and many were the unfortunate wretches who, weighed down by the fatal gold which they loved so well, were buried with it in the salt floods of the lake. Cortes, with his gallant comrades, Olid, Morla, Sandoval, and some few others, still kept in the advance, leading his broken remnant off the fatal causeway. The din of battle lessened in the distance; when the rumor reached them that the rear-guard would be wholly overwhelmed without speedy relief. It seemed almost an act of desperation; but the generous hearts of the Spanish cavaliers did not stop to calculate danger when the cry for succor reached them. Turning their horses' bridles, they galloped back to the theatre of action, worked their way through the press, swam the canal, and placed themselves in the thick of the melee on the opposite bank.

    The first gray of the morning was now coming over the waters. It showed the hideous confusion of the scene which had been shrouded in the obscurity of night. The dark masses of combatants, stretching along the dike, were seen struggling for mastery, until the very causeway on which they stood appeared to tremble and reel to and fro, as if shaken by an earthquake, while the bosom of the lake, as far as the eye could reach, was darkened by canoes crowded with warriors, whose spears and bludgeons, armed with blades of "volcanic glass," gleamed in the morning light.

    The cavaliers found Alvarado unhorsed, and defending himself with a poor handful of followers against an over-whelming tide of the enemy. His good steed, which had borne him through many a hard fight, had fallen under him. He was himself wounded in several places, and was striving in vain to rally his scattered column, which was driven to the verge of the canal by the fury of the enemy, then in possession of the whole rear of the causeway, where they were reinforced every hour by fresh combatants from the city. The artillery in the earlier part of the engagement had not been idle, and its iron shower, sweeping along the dike, had mowed down the assailants by hundreds. But nothing could resist their impetuosity. The front ranks, pushed on by those behind, were at length forced up to the pieces, and, pouring over them like a torrent, overthrew men and guns in one general ruin. The resolute charge of the Spanish cavaliers, who had now arrived, created a temporary check, and gave time for their countrymen to make a feeble rally. But they were speedily borne down by the returning flood. Cortes and his companions were compelled to plunge again into the lake,— though all did not escape. Alvarado stood on the brink for a moment hesitating what to do. Unhorsed as he was, to throw himself into the water in the face of the hostile canoes that now swarmed around the opening afforded but a desperate chance of safety. He had but a second for thought. He was a man of powerful frame, and despair gave him unnatural energy. Setting his long lance firmly on the wreck which strewed the bottom of the lake, he sprung forward with all his might, and cleared the wide gap at a leap! Aztecs and Tlascalans gazed in stupid amazement, exclaiming, as they beheld the incredible feat, "This is truly the Tonatiuh,— the child of the Sun!" The breadth of the opening is not given. But it was so great that the valorous captain, Diaz, who well remembered the place, says the leap was impossible to any man. Other contemporaries, however, do not discredit the story. It was, beyond doubt, matter of popular belief at the time; it is to this day familiarly known to every inhabitant of the capital; and the name of the Salto de Alvarado, "Alvarado's Leap," given to the spot, still commemorates an exploit which rivalled those of the demi-gods of Grecian fable.

    Cortes and his companions now rode forward to the front, where the troops, in a loose, disorderly manner, were marching off the fatal causeway. A few only of the enemy hung on their rear, or annoyed them by occasional flights of arrows from the lake. The attention of the Aztecs was diverted by the rich spoil that strewed the battle-ground; fortunately for the Spaniards, who, had their enemy pursued with the same ferocity with which he had fought, would, in their crippled condition, have been cut off, probably, to a man. But little molested, therefore, they were allowed to defile through the adjacent village, or suburbs, it might be called, of Popotla.

    The Spanish commander there dismounted from his jaded steed, and, sitting down on the steps of an Indian temple, gazed mournfully on the broken files as they passed before him. What a spectacle did they present! The cavalry, most of them dismounted, were mingled with the infantry, who dragged their feeble limbs along with difficulty; their shattered mail and tattered garments dripping with the salt ooze, showing through their rents many a bruise and ghastly would; their bright arms soiled, their proud crests and banners gone, the baggage, artillery, all, in short, that constitutes the pride and panoply of glorious war, forever lost. Cortes, as he looked wistfully on their thin and disordered ranks, sought in vain for many a familiar face, and missed more than one dear companion who had stood side by side with him through all the perils of the Conquest. Though accustomed to control his emotions, or, at least, to conceal them, the sight was too much for him. He covered his face with his hands, and the tears which trickled down revealed too plainly the anguish of his soul.

    [The story of the conquest of Mexico may be briefly concluded. Cortes, in his retreat, found himself opposed by a vastly outnumbering army, filling a valley through which he was forced to pass. A desperate conflict ensued, in which the Spaniards were in imminent danger of annihilation, when Cortes, followed by his bravest cavaliers, spurred to the point where the great Aztec standard rose in the center of the army, cut down the general, and seized the imperial banner. On seeing their standard fall, the army at once broke into a panic and fled in all directions, leaving free passage to the remnant of the Spanish force. Cortes proceeded to the coast, where he received reinforcements, and returned to besiege the city. It was defended with desperate determination, and yielded only after a siege of several months, when the city was nearly levelled with the ground, and after the inhabitants had endured the extremities of famine. The submission of the city was that of the empire, and the Aztecs experienced the fate which had been visited upon the natives in the other Spanish colonies.]

    HERNANDO DE SOTO.

    N. D'ANVERS.

    [The activity of the Spanish adventurers in their search for gold was unceasing, and this eager desire for riches led to a far more rapid exploration of the American continent than could have been accomplished under any other incitement. It was this that led Balboa in his perilous journey across the Isthmus, and that was the inciting cause of the remarkable achievements of Cortes and Pizarro. The same wild thirst for wealth led a succession of bold adventurers northward, and gave rise to an extended exploration of the territory of the southern United States. The earliest of these was Juan Ponce de Leon, who in 1512 discovered a country which he named Florida, either because he first saw it on Easter Sunday (Pascua florida), or on account of its beautiful appearance. He made several efforts to land, but was driven off by the warlike natives.

    In the words of Robertson, "It was not merely the passion of searching for new countries that prompted Ponce de Leon to undertake this voyage; he was influenced by one of those visionary ideas which at that time often mingled with the spirit of discovery and rendered it more active. A tradition prevailed among the natives of Puerto Rico, that in the isle of Bimini, one of the Lucayos, there was a fountain of such wonderful virtue as to renew the youth and recall the vigor of every person who bathed in its salutary waters. In hopes of finding this grand restorative, Ponce de Leon and his followers ranged through the islands, searching, with fruitless solicitude and labor, for the fountain which was the chief object of their expedition. That a tale so fabulous should gain credit among simple uninstructed Indians is not surprising. That it should make any impression upon an enlightened people appears, in the present age, altogether incredible. The fact, however, is certain; and the most authentic Spanish historians mention this extravagant sally of their credulous countrymen. The Spaniards, at that period, were engaged in a career of activity which gave a romantic turn to their imagination and daily presented to them strange and marvellous objects. A new world was opened to their view. They visited islands and continents of whose existence mankind in former ages had no conception. In those delightful countries nature seemed to assume another form; every tree and plant and animal was different from those of the ancient hemisphere. They seemed to be transported into enchanted ground; and, after the wonders which they had seen, nothing, in the warmth and novelty of their imagination, appeared to them so extraordinary as to be beyond belief. If the rapid succession of new and striking scenes made such impression upon the sound understanding of Columbus that he boasted of having found the seat of Paradise, it will not appear strange that Ponce de Leon should dream of discovering the fountain of youth."

    Ponce de Leon was killed by the Indians in a second visit to Florida in 1521. In 1518 Francisco Garay cruised along the whole Gulf coast, passing the mouth of the Mississippi,—the Miche Sepe, or Father of Waters, of the Indians. In 1520, Lucas Vasquez de Ayllon sailed from Cuba in quest of a land called Chicora, north of Florida, said to possess a sacred stream whose waters had the miraculous virtue of those of the Fountain of Youth. He carried off some of the Indians, in reprisal for which he was attacked in a second expedition and many of his men killed, perhaps himself among the number. In 1528, Pamphilo de Narvaez made an effort to take possession of this land in the name of Charles V. of Germany. He met, however, with such determined opposition from the Indians that after months of fruitless wandering he reached the shores of the Gulf, bringing with him but a miserable remnant of his six hundred followers. Here five crazy boats were built, and the reckless adventurers sought to follow the line of the coast to the Mexican settlements. Four of the boats were lost in a storm, and the survivors, landing, sought to cross the continent to the province of Sonora, already colonized by Spaniards. Four of the party, after being held for years in captivity by the Indians, succeeded in this enterprise, among them Cabeca de Vaca, treasurer of the expedition. Their appearance at the mining settlement on the shores of the Gulf of California caused the greatest astonishment, and on reaching Europe, nine years after the starting of the original expedition, they were received with the utmost enthusiasm. We give the story of De Soto in an extract from "Heroes of American Discovery," by N. D'Anvers.]

    THE excitement caused by the wonderful tales of their captivity, told by Cabeca and his comrades, was, as may be imagined, intense. Far from damping the ardor of others for exploration and colonization, the pictures called up by their narrative of hair-breadth escapes, of the magic influence exercised on whole tribes of dusky warriors by a single white man, of the weird growths of the tropical forests, and of the wild beauty of the Indian maidens, created a passion for adventure amongst the youth of Spain. When, therefore, the renowned Hernando De Soto, who had been in close attendance on Pizarro throughout his romantic career in Peru, asked for and obtained permission from Ferdinand of Spain to take possession of Florida in his name, hundreds of volunteers of every rank flocked to his standard. Narvaez had failed for want of knowledge as to how to deal with the natives; doubtless the land of gold could yet be found by those who knew how to wrest the secret of its position from the sons of the soil; and so once more a gallant company set forth from Spain to measure their strength against the craft of the poor Indians of Florida.

    De Soto, who was in the first place appointed governor of Cuba that he might turn to account the resources of that wealthy island, sailed from Havana with a fleet of nine vessels and a force of some six or seven hundred men on the 18th May, 1539, and cast anchor in Tampa Bay on the 30th of the same month. Landing his forces at once, the leader gave orders that they should start for the interior immediately, by the same route as that taken by his unfortunate predecessor; and the men were eagerly ploughing their way through the sandy, marshy districts immediately beyond the beach, driving the natives who opposed their progress before them, when one of those romantic incidents occurred in which the early history of the New World is so remarkably rich.

    A white man on horseback rode forward from amongst the dusky savages, who hailed the approach of the troops with wild gestures of delight, and turned out to be a Spaniard named Juan Ortiz, who had belonged to the Narvaez expedition and had been unable to effect his escape with his comrades. In his captivity amongst the Indians he had acquired a thorough knowledge of their language, and his services alike as a mediator and a guide were soon found to be invaluable.

    [The story told by Ortiz of his adventures in captivity may be briefly given. It had been decided by his captors to burn him alive by a slow fire, as a sacrifice to the Evil Spirit. He was accordingly bound hand and foot and laid on a wooden stage, with a fire kindled beneath it. At that moment of frightful peril the daughter of the chieftain begged for his life from her father, and succeeded in winning a change of sentence from death to slavery. Three years later he was again condemned to be burned, and again saved by the chieftain's daughter, who warned him of his danger, and led him to the camp of another chief. Here he remained until the arrival of the Spaniards. As for the maiden, Ortiz says nothing further concerning her.

    Led by Ortiz, the exploring army wandered through the unknown land of Florida until the ensuing spring, when the march was resumed under the guidance of a native who said he would take the white men to a distant country, governed by a woman, and abounding in a yellow metal, which the Spaniards naturally took to be gold, but which proved to be copper. After wandering to the southern slope of the Appalachian range, marking their course by pillage and bloodshed, and finding the land of gold ever receding before them, they reached the dominions of an Indian queen, who hastened to welcome them, perhaps with the desire of conciliating her dreaded visitors.]

    Very touching is the account given by the old chroniclers of the meeting between the poor cacica and De Soto. Alighting from the litter in which she had travelled, carried by four of her subjects, the dusky princess came forward with gestures expressive of pleasure at the arrival of her guest, and taking from her own neck a heavy double string of pearls, she hung it on that of the Spaniard. Bowing with courtly grace, De Soto accepted the gift, and for a short time he kept up the semblance of friendship; but having obtained from the queen all the information he wanted, he made her his prisoner, and robbed her and her people of all the valuables they possessed, including large numbers of pearls, found chiefly in the graves of natives of distinction. We are glad to be able to add that the poor queen effected her escape from her guards, taking with her a box of pearls which she had managed to regain and on which De Soto had set especial store.

    The home of the cacica appears to have been situated close to the Atlantic seaboard, and to have been amongst the villages visited by De Ayllon twenty years previously, the natives having in their possession a dagger and a string of beads, probably a rosary, which they said had belonged to the white men. Unwilling to go over old ground, the Spaniards now determined to alter their course, and, taking a northwesterly direction, they reached, in the course of a few months, the first spurs of the lofty Appalachian range, the formidable aspect of which so damped their courage that they turned back and wandered into the lowlands of what is now Alabama, ignorant that in the very mountains they so much dreaded were hidden large quantities of that yellow metal they had sought so long and so vainly.

    The autumn of 1540 found the party, their numbers greatly diminished, at a large village called Mavilla, close to the site of the modern Mobile, where the natives were gathered in considerable force; and it soon became evident that an attempt would be made to exact vengeance for the long course of oppression of which the white intruders had been guilty in their two years' wanderings.

    Intending to take possession of Mavilla in his usual high-handed manner, De Soto and a few of his men entered the palisades forming its defences, accompanied by the cacique, who, meek enough until he was within reach of his warriors, then turned upon his guests with some insulting speech and disappeared in a neighboring house. A dispute then ensued between a minor chief and one of the Spaniards. The latter enforced his view of the matter at issue by a blow with his cutlass, and in an instant the town was in a commotion. From every house poured showers of arrows, and in a few minutes nearly all the Christians were slain. De Soto and a few others escaped, and, calling his forces together, the Spanish governor quickly invested the town.

    A terrible conflict, lasting nine hours, ensued, in which, as was almost inevitable, the white men were finally victorious, though not until they had lost many valuable lives and nearly all their property. Mavilla was burnt to ashes; and when the battle was over, the Spaniards found themselves in an awful situations,—at a distance from their ships, without food or medicines, and surrounded on all sides by enemies rendered desperate by defeat. The common soldiers, too, had by this time had enough of exploration, and were eager to return to the coast, there to await the return of the vessels which had been sent to Cuba for supplies. Evading the poor fellows' questions as to his plans, however, De Soto, who had received secret intelligence that his fleet was even now awaiting him in' the Bay of Pensacola, but six days' journey from Mavilla, determined to make one more effort to redeem his honor by a discovery of importance. With this end in view he led his disheartened forces northward, and in December reached a small village, belonging to Chickasaw Indians, in the State of Mississippi, supposed to have been situated about N. lat. 32 deg 53', W. long 90 deg 23'.

    In spite of constant petty hostilities with the Indians, the winter, which was severe enough for snow to fall, passed over peaceably; but with the beginning of spring the usual arbitrary proceedings were resorted to by De Soto for procuring porters to carry his baggage in his next trip, and this led to a second terrible fight, in which the Spaniards were worsted and narrowly escaped extermination. Had the Indians followed up their victory, not a white man would have escaped to tell the tale; but they seem to have been frightened at their own success, and to have drawn back just as they had their persecutors at their feet.

    Rallying the remnant of his forces, and supplying the place of the uniforms which had been carried off by the enemy with skins and mats of ivy leaves, De Soto now led his strangely-transformed followers in a north-westerly direction, and, completely crossing the modern State of Mississippi, arrived in May on the banks of the mighty river from which it takes its name, in about N. lat. 35 deg.

    Thus took place the discovery of the great Father of Waters, rolling by in unconscious majesty on its way from its distanct birthplace in Minnesota to its final home in the Gulf of Mexico. To De Soto, however, it was no geographical phenomenon, inviting him to trace its course and solve the secret of its origin, but a sheet of water, "half a league over," impeding his progress, and his first care was to obtain boats to get to the other side.

    [His succeeding movements may be epitomized. Building barges capable of carrying their horses, the Spaniards crossed the stream, and immediately opened hostilities with the Indians on the other side. They proceeded northward, constantly harassed by the natives, until they reached the region of the present State of Missouri, whose inhabitants took them for children of the Sun and brought out their blind to be restored to sight. After some missionary labors with these Indians, De Soto proceeded westward, and encamped for the winter about the site of Little Rock, in Arkansas, after having reached the highlands of southwest Missouri, near the White River.]

    But on resuming his researches in the ensuing spring, though worn out by continual wanderings and warfare, and deprived by death of his chief helper, Juan Ortiz, the indomitable explorer now endeavored to win over the Indians by claiming supernatural powers and declaring himself immortal; but it was too late to inaugurate a new policy. The spot chosen for encampment turned out to be unhealthy; the white men began to succumb to disease; scouts sent out to explore the neighborhood for a more favorable situation brought back rumors of howling wildernesses, impenetrable woods, and, worst of all, of stealthy bands of Indians creeping up from every side to hem in and destroy the little knot of white men.

    Thus driven to bay, De Soto, who was now himself either attacked by disease or broken down by all he had undergone, determined at least to die like a man, and, calling the survivors of his once gallant company about him, he asked pardon for the evils he had brought upon those who had trusted in him, and named Luis Moscoso de Alvaredo as his successor.

    On the following day, May 21, 1542, the unfortunate hero breathed his last, and was almost immediately buried secretly without the gates of the camp, Alvaredo fearing an immediate onslaught from the natives should the death of the hero who had claimed immortality be discovered. The newly-made grave, however, excited suspicion, and, finding it impossible to prevent it from being rifled by the inquisitive savages, Alvaredo had the corpse of his predecessor removed from it in the night, wrapped in cloths made heavy with sand, and dropped from a boat into the Mississippi.

    The midnight funeral over, all further queries from the natives, as to what had become of the Child of the Sun, were answered by an assurance that he had gone to heaven for a time, but would soon return. Then, whilst the expected return was still waited for, the camp was broken up as quietly as possible, and Alvaredo led his people westward, hoping, as Cabeca had done before him, to reach the Pacific coast.

    But, long months of wandering in pathless prairies bringing him apparently no nearer to the sea, and dreading to be overtaken in the wilderness by the winter, he turned back and retraced his steps to the Mississippi, where he once more pitched his camp, and spent six months in building boats, in which he hoped to go down the river to its outlet in the Gulf of Mexico. In this bold scheme he was successful. The embarkation into seven roughly-constructed brigantines took place on the 2d July, 1543, and a voyage of seventeen days between banks lined with hostile Indians, who plied them unceasingly with their poisoned arrows, brought a few haggard, half-naked survivors to the longed-for gulf. Fifty days later, after a weary cruise along the rugged coasts of what is now Louisiana and Texas, a party, still further reduced, landed at the Spanish settlement of Panuco, in Mexico, where they were received as men risen from the dead.

    THE DISCOVERY OF THE ST. LAWRENCE.

    JOHN MCMULLEN.

    [The voyages of discovery to the northern coast of North America began with the expedition of John Cabot, in 1497, under the auspices of Henry VII. of England. His object was to seek not alone for new lands, but also for that northwest passage to the coast of Asia which gave rise to so many subsequent voyages to the Arctic seas. On the 26th of June, Cabot discovered land, most probably the island of Newfoundland. Continuing his course, he reached the coast of Labrador on the 3d of July. He was, therefore, the first of modern navigators to discover the continent of America, which was not reached by Columbus till some thirteen months afterwards. He explored the coast for nine hundred miles to the southward, and returned to England. In the following year his son Sebastian made a voyage to the same region, with similar instructions to search for a northwest passage. The same object was sought, in 1527, by a fleet sent out by Henry VIII.

    The Portuguese also made early voyages in search of this illusory northwest passage. Gaspar Cortereal, in 1500, reached the American coast at fifty degrees of north latitude. On a second voyage his ship was lost, and his brother Miguel, who went in search of him, failed also to return.

    In 1524, Francis I. of France resolved to have his share in these discoveries, and in the benefits which might result from them. "What!" said he to his courtiers, "shall the kings of Spain and Portugal divide all America between them, without suffering me to take a share as their brother? I would fain see the article in Adam's will that bequeaths that vast inheritance to them." Already some fishing captains had partly explored the coast. The fishermen of Breton have left their record of discovery in the name of Cape Breton. John Denys explored the Gulf of St. Lawrence as early as 1506. These hardy fishermen formed useful crews for succeeding voyages of discovery. Francis prepared a squadron of four ships, which he placed under command of Giovanni Verrazano, an experienced Italian navigator, who explored the American coast from Carolina northward, probably visiting New York and Narragansett Bays. He also was in search of a passage to India, and became convinced that no such passage existed, and that the continent was continuous from the Straits of Magellan to Labrador. An account of the succeeding French expedition, that of Cartier, we extract from "The History of Canada," by John McMullen.]

    IN 1534 the French king fitted out a second expedition, the conduct of which he intrusted to Jacques Cartier, a fearless and skilful mariner, who had previously been engaged for several years in the fisheries on the Banks of Newfoundland, which even as early as 1517 already gave employment to some fifty English, French, Spanish, and Portuguese vessels. This expedition, consisting of two vessels of sixty tons each, sailed from St. Malo on the 20th of April, and on the 10th of May arrived at Newfoundland, where it remained ten days. Proceeding northward, Cartier passed through the Straits of Belleisle, entered the Gulf of St. Lawrence, and landed at Gaspe, where, on the 24th July, he erected a cross, surmounted by a fleur-de-lys, to commemorate his advent on the coast. A friendly intercourse with the natives enabled him to kidnap two men, with whom he sailed for France, where, on his arrival, he was well received by his sovereign.

    In the following year Cartier obtained a new commission from Francis, and sailed with three vessels direct for the Gulf of St. Lawrence, with instructions to explore its shores carefully, to establish a settlement, if at all practicable, and to open a traffic for gold with the inhabitants. In the month of August, on the festival day of the martyr Lawrence, this navigator entered the great father of the northern waters, which he called after the saint. Proceeding up it course, he found himself, in a few days, opposite the Indian village of Stadacona, then occupying a portion of the ground on which the city of Quebec now stands. As the vessels came to an anchor the terrified natives fled to the forest, whence they gazed, with mingled feelings of awe and wonder, on the "winged canoes" which had borne the pale-faced strangers to their shores. These feelings were, however, much less intense than they must have otherwise been, owing to the rumors which from time to time had preceded Cartier's approach, and to the fact that they were well acquainted with the circumstance of his visit to Gaspe the previous year, and the outrage he had there perpetrated on their countrymen. This knowledge led the inhabitants of Stadacona to resolve on a wary intercourse with the strangers. Their chief, Donacona, approached the vessels with a fleet of twelve canoes, filled with his armed followers. Ten of these canoes he directed to remain at a short distance, while he proceeded with the other two to ascertain the purport of the visit,—whether it was for peace or war. With this object in view, he commenced an oration. Cartier heard the chief patiently, and with the aid of the two Gaspe Indians, now tolerably proficient in the French language, he was enabled to open a conversation with him, and to allay his apprehensions. An amicable understanding having thus been established, Cartier moored his vessels safely in the river St. Charles, where, shortly afterwards, he received a second visit from Donacona, who this time came accompanied by five hundred warriors of his tribe.

    Having thoroughly rested and refreshed himself and his men, Cartier determined to explore the river to Hochelaga, another Indian town, which he learned was situated several days' journey up its course. With the view of impressing the Indians with the superiority of the white man, he caused, prior to his departure, several cannonshots to be discharged, which produced the desired result. Like their countrymen of the south on the arrival of Columbus, the red men of the St. Lawrence were alarmed by the firing of artillery; and as its thunders reverberated among the surrounding hills, a feeling of mingled terror and astonishment took complete possession of their minds.

    Leaving his other ships safely at anchor, Cartier, on the 19th of September, proceeded up the river with the Hermerillon (which, owing to the shallowness of the water, he had to leave in Lake St. Peter) and two boats, and frequently came into contact with small parties of the natives, who treated him in the most friendly manner. Bold, and loving adventure for its own sake, and at the same time strongly imbued with religious enthusiasm, Cartier watched the shifting landscape hour after hour, as he ascended the river, with feelings of the deepest gratification, which were heightened by the reflection that he was the pioneer of civilization and Christianity in that unknown clime. Nature presented itself in all its primitive grandeur to his view. The noble river on whose broad bosom he floated onwards day after day, disturbing vast flocks of water-fowl; the primeval forests of the north, which here and there presented, amid the luxuriance of their foliage, the parasitical vine loaded with ripe clusters of luscious grapes, and from whence the strange notes of the whippoorwill, and other birds of varied tone and plumage, such as he had never before seen, were heard at intervals; the bright sunshine of a Canadian autumn; the unclouded moonlight of its calm and pleasant nights, with the other novel accessories of the occasion, made a sublime and profound impression upon the mind of the adventurer.

    Delighted with his journey, Cartier arrived, on the 2d of October, opposite the Huron village of Hochelaga, the inhabitants of which lined the shore on his approach, and made the most friendly signs for him to land. Supplies of fish and maize were freely tendered by the Indians, in return for which they received knives and beads. Despite this friendly conduct, however, Cartier and his companions deemed it most prudent to pass the night on board their boats. On the following day, headed by their leader dressed in the most imposing costume at his command, the exploring party went in procession to the village. At a short distance from its environs they were met by the sachem, who received them with that solemn courtesy peculiar to the aborigines of America. Cartier made him several presents: among these was a cross, which he hung round his neck and directed him to kiss. patches of ripe corn encircled the village, which consisted of fifty substantially-built huts, secured from attack by three lines of stout palisades. Like the natives of Mexico and Peru, the Hochelagians regarded the white men as a superior race of beings, who came among them as friends and benefactors. Impressed with this idea, they conducted them in state to their council lodge and brought their sick to be healed. Cartier was at once too completely in their power and too politic to undeceive them. It is recorded that he did everything he could to soothe their minds; that he even prayed with these idolaters, and distributed crosses and other symbols of the Catholic faith among them.

    The introductory ceremony concluded, Cartier ascended the mountain behind Hochelaga, to which he gave the name of Mont Royal, subsequently corrupted into Montreal. From a point near its summit a noble prospect met his view. Interminable forests stretched on every side, their deep gloom broken at harmonious intervals by hills and rivers and island-studded lakes. Simple as were the natives of Hochelaga, they appeared to have some knowledge of the geography of their country. From them Cartier learned that it would take three months to sail in their canoes up the course of the majestic river which flowed beneath them, and that it ran through several great lakes, the farthest one of which was like a vast sea. Beyond this lake was another large river (the Mississippi), which pursued a southerly course through a region free from ice and snow. With the precious metals they appeared but very partially acquainted. Of copper they had a better knowledge, and stated that it was found at the Saguenay.

    Favorably as Cartier had been received, the lateness of the season compelled his immediate return to Stadacona. The Indians expressed their regret at the shortness of the visit, and accompanied the French to their boats, which they followed for some time, making signs of farewell. The expedition did not, however, find all the natives equally friendly. While bivouacking one night on the bank of the river, they would probably have all been massacred, but for a timely retreat to their boats. Cartier had a narrow escape, and owed his life to the intrepidity of his boatswain, an Englishman.

    The adventurers wintered in the St. Charles River, and continued to be treated with apparent kindness and hospitality by the Stadaconians, who had, fortunately, laid up abundant stores of provisions. Unaccustomed, however, to the rigor of a Canadian winter, and scantily supplied with warm clothing, Cartier and his companions suffered severely from the cold. To add to their other misfortunes, scurvy, the terror of the seaman in those days, made its appearance, and, in conjunction with a disease produced by a licentious intercourse with the natives, speedily carried off twenty-five of their number. To a decoction from the bark of the spruce-fir, taken on the recommendation of the Indians, the remainder ascribed their restoration to health.

    The long winter at length drew to a close; the ice broke up, and, although the voyage had led to no gold-discoveries or profitable returns in a mercantile point of view, the expedition prepared to return home. Like other adventurers of that age, they requited the kindness and hospitality of the aborigines with the basest ingratitude. They compelled Donacona, with two other chiefs and eight warriors, to bear them company to France, where the greater part of these unfortunate men died soon after their arrival.

    [Cartier made a second visit to the St. Lawrence in 1540, in command of a fleet fitted out by De Roberval, a rich nobleman of France. As he failed to bring back their chief, the inhabitants of Stadacona received him with indications of hostility.]

    Finding his position with the inhabitants of Stadacona becoming daily more and more unpleasant, Cartier moved higher up the river to Cape Rouge, where he laid up three of his vessels, and sent the other two back to France, with letters to the king and Roberval, stating the success of his voyage and asking for supplies. His next proceeding was to erect a fort, which he called Charlesbourg. Here, after an unsuccessful attempt to navigate the rapids above Hochelaga, he passed a most uncomfortable winter. During the ensuring summer he occupied himself in examining the country in every direction, and in searching for gold, but of which he only procured a few trifling specimens in the beds of some dried rivulets. A few small diamonds were discovered in headland near Stadacona, which was therefore called Cape Diamond, a name it still retains.

    The promised supplies not having arrived, another severe winter completely disheartened Cartier, and he accordingly resolved to return home. Putting into the harbor of St. John, Newfoundland, he encountered Roberval, who was now on his way to Canada, with a new company of adventurers and an abundance of stores and provisions. The viceroy endeavored to persuade Cartier to return with him, but without effect. He and his companions were alike disheartened with the extreme cold and prolonged duration of a Canadian winter, and this circumstance, in connection with the other hardships to which they had been exposed, caused them to long earnestly to return to their own sunny France. To avoid further importunity, a possible quarrel, and forcible detention, Cartier caused his sailors to weigh anchor during the night. After a tolerably quick passage, he arrived safely in his native country, where he died shortly after his return, having, like many others, sacrificed health and fortune to a passion for discovery and a desire to acquire gold.

    [Roberval returned to France, after spending the winter in Canada. He subsequently started with another expedition for the same region. This fleet was never heard of again, and probably foundered at sea. The results of these efforts so discouraged the French that no similar attempt was made for many years afterwards.]

    THE MASSACRE OF THE FRENCH PROTESTANTS.

    WALTER BESANT.

    [The first earnest effort to establish a French colony in America was made in the interest of the French Protestants at the instigation of the celebrated Admiral Coligny. His primary effort in this direction was made in Brazil. The northern shores of that country, as we have already stated, had been discovered by Pinzon in 1499. In 1500 a Portuguese fleet under Pedro Alvarez Cabral, on a voyage to the East Indies by way of the Cape of Good Hope, sailed so far westward as to touch the coast of southern Brazil. A fort was built, in which a few men were left, and gradually, during the succeeding years, small Portuguese settlements spread along the coast. From time to time this coast was visited by the French, mainly on piratical enterprises, and a state of war existed for years between the French and Portuguese in the waters of Brazil. In 1555, Coligny sent a colony to this region under Villegagnon, a French adventurer. It was established on an island in the Bay of Rio Janeiro. But the place proved so unsuitable, the colony was made up of such disreputable and vicious elements, and the leader proved so worthless and treacherous, that the settlement, after languishing for four years, yielded to an attack from the Portuguese, and was swept out of existence.

    In 1562, Coligny made a second effort to establish a refuge for French Protestants in America. An expedition was sent to Florida under command of John Ribaut. He reached the coast in May, and discovered a stream which he called the River of May (now St. John's River). Proceeding thence to Port Royal, near the southern border of Carolina, he erected a fort, and left twenty-six men, returning to France for emigrants and supplies. The promised re-inforcement not arriving, the colonists abandoned the fort and embarked for home in a brigantine of their own construction. Like the Brazilian colonists, they had not taken the trouble to cultivate the soil, and were driven by famine from America to encounter a worse famine at sea. They were saved from death by an English vessel which they fortunately met off the coast of England.

    In 1564 another expedition was sent out by Coligny, and a colony established on the St. John's River under Laudonniere, one of Ribaut's original company. It was managed with the same improvidence as the former ones, and to escape starvation a party of the emigrants embarked for France. But instead of returning they commenced a career of piracy against the Spaniards. The remainder were on the point of leaving the country, when Ribaut appeared, with seven vessels and about six hundred emigrants. Meanwhile, news had arrived in Spain that a party of French heretics had settled in Florida, which was claimed as Spanish territory. Menendez, who had already established a reputation for brutality in America, was sent out to extirpate them. Up to this point the conflicts of Europeans upon American soil had been with the natives, with the exception of the piratical proceedings above adverted to. Now the wars of Europeans with one another were about to be inaugurated in a brutal massacre, the story of which we give in the graphic account of Walter Besant, selected from his "Gaspard de Coligny."]

    THE expedition under Menendez consisted of an army of two thousand six hundred soldiers and officers. He sailed straight for Florida, intending to attack Fort Caroline with no delay. In fact, he sighted the mouth of the port two months after starting; but, considering the position occupied by the French ships, he judged it prudent to defer the attack, and make it, if possible, from the land.

    A council of war was held in Fort Caroline, presided over by Ribaut. Laudonniere proposed that, while Ribaut held the fort with the ships, he, with his old soldiers, who knew the country well, aided by the Floridans as auxiliaries, should engage the Spaniards in the woods and harass them by perpetual combats in labyrinths to which they were wholly unaccustomed. The advice was good, but it was not followed. Ribaut proposed to follow the Spanish fleet with his own, — lighter and more easily handled, — fall on the enemy when the soldiers, were all disembarked, and, after taking and burning the ships, to attack the army.

    In the face of remonstrances from all the officers he persisted in this project. Disaster followed the attempt. A violent gale arose. The French ships were wrecked upon the Floridan coast; the men lost their arms, their powder, and their clothes; they escaped with their bare lives. There was no longer the question of conquering the Spaniards, but of saving themselves. The garrison of Caroline consisted of one hundred and fifty soldiers, of whom forty were sick. The rest of the colony was composed of sick and wounded, Protestant ministers, workmen, "royal commissioners," and so forth. Laudonniere was in command. They awaited the attack for several days, yet the Spaniards came not. They were wading miserably through the marshes in the forests, under tropical rains, discouraged, and out of heart. Had Laudonniere's project been carried out, not one single Spaniard would have returned to the fleet to tell the tale. Day after day the soldiers toiled, sometimes breast-high, through these endless marshes, under the rain which never ceased. The provisions were exhausted. Many of the soliders remained behind, or returned to St. Augustine, pretending to have lost their way. The officers asked each other loudly whether they were all to be killed in a bog through the ignorance of an Asturian, who knew no more about war than a horse. Menendez pretended not to hear, and they plodded on, mutinous and discontented, till their leader suddenly pointed out, through the branches of the trees, the earthworks and cannon of Fort Caroline. He invited his officers to make up their minds to an immediate attack or a retreat. Seven of them proposed a retreat: they would live on palmistes and roots on the way. But the majority declared for advance, and the attack was resolved upon.

    For some reason unexplained, the French sentinels chose this fatal moment to leave their posts. There was actually no watch on the ramparts. Three companies of Spaniards simultaneously rushed from the forest and attacked the fortress on the south, the west, and the southwest. There was but little resistance from the surprised garrison. There was hardly time to grasp a sword. About twenty escaped by flight, including the captain, Laudonniere; the rest were every one massacred. None were spared except women and children under fifteen; and, in the first rage of the onslaught, even these were murdered with the rest.

    There still lay in the port three ships, commanded by Jacques Ribaut, brother of the unfortunate governor. One of these was quickly sent to the bottom by the cannon of the fort; the other two cut their cables and slipped out of reach into the roadstead, where they lay, waiting for a favorable wind, for three days. They picked up the fugitives who had been wandering half starved in the woods, and then set sail from this unlucky land.

    [Meanwhile, Ribaut's shipwrecked crew were wandering along the shore of Florida, fifty miles from Fort Caroline. They were ignorant of the loss of the fort, and made their way with difficulty through the woods, until, to their despair, they saw the Spanish flag flying over its ramparts.]

    There was nothing for it but to retreat again. The unfortunate Frenchmen began miserably to retrace their steps through the wet and gloomy forest, eating leaves, herbs, and roots, their last misfortune was that they knew nothing of the new Spanish settlement [of St. Augustine, established by Menendez], and so directed their course as exactly to arrive at it.

    Menendez saw from a distance the arrival of the first band of two hundred. They were like a crowd of shipwrecked sailors, destitute of the power of resistance, feeble from long fasting, fatigued with their long march. He had with him a troop of forty men. A river ran between the French and the Spaniards. A Basque swam across the stream, and asked for a safe-conduct for Ribaut, who had not yet arrived, and four gentlement. Menendez would accord, he said, an audience to an officer. One Vasseur, accompanied by two or three soldiers, crossed over the river and was brought to the Spanish commander. Menendez began by apprising him of the capture of Caroline and the massacre of the garrison. He confirmed the truth of his story by causing two prisoners, spared as Catholics, to relate it themselves. He coldly told Vasseur that all those who were Protestants should suffer the same fate, or at least that he would not promise otherwise.

    There was but one alternative. The French could trust to the possible clemency of Menendez, or they could take to the woods. In the latter case they would certainly starve; in the former, they might escape with their lives. It seemed incredible that a man should, in cold blood, resolve to massacre two hundred unarmed men. They laid down their arms. They were brought across the river in small companies, and their hands tied behind their backs.

    On landing, they were asked if they were Catholics. Eight out of the two hundred professed allegiance to that religion; the rest were all Protestants. Menendez traced out a line on the ground with his cane. The prisoners were marched up one by one to the line; on reaching it, they were stabbed.

    The next day Ribaut arrived with the rest of the army.

    The same pourparlers began. But this time a blacker treachery was adopted. Menendez did not himself receive the officer sent to treat. He deputed a certain Vallemonde. This creature received the French deputy with unexpected civility. His captain, he said, was a man of extraordinary clemency. It was true that Caroline had fallen, but the garrison, women, and children were all put on board ship, with provisions, and were now on their way to France. Finally, if the French laid down their arms, he, Vallemonde, would pledge his word of honor on the sacred cross, which he kissed devoutly, that all their lives should be spared.

    It is not clear how many of the French accepted the conditions. A certain number refused them, and escaped into the woods. What is certain is that Ribaut, with nearly all his men, were tied back to back, four together. Those who said they were Catholics were set on one side; the rest were all massacred as they stood. A rage for slaughter — the blood-thirst —- seized the Spanish soldiers. They fell upon their victims, and stabbed and hacked both the living and the dead. The air was horrible with their oaths and cries. The work of murder was soon over. In a very few moments there was not a cry, nor a sound, nor a movement, among the whole four hundred prisoners now lying upon the ground, the maddened soldiers still stabbing their lifeless bodies. Outside the circle of the slaughtered and the slaughterers stood the priest, Mendoza, encouraging, approving, exhorting the butchers. With him, calm, serene, and joyful, with a prayer of thanksgiving on his lips, stood the murderer, Menendez.

    The slaughter completed, they set up enormous piles of wood and burned the bodies on them. On the trees near the scene of the massacre Menendez caused to be inscribed, "Slaughtered not as Frenchmen, but as Lutherans." As for the corpse of Ribaut, he had it flayed, and sent the skin to Europe, with cuttings from the beard, as gifts to his friends.

    [Those who had escaped to the woods built a small fort, defended themselves, were offered terms of surrender, and were all sent to the galleys. The reception of this news in France raised a storm of indignation. As the court made no movement of reprisal, the French sailors took revenge into their own hands. Fast-sailing privateers were sent out, which captured the rich Spanish galleons and inflicted enormous losses. English buccaneers followed the example, and Spain paid dearly in treasure for the bloody act of Menendez. One soldier, Dominique de Gourgues, who had been in the Spanish galleys and hated the Spaniards vehemently, resolved on a more direct revenge. With difficulty he equipped three small ships which he manned with one hundred and eighty men. The purpose of his expedition was kept secret; only the captains of his ships knew of it. It was in the early part of 1568 that he appeared off the coast of Florida. He landed his men, gained the alliance of the natives, who bitterly hated the Spaniards, and began a painful and difficult march overland, attended by thousands of Indian warriors.]

    The Spaniards were extending their fortifications outside Caroline itself. At one place the lines had only been drawn, and the works as yet were only just commenced. Here the attack was to take place.

    The story reads almost exactly like that of the Spaniards when they took the fort by surprise. Entirely without suspicion, the garrison were taking their dinner. Suddenly, a musket-shot, and the cry of "The French! the French!" There were sixty men in this, the outwork. They were all killed. But there remained the second fort. De Gourgues turned the cannon on it, and a lively artillery fight began. The Floridans at this moment emerged from the woods. A detachment of French attacked the fort in the rear. The Spaniards, ignorant of the number of the enemy, lost their heads. The second fort was taken with a rush, and all the Spaniards killed except fifteen, whom De Gourgues ordered to be bound and kept in safety for the moment. There yet remained Fort Caroline itself. Here there were three hundred combatant men. De Gourgues surrounded the fort with his Indians, and prevented any spy from coming out, so that the besieged had no notion of the numbers of their assailants. The commandant, in surprise and indecision, allowed two days to pass before doing anything. Then he sent out a spy disguised as an Indian. He was caught, and, being brought before De Gourgues, he had the imprudence to confess that the garrison was horribly discouraged, believing the French to be two thousand strong. Thereupon De Gourgues resolved upon an immediate attack.

    The Spaniards thought that his little army, all of which was now in sight, was only an advance-guard. The French, thinking the moment inopportune, retired into the wood again to watch. The Spaniards sent out a body of sixty, with a view of drawing them out into the open. De Gourgues detached twenty of his own men to place themselves in ambush between the fort and the sortie, so as to cut off their retreat. Then, before the Spaniards had time to form themselves, he poured a murderous fire into their ranks, and rushed upon them, sword in hand. They turned to fly, and were met by the ambuscade. Not one returned to the fort. The rest of the French rushed tumultuously out of the wood, and all together, headed by De Gourgues, they crowded into the citadel.

    A panic seized the Spaniards. They allowed themselves to be cut down almost without resistance. Out of the whole force of three hundred, De Gourgues only managed to save sixty.

    He would have saved more, to make his revenge more complete. As it was, he wrote an inscription, which he placed so that all could see,—"I do this not to Spaniards, but to traitors, thieves, and murderers."

    Then he hanged them up, every one, the Floridans looking on aghast. This done, he destroyed the fort and returned to France. He was received with enthusiasm at Rochelle, an entirely Protestant town.

    THE COLONIES OF SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

    MARY HOWITT.

    [The sixteenth century may justly be called the century of discovery. The bold push of Columbus across the ocean to America and of Vasco da Gama around Africa to the East Indies broke the chains of timidity with which the world had hitherto been bound. They were followed by a succession of daring and reckless navigators, who quickly made the world their home, and sought new lands with an avidity and enthusiasm with which the thirst for fame and the spirit of adventure had as much to do as the love of gold. The English were somewhat late in following the lead of the Spanish, Portuguese, and French discoverers, but prosecuted their researches with vigor after they had once commenced. One of their adventurers, Sir John Hawkins, engaged in the slave-trade, which had been early instituted by the Spaniards, and carried cargoes of negroes to the West Indies in 1562 and 1564. In 1567 he was in the Gulf of Mexico, in conflict with the Spaniards at San Juan de Ulloa, in which expedition he was accompanied by the celebrated Sir Francis Drake. In 1570, Drake started on a privateering excursion against the Spaniards, and for years he did them immense damage. In 1573 he crossed the Isthmus and attacked the Spanish settlements on the Pacific shores. In 1577 he sailed southward along the Brazilian coast, entered the Rio de la Plata (which had been discovered in 1526 by Sebastian Cabot), and passed through the Straits of Magellan. Thence he followed the coasts of Chili and Peru, attacking the Spanish ships and settlements as he advanced, and explored the shores of western America as far north as 48 deg N. lat., in the hope of discovering a passage to the Atlantic. He returned home by way of the Cape of Good Hope, accomplishing the first circumnavigation of the globe by an Englishman. Attempts were made in the same period to discover a northwestern passage from the Atlantic to the Pacific by Willoughby and Chancellor, Frobisher, Henry Hudson, and others. But the only efforts during this century to found an English colony on the shores of the New World were those made by Sir Walter Raleigh. These we may describe in detail in a selection chosen from Mary Howitt's charmingly-written "History of the United States."]

    JOINT-STOCK companies for the discovery of unknown lands were first formed in 1555. The marriage of Mary with Philip of Spain brought the magnificent discoveries and productions of that country into a closer proximity with England, and a desire to emulate the successes of Spain in the New World was excited.

    The spirit of Elizabeth seconded that of her people. The nation had now assumed a more determined and a prouder front in their resentment of the attempt of Spain to render them an appendage to the Spanish crown, and by the successful struggle of Protestantism against Catholicism. England strengthened her navy; frequented the bays and banks of Newfoundland; sent out adventurers to Russia and Africa; endeavored to reach Persia by land, and enlarged her commerce with the East, whilst her privateers lay in wait at sea for the rich galleons of Spain. The study of geography was universally cultivated, and books of travels and adventures by land and sea were eagerly read. Frobisher, the boldest mariner who ever crossed the ocean, set forth to discover the long-sought-for northwest passage, and Queen Elizabeth waved her hand to him in token of favor, as he sailed down the Thames. Frobisher, like all the rest of the world, hoped to find gold. If the Spaniards had found gold in the south, England was confident of finding gold in the north. Elizabeth entered enthusiastically into the scheme of planting a colony among the wealthy mines of the polar regions, where gold, it was said, lay on the surface of the ground. Frobisher was followed by a second fleet, but they found only frost and icebergs.

    Whilst Frobisher and his ships were thus vainly endeavoring to find an E1 Dorado in the north, Sir Francis Drake was acquiring immense wealth as a freebooter on the Spanish main, and winning great glory by circumnavigating the globe, after having explored the northwestern coast of America as far north as the forty- third degree. Sir Humphrey Gilbert, also, a man of sound judgment and deeply religious mind, obtained a charter from Queen Elizabeth in 1578 for the more rational purposes of colonization. He set sail with three vessels, accompanied by his step-brother, Sir Walter Raleigh; but a series of disasters befell them; the largest vessel was wrecked, and a hundred perished, among whom was Parmenius, a Hungarian scholar, who had gone out as historian of the expedition. On the homeward voyage they were overtaken by a great storm. "We are as near to heaven on sea as on land," said Sir Humphrey Gilbert, sitting abaft with a book in his hand. And the same night his little vessel went down, and all on board perished.

    The brave spirit of Sir Walter Raleigh was not discouraged, though he deeply deplored the loss of his noble step-brother. He resolved now to secure to England those glorious countries where the poor French Protestants had suffered so deeply, and a patent was readily granted, constituting him lord proprietary, with almost unlimited powers, according to the Christian Protestant faith, of all land which he might discover between the thirty-third and fortieth degrees of north latitude. Under this patent Raleigh despatched, as avant-courier ships, two vessels, under the command of Philip Amidas and Arthur Barlow. In the month of July they reached the coast of North America, having perceived, while far out at sea, the fragrance as of a delicious garden, from the odoriferous flowers of the shore. Finding, after some search, a convenient harbor, they landed, and, offering thanks to God for their safe arrival, took formal possession in the name of the Queen of England.

    The spot on which they landed was the island of Wocoken. The shores of this part of America are peculiar, inasmuch as during one portion of the year they are exposed to furious tempests, against which the low flat shore affords no defence of harborage; in the summer season, on the contrary, the sea and air are alike tranquil, the whole presenting the most paradisiacal aspect, whilst the vegetation is calculated to strike the beholder with wonder and delight. The English strangers beheld the country under its most favorable circumstances; the grapes being so plentiful that the surge of the ocean, as it lazily rolled in upon the shore, dashed its spray upon the clusters. "The forests formed themselves into wonderfully beautiful bowers, frequented by multitudes of birds. It was like a garden of Eden, and the gentle, friendly inhabitants appeared in unison with the scene. On the island of Roanoke they were received by the wife of the king, and entertained with Arcadian hospitality."

    [The report taken to England aroused high enthusiasm. An expedition was sent, sailing on the 9th of April, 1585, under Sir Richard Grenville, and consisting of seven vessels and one hundred and fifty colonists. They reached Roanoke Island, where they quickly roused the natives to hostility by burning a village and destroying the standing corn on suspicion of the theft of a silver cup.]

    The colonists, however, landed, and soon afterwards the ships returned to England, Grenville taking a rich Spanish prize by the way. Lane [the governor] and his colonists explored the country, and Lane wrote home, "It is the goodliest soil under the cope of heaven; the most pleasing territory in the world; the continent is of a huge and unknown greatness, and very well peopled and towned, though savagely. The climate is so wholesome that we have none sick. If Virginia had but horses and kine and were inhabited by English, no realm in Christendom were comparable with it." Hariot's observations were directed to "the natural inhabitants," and to the productions of the colony with reference to commerce; he observed the culture of tobacco, used it himself, and had great faith in its salutary qualities; he paid great attention to the maize and the potato," which he found when boiled to be good eating.".

    In the mean time, the mass of the colonists, who were rabid for gold, listened to wonderful tales invented by artful Indians, who wished to be rid of these awe-inspiring strangers. The river Roanoke, they said, gushed forth from a rock near the Pacific Ocean; that a nation dwelt upon its remote banks, skilful in refining gold, and that they occupied a city the walls of which glittered with pearls. Even Sir Richard Lane was credulous enough to believe these tales, and ascended the river with a party in order to reach this golden region. They advanced onward, finding nothing, till they were reduced to the utmost extremity of famine. The Indians, disappointed by their return, resolved to cultivate no more corn, so that they might be driven from the country by want, and the English, divining their views, having invited the chief to a conference, fell upon him and slew him, with many of his followers. Lane was unfit for his office. This act of treachery exasperated the Indians to such a degree that they would no longer give him supplies. The colony was about to perish by famine, as the Indians desired, when Sir Francis Drake appeared outside the harbor with a fleet of twenty-three ships. He was on his way from the West Indies, and was now come to visit his friends. No visit could have been more opportune or more welcome.

    [At the request of the colonists, Drake carried them to England. Yet he had hardly gone before a vessel despatched by Raleigh arrived, laden with supplies. Finding that the colony had vanished, the vessel returned, and it had but fairly disappeared when Sir Richard Grenville arrived with three ships. After searching in vain for the missing colony, he also returned, leaving fifteen men on Roanoke Island to hold possession for the English. Raleigh, not discouraged by this failure, sent out another colony, this time choosing agriculturists, and sending their wives and children with the emigrants. Implements of husbandry were also sent. On reaching Roanoke they found only the bones of the fifteen men whom Grenville had left, while their fort was in ruins. The new governor, Captain John White, proved an unfortunate choice, since he at once made an unprovoked assault upon the Indians. White quickly returned with the ships to England for supplies and reinforcements.]

    When White reached England he found the whole nation absorbed by the threats of a Spanish invasion: Raleigh, Grenville, and Lane, Frobisher, Drake, and Hawkins, all were employed in devising measures of resistance. It was twelve months before Raleigh, who had to depend almost entirely upon his own means, was able to despatch White with supplies: this he did in two vessels. White, who wished to profit by his voyage, instead of at once returning without loss of time to his colony, went in chase of Spanish prizes, until at length one of his ships was overpowered, boarded, and rifled, and both compelled to return to England. This delay was fatal. The great events of the Spanish Armada took place, after which Sir Walter Raleigh found himself embarrassed with such a fearful amount of debt that it was no longer in his power to attempt the colonization of Virginia; nor was it till the following year that White was able to return, and then also through the noble efforts of Sir Walter Raleigh, to the unhappy colony Roanoke. Again the island was a desert. An inscription on the bark of a tree indicated Croatan; but the season of the year, and the danger of storms, furnished an excuse to White for not going thither. What was the fate of the colony never was known. It has been conjectured that through the friendship of Manteo (an Indian chief) they had probably escaped to Croatan; perhaps had been, when thus cruelly neglected by their countrymen, received into a friendly tribe of Indians, and became a portion of the children of the forest. The Indians had, at a later day, a tradition of this kind, and it has been thought that the physical character of the Hatteras Indians bore out the tradition. The kind-hearted and noble Raleigh did not soon give up all hopes of his little colony. Five different times he sent out at his own expense to seek for them, but in vain. The mystery which veils the fate of the colonists of Roanoke will never be solved in this world..

    The fisheries of the north and the efforts of Sir Walter Raleigh at colonization had trained a race of men for discovery. One of these, Bartholomew Gosnold, determined upon sailing direct from England to America, without touching at the Canaries and the West Indies, as had hitherto been the custom; and, with the aid of Raleigh, he "wellnigh secured to New England the honor of the first permanent English colony." He sailed in a small vessel directly across the ocean (in 1602), and in seven weeks reached the shores of Massachusetts, but, not finding a good harbor, sailed southward, and discovered and landed on a promontory which he called Cape Cod, which name it retains to this day. Sailing thence, and still pursuing the coast, he discovered various islands, one of which he called Elizabeth, after the queen, and another Martha's Vineyard. The vegetation was rich; the land covered with magnificent forests; and wild fruits and flowers burst from the earth in unimagined luxuriance,—the eglantine, the thorn, and the honeysuckle; the wild pea, tansy and young sassafras; strawberries, raspberries, and vines. In the island was a little lake, and in the lake a rocky islet, and here the colonists resolved to build their storehouse and fort, the nucleus of the first New England colony. The natural features of the place, the historian tells us, remain unchanged: the island, the little lake, and the islet are all there; the forests are gone, while the flowers and fruit are as abundant as ever. But no trace remains of the fort.

    Friendly traffic with the natives of the mainland soon completed a freight, which consisted of furs and sassafras, and Gosnold was about to sail, when the hearts of the intending colonists failed them; they dreaded the attack of Indians and the want of necessary supplies from home. All, therefore, re- embarked, and in five weeks reached England.

    Gosnold and his companions brought home such favorable reports of the country and the shortness of the voyage that the following year a company of Bristol merchants despatched two small vessels, under the command of Martin Pring, for the purpose of exploring the country and commencing a trade with the natives. They carried out with them trinkets and merchandise suited for such traffic, and their voyage was eminently successful. They discovered some of the principal rivers of Maine, and examined the coast of Massachusetts as far south as Martha's Vineyard. The whole voyage occupied but six months. Pring repeated his voyage in 1606, making still more accurate surveys of the country.

    [The coast of New England was further surveyed by an expedition despatched by the Earl of Southampton and Lord Arundel and commanded by George Weymouth. He explored the coast of Labrador, and discovered the Penobscot River. Captain John Smith also made an exploration of the coast in 1614, advanced into Massachusetts Bay "till he came up into the river between Mishawam, afterwards called Charlestown, and Shawmutt, afterwards called Boston, and, having made discovery of the land, rivers, coves, and creeks in the said bay, and also taken some observation of the manners, dispositions, and sundry customs of the numerous Indians, or nations inhabiting the same, he returned to England." He gave to the country the name of New England, which it still retains.

    In 1598 the Marquis de la Roche endeavored to found a French colony in America, and peopled Sable Island, on the coast of Nova Scotia, with the refuse of the jails. After languishing here for twelve years, they were allowed to return, and the colony was abandoned. In 1605, De Monts, a French gentleman, formed a colony at a place named by him Port Royal, in the Bay of Fundy, which proved to be the first permanent French settlement in America. The whole country, including the present New Bruns-wick, Nova Scotia, and the adjacent islands, was called Acadia. In the succeeding year (1606) the London Company sent three vessels to Roanoke, which were driven by a storm into Chesapeake Bay. Here they discovered the James River, up which stream they sailed fifty miles, and selected a place for a settlement, which they named Jamestown. Here was formed the first permanent English colony in America, one hundred and fourteen years after the discovery of the New World by Columbus.]

    THE ERA OF SETTLEMENT.

    INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.

    DURING the sixteenth century the work of colonizing America was left almost entirely to the people of Spain. While the other nations of Europe were contenting themselves with occasional voyages of discovery, or with slave- carrying expeditions and piratical raids, the Spaniards were extending their dominion in the New World with a rapidity and energy in striking contrast with their present supineness. Colonization in the West Indies began immediately after the first voyage of Columbus, and was prosecuted with such vigor that in a few years the four larger islands were completely under Spanish control, and their native inhabitants largely annihilated, while the remainder were reduced to slavery. The settlement of the mainland was prosecuted with similar activity. Colonies were established on the coasts of South and Central America, and in 1519 Cortes began that memorable expedition which soon subjected the Aztec empire of Mexico to his sway. From this region the Spanish dominion extended south throughout Central America, and northward to California and New Mexico, which Coronado invaded in 1540. South America was settled with no less rapidity. The conquest of Mexico was quickly followed by that of the extensive empire of Peru. Chili was conquered in 1541, with the exception of the country of the Araucanians, the only Indian nation which has successfully held its own against European invasion. In a comparatively short time the whole of western South America from the lower boundary of Chili to the Caribbean coast was Spanish territory. In 1535, Buenos Ayres was colonized by Mendoza. These first colonists were driven to Paraguay by the Indians, but in 1580 Juan de Garay founded a more successful colony. Among the most remarkable examples of Spanish activity was the expedition of Orellana in 1541. In 1540, Gonzalo Pizarro left Quito with an expedition that crossed the Andes and journeyed eastward through the forests of western Brazil till stopped by peril of starvation. Then a brigantine was built, which, manned by a cavalier named Orellana, sailed down the river Napo to its junction with the Amazons, and down the latter great stream to the Atlantic, thus accomplishing the crossing of the South American continent at its widest part nearly three centuries before such a result was achieved in the parallel section of North America. In the region of the United States the Spaniards were no less active in exploration, as shown by the expeditions of Narvaez and De Soto; yet but one small settlement was made,—that of St. Augustine, in Florida.

    The only other people who showed any colonizing activity in the sixteenth century were the Portuguese, who slowly spread their settlements along the coast of Brazil, until by the end of the century the whole line of coast from the La Plata to the Amazons was studded with their colonies. These had the merit of being the first settlements made in America on agricultural principles, the desire for the precious metals being the active moving cause in all the Spanish explorations and colonizations. During this period a few unsuccessful efforts to establish colonies marked the limit of activity in the other nations of Europe. A French colony on the coast of Brazil was suppressed by the Portuguese, and a similar colony in Florida ended in massacre. French efforts in the region of the St. Lawrence were equally unsuccessful, while the English colonies of Raleigh ended in disaster. The only permanent settlement was that made by some Dutch people in 1580, near the river Pomeroon, in Guiana. In 1595, Raleigh made an expedition to this region, and ascended the Orinoco in search of the fabled El Dorado. He attempted no settlement, but in the succeeding century English and French settlers established themselves in Guiana, dividing the ownership of this territory with the Dutch.

    Such was the result of the efforts at colonization in America during the sixteenth century. From the northern line of Mexico to the southern extremity of the continent the Spanish and Portuguese had established themselves in nearly every available region. But North America from the Gulf of Mexico to the Arctic Ocean was still in the hands of the aboriginal inhabitants, with the sole exception of the Spanish colony of St. Augustine, in Florida. The seventeenth century was destined to be the era of settlement of this important region, mainly by the English and French, but to a minor extent by the Dutch and Swedes. The story of this seventeenth-century colonization we have now to tell.

    JOHN SMITH AND THE JAMESTOWN COLONY.

    CHARLES CAMPBELL.

    [The return of Bartholomew Gosnold, after his voyage to North America, and his account of the country he had visited, led to the formation of a company for the purpose of forming colonies on these new shores. The Virginia Company, thus called into being, received the right to hold all the land from Cape Fear to the St. Croix River. This company comprised two divisions,—the London Company, with control over the southern part of the territory, and the Plymouth Company, controlling the northern. Under the auspices of the London Company the first permanent English colony in America was founded. Three vessels, under Captain Christopher Newport, with about one hundred men, were sent out. They had been instructed to land on Roanoke Island, but were driven by a storm into Chesapeake Bay. The beauty of the situation attracted them, and they determined to settle there. Sailing up James River to a convenient spot, they landed on May 13, the place chosen for their settlement being named by them Jamestown.

    The instructions for the colony had been placed by the king in a sealed box, on opening which it was found that seven men were appointed a governing council, among them Gosnold, Newport, and the celebrated Captain John Smith, who was a member of the expedition. Most of the colony were gentlemen, who hoped to find gold at once and make their fortune, and no attempt at agriculture was made. A terrible summer followed. The position chosen for security against the Indians proved unhealthy, and more than half the colony was swept away by a pestilence. Only the friendly aid of the Indians saved the rest from death by starvation. Meanwhile, Captain Smith was prevented from taking his place in the council by the action of his enemies, and was arrested on false accusations. For several months he lay under a cloud. But, boldly defying the malice of his enemies, he cleared himself of their charges and resumed his place in the council. By the autumn the sole control of the colony fell into the hands of Smith, the president finding the duty beyond his ability. The behavior of Smith in this capacity is well told in Campbell's "History of the Colony and Ancient Dominion in Virginia," from which we extract some passages, with the caution to the reader that the story of Smith's adventures among the Indians is told by himself, and that his character for veracity is not a high one.]

    At the approach of winter the rivers of Virginia abounded with wild-fowl, and the English now were well supplied with bread, peas, persimmons, fish, and game. But this plenty did not last long, for what Smith carefully provided the colonists carelessly wasted. The idlers at Jamestown, including some of the council, now began to mutter complaints against Smith for not having discovered the source of the Chickahominy, it being supposed that the South Sea, or Pacific Ocean, lay not far distant, and that a communication with it would be found by some river running from the northwest. The Chickahominy flowed in that direction, and hence the solicitude of these Jamestown cosmographers to trace that river to its head. To allay this dissatisfaction of the council, Smith made another voyage up that river, and proceeded until it became necessary, in order to pass, to cut away a large tree which had fallen across the stream. When at last the barge could advance no farther, he returned eight miles and moored her in a wide bay out of danger, and leaving orders to his men not to venture on shore until his return, accompanied by two of his men and two Indian guides, and leaving seven men in the barge, he went still higher up in a canoe to the distance of twenty miles. In a short time after he had parted from the barge the men left in her went ashore, and one of them, George Cassen, was surprised and killed. Smith, in the meanwhile, not suspecting this disaster, reached the marshy ground towards the head of the river, "the slashes," and went out with his gun to provide food for the party, and took with him one of the Indians. During his excursion his two men, Robinson and Emry, were slain, and he himself was attacked by a numerous party of Indians, two of whom he killed with a pistol. He protected himself from their arrows by making a shield of his guide, binding him fast by the arm with one of his garters. Many arrows pierced his clothes, and some slightly wounded him. Endeavoring to reach the canoe, and walking backward with his eye still fixed on his pursuers, he sunk to his waist in an oozy creek, and his savage with him. Nevertheless the Indians were afraid to approach until, being now half dead with cold, he threw away his arms, when they drew him forth, and led him to the fire where his two companions were lying dead. Here the Indians chafed his benumbed limbs, and, having restored the vital heat, Smith inquired for their chief, and they pointed him to Opechancanough, the great chief of Pamunkey. Smith presented him a mariner's compass: the vibrations of the mysterious needle astonished the untutored sons of the forest. In a short time they bound the prisoner to a tree, and were about to shoot him to death, when Opechancanough holding up the compass, they all laid down their bows and arrows. Then marching in Indian file they led the captive, guarded by fifteen men, about six miles, to Orapakes, a hunting town in the upper part of the Chickahominy swamp, and about twelve miles northeast from the falls of James River [Richmond]. At this town, consisting of thirty or forty houses, built like arbors and covered with mats, the women and children came forth to meet them, staring in amazement at Smith. Opechancanough and his followers performed their military exercises, and joined in the war-dance. Smith was confined in a long house under a guard, and an enormous quantity of bread and venison was set before him, as if to fatten him for sacrifice, or because they supposed that a superior being required a proportionately larger supply of food. An Indian who had received some toys from Smith at Jamestown now, in return, brought him a warm garment of fur,—a pleasing instance of gratitude, a sentiment often found even in the breast of a savage. Another Indian, whose son had been mortally wounded by Smith, made an attempt to kill him in revenge, and was only prevented by the interposition of his guards.

    [Smith then sent a written message to Jamestown, and received a reply, the Indians being astonished on perceiving that "paper could talk." The captive was next taken to Pamaunkee, the residence of the chief.]

    Here, for three days, they engaged in their horrid orgies and incantations, with a view to divine their prisoner's secret designs, whether friendly or hostile. They also showed him a bag of gunpowder, which they were reserving till the next spring, when they intended to sow it in the ground, as they were desirous of propagating so useful an article.

    Smith was hospitably entertained by Opitchapan (Opechancanough's brother), who dwelt a little above, on the Pamunkey. Finally, the captive was taken to Werowocomoco, probably signifying chief place of council, a favorite seat of Powhatan, on the York River, then called the Pamaunkee or Pamunkey. They found this chief in his rude palace, reclining before the fire, on a sort of throne, resembling a bedstead, covered with mats, his head adorned with feathers and his neck with beads, and wearing a long robe of raccoon-skins. At his head sat a young female, and another at his feet; while on each side of the wigwam sat the men in rows, on mats, and behind them as many young women, their heads and shoulders painted red, some with their heads decorated with the snowy down of birds, and all with strings of white beads falling over their shoulders. On Smith's entrance they all raised a terrific yell. The queen of Appomattock brought him water to wash, and another, a bunch of feathers for a towel. After feasting him, a long consultation was held. That ended, two large stones were brought, and the one laid upon the other, before Powhatan; then as many as could lay hold, seizing Smith, dragged him to the stones, and, laying his head on them, snatched up their war-clubs, and, brandishing them in the air, were about to slay him, when Pocahontas, Powhatan's favorite daughter, a girl of only twelve or thirteen years of age, finding all her entreaties unavailing, flew, and, at the hazard of her life, clasped the captive's head in her arms, and laid her own upon his. The stern heart of Powhatan was touched: he relented, and consented that Smith might live.

    [The story here given is one in which the reader may be advised not to put too great credit, as it is doubted by historical critics, and has, in all probability, been greatly embellished by its chief actor. Two days afterwards Smith was permitted by Powhatan to return to Jamestown, on condition of sending him two great guns and a grindstone.]

    Smith now treated his Indian guides kindly, and, showing Rawhunt, a favorite servant of Powhatan, two pieces of cannon and a grindstone, gave him leave to carry them home to his master. A cannon was then loaded with stones, and discharged among the boughs of a tree hung with icicles, when the Indians fled in terror, but upon being persuaded to return they received presents for Powhatan, his wives and children, and departed.

    At the time of Smith's return to Jamestown, he found the number of the colonists reduced to forty. Of the one hundred original settlers, seventy-eight are classified as follows: fifty-four gentlemen, four carpenters, twelve laborers, a blacksmith, a sailor, a barber, a bricklayer, a mason, a tailor, a drummer, and a "chirurgeon." Of the gentlemen, the greater part were indolent, dissolute reprobates, of good families; and they found themselves not in a golden El Dorado, as they had fondly anticipated, but in a remote wilderness, encompassed by want, exposure, fatigue, disease, and danger.

    The return of Smith, and his report of the plenty that he had witnessed at Werowocomoco, and of the generous clemency of Powhatan, and especially of the love of Pocahontas, revived the drooping hopes of the survivors at Jamestown. The arrival of Newport at the same juncture with stores and a number of additional settlers, being part of the first supply sent out from England by the treasurer and council, was joyfully welcomed. Pocahontas too, with her tawny train of attendants, frequently visited Jamestown, with presents of bread, and venison, and raccoons, sent by Powhatan for Smith and Newport. However, the improvident traffic allowed between Newport's mariners and the natives soon extremely enhanced the price of provisions, and the too protracted detention of his vessel made great inroads upon the public store.

    [The events described were followed by a visit to Powhatan, and the accidental burning of Jamestown, which took place on their return. Other troubles succeeded.]

    The stock of provisions running low, the colonists at Jamestown were reduced to a diet of meal and water, and this, together with their exposure to cold after the loss of their habitations, cut off upwards of one-half of them. Their condition was made still worse by a rage for gold that now seized them. "There was no talk, no hope, no work, but dig gold, wash gold, refine gold, load gold." Smith, not indulging in these empty dreams of imaginary wealth, laughed at their infatuation in loading "such a drunken ship with gilded dust."

    Captain Newport, after a delay of three months and a half, being now ready to sail for England, the planters, having no use for parliaments, places, petitions, admirals, recorders, interpreters, chronologers, courts of plea, nor justices of the peace, sent Master Wingfield and Captain Archer home with him, so that they, who had engrossed all those titles to themselves, might seek some better place of employment. Newport carried with him twenty turkeys, which had been presented to him by Powhatan, who had demanded and received twenty swords in return for them. This fowl, peculiar to America, had been many years before carried to England by some of the early discoverers of North America.

    After Newport's departure, Ratcliffe, the president, lived in ease, peculating on the public store. The spring now approaching, Smith and Scrivener undertook to rebuild Jamestown, repair the palisades, fell trees, prepare the fields, plant, and erect another church. While thus engaged they were joyfully surprised by the arrival of the Phoenix, commanded by Captain Nelson, who had left England with Newport about the end of the year 1607, and, after coming within sight of Cape Henry, had been driven off to the West Indies. He brought with him the remainder of the first supply, which comprised one hundred and twenty settlers. Having found provisions in the West Indies, and having economically husbanded his own, he imparted them generously to the colony, so that now there was accumulated a store sufficient for half a year.

    Powhatan, having effected so advantageous an exchange with Newport, afterwards sent Smith twenty turkeys, but, receiving no swords in return, he was highly offended, and ordered his people to take them by fraud or force, and they accordingly attempted to seize them at the gates of Jamestown. The president and Martin, who now ruled, remained inactive, under pretence of orders from England not to offend the natives; but some of them happening to meddle with Smith, he handled them so roughly, by whipping and imprisonment, as to repress their insolence.

    Pocahontas, in beauty of feature, expression, and form, far surpassed any of the natives, and in intelligence and spirit "was the nonpareil of her country." Powhatan, hearing that some of his people were kept prisoners at Jamestown, sent her, with Rawhunt (who was as remarkable for his personal deformity, but shrewd and crafty), with presents of a deer and some bread, to sue for their ransom. Smith released the prisoners, and Pocahontas was dismissed with presents. Thus the scheme of Powhatan to destroy the English with their own swords was happily frustrated.

    The Phoenix was freighted with a cargo of cedar, and the unserviceable, gold- hunting Captain Martin concluded to return with her to England. Of the one hundred and twenty settlers brought by Newport and Nelson, there were thirty- three gentlemen, twenty-one laborers (some of them only footmen), six tailors, two apothecaries, two jewellers, two gold-refiners, two goldsmiths, a gunsmith, a perfumer, a surgeon, a cooper, a tobacco-pipe maker, and a blacksmith.

    [On the 2d of June, 1608, Smith left Jamestown with the purpose of exploring Chesapeake Bay. During this journey he discovered the Potomac and sailed up it to the head of navigation. He continued his explorations, and during the summer, "with a few men, in a small barge, in his several voyages of discovery he traversed a distance of not less than three thousand miles." In September, 1608, he accepted the office of president, which he had formerly declined.]

    Smith, the president, now set the colonists to work; some to make glass, others to prepare tar, pitch, and soap-ashes; while he, in person, conducted thirty of them five miles below the fort to cut down trees and saw plank. Two of this lumber party happened to be young gentlemen who had arrived in the last supply. Smith sharing labor and hardship in common with the rest, these woodmen, at first, became apparently reconciled to the novel task, and seemed to listen with pleasure to the crashing thunder of the falling trees; but when the axes began to blister their unaccustomed hands, they grew profane, and their frequent loud oaths echoed in the woods. Smith, taking measures to have the oaths of each one numbered, in the evening, for each offence, poured a can of water down the offender's sleeve; and this curious discipline, or water-cure, was so effectual that after it was administered an oath would scarcely be heard in a week. Smith found that thirty or forty gentlemen who volunteered to work could do more in a day than one hundred that worked by compulsion; but he adds that twenty good workmen would have been better than the whole of them put together.

    [Further troubles with the Indians succeeded, and only the energy of the governor defeated the murderous schemes of Opechancanough.]

    Returning [from his visit to this chief], he descended the York as far as Werowocomoco, intending to surprise Powhatan there, and thus secure a further supply of corn; but Powhatan had abandoned his new house, and had carried away all his corn and provisions; and Smith, with his party, returned to Jamestown. In this expedition, with twenty-five pounds of copper and fifty pounds of iron, and some beads, he procured, in exchange, two hundred pounds of deer suet, and delivered to the Cape merchant four hundred and seventy-nine bushels of corn.

    At Jamestown the provision of the public store had been spoiled by exposure to the rain of the previous summer, or eaten by rats and worms. The colonists had been living there in indolence, and a large part of their implements and arms had been trafficked away to the Indians. Smith undertook to remedy these disorders by discipline and labor, relieved by pastimes and recreations; and he established it as a rule that he who would not work should not eat. The whole government of the colony was now, in effect, devolved upon him, Captain Wynne being the only other surviving councilor, and the president having two votes. Shortly after Smith's return, he met the chief of Paspahegh near Jamestown, and had a reencounter with him. This athletic savage attempting to shoot him, he closed and grappled, when, by main strength, the chief forced him into the river to drown him. They struggled long in the water, until Smith, grasping the savage by the throat, well-nigh strangled him, and, drawing his sword, was about to cut off his head, when he begged for his life so piteously that Smith spared him, and led him prisoner to Jamestown, where he put him in chains. He was daily visited by his wives, and children, and people, who brought presents to ransom him. At last he made his escape. Captain Wynne and Lieutenant Percy were dispatched, with a party of fifty, to recapture him, failing in which they burned the chief's cabin and carried away his canoes. Smith now going out to "try his conclusions" with "the salvages," slew some, and made some prisoners, burned their cabins, and took their canoes and fishing-weirs. Shortly afterwards the president, passing through Paspahegh, on his way to the Chickahominy, was assaulted by the Indians; but, upon his firing, and their discovering who he was, they threw down their arms and sued for peace. Okaning, a young warrior, who spoke in their behalf, in justifying the escape of their chief from imprisonment at Jamestown, said, "The fishes swim, the fowls fly, and the very beasts strive to escape the snare, and live." Smith's vigorous measures, together with some accidental circumstances, so dismayed the savages that from this time to the end of his administration they gave no further trouble.

    [In 1609 an addition to the colony of five hundred men and women was sent out, with stores and provisions, in a fleet of nine vessels.]

    Upon the appearance of this fleet near Jamestown, Smith, not expecting such a supply, took them to be Spaniards, and prepared to encounter them, and the Indians readily offered their assistance. The colony had already, before the arrival of the fleet, been threatened with anarchy, owing to intelligence of the premature repeal of the charter, brought out by Captain Argall, and the new settlers had now no sooner landed than they gave rise to new confusion and disorder. The factious leaders, although they brought no commission with them, insisted on the abrogation of the existing charter, rejected the authority of Smith, whom they hated and feared, and undertook to usurp the government. Their capricious folly equalled their insolence: to-day the old commission must rule, to-morrow the new, the next day neither,—thus, by continual change, plunging all things into anarchy.

    Smith, filled with disgust, would cheerfully have embarked for England, but, seeing little prospect of the arrival of the new commission (which was in the possession of Gates on the island of Bermudas), he resolved to put an end to these incessant plots and machinations. The ringleaders, Ratcliffe, Archer, and others, he arrested; to cut off another source of disturbance, he gave permission to Percy, who was in feeble health, to embark for England, of which, however, he did not avail himself. West, with one hundred and twenty picked men, was detached to the falls of James River, and Martin, with nearly the same number, to Nansemond. Smith's presidency having expired about this time, he had been succeeded by Martin, who, conscious of his incompetence, had immediately resigned it to Smith. Martin, at Nansemond, seized the chief, and, capturing the town, occupied it with his detachment; but owing to want of judgment, or of vigilance, he suffered himself to be surprised by the savages, who slew many of his party, rescued the chief, and carried off their corn. Martin not long after returned to Jamestown, leaving his detachment to shift for themselves.

    Smith, going up the river to West's settlement at the falls, found the English planted in a place not only subject to the river's inundation, but "surrounded by many intolerable inconveniences." To remedy these, by a messenger he proposed to purchase from Powhatan his seat of that name, a little lower down the river. The settlers scornfully rejected the scheme, and became so mutinous that Smith landed among them and arrested the chief malcontents. But, overpowered by numbers, being supported by only five men, he was forced to retire on board of a vessel lying in the river. The Indians daily supplied him with provisions, in requital for which the English plundered their corn, robbed their cultivated ground, beat them, broke into their cabins, and made them prisoners. They complained to Captain Smith that the men whom he had sent there as their protectors "were worse than their old enemies, the Monacans." Smith, embarking, had no sooner set sail for Jamestown than many of West's party were slain by the savages.

    It so happened that before Smith's vessel had dropped a mile and a half down the river she ran aground, where-upon, making a virtue of necessity, he summoned the mutineers to a parley, and they, now seized with a panic on account of the assault of a mere handful of Indians, submitted themselves to his mercy. He again arrested the ringleaders, and established the rest of the party at Powhatan, in the Indian palisade fort, which was so well fortified by poles and bark as to defy all the savages in Virginia. Dry cabins were also found there, and nearly two hundred acres of ground ready to be planted, and it was called Nonsuch, as being at once the strongest and most delightful place in the country. Nonsuch was the name of a royal residence in England.

    When Smith was now on the eve of his departure, the arrival of West again threw all things back into confusion. Nonsuch was abandoned, and all hands returned to the falls, and Smith, finding all his efforts abortive, embarked in a boat for Jamestown. During the voyage he was terribly wounded, while asleep, by the accidental explosion of a bag of gunpowder, and in the paroxysm of pain he leaped into the river, and was wellnigh drowned before his companions could rescue him. Arriving at Jamestown in this helpless condition, he was again assailed by faction and mutiny, and one of his enemies even presented a cocked pistol at him in his bed; but the hand wanted the nerve to execute what the heart was base enough to design.

    Ratcliffe, Archer, and their confederates laid plans to usurp the government of the colony, whereupon Smith's faithful soldiers, fired with indignation at conduct so in-famous, begged for permission to strike off their heads; but this he refused. He refused also to surrender the presidency to Percy. For this Smith is censured by the historian Stith, who yet acknowledges that Percy was in too feeble health to control a mutinous colony. Anarchy being triumphant, Smith probably deemed it useless to appoint a governor over a mob. He at last, about Michaelmas, 1609, embarked for England, after a stay of a little more than two years in Virginia, to which he never returned.

    Here, then, closes the career of Captain John Smith in Virginia, "the father of the colony," and a hero like Bayard, "without fear and without reproach."

    THE INDIAN MASSACRE IN VIRGINIA.

    ROBERT R. HOWISON.

    [No sooner had Captain Smith departed from the Jamestown colony than all order and subordination ceased. His energy and good sense had alone held the reckless colonists in check, and they quickly consumed all their provisions, and provoked the hostility of the Indians, who refused to furnish them with supplies. Famine succeeded. Within six months, vice, anarchy, and starvation reduced the colony from four hundred and ninety to sixty persons, and these so feeble and miserable that had not relief come all must soon have perished. This period was long remembered under the name of the starving time.

    Soon after, Sir Thomas Gates arrived, but without supplies, and as the only escape from starvation he took the surviving colonists on his ships and set sail for Newfoundland. Fortunately, when they reached the mouth of the river they met Lord Delaware, who had been sent out as governor of the colony, with supplies and emigrants. The colonists were induced to return, and order and contentment were soon regained under the wise management of the new governor. Shortly afterwards seven hundred more men arrived, and the land, which had been held in common, was divided among the colonists, much to the advancement of agriculture. In 1613 occurred the marriage of John Rolfe, a young Englishman, with Pocahontas, the daughter of Powhatan, an event which improved the relations between the colonists and the Indians. Pocahontas was taken to England in 1616, and died in 1617, leaving one son, from whom are descended some of the most respectable families in Virginia. In 1613, Captain Argall sailed from Virginia for the purpose of protecting the English fishermen on the coast of Maine. He broke up a settlement which the French had made on Mt. Desert Island, near the Penobscot, reduced the French settlement at Port Royal, in Acadia, and entered the harbor of New York, where he compelled the Dutch traders to acknowledge the sovereignty of England. The effect of the last two operations, however, continued only till the disappearance of his ship. In 1615 the colonists went eagerly into tobacco-culture, which soon became a mania; the culture of corn and other grain being so neglected as to threaten renewed scarcity. In 1617 it is said that the yards, the market square, and the very streets of Jamestown were full of the plants of this new article of commerce, to which the soil and climate of Virginia proved well adapted. In 1617, Captain Argall was made governor, and at once established a system of strict military rule which, in time, became almost a reign of terror. He was removed in 1619, and Sir George Yeardly sent out, under whose administration the colony flourished. In 1619 a representative body was organized, and met in Jamestown, where it adopted a colonial constitution. This was the first legislative action in America, and the first step towards American liberty. In the succeeding year (1620) a Dutch man- of-war sailed up the James and landed twenty negroes, who were quickly sold to the colonists. A happier introduction than this of African slavery was effected the same year, in the sending over of ninety young women, who were also sold to the colonists—as wives; the price paid for each being one hundred and twenty pounds of tobacco. Sixty others were soon after sent, and the price rose to one hundred and fifty pounds of tobacco.

    But the Virginian colonists were now to pass through a danger as threatening as that of the "starving time." The death of Powhatan had removed their best friend among the Indians. The rapid increase of the colonists, and the spread of their settlements, alarmed the savages, who, in 1622, formed a conspiracy to destroy the whole colony. The story of this thrilling event we extract from Howison's "History of Virginia."]

    SINCE the marriage of Pocahontas with John Rolfe, the Indians had preserved the most peaceful relations with the settlers, and hopes were entertained that permanent friendship would be established between them. The dominion of Powhatan had descended to his brother Opitchapan, a feeble and decrepit chieftain, who was neither dreaded by the whites nor respected by his own subjects. But there was one mind among the natives which now exercised all the sway of superior genius and courage. Opecancanough has heretofore been mentioned. It is doubtful whether he was in any manner related to Powhatan, though he is often spoken of as his brother. Among the Indians and some of the whites prevailed a belief that he came from a tribe far in the southwest, perhaps from the interior of Mexico. But in talents and influence he was now the ruling power among the savages. Profound in dissimulation, cruel by nature and habit, patient of suffering, skilled in every species of treachery, and possessed of a ready eloquence, always at his command, he soon gained over the minds of his inferiors an ascendency as resistless as it was dangerous..

    The English had become careless and unsuspecting. Believing the natives to be their friends, they admitted them freely to their houses, sometimes supplied them with arms, employed them in hunting and fishing for their families, and in all respects treated them as faithful allies. As habits of industry and steady labor gained ground, the colonists relaxed their martial discipline. The plough was a more useful implement than the musket, and the sword had given place to the hoe and the pickaxe. Seduced by the present tranquillity, and by the fertile soil found in belts of land upon all the rivers running into the bay, they had extended their settlements until they were now nearly eighty in number and spread in scattered plantations over a space of several hundred miles. They were lulled into complete security by the demeanor of the natives, and those who were most zealous for religion were beginning to hope that the seeds of the truth were taking root in many untutored minds, and would, after a season, produce fruits of joy and peace. Some were not thus sanguine; and among those who looked with most suspicion upon the Indians we mark the name of Jonas Stockam, a minister, who has left on record an open acknowledgment of his distrust. His strong common sense, his knowledge of human nature, and his observations upon the natives around him, all confirmed his belief that they were yet highly dangerous, and that until their priests and "ancients" were destroyed no hope of their conversion need be entertained. But his warnings, and slight proofs of enmity in the savages, were alike disregarded. The colonists remained immersed in unruffled security.

    In the mean time Opecancanough was preparing the actors in his infernal drama. Either in person or by his emissaries, he visited all the tribes composing the confederacy over which Powhatan had held dominion. He roused them to revenge; represented their wrongs; wrought their passions to intensity by mingled promises of blood and of rapine; pointed to the defenceless state of the colonists, and established a complete organization for the work of death..The savages of Virginia were now embodied for their fatal purpose, and awaited but the signal from their leader to fall upon the unsuspecting colonists..

    On Friday, the 22d day of March (1622), the tragedy began. So perfect was the confidence of the settlers that they loaned the savages their boats to cross the rivers for their deadly purpose; many of them even came in to take the morning meal with the whites, and brought deer, turkeys, fish, and fruits, which they offered for sale in the usual manner. But at mid-day the scene of blood was opened. Instantly, and as if by magic, the savages appeared at every point, and fell upon their victims with the weapons which first presented themselves. Neither age nor sex was spared. The tender infant was snatched from the mother to be butchered before her eyes; wives were left weltering in blood in the presence of their husbands; men helpless from age, or wholly without defence, were stricken down ere they could see the foe who assailed them. In one morning three hundred and forty-nine settlers were slain upon the several plantations. The murderers were lashed into frenzied excitement by their own passions; and, not content with the work of death, they mutilated the corpses in a manner so revolting that the original recorders of this massacre shrink from the task of describing them..

    It is remarkable that wherever resistance was made to these fiends it was entirely successful. Too cruel to be brave, they fled from the first vigorous onset; and had the colonists received one hour's warning, no life would have been lost that was not dearly atoned for. An old soldier who had served under John Smith, although surrounded by Indians and severely wounded, clove the skull of one assailant with a single stroke of an axe, and the rest instantly took to flight. A Mr. Baldwin, whose wife was lying before his eyes, profusely bleeding from many wounds, by one well-directed discharge drove a crowd of murderers from his house. Several small parties of settlers obtained a few muskets from a ship that happened to be lying in the stream near their plantations, and with these they routed the savages in every direction and dispersed them in great alarm.

    [Jamestown was saved through information given by a young Indian convert. Preparations for defence were hastily made, and the savages did not venture an assault.]

    The immediate effects of this blow upon the colony were most disastrous. Horror and consternation pervaded every mind; nearly one-fourth of their whole number had, in a single hour, been stricken down. The rest were hastily drawn together around Jamestown. Distant plantations were abandoned, and in a short time eighty settlements were reduced to six. Some few bold spirits (and among them a woman) refused to obey the order, and remained in their country-seats, among their servants, mounting cannon at weak points, and preparing to meet the treacherous foe with becoming courage. But they were compelled by law to abandon their strongholds and to unite their resources in the common fund.

    A terrible reaction in the feelings of the colonists immediately took place.. A war ensued, in which the fiercest impulses that man can feel were called into being. No truce was ever declared. The Indians were shot down at any time and in any place in which they showed them-selves. When seed-time approached, hostilities declined from absolute necessity. The English resorted to a stratagem which cannot be justified. Offering peace to the savages, they seduced them from their places of concealment; but in the midst of their labor they rushed upon them, cut down their corn, and put to death a large number, among whom were several of their greatest warriors and most skilful chieftains. So embittered and so deep was the feeling of hatred thus engendered between the races that for many years it was transmitted from father to son. The colonists looked upon the Indians as their hereditary foes, and the unhappy natives never spoke of the "long knives" without fear and execration.

    [During the immediately succeeding period no events of any marked importance occurred in Virginia. In 1624 the London Company was dissolved, and Virginia became a royal government. But the rights of trial by jury and of a representative Assembly, which had been granted by the Company, were retained, and all succeeding colonies claimed the same, so that from the formation of the colonial Assembly of Virginia we may date the beginning of the evolution of American liberty. In 1643 another Indian massacre took place, instigated by the same implacable chief.]

    The Indians were now inveterate enemies. Peace was never thought of. Successive enactments of the Assembly made it a solemn duty to fall upon the natives at stated periods of the year, and heavy penalties were visited upon all who traded with them or in any way provided them with arms and ammunition. The whites were steadily increasing both in moral and physical strength; the Indians were as rapidly wasting away before the breath of civilization. A few incursions,—a few convulsive efforts, always attended by heavy loss to themselves,—one final struggle,—these will complete their history in eastern Virginia.

    The illegal grants favored by Sir John Hervey had provoked the natives into active hostility. They saw their hunting-grounds successively swept away by a power which they were unable to resist, and all the passions of the savage arose to demand revenge.. Among the natives there still lived a hero who had proved himself a formidable adversary even when encountered by European skill. Opecancanough had attained the hundredth year of his life. Declining age had bowed a form once eminent in stature and manly strength. Incessant toil and watchfulness had wasted his flesh and left him gaunt and withered, like the forest-tree stripped of its foliage by the frosts of winter. His eyes had lost their brightness, and so heavily did the hand of age press upon him that his eyelids drooped from weakness, and he required the aid of an attendant to raise them that he might see objects around him. Yet within this tottering and wasted body burned a soul which seemed to have lost none of its original energy. A quenchless fire incited him to hostility against the settlers. He yet wielded great influence among the members of the Powhatan confederacy; and by his wisdom, his example, and the veneration felt for his age, he roused the savages to another effort at general massacre.

    The obscurity concerning the best records which remain of this period has rendered doubtful the precise time at which this fatal irruption occurred; yet the most probable period would seem to be the close of the year 1643. The Indians were drawn together with great secrecy and skill, and were instructed to fall upon the colonists at the same time, and to spare none who could be safely butchered. Five hundred victims sank beneath their attack. The assault was most violent and fatal upon the upper waters of the Pamunkey and the York, where the settlers were yet thin in number and but imperfectly armed. But in every place where resistance was possible the savages were routed with loss, and driven back in dismay to their fastnesses in the forest.

    Sir William Berkeley instantly placed himself at the head of a chosen body, composed of every twentieth man able to bear arms, and marched to the scene of devastation. Finding the savages dispersed, and all organized resistance at an end, he followed them with a troop of cavalry. The aged chief had taken refuge in the neighborhood of his seat at Pamunkey. His strength was too much enfeebled for vigorous flight. His limbs refused to bear him, and his dull vision rendered him an easy prey. He was overtaken by the pursuers, and carried in triumph back to James-town.

    Finding the very soul of Indian enmity now within his power, the governor had determined to send him to England as a royal captive, to be detained in honorable custody until death should close his earthly career.. But a death of violence awaited him. A brutal wretch, urged on by desire to revenge injuries to the whites which had long been forgotten or forgiven, advanced with his musket behind the unhappy chieftain and shot him through the back..

    The wound thus given was mortal. Opecancanough lingered a few days in agony; yet to the last moment of his life he retained his majesty and sternness of demeanor. A crowd of idle beings collected around him to sate their unfeeling curiosity with a view of his person and his conduct. Hearing the noise, the dying Indian feebly motioned to his attendants to raise his eyelids, that he might learn the cause of this tumult. A flash of wounded pride and of just indignation, for a moment, revived his waning strength. He sent for the governor, and addressed to him that keen reproach which has so well merited preservation: "Had I taken Sir William Berkeley prisoner, I would not have exposed him as a show to my people." In a short time afterwards he expired..

    After the death of this warrior, the celebrated confederacy of Powhatan was immediately dissolved.. It was without a head, and the members fell away and speedily lost all tendency to cohesion. The Indians had learned, by fatal experience, that they contended in vain with the whites.. They have faded away and gradually disappeared, never more to return.

    THE SETTLEMENT OF MARYLAND.

    J. THOMAS SCHARF.

    [The country near the head of Chesapeake Bay was first explored by Captain John Smith. It afterwards formed part of the grant that was made by Charles I. to Sir George Calvert, by title Lord Baltimore, a Roman Catholic nobleman. Inspired by the same feeling that had moved the Puritans, he sought to establish a refuge in America for men of his religious faith, who were persecuted in England. With this purpose he planted, in 1621, a Catholic colony in Newfoundland. But the unfavorable soil and climate, and annoyances from the hostile French, soon ended his hopes in that quarter. He next visited Virginia, but found there a religious intolerance hostile to his purposes. The territory finally granted him extended from the upper Chesapeake to the fortieth degree, the latitude of Philadelphia.

    The charter given to Lord Baltimore, unlike any previously granted, secured to the emigrants equality in religious rights and civil freedom, and an independent share in the legislation of the province. The colony was formed in 1634 by two hundred emigrants, mostly Roman Catholics, who entered the Potomac and purchased of the Indians a village on the St. Mary's River, about ten miles from its junction with the Potomac. The policy of paying the Indians for their land, and their subsequent equitable treatment, inaugurated peaceful relations, though these did not remain long undisturbed. The treaty of Calvert with the Indians, though less dramatic, resembled in principle the celebrated one made many years afterwards by William Penn. Its character is clearly stated by J.T. Scharf in his excellent "History of Maryland."]

    INSTEAD of treating the aborigines as wild beasts, or savages towards whom no moral law was binding, he dealt with them as with men whose rights had a claim to respect. He raised no sophistical question whether savages could acquire or transfer any rights in the soil, or whether it was worth while to pay them any price for what they were preparing to abandon. The quantity of goods given them is not known; but the compensation was satisfactory, and there is no reason for alleging that it was not ample. The land ceded was mostly forest hunting- grounds; and the former possessors left them only to remove to others chosen in the boundless wilderness. The articles given in exchange were not trinkets and cheap gewgaws to pamper savage vanity, nor the maddening draught that has been the bane of the race, nor the arms that would render their internal wars more deadly and hasten their extermination; they were not merely of intrinsic worth, but of absolutely inestimable value to the Indian, who could procure nothing comparable to them, and was at once raised a degree in civilization by their acquisition. The possession of an axe of steel instead of his rude tool of stone multiplied his strength and efficiency a hundredfold. If the whites occupied his fields, they gave him, in improved implements, the means of raising larger crops, with less labor, in his new abode; if they restricted his hunting- grounds, they taught him to dispense with his rude garment of skin, and clothed him in the warmer fabric of the loom.

    The Indians, on their side, faithfully performed their part of the contract. They shared at once their cabins with the strangers and prepared to abandon them and the cultivated fields as soon as the corn was harvested. In the mean time they mingled freely with the colonists, who employed many of their women and children in their families. From them the wives and daughters of the settlers learned the modes of preparing maize and other products of the soil. While the colonist of New England ploughed his field with his musket on his back, or was aroused from his slumber by the hideous war-whoop to find his dwelling in flames, the settlers of St. Mary's accompanied the red warrior to the chase and learned his arts of woodcraft; and the Indian coming to the settlement with wild turkeys or venison found a friendly reception and an honest market, and, if belated, wrapped himself in his mantle of skins or duffield cloth and lay down to sleep by the white man's fireside, unsuspecting and unsuspected.

    Such were the happy results of the truly Christian spirit that animated the first Maryland colonists.

    [Trouble with the Indians began as early as 1641, in the incursions of the Susquehannoughs, a fierce tribe, which had always been hostile to the colonists. These savages had now acquired the possession and learned the use of fire-arms. The sale of arms and ammunition to them had been made penal in the colony, but the Swedes and Dutch on the Delaware freely supplied them with these dangerous articles. There resulted a war with the Indians, which extended from 1642 to 1644. In the mean time Calvert was given great trouble by William Claiborne, a Virginian who had in 1631 establishing a trading-station on the island of Kent and one near the mouth of the Susquehanna, and who for years continued to contest the rights of the lord proprietary. He even organized a rebellion, and for a time drove the governor from the province.

    Maryland has the honor of being the first country to establish the principle of religious toleration to people of all faiths. George Calvert "was the first," says Bancroft, "in the history of the Christian world, to seek for religious security and peace by the practice of justice and not by the exercise of power; to plan the establishment of popular institutions with the enjoyment of liberty of conscience; to advance the career of civilization by recognizing the rightful equality of all Christian sects." The religious toleration which already existed by charter was further established by a law of the Maryland Assembly, of April 2, 1649. Rhode Island had previously passed a similar law. We quote the significant section of this important enactment.]

    "And whereas the inforcing of the conscience in matters of religion hath frequently fallen out to bee of dangerous consequence in those commonwealths where it hath beene practiced, and for the more quiet and peaceable government of this province, and the better to preserve mutuall love and unity among the inhabitants here, Bee it, therefore, also by the lord proprietary, with the advice and assent of this assembly, ordained and enacted, .. that no person or persons whatsoever within this province or the islands, ports, harbours, creeks, or havens thereunto belonging, professing to believe in Jesus Christ, shall from henceforth be any waies troubled, molested, or discountenanced, for or in respect of his or her religion, nor in the free exercise thereof within this province or the islands thereunto belonging, nor any way compelled to the beliefe or exercise of any other religion against his or her consent, so as they be not unfaithfull to the lord proprietary, or molest or conspire against the civil government, estabblished or to be estabblished in this province under him or his heyres; and that all and every person or persons that shall presume contrary to this act and the true intent and meaning thereof, directly or indirectly, eyther in person or estate, wilfully to wrong, disturbe, or trouble, or molest any person or persons whatsoever within this province, professing to believe in Jesus Christ, for or in respect of his or her religion, or the free exercise thereof within this province, .. shall be compelled to pay treble damages to the party so wronged or molested, and for every such offence shall also forfeit 20s. sterling in money or the value thereof, .. or if the party so offending as aforesaid, shall refuse or bee unable to recompence the party so wronged or to satisfie such fine or forfeiture, then such offender shall be severely punished by publick whipping and imprisonment during the pleasure of the lord proprietary or his lieutenant or chiefe governour of this province for the time being, without baile or mainprise."

    [The act here given also punishes with fine whoever shall denominate any person as "an Heretick, Schismatick, Idolater, Puritan, Presbyterian, Independent, Popish Priest, Jesuit, Jesuited Papist, Lutheran, Calvinist, Anabaptist, Brownist, Antinomian, Barrowist, Roundhead, Separatist, or other name or terme in a reproachful manner, relating to matters of religion," or shall blaspheme or deny any of the persons of the Holy Trinity, or speak reproachfully of the Virgin Mary, or shall break the Sabbath by drunkenness, swearing, disorderly recreation, or work except when absolutely necessary.

    The enactment here described was one worthy to be printed in letters of gold, as an example of remarkable breadth of view and spirit of tolerance for the age of religious bigotry in which it was passed. Its principle was not long permitted to continue in force. During the Puritan ascendency in England the government was taken from the proprietor, and the Catholics of Maryland were disfranchised, excluded from the Assembly, and declared not entitled to the protection of the law. In January of the following year (1655), Stone, the lieutenant of Lord Baltimore, resumed his office, and a civil war ensued, which is worth describing, as the first instance of civil war in America.]

    Lord Baltimore, learning the surrender of Governor Stone, and that the affairs of the province were administered by commissioners appointed by Claiborne, and his associates, in the latter part of 1654, despatched a special messenger.. with a severe rebuke to the governor for so tamely yielding his authority, and an order to him to resume it immediately.

    The ship arrived in January, 1655, N. S., and Captain Stone proceeded to issue commissions to officers, and to organize an armed force in the county of St. Mary's. In a short time he found himself at the head of about one hundred and thirty men.

    [With this force he recovered the records of the province, and captured a magazine of arms and ammunition from the Puritans.]

    About the twentieth of March, Stone set out with his little army for Providence. He had pressed into his service eleven or twelve small vessels for the transportation of part of his forces, and part marched by land along the bay shore.. Governor Stone, with his little fleet and army, entered the outer harbor of Providence (Annapolis harbor) late in the evening of March 24..

    Stone had no sooner drawn up his force in array upon the shore, than the Golden Lyon and Captain Cut's vessel opened fire upon them, killing one man, and compelling him to retire a little up the neck of land. In the mean time, Captain Fuller, at the head of one hundred and seventy men, embarked in boats, and, having gone "over the river some six miles distant from the enemy," landed, and made a circuit around the head of the creek, proposing to take Stone's force in flank and rear. On their approach the sentry fired a gun, and an engagement followed, which is thus described by Leonard Strong, one of Fuller's council, in his pamphlet, "Babylon's Fall."

    "Captain Fuller, still expecting that then, at last, possibly they might give a reason of their coming, commanded his men, on pain of death, not to shoot a gun, or give the first onset; setting up the standard of the commonwealth of England, against which the enemy shot five or six guns and killed one man in the front before a shot was made by the other. Then the word was given: In the name of God, fall on; God is our strength — that was the word for Providence: the Marylanders' word was Hey for Saint Maries. The charge was fierce and sharp for the time; but, through the glorious presence of the Lord of hosts manifested in and towards his poor oppressed people, the enemy could not endure, but gave back, and were so effectually charged home that they were all routed, turned their backs, threw down their arms, and begged mercy. After the first volley of shot, a small company of the enemy, from behind a great tree fallen, galled us, and wounded divers of our men, but were soon beaten off. Of the whole company of the Marylanders there escaped only four or five, who ran away out of the army to carry news to their confederates. Captain Stone, Colonel Price, Captain Gerrard, Captain Lewis, Captain Kendall, Captain Guither, Major Chandler, and all the rest of the councillors, officers, and soldiers of the Lord Baltimore, among whom, both commanders and souldiers, a great number being Papists, were taken, and so were all their vessels, arms, ammunition, provision; about fifty men slain and wounded. We lost only two in the field; but two died since of their wounds. God did appear wonderful in the field and in the hearts of the people; all confessing Him to be the only worker of this victory and deliverance."

    Strong's pamphlet is, no doubt, strongly colored by partisanship, but, whatever the exact details, the Puritans were completely victorious.. "Two or three days after the victors condemned ten to death, and executed foure, and had executed all, had not the incessant petitioning and begging of some good women saved some, and the souldiers others; the governor himself being condemned by them, and since beg'd by the souldiers; some being saved just as they were leading out to execution."

    [In 1658, on the restoration of monarchy in England, the proprietor regained his authority in Maryland. A new disturbance between Protestants and Catholics occurred in 1689, at the period of the English revolution, and Lord Baltimore was deprived of his rights by the king in 1691. Religious toleration was abolished, and the Church of England established as the state religion. After more than twenty years, the infant heir of Lord Baltimore, then a Protestant, was restored to his proprietorship, and Maryland remained a proprietary government until the Revolution.]

    THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS.

    JOHN GORHAM PALFREY.

    [The discovery and settlement of New England was a slow process. It possibly began with the voyages of the Northmen, though the locality of Vinland can never be definitely known. The English claim to the territory was based on the voyages of the Cabots, in which the coast was visited from the far north to the thirty- eighth (or perhaps to the thirty-sixth) degree of north latitude. The New England coast was afterwards visited by Cortereal, by Verrazano, and by several later voyagers. Yet during the sixteenth century no part of it was explored, and no effort made at colonization. Gosnold, in 1602, made an unsuccessful attempt to plant a colony on Martha's Vineyard. Martin Pring made a trading-voyage to the coast in 1603. In 1605 George Weymouth entered the Kennebec or the Penobscot River. About the same time the French essayed to plant a colony on Cape Cod, but were driven off by the Indians. In 1606 the Plymouth and London Companies, for the purpose of planting colonies in America, were formed in London, the patent of the first-named covering the coast of New England, to which a colony was sent in 1607. It landed at the mouth of the Kennebec River, but the colonists became discouraged, and returned on the ships, with the exception of forty-five, who spent a long and severe winter on the coast and returned to England in the following spring. A party of French established themselves on Mount Desert Island in 1613, but were driven off after a few weeks' stay by Captain Argall, of Virginia. The next effort to colonize this region was made by Captain John Smith, who had already given permanence to the Virginia colony by his shrewdness and energy. He explored the coast in 1614, and made a map of it, giving its present name to the country. But his earnest efforts to found a colony failed, through discouraging circumstances, and despite his persistent endeavors. Other voyages were made, and a trading-party remained on the coast during the winter of 1616-17, but all such efforts to establish trading-colonies ended in failure, and it was not until the arrival of the Puritan agriculturists in 1620 that a permanent colony was formed.

    No detailed explanation as to who the Puritans were is here demanded. It will suffice to say that long before the establishment of the English Episcopal Church by Henry VIII. there had been in England a large body of religious reformers, and that after that period these continued to exist, under the titles of Non-Conformists, Separatists, Brownists, etc., despite the persecutions to which they were subjected. Among the congregations of Separatists are two with which we are particularly concerned. One was gathered at Gainsborough, in Lincolnshire, the other at the village of Scrooby, in Nottinghamshire. They were composed of simple agriculturists, yet they found the repression of religious liberty to which they were subjected so intolerable that they determined to emigrate to Holland, where they had heard that freedom of thought was permitted. After great difficulty, the Scrooby congregation succeeded in reaching Amsterdam, where they found the Gainsborough people, and a London congregation that had emigrated some twelve or fifteen years before. In 1616 they removed to Leyden. But the political agitation which arose in Holland made that country a disagreeable place of residence, and they finally determined to emigrate to America, where they might be free to worship God in their own way without hindrance.

    They well knew the perils and difficulties they would have to encounter, and even magnified them, but were prepared to endure them all for the blessing of religious liberty. Some thought of joining the colony in Virginia; others, of going to Guiana, where Sir Walter Raleigh then was, on a second visit. Negotiations were entered into with the Dutch, with a view to emigrate to the Hudson. But they finally concluded to establish a new colony on the northern American coast, where they would be free from any interference with their fixed purposes. In July, 1620, they embarked for England in the ship Speedwell. Here, in the port of Southampton, they found the Mayflower, a vessel of one hundred and eighty tons' burden, which had been engaged for the voyage. Two starts were made, but in each case they were obliged to return, the Speedwell proving unseaworthy. Finally, on September 6, the Mayflower sailed alone, and "put to sea with a prosperous wind." Among the leading spirits of the expedition may be named Bradford and Brewster, members of the original Scrooby congregation, Winslow, a personage of superior condition to his companions, who had joined them in Holland, and Miles Standish, who was not a member of the church, but who loved adventure, and whose military knowledge was of great value to the emigrants. The story of the voyage and landing we extract from Palfrey's admirable "History of New England."]

    THE colonists,— men, women, and children,— who were now embarked on board the Mayflower, were a hundred and two in number. Concerning very few of them is it known to this day from what English homes they came.. Little is recorded of the incidents of the voyage. The first part was favorably made. As the wanderers approached the American continent, they encountered storms which their overburdened vessel was scarcely able to sustain. Their destination was to a point near the Hudson River, yet within the territory of the London Company, by which their patent had been granted. This description corresponds to no other country than the sea-coast of the State of New Jersey. At early dawn of the sixty-first day of their voyage (November 9, 1620) they came in sight of the white sand-banks of Cape Cod. In pursuance of their original purpose, they veered to the south, but by the middle of the day they found themselves "among perilous shoals and breakers," which caused them to retrace their course. An opinion afterwards prevailed, on questionable grounds, that they had been purposely led astray by the master of the vessel, induced by a bribe from the Dutch, who were averse to having them near the mouth of the Hudson, which Dutch vessels had begun to visit for trade.

    The narrow peninsula, sixty miles long, which terminates in Cape Cod, projects eastwardly from the mainland of Massachusetts, in shape resembling the human arm bent rectangularly at the elbow and again at the wrist. In the basin enclosed landward by the extreme point of this projection, in the roadstead of what is now Provincetown, the Mayflower dropped her anchor at noon on a Saturday near the close of autumn (November 11).

    [Here was drawn up and signed an instrument constituting a brief governmental compact, and John Carver, who had been instrumental in obtaining from the king permission for their enterprise, was chosen governor of the colony.]

    In the afternoon, "fifteen or sixteen men, well armed," were sent on shore to reconnoitre and collect fuel. They returned at evening, reporting that they had seen neither person nor dwelling, but that the country was well wooded, and that the appearance as to soil was promising.

    Having kept their Sabbath in due retirement, the men began the labors of the week by landing a shallop from the ship, and hauling it up the beach for repairs, while the women went on shore to wash clothes. While the carpenter and his men were at work on the boat, sixteen others, armed and provisioned, with Standish for their commander, set off on foot to explore the country. The only incident of this day was the sight of five or six savages, who, on their approach, ran away too swiftly to be overtaken. At night, lighting a fire and setting a guard, the party bivouacked at the distance, as they supposed, of ten miles from their vessel. Proceeding southward next morning, they observed marks of cultivation, some heaps of earth, which they took for signs of graves, and the remains of a hut, with "a great kettle, which had been some ship's kettle." In a heap which they opened, they found two baskets containing four or five bushels of Indian corn, of which they took as much as they could carry away in their pockets and in the kettle. Farther on they saw two canoes and "an old fort or palisado, made by some Christians," as they thought. The second night, which was rainy, they encamped again, with more precautions than before. On Friday evening, having lost their way meanwhile, and been amused by an accident to Bradford, who was caught in an Indian deer-trap, they returned to their friends "both weary and welcome, and delivered in their corn into the store to be kept for seed, for they knew not how to come by any, and therefore were very glad, proposing, as soon as they could meet with any of the inhabitants of that place, to make them large satisfaction."

    [The succeeding week was passed in necessary labors, and in exploration of the coast in the shallop. Landing, they found some more corn and a bag of beans, and several miles inland a grave containing "bowls, trays, dishes," "a knife, a pack-needle," "a little bow," and some "strings and bracelets of fine white beads." Two wigwams were seen. On December 6 another exploration was made. The cold was extreme. Coasting for six or seven leagues, they saw a party of Indians, who ran away. They continued to explore during the next day, but found no inhabitants.]

    The following morning, at daylight, they had just ended their prayers, and were preparing breakfast at their camp on the beach, when they heard a yell, and a flight of arrows fell among them. The assailants turned out to be thirty or forty Indians, who, being fired upon, retired. Neither side had been harmed. A number of the arrows were picked up, "some whereof were headed with brass, others with hart's horn, and others with eagles' claws."

    Getting on board, they sailed all day along the shore in a storm of snow and sleet, making, by their estimate, a distance of forty or fifty miles, without discovering a harbor. In the afternoon, the gale having increased, their rudder was disabled, and they had to steer with oars. At length the mast was carried away, and they drifted in the dark with a flood-tide. With difficulty they brought up under the lee of a "small rise of land." Here a part of the company, suffering from wet and cold, went on shore, though not without fear of hostile neighbors, and lighted a fire by which to pass the inclement night. In the morning "they found themselves to be on an island secure from the Indians, where they might dry their stuff, fix their pieces, and rest themselves; and, this being the last day of the week, they prepared there to keep the Sabbath."

    "On Monday they sounded the harbor, and found it fit for shipping, and marched also into the land, and found divers cornfields and little running brooks, a place, as they supposed, fit for situation; .. so they returned to their ship again with this news to the rest of their people, which did much to comfort their hearts." Such is the record of that event which has made the twenty-second of December a memorable day in the calendar. (A trustworthy tradition has preserved a knowledge of the landing place, naturally an object of interest both to the inhabitants and to strangers. It was PLYMOUTH ROCK. Part of it is now embedded in a wharf.. In 1775 the rock was broken into two pieces in an attempt to remove it to the town square. The large fragment which was separated was in 1834 placed before Pilgrim Hall and enclosed within an iron railing. The tradition does not appear to have unequivocally determined who it was that landed upon the rock, whether the exploring party of ten men who went ashore at Plymouth, December 11 (Old Style), or the whole company who came into Plymouth harbor in the Mayflower on Saturday, December 16, and who, or a part of whom, "went a land" two days after. The received opinion, that the same landing-place, as being the most convenient within sight, was used on both occasions, appears altogether probable.)

    No time was now lost. By the end of the week the Mayflower had brought her company to keep their Sabbath by their future home. Further examination confirmed the agreeable impressions which had been received. There was found a convenient harbor, "compassed with a goodly land." The country was well wooded. It had clay, sand, and shells, for bricks, mortar, and pottery, and stone for wells and chimneys; the sea and beach promised abundance of fish and fowl, and "four or five small running brooks" brought a supply of "very sweet fresh water." After prayer for further divine guidance, they fixed upon a spot for the erection of their dwellings, in the neighborhood of a brook "and many delicate springs," and of a hill suitable for a lookout and a defence. A storm interrupted their proceeding. When it was past, "so many of them as could went on shore, felled and carried timber, to provide themselves stuff for building." Then came Sunday, when "the people on shore heard a cry of some savages, as they thought, which caused an alarm and to stand on their guard, expecting an assault; but all was quiet." They were still without the shelter of a roof. At the sharp winter solstice of New England, there was but

    "A screen of leafless branches Between them and the blast."

    But it was the Lord's hallowed time, and the work of building must wait. Next followed the day solemnized, in the ancient fanes of the continent they had left, with the most pompous ritual of what they esteemed a vain will-worship. And the reader pauses to ponder and analyze the feeling of stern exultation with which its record was made: "Monday, the 25th day, we went on shore, some to fell timber, some to saw, some to rive, and some to carry; so no man rested all that day."

    The first operations were the beginning of a platform for the ordnance, and of a building, twenty feet square, for a storehouse and for common occupation. Nineteen plots for dwellings were laid out, on the opposite sides of a way running along the north side of the brook. The number of plots corresponded to that of the families into which the company was now divided; the appropriation was made by lot; and the size of each plot was such as to allow half a rod in breadth, and three rods in depth, for each person included in the family. It "was agreed that each man should build his own house." "The frost and foul weather hindered them much." "Seldom could they work half the week." Time was lost in going to and from the vessel, to which in the severe cold they were obliged often to repair for lodging. They were delayed in unloading for want of boats; and stone, mortar, and thatch were slowly provided.

    These were discouraging circumstances; but far worse troubles were to come. The labor of providing habitations had scarcely begun, when sickness set in, the consequence of exposure and bad food. Within four months it carried off nearly half their number. Six died in December, eight in January, seventeen in February, and thirteen in March. At one time during the winter only six or seven had strength enough left to nurse the dying and bury the dead. Destitute of every provision which the weakness and the daintiness of the invalid require, the sick lay crowded in the unwholesome vessel, or in half-built cabins heaped around with snow-drifts. The rude sailors refused them even a share of those coarse sea-stores which would have given a little variety to their diet, till disease spread among the crew, and the kind ministrations of those whom they had neglected and affronted brought them to a better temper. The dead were interred in a bluff by the waterside, the marks of burial being carefully effaced, lest the natives should discover how the colony had been weakened. The imagination vainly tasks itself to comprehend the horrors of that fearful winter. The only mitigations were that the cold was of less severity than is usual in the place, and that there was not an entire want of food and shelter.

    Meantime, courage and fidelity never gave out. The well carried out the dead through the cold and snow, and then hastened back from the burial to wait on the sick; and as the sick began to recover, they took the places of those whose strength had been exhausted. There was no time and there was no inclination to despond. The lesson rehearsed at Leyden was not forgotten, "that all great and honorable actions are accompanied with great difficulties, and must be both enterprised and overcome with answerable courages." The dead had died in a good service, and the fit way for survivors to honor and lament them was to be true to one another, and to work together bravely for the cause to which dead and living had alike been consecrated. The devastation increased the necessity of preparations for defence; and it was at the time when the company was diminishing at the rate of one on every second day, that a military organization was formed, with Standish for the captain, and the humble fortification on the hill overlooking the dwellings was mounted with five guns.

    "Warm and fair weather" came at length, and "the birds sang in the woods most pleasantly." Never was spring more welcome than when it opened on this afflicted company.

    [Their fears of trouble with the Indians proved not unfounded. The friendliness at first displayed by the savages soon gave way to threats of hostilities. In 1622 the Narragansetts sent to the colony a bundle of arrows tied with a snake- skin, as a declaration of war. Bradford, the governor, with grim humor, filled the snake-skin with powder and ball, and returned it. The frightened savages refused to keep it. It passed from hand to hand, and at length came back to Plymouth. A conspiracy to murder the settlers was discovered in 1623, and repressed by Standish, who killed the ringleaders of the plot. This settled all Indian troubles for years. The colony of Plymouth prospered from that time forward. It never attained great dimensions, the Boston colony proving more attractive to settlers, but "the virtue displayed in its institution and management, and the great consequences to which it led," will always claim for it the attention of mankind. After several efforts to found other colonies, one was established at Salem in 1628. This "Colony of Massachusetts Bay" made rapid progress, and by 1634 "between three and four thousand Englishmen were distributed among twenty hamlets along and near the sea-shore." The work of establishing an English agricultural settlement in New England had been accomplished.]

    RELIGIOUS DISSENSIONS IN NEW ENGLAND.

    WILLIAM ROBERTSON.

    [The New England colonists made vigorous efforts to establish firmly their political rights. The original charter contained no provision for the self- government or religious freedom of the people, who were left, in these particulars, at the mercy of the Company and the king. In furtherance of their democratic sentiments, the bold step was taken, in 1630, of removing the governing council from England to Massachusetts, while the provincial government took every precaution to prevent the Church of England from extending its authority over the colony.

    In matters of conscience the colonists manifested from the first an autocratic tendency, and the determination that God should be worshipped in their province in only one way, and that the way of the Puritans. That thought could be confined to so narrow a channel was, however, impossible, and there began at an early date that strenuous effort to weed out what was to them heresy which forms an important part of the history of New England. To the earliest of these troubles, that connected with the name of Roger Williams, the settlement of the province of Rhode Island was due. Similar religious dissensions had their share in the settlement of the provinces of Connecticut, Maine, and New Hampshire. We select a description of these events from Robertson's "History of America," a favorite historical work of the last century.

    We may premise by saying that Roger Williams was a young Puritan minister, of fine talents and education, who had been driven out of England by the intolerance of Archbishop Laud. On landing in Boston he found himself unable to join the church in that place, from its opposition to his views respecting religious freedom. He was subsequently called to the church in Salem, but was prevented from officiating through the opposition of Governor Winthrop. Two years afterwards he again received a pastoral call to Salem. Here his doctrine gave great offence to the colony, though he was warmly supported by the people of Salem.]

    HOWEVER liberal their system of civil policy might be, as their religious opinions were no longer under any restraint of authority, the spirit of fanaticism continued to spread, and became every day wilder and more extravagant. Williams, a minister of Salem, in high estimation, having conceived an antipathy to the cross of St. George in the standard of England, declaimed against it with so much vehemence as a relic of superstition and idolatry which ought not to be retained among a people so pure and sanctified, that Endicott, one of the members of the court of assistants, in a transport of zeal, publicly cut out the cross from the ensign displayed before the governor's gate. This frivolous matter interested and divided the colony. Some of the militia scrupled to follow colors in which there was a cross, lest they should do honor to an idol; others refused to serve under a mutilated banner, lest they should be suspected of having renounced their allegiance to the crown of England. After a long controversy, carried on by both parties with that heat and zeal which, in trivial disputes, supply the want of argument, the contest was terminated by a compromise. The cross was retained in the ensigns of forts and ships, but erased from the colors of the militia. Williams, on account of this, as well as of some other doctrines deemed unsound, was banished out of the colony.

    [Among these obnoxious doctrines were, that it was wrong to enforce an oath of allegiance to the sovereign, or of obedience to the magistrate; that the king had no right to usurp the power of disposing of the territory of the Indians, and, more particularly, that all religious sects had the right to claim equal protection from the laws, and that the civil magistrates had no right to restrain the consciences of men, or to interfere with their modes of worship or religious beliefs. It was decided to send the heretical pastor to England, and he was ordered to repair to Boston. As he did not obey this order, a party was sent to Salem to arrest him. On reaching there they found that Williams had left the settlement, and was making his way through the forest wilderness and the cold and hardship of a New England winter in search of a locality where he might have the privilege of worshipping God in accordance with the dictates of his conscience.]

    The prosperous state of New England was now so highly extolled, and the simple frame of its ecclesiastic policy was so much admired by all whose affections were estranged from the Church of England, that crowds of new settlers flocked thither (1635). Among these were two persons whose names have been rendered memorable by the appearance which they afterwards made on a more conspicuous theatre: one was Hugh Peters, the enthusiastic and intriguing chaplain of Oliver Cromwell; the other, Mr. Henry Vane, son of Sir Henry Vane, a privy councillor, high in office, and of great credit with the king: a young man of a noble family, animated with such zeal for pure religion and such love of liberty as induced him to relinquish all his hopes in England and to settle in a colony hitherto no further advanced in improvement than barely to afford subsistence to its members, was received with the fondest admiration. His mortified appearance, his demure look, and rigid manners, carried even beyond the standard of preciseness in that society which he joined, seemed to indicate a man of high spiritual attainments, while his abilities and address in business pointed him out as worthy of the highest station in the community. With universal consent, and high expectations of advantage from his administration, he was elected governor in the year subsequent to his arrival (1636). But as the affairs of an infant colony afforded not objects adequate to the talents of Vane, his busy pragmatical spirit occupied itself with theological subtleties and speculations unworthy of his attention. These were excited by a woman, whose reveries produced such effects, both within the colony and beyond its precincts, that, frivolous as they may now appear, they must be mentioned as an occurrence of importance in its history.

    It was the custom at that time in New England among the chief men in every congregation to meet once a week, in order to repeat the sermons which they had heard, and to hold religious conferences with respect to the doctrine contained in them. Mrs. Hutchinson, whose husband was among the most respectable members of the colony, regretting that persons of her sex were excluded from the benefit of those meetings, assembled statedly in her house a number of women, who employed themselves in pious exercises similar to those of the men. At first she satisfied herself with repeating what she could recollect of the discourses delivered by their teachers. She began afterwards to add illustrations, and at length proceeded to censure some of the clergy as unsound, and to vent opinions and fancies of her own. These were all founded on the system which is denominated Antinomian by divines, and tinged with the deepest enthusiasm. She taught that sanctity of life is no evidence of justification, or of a state of favor with God; and that such as inculcated the necessity of manifesting the reality of our faith by obedience preached only a covenant of works: she contended that the spirit of God dwelt personally in good men, and by inward revelations and impressions they received the fullest discoveries of the divine will. The fluency and confidence with which she delivered these notions gained her many admirers and proselytes, not only among the vulgar, but among the principal inhabitants. The whole colony was interested and agitated. Vane, whose sagacity and acuteness seemed to forsake him whenever they were turned towards religion, espoused and defended her wildest tenets. Many conferences were held, days of fasting and humiliation were appointed, a general synod was called, and, after dissensions so violent as threatened the dissolution of the colony, Mrs. Hutchinson's opinions were condemned as erroneous, and she herself banished (1637). Several of her disciples withdrew from the province of their own accord. Vane quitted America in disgust, unlamented even by those who had lately admired him; some of whom now regarded him as a mere visionary, and others as one of those dark turbulent spirits doomed to embroil every society into which they enter.

    However much these theological contests might disquiet the colony of Massachusetts Bay, they contributed to the more speedy population of America. When Williams was banished from Salem, in the year one thousand six hundred and thirty-four, such was the attachment of his hearers to a pastor whose piety they revered, that a good number of them voluntarily accompanied him in his exile. They directed their march towards the south; and having purchased from the natives a considerable tract of land, to which Williams gave the name of Providence, they settled there. They were joined soon after by some of those to whom the proceedings against Mrs. Hutchinson gave disgust; and by a transaction with the Indians they obtained a right to a fertile island in Narragansett Bay, which acquired the name of Rhode Island. Williams remained among them upwards of forty years, respected as the father and the guide of the colony which he had planted. His spirit differed from that of the Puritans in Massachusetts; it was mild and tolerating; an, having ventured himself to reject established opinions, he endeavored to secure the same liberty to other men, by maintaining that the exercise of private judgment was a natural and sacred right; that the civil magistrate had no compulsive jurisdiction in the concerns of religion; that the punishment of any person on account of his opinions was an encroachment on conscience and an act of persecution. These humane principles he instilled into his followers, and all who felt or dreaded oppression in other settlements resorted to a community in which universal toleration was known to be a fundamental maxim. In the plantations of Providence and Rhode Island, political union was established by voluntary association and the equality of condition among the members, as well as their religious opinions; their form of government was purely democratical, the supreme power being lodged in the freemen personally assembled. In this state they remained until they were incorporated by charter.

    To similar causes the colony of Connecticut is indebted for its origin. The rivalship between Mr. Cotton and Mr. Hooker, two favorite ministers in the settlement of Massachusetts Bay, disposed the latter, who was least successful in this contest for fame and power, to wish for some settlement at a distance from a competitor by whom his reputation was eclipsed. A good number of those who had imbibed Mrs. Hutchinson's notions, and were offended at such as combated them, offered to accompany him. Having employed proper persons to explore the country, they pitched upon the west side of the great river Connecticut as the most inviting station; and in the year one thousand six hundred and thirty-six, about an hundred persons, with their wives and families, after a fatiguing march of many days through woods and swamps, arrived there, and laid the foundations of the towns of Hartford, Springfield, and Wethersfield.

    [As appears in the selection which immediately follows this one, previous settlements had been made in the same locality.]

    The history of the first attempts to people the provinces of New Hampshire and Maine, which form the fourth and most extensive division in New England, is obscure and perplexed by the interfering claims of various proprietors. The company of Plymouth had inconsiderately parcelled out the northern part of the territory contained in its grant among different persons; of these only Sir Ferdinando Gorges and Captain Mason seem to have had any serious intention to occupy the lands allotted to them. Their efforts to accomplish this were meritorious and persevering, but unsuccessful. The expense of settling colonies in an uncultivated country must necessarily be great and immediate; the prospect of a return is often uncertain and always remote. The funds of two private adventurers were not adequate to such an undertaking. Nor did the planters whom they sent out possess that principle of enthusiasm which animated their neighbors of Massachusetts with vigor to struggle through all the hardships and dangers to which society, in its infancy, is exposed in a savage land. Gorges and Mason, it is probable, must have abandoned their design if, from the same motives that settlements had been made in Rhode Island and Connecticut, colonists had not unexpectedly migrated into New Hampshire and Maine. Mr. Wheelwright, a minister of some note, nearly related to Mrs. Hutchinson, and one of her most fervent admirers and partisans, had, on this account, been banished from the province of Massachusetts Bay. In quest of a new station, he took a course opposite to the other exiles, and, advancing towards the north, founded the town of Exeter, on a small river flowing into Piskataqua Bay. His followers, few in number, but firmly united, were of such rigid principles that even the churches of Massachusetts did not appear to them sufficiently pure. From time to time they received some recruits, whom love of novelty, or dissatisfaction with the ecclesiastical institutions of the other colonies, prompted to join them. Their plantations were widely dispersed, but the country was thinly peopled, and its political state extremely unsettled. The colony of Massachusetts Bay claimed jurisdiction over them, as occupying lands situated within the limits of their grant. Gorges and Mason asserted the rights conveyed to them as proprietors by their charter. In several districts the planters, without regarding the pretensions of either party, governed themselves by maxims and laws copied from those of their brethren in the adjacent colonies. The first reduction of the political constitution in the provinces of New Hampshire and Maine into a regular and permanent form was subsequent to the Revolution.

    THE PEQUOT WAR.

    G. H. HOLLISTER.

    [The settlement of Connecticut began in 1631, in which year an Indian sachem, named Wahquimacut, visited the governors of the Massachusetts and Plymouth colonies. He described the country occupied by his own and kindred tribes as a rich and beautiful valley, abounding in game and corn, and traversed by a river called "Connecticut," a noble stream, of surpassing purity of waters, and full of excellent fish. He begged each settlement to send Englishmen to the valley, offering to give each emigrant eighty beaver-skins annually, and to supply them with corn. This anxiety for white settlers was probably instigated by the desire to obtain their aid against the Pequot Indians, who dominated the region. Governor Winslow, of Plymouth, went to see for himself this Indian Paradise. His report must have been very favorable, for other explorers followed, and in 1633 a trading-settlement was made on the Connecticut coast. This excited the ire of the Dutch, who had already established themselves at Hartford. Wouter van Twiller, the Dutch governor, proceeded in martial array to suppress the intruders, but as the latter stood boldly on the defensive he marched back again, concluding that he could best show his wisdom by letting them alone. In 1635 several settlements were made in the new colony, and John Winthrop, the agent of Lord Say and Seal and Lord Brook, the proprietors, was sent to build a fort at the mouth of the Connecticut, which he did just in time to scare back the. Dutch, who had sent an expedition for the same purpose.

    The succeeding winter was one of excessive severity, and the colonists and the garrison of the fort at Saybrook suffered terribly. Most of them made their way back to Boston, by land or water, to escape the danger of starvation. The few that remained barely survived the horrors of the winter. But with the coming of April again upon the land many of the fugitives returned, while others followed them, and the colony rapidly augmented. It was not long, however, before trouble with the Indians began. The most important of the Connecticut Indians were the Pequots and the Mohegans, the former under a head sachem named Sassacus, who was bitterly hostile to the whites, the latter under the celebrated Uncas, who allied himself with the settlers. The Narragansetts and other tribes, from their hostility to the warlike Pequots, favored the English, through whom they hoped to be revenged upon their dreaded foes.

    A series of murders by Indians followed the settling of the colony. In 1634 two traders were slaughtered. The next year other murders took place. In reprisal an expedition from Massachusetts attacked the Indians, much to the dissatisfaction of the Connecticut settlers, who feared they would pay bitterly for this assault. Their prevision was correct. The Pequots lurked about the fort, torturing all who fell into their hands. They similarly waylaid the settlers, killing and destroying, until the situation grew unbearable. War was resolved upon, and on the 10th of May, 1637, an army of ninety Englishmen, under John Mason, and seventy Mohegans, under Uncas, embarked at Hartford for the Pequot strongholds. Fort Mistick, the smaller of the two Pequot forts, was approached at night, with the intention of effecting a surprise. The story of this Indian war we select from G. H. Hollister's "History of Connecticut," in which it is detailed in homely but graphic language.]

    ABOUT two hours before day, the men were roused up and commanded to make themselves ready for battle. The moon still shone in their faces as they were summoned to prayer. They now set forward with alacrity. The fort proved to be about two miles off. A long way it seemed over the level though stony ground, and the officers began at last to fear that they had been led upon the wrong track, when they came at length to a second field of corn, newly planted, at the base of a high hill. Here they halted, and "gave the word for some of the Indians to come up." At first not an Indian was to be seen; but finally Uncas and Wequash the guide showed themselves. "Where is the fort?" demanded Mason. "On the top of that hill," was the answer. "Where are the rest of the Indians?" asked the fearless soldier. The answer was, what he probably anticipated, "Behind, and very much afraid." "Tell them," said Mason, "not to fly, but to stand as far off as they please, and see whether Englishmen will fight."

    There were two entrances to the fort, one on the northeastern side, the other on the west. It was decided that Mason should lead on and force open the former, while Underhill, who brought up the rear, was to pass around and go in at the western gate.

    Mason had approached within about a rod of the fort, when he heard a dog bark, and almost in a breath this alarm was followed up by the voice of an Indian, crying, "Owanux! Owanux!"—Englishmen! Englishmen! No time was to be lost. He called up his forces with all haste and fired upon the enemy through the palisades. The Pequots, who had spent the night in singing and dancing (under the belief that the English had retreated), were now in a deep sleep. The entrance, near which Mason stood, was blocked up with bushes about breast high. Over this frail obstruction he leaped, sword in hand, shouting to his men to follow him. But Seely, his lieutenant, found it more easy to remove the bushes than to force the men over them. When he had done so, he also entered, followed by sixteen soldiers. It had been determined to destroy the enemy with the sword, and thus save the corn and other valuables that were stored in the wigwams. With this view the captain, seeing no Indians, entered one of the wigwams. Here he found many warriors, who crowded hard upon him, and beset him with great violence; but they were so amazed at the strange apparition that had so suddenly thrust itself upon them, that they could make but a feeble resistance. Mason was soon joined by William. Hayden, who, as he entered the wigwam through the breach that had been made by his impetuous captain, stumbled against the dead body of a Pequot, whom Mason had slain, and fell. Some of the Indians now fled from the wigwam; others, still stupefied with sleep, crept under mats and skins to hide themselves.

    The palisades embraced an area of about twenty acres,—a space sufficient to afford room for a large Indian village. There were more than seventy houses in this space, with lanes or streets passing between them. Mason, still intent on destroying the Pequots and at the same time saving their property, now left the wigwam, and passed down one of these streets, driving the crowd of Indians that thronged it before him from one end of it to the other. At the lower extremity of this lane stood a little company of Englishmen, who, having effected an entrance from the west, met the Indians as they fled from Mason, and killed about half a dozen of them. The captain now faced about, and went back the whole length of the lane, to the spot where he had entered the fort. He was exhausted, and quite out of breath, and had become satisfied that this was not the way to exterminate the Indians, who now swarmed from the wigwams like bees from a hive. Two of his soldiers stood near him, close to the palisades, with their useless swords pointed to the ground. "We shall never kill them in this way," said the captain; and then added, with the same laconic brevity, "We must burn them!" With these words the decree of the council of war to save the booty of the enemy was annulled; for, stepping into the wigwam where he had before forced an entrance, he snatched a firebrand in his hand, and, instantly returning, applied it to the light mats that formed the covering of their rude tenements. Almost in an instant the whole village was wrapped in flames, and the frightened Pequots fled in dismay from the roofs that had just before sheltered them. Such was their terror that many of them took refuge from the English in the flames, and perished there. Some climbed the palisades, where they formed but too fair a mark for the muskets of their enemies, who could see to take a dead aim in the light of the ghastly conflagration. Others fled from the beds of mats or skins where they had sought a temporary concealment, and were arrested by the hand of death in the midst of their flight. Others still, warping up to the windward, whence the fire sped with such fatal velocity, fell flat upon the ground and plied their destroyers with arrows. But their hands were so palsied with fear that the feathered messengers either flew wide of their aim or fell with spent force upon the ground. A few, of still stouter heart, rushed forth with the tomahawk, to engage the invaders of their homes in a hand-to-hand combat. But they were nearly all, to the number of about forty, cut in pieces by the sword. The vast volume of flame, the lurid light reflected on the dark background of the horizon, the crack of the muskets, the yells of the Indians who fought, and of those who sought vainly to fly, the wail of women and children as they writhed in the flames, and the exulting cries of the Narragansetts and Mohegans without the fort, formed a contrast, awful and sublime, with the quiet glories of the peaceful May morning, that was just then breaking over the woods and the ocean.

    Seventy wigwams were burned to ashes, and probably not less than five hundred men, women, and children were destroyed. The property, too, shared the same fate. The long-cherished wampum-belt, with the beads of blue, purple, and white, the war-club, the eagle plume, the tufted scalps, trophies of many a victory, helped only to swell the blaze that consumed alike the young warrior and the superannuated counsellor, the squaw and the little child that clung helplessly to her bosom. Of all who were in the fort, only seven were taken captive, and about the same number escaped.

    [The English, however, were in no enviable situation. Two of them had been killed, and about twenty wounded. They were without provisions, in the midst of an unfamiliar country, and within a short distance of the fort of Sassacus, tenanted by hundreds of fierce warriors. Fortunately, the vessels were now seen gliding into the Pequot harbor.]

    By this time the news of the destruction that had fallen upon his tribe at Mistick, heralded, no doubt, not only by the handful of men who had escaped from the fort, and by the clouds of smoke that floated from the fatal scene, but by the dismal cries that attended this exterminating sacrifice, had reached the fort of Sassacus, and three hundred warriors came rushing towards the English with the determination to revenge themselves for an injury not yet half revealed to them. Mason led out a file of his best marksmen, who soon gave the Pequots a check. Seeing that they could not stand his fire, he commenced his march towards Pequot harbor. Of the twenty wounded men, four or five were so disabled that it was necessary to employ about twenty other men to carry them; so that he had but about forty men who could engage in battle, until he succeeded in hiring some Indians to take charge of the wounded. They had marched about a quarter of a mile, when the Pequot warriors, who had withdrawn out of the range of their muskets, reached the spot where, not two hours before, their fort had sheltered so much that was sacred to them. When they came to the top of the hill, venerable to them from so many associations connected with the history and glory of their tribe,—when they saw the smoking palisades, the flames of their wigwams, not yet extinguished, the blackened bodies that lay scattered where death had overtaken them,—in their grief and rage they stamped upon the ground, tore the hair from their heads, and then rushed madly down the hill, as if they would have swept the enemy from the face of the earth. Captain Underhill, with a file of the bravest men, was ordered to defend the rear. This he did with such efficiency that the Indians were soon compelled to fall back. Yet such was their resolve to have their revenge upon the English that during their march for the next six miles they pursued them, sometimes hanging upon their rear, sometimes hidden behind trees and rocks in front, discharging their arrows in secret, at others making desperate attacks, that could be repelled only by the too deadly use of the musket. They fought at fearful odds, as was evinced by the dead bodies of their warriors picked up by the Mohegans who followed in their train, while not an Englishman was injured during the whole line of their march. At last, wearied with a pursuit that only brought harm to themselves, they abandoned it, and left the English to continue their march unmolested, with their colors flying, to Pequot harbor. Here they were received on board their vessels with many demonstrations of joy.

    [This disaster utterly disheartened the Pequots. They accused Sassacus of having brought ruin upon them, and in dismay burned their remaining fort and fled for safety. Sassacus and about eighty of his principal warriors made their way towards the Hudson. They were rapidly followed, and at length traced to a swamp within the limits of the old town of Fairfield.]

    In this swamp were hidden about eighty Pequot warriors, with their women and children, and about two hundred other Indians. A dismal, miry bog it was, covered with tangled bushes. Dangerous as it was, Lieutenant Davenport rushed into it with his men, eager to encounter the Pequots.

    The sharp arrows of the enemy flew from places that hid the archers, wounding the soldiers, who, in their haste to retreat, only sunk deeper in the mire. The Indians, made bold by this adventure, pressed hard upon them, and would have carried off their scalps had it not been for the timely aid of some other Englishmen, who waded into the swamp, sword in hand, drove back the Pequots, and drew their disabled friends from the mud that had threatened to swallow them up. The swamp was now surrounded, and a skirmish followed that proved so destructive to the savages that the Fairfield Indians begged for quarter. They said, what was probably true, that they were there only by accident, and had never done the English any harm.

    [They were permitted to withdraw, with their women and children.]

    But the Pequot warriors, made up of choice men, and burning with rage against the enemy who had destroyed their tribe and driven them from their old haunts, fought with such desperate bravery that the English were glad to confine themselves to the borders of the swamp..

    Some suggested that they should cut down the swamp with the hatchets that they had brought with them; others, that they should surround it with palisades. Neither of these propositions was adopted. They finally hit upon a plan that was more easily executed. They cut down the bushes the bushes that grew upon a little neck of firm upland that almost divided the swamp into two parts. In this way they so lessened the area occupied by the Pequots that, by stationing men twelve feet apart, it could all be surrounded by the troops. This was done, and the sentinels all stationed, before nightfall. Thus keeping watch on the borders of the morass, wet, cold, and weary, the soldiers passed the night under arms. Just before day a dense fog arose, that shrouded them in almost total darkness. A friendly mist it proved to the Pequots, for it doubtless saved the lives of many of them. At a favorable moment they rushed upon the English. Captain Patrick's quarters were first attacked, but he drove them back more than once. Their yells, more terrible from the darkness that engulfed the scene of the conflict, were so unearthly and appalling, the attack was so sudden and so well sustained, that, but for the timely interference of a party sent by Mason to relieve him, Patrick would doubtless have been driven from his station or cut to pieces. The siege had by this time given place to a hand-to-hand fight. As Mason was himself marching up to aid Patrick, the Pequots rushed upon him from the thicket. He drove them back with severe loss. They did not resume the attack upon the man who had recently given them such fearful proofs of his prowess, but turned upon Patrick, broke through his ranks, and fled. About sixty of the Pequot warriors escaped. Twenty lay dead upon the field. One hundred and eighty were taken prisoners. Most of the property that this fugitive remnant of the tribe had attempted to carry with them fell into the hands of the English. Hatchets of stone, beautiful wampum-belts, polished bows, and feathered arrows, with the utensils employed by the women in their rude domestic labors, became at once, as did the women themselves, the property of the conquerors. The captives and the booty were divided between Massachusetts and Connecticut. Some were sent by Massachusetts to the West Indies, and there, as slaves, dragged out a wretched but brief existence.. Those who fell to the colony of Connecticut found their condition more tolerable. Some of them, it is true, spent their days in servitude; yet its rigors softened as the horrors of the war faded from the recollections of the English.

    Sassacus seems not to have been present at this battle. Foiled and discomfited at every turn, he fled far to the westward, and sought a refuge among the enemies of his tribe, the Mohawks. But he looked in vain for protection at their hands. He had defied them in his prosperity, and in his evil days they avenged themselves. They beheaded him, and sent his scalp as a trophy to Connecticut. A lock of his black, glossy hair was carried to Boston in the fall of the same year, as a witness that the proud sachem of the Pequots was no more.

    [So ended the first Indian war in New England. About two hundred of the vanquished tribe still survived. These were divided between the Mohegans and Narragansetts, and the tribal organization completely broken up. The bow and arrow and stone axe had been tried against the sword and musket, and had signally failed. In the future wars, of musket against musket, the suppression of the Indians was not to prove so easy a task. It may be said here that this was one of the most justifiable wars ever waged by the settlers against the Indians. The murderous incursions of the Pequots upon the peaceful settlers had become so unbearable that annihilation of one side or the other seemed the only solution of the problem.]

    CHAMPLAIN AND THE IROQUOIS.

    FRANCIS PARKMAN.

    [The first permanent French settlement in America, as we have already stated, was made by De Monts in 1605, on the coast of the Bay of Fundy, the settlement being named Port Royal, and the country Acadia. In 1608, De Monts was granted a monopoly of the fur-trade on the St. Lawrence River, and sent out two vessels under Samuel Champlain, who had previously visited that region. Champlain ascended the river to the site of the present city of Quebec, near the place where Cartier had wintered in 1541. The colony he there established was the first permanent French settlement in Canada. The history of this colony under Champlain's management, of the explorations which he made, and of his hostile relations with the Iroquois Indians, is one of the greatest interest, and reads like a page from romance rather than the detail of sober history.

    Champlain was one of the most active and earnest explorers the world has ever known. "A true hero, after the chivalrous mediaeval type, his character was dashed largely with the spirit of romance. Earnest, sagacious, penetrating, he yet leaned to the marvellous; and the faith which was the life of his hard career was somewhat prone to overstep the bounds of reason and invade the alluring domain of fancy." In early life he had been seized with a desire to explore those golden realms from which the Spaniards sedulously excluded the people of other European nations. He entered the Spanish service, and made his way to the West Indies and Mexico. He afterwards took part in the Port Royal expedition of De Monts, and explored the New England coast. His enterprising spirit, while of the utmost importance to the success of the Canadian colony, brought the colonists into hostile relations with the powerful Iroquois confederacy of Indians, and started a bitter and unrelenting war through which the settlement was more than once threatened with annihilation.

    The colony of Canada had no thought of agriculture. It was distinctively a trading settlement, a condition conducive to adventurous excursions, in which movements Champlain was the leading spirit. It, unlike all other American colonies, entered at once into an alliance, offensive and defensive, with the neighboring Indian tribes, aided them in their wars, and roused the undying enmity of powerful foes. A description of the settlement of Quebec, of Champlain's first excursion with the Indians, of the discovery of the lake which bears his name, and of his first encounter with the Iroquois, may be taken from Parkman's "Pioneers of France in the New World."]

    AND now, peace being established with the Basques, and the wounded Pontgrave busied, as far as might be, in transferring to the hold of his ship the rich lading of the Indian canoes, Chaplain spread his sails, and once more held his course up the St. Lawrence..

    Above the point of the Island of Orleans, a constriction of the vast channel narrows it to a mile: on one hand the green heights of Point Levi; on the other, the cliffs of Quebec. Here a small stream, the St. Charles, enters the St. Lawrence, and in the angle between them rises the promontory, on two sides a natural fortress. Land among the walnut-trees that formed a belt between the cliffs and the St. Lawrence. Climb the steep height, now bearing aloft its ponderous load of churches, convents, dwellings, ramparts, and batteries,—there was an accessible point, a rough passage, gullied downward where Prescott Gate now opens on the Lower Town.. Two centuries and a half have quickened the solitude with swarming life, covered the deep bosom of the river with barge and steamer and gliding sail, and reared cities and villages on the site of forests; but nothing can destroy the surpassing grandeur of the scene..

    A few weeks passed, and a pile of wooden buildings rose on the brink of the St. Lawrence, on or near the site of the market-place of the Lower Town of Quebec. The pencil of Champlain, always regardless of proportion and perspective, has preserved its semblance. A strong wooden wall, surmounted by a gallery loop- holed for musketry, enclosed three buildings, containing quarters for himself and his men, together with a court-yard, from one side of which rose a tall dove-cot, like a belfry. A moat surrounded the whole, and two or three small cannon were planted on salient platforms towards the river. There was a large magazine near at hand, and a part of the adjacent ground was laid out as a garden..

    It was on the eighteenth of September that Pontgrave set sail, leaving Champlain with twenty-eight men to hold Quebec through the winter. Three weeks later, and shores and hills glowed with gay prognostics of approaching desolation,—the yellow and scarlet of the maples, the deep purple of the ash, the garnet hue of young oaks, the bonfire blaze of the tupelo at the water's edge, and the golden plumage of birch saplings in the fissure of the cliff. It was a short-lived beauty. The forest dropped its festal robes. Shrivelled and faded, they rustled to the earth. The crystal air and laughing sun of October passed away, and November sank upon the shivering waste, chill and sombre as the tomb..

    One would gladly know how the founders of Quebec spent the long hours of their first winter; but on this point the only man among them, perhaps, who could write, has not thought it necessary to enlarge. He himself beguiled his leisure with trapping foxes, or hanging a dead dog from a tree and watching the hungry martens in their efforts to reach it. Towards the close of winter, all found abundant employment in nursing themselves or their neighbors, for the inevitable scurvy broke out with virulence. At the middle of May only eight men of the twenty-eight were alive, and of these half were suffering from disease.. Great was the joy of Champlain when he saw a sail-boat rounding the Point of Orleans, betokening that the spring had brought with it the longed-for succors.

    [Pontgrave had returned with supplies and emigrants. After a consultation it was decided that he should remain in charge of Quebec while Champlain entered upon his meditated explorations, by which he hoped to find a practicable way to China. It was the same dream of a passage to the Pacific that had animated so many of his predecessors.]

    But there was a lion in the path. The Indian tribes, war-hawks of the wilderness, to whom peace was unknown, infested with their scalping-parties the streams and pathways of the forest, increasing tenfold its inseparable risks. That to all these hazards Champlain was more than indifferent, his after-career bears abundant witness; yet now an expedient for evading them offered itself, so consistent with his instincts that he was fain to accept it. Might he not anticipate surprises, join a war-party, and fight his way to discovery?

    During the last autumn a young chief from the banks of the then unknown Ottawa had been at Quebec; and, amazed at what he saw, he had begged Champlain to join him in the spring against his enemies. These enemies were a formidable race of savages, the Iroquois, or Five Confederate Nations, dwelling in fortified villages within limits now embraced by the State of New York.

    [The Canadian foes of this confederacy were the Hurons, a tribe of their own race, the Algonquins of the St. Lawrence region, and the Montagnais, a less energetic tribe of the same region. With these Indians Champlain joined himself in a projected expedition against their powerful enemies.]

    It was past the middle of May, and the expected warriors from the upper country had not come,—a delay which seems to have given Champlain little concern, for, without waiting longer, he set forth with no better allies than a band of Montagnais. But as he moved up the St. Lawrence he saw, thickly clustered in the bordering forest, the lodges of an Indian camp, and, landing, found his Huron and Algonquin allies. Few of them had ever seen a white man. They surrounded the steel-clad strangers in speechless wonderment. Chaplain asked for their chief, and the staring throng moved with him towards a lodge where sat, not one chief, but two, for each band had its own. There were feasting, smoking, speeches; and, the needful ceremony over, all descended together to Quebec; for the strangers were bent on seeing those wonders of architecture whose fame had pierced the recesses of their forests.

    [On May 28 the expedition again set out, passing down the St. Lawrence to the "Riviere des Iroquois," since called the Richelieu, or the St. John. Here the warriors encamped for two days, hunted, fished, feasted, and quarrelled, three- fourths of the party seceding, while the rest pursued their course. Champlain outsailed his allies. But he soon found himself in impassable rapids, and was obliged to return. The Indians had lied to him, with the story that his shallop could traverse the river unobstructed.]

    But should he abandon the adventure, and forego the discovery of that great lake, studded with islands and bordered with a fertile land of forests, which his red companions had traced in outline and by word and sign had painted to his fancy.. He directed Marais, with the boat and the greater part of the men, to return to Quebec, while he, with two who offered to follow him, should proceed in the Indian canoes.

    The warriors lifted their canoes from the water, and in long procession through the forest, under the flickering sun and shade, bore them on their shoulders around the rapids to the smooth stream above. Here the chiefs made a muster of their forces, counting twenty-four canoes and sixty warriors. All embarked again, and advanced once more, by marsh, meadow, forest, and scattered islands, then full of game, for it was an uninhabited land, the warpath and battle-ground of hostile tribes. The warriors observed a certain system in their advance. Some were in front as a vanguard, others formed the main body, while an equal number were in the forests on the flanks and rear, hunting for the subsistence of the whole; for, though they had a provision of parched maize pounded into meal, they kept it for use when, from the vicinity of the enemy, hunting should become impossible.

    Late in the day they landed and drew up their canoes, ranging them closely side by side. All was life and bustle. Some stripped sheets of bark, to cover their camp-sheds; others gathered wood,—the forest was full of dead, dry trees; others felled the living trees, for a barricade. They seem to have had steel axes, obtained by barter from the French; for in less than two hours they had made a strong defensive work, a half-circle in form, open on the river side, where their canoes lay on the strand, and large enough to enclose all their huts and sheds. Some of their number had gone forward as scouts, and, returning, reported no signs of an enemy. This was the extent of their precautions, for they placed no guard, but all, in full security, stretched themselves to sleep,- -a vicious custom from which the lazy warrior of the forest rarely departs.

    [An important part of the subsequent proceedings was the operation of the medicine-man, who entered his magic lodge and invoked the spirits in mumbling tones, while his dusky audience listened in awe and wonder. Suddenly the lodge rocked with violence to and fro,—as alleged, by the power of the spirits, through Champlain could see the first of the medicine-man shaking the poles. The diviner was now seized with convulsions, and invoked the spirit in an unknown language, while the answer came in squeaking and feeble accents. This mummery over, the chief stuck sticks in the earth in a certain order, each stick representing a warrior and indicating his position in the expected battle. They all gathered round and studied the sticks, then formed, broke, and reformed their ranks with alacrity and skill.]

    Again the canoes advanced, the river widening as they went. Great islands appeared, leagues in extent,—Isle a la Motte, Long Island, Grande Isle. Channels where ships might float and broad reaches of expanding water stretched between them, and Champlain entered the lake which preserves his name to posterity. Cumberland Head was passed, and from the opening of the great channel between Grande Isle and the main he could look forth on the wilderness sea. Edged with woods, the tranquil flood spread southward beyond the sight. Far on the left the forest ridges of the Green Mountains were heaved against the sun, patches of snow still glistening on their tops; and on the right rose the Adirondacks, haunts in these later years of amateur sportsmen from counting- rooms or college halls, nay, of adventurous beauty, with sketch-book and pencil. Then the Iroquois made them their hunting-ground; and beyond, in the valleys of the Mohawk, the Onondaga, and the Genesee, stretched the long line of their five cantons and palisaded towns..

    The progress of the party was becoming dangerous. They changed their mode of advance, and moved only in the night.. At twilight they embarked again, paddling their cautious way till the eastern sky began to redden. Their goal was the rocky promontory where Fort Ticonderoga was long afterwards built. Thence they would pass the outlet of Lake George, and launch their canoes again on that Como of the wilderness.. Landing at the future site of Fort William Henry, they would carry their canoes through the forest to the river Hudson, and, descending it, attack, perhaps, some outlying town of the Mohawks..

    The allies were spared so long a progress. On the morning of the twenty-ninth of July, after paddling all night, they hid as usual in the forest on the western shore, not far from Crown Point. The warriors stretched themselves to their slumbers, and Champlain, after walking for a time through the surrounding woods, returned to take his repose on a pile of spruce boughs..

    It was ten o'clock in the evening, when they descried dark objects in motion on the lake before them. These were a flotilla of Iroquois canoes, heavier and slower than theirs, for they were made of oak bark (or more probably elm bark). Each party saw the other, and the mingled war-cries pealed over the darkened water. The Iroquois, who were near the shore, having no stomach for an aquatic battle, landed, and, making night hideous with their clamors, began to barricade themselves. Champlain could see them in the woods laboring like beavers, hacking down trees with iron axes taken from the Canadian tribes in war, and with stone hatchets of their own making. The allies remained on the lake, a bowshot from the hostile barricade, their canoes made fast together by poles lashed across. All night they danced with as much vigor as the frailty of their vessels would permit, their throats making amends for the enforced restraint of their limbs. It was agreed on both sides that the fight should be deferred till daybreak; but meanwhile a commerce of abuse, sarcasm, menace, and boasting gave unceasing exercise to the lungs and fancy of the combatants,—"much," says Champlain, "like the besiegers and besieged in a beleaguered town."

    As day approached, he and his two followers put on the light armor of the time. Champlain wore the doublet and long hose then in vogue. Over the doublet he buckled on a breastplate, and probably a back-piece, while his thighs were protected by cuisses of steel, and his head by a plumed casque. Across his shoulder lay the straps of his bandoleer, or ammunition-box; at his side was his sword, and in his hand his arquebuse, which he had loaded with four balls. Such was the equipment of this ancient Indian-fighter, whose exploits date eleven years before the landing of the Puritans at Plymouth, and sixty-six years before King Philip's War.

    Each of the three Frenchmen was in a separate canoe, and, as it grew light, they kept themselves hidden, either by lying in the bottom, or covering themselves with an Indian robe. The canoes approached the shore, and all landed without opposition at some distance from the Iroquois, whom they presently could see filing out of their barricade, tall, strong men, some two hundred in number, of the boldest and fiercest warriors of North America. They advanced through the forest with a steadiness which excited the admiration of Champlain. Among them could be seen several chiefs, made conspicuous by their tall plumes. Some bore shields of wood and hide, and some were covered with a kind of armor made of tough twigs interlaced with a vegetable fibre supposed by Champlain to be cotton.

    The allies, growing anxious, called with loud cries for their champion, and opened their ranks that he might pass to the front. He did so, and, advancing before his red companions-in-arms, stood revealed to the astonished gaze of the Iroquois, who, beholding the warlike apparition in their path, stared in mute amazement. But his arquebuse was levelled; the report startled the woods, a chief fell dead, and another by his side rolled among the bushes. Then there rose from the allies a yell, which, says Champlain, would have drowned a thunder-clap, and the forest was full of whizzing arrows. For a moment, the Iroquois stood firm and sent back their arrows lustily; but when another and another gunshot came from the thickets on their flank, they broke and fled in uncontrollable terror. Swifter than hounds, the allies tore through the bushes in pursuit. Some of the Iroquois were killed; more were taken. Camp, canoes, provisions, all were abandoned, and many weapons flung down in the panic flight. The arquebuse had done its work. The victory was complete. .

    The victors made a prompt retreat from the scene of their triumph. Three or four days brought them to the mouth of the Richelieu. Here they separated; the Hurons and the Algonquins made for the Ottawa, their homeward route, each with a share of prisoners for future torments. At parting they invited Champlain to visit their towns and aid them again in their wars, — an invitation which this paladin of the woods failed not to accept.

    [Thus ended the first Indian battle in the northern United States, the fruitful seed of an abundant crop of future disasters. The subsequent history of Champlain may be rapidly epitomized. In the next year (1610) he took part in another successful war-expedition. In 1611 he founded the city of Montreal. The year 1613 he employed in an exploration of the Ottawa River, deceived by a statement that it led to a great lake which was connected with the North Sea. In 1614 he made another long journey, up the Ottawa, then overland to Lake Huron, and then south, in company with a war-party of Hurons, to the Iroquois country, where an attack was made on a strong fortification. The assault proved a failure. The Iroquois defended themselves valiantly, and finally drove off their foes, Champlain being twice wounded. In 1629, twenty years after the settlement of Quebec, it contained less than a hundred persons, and these the prey of a severe famine, from whose consequences they were saved only by a surrender of the place to the English, then at war with France. At the end of the war it was restored to France. The history of Canada during the remainder of the century is largely made up of the revenge taken by the Iroquois for their earlier disasters. Their dreaded foe, Champlain, died in 1635. He had aided in making a treaty of peace between the Hurons and the Iroquois in 1622, but in 1648 the latter broke the truce, and suddenly fell upon the French and their allies, slaughtering the whites without distinction of sex or age, and causing a complete dispersal of the Hurons, who ceased to exist as a separate tribe. For years afterwards the Iroquois remained lords of the situation, keeping the French shut up in their fortified posts, while their allies were left without succor. The Algonquins were dispersed, the Eries obliterated, and the war ended in 1672, after more than twenty years' duration, in the conquest of the Andastes, a powerful Huron tribe. In 1687 the war was renewed, through a treacherous act of Denonville, the Canadian governor, and in the succeeding year the Iroquois made a descent on the Island of Montreal, which they laid waste, and carried off two hundred prisoners. This brings us to the era of war between the French and the English, in which the services of the Indians were freely called into requisition, and desolating raids and massacres abounded.]

    THE SETTLEMENT OF NEW YORK.

    E. B. O'CALLAGHAN.

    [The Dutch showed less enterprise in planting colonies in America, and less persistence in sustaining them, than any other of the mari-time nations of Europe. Their only settlement in North America was that of New Amsterdam, occupying Manhattan Island, and sending branch hamlets up the Hudson and to the shores of Long Island Sound and the South or Delaware River. This colony was held with very little vigor. The Dutch permitted themselves to be supplanted in Connecticut by the English Puritans, with scarcely any resistance. The Swedes came into collision with them on the Delaware, though these intruders were eventually subjected to Dutch authority. And in their central seat on the Hudson they had to contend with unwarranted English invasions, and were finally conquered by the English, in times of peace, and without resistance either by the colony or by the mother-country. The story of this colony is of less interest than that of most of the other American settlements. It had its contests, its intestine difficulties, its troubles with the Indians, yet none of these were of striking importance. We extract from O'Callaghan's "History of New Netherland" some passages descriptive of the rise and progress of the settlement. Henry Hudson, the discoverer of the river that bears his name, was an English mariner, who, in the years 1607 and 1608, made two voyages in search of a northwest passage to India. He afterwards entered the service of the Dutch East India Company, and in April, 1609, sailed on a third voyage with the same purpose. Touching at Newfoundland, he continued his course till he sighted the American coast, and then turned southward, with the hope of finding a passage- way to the Pacific through the continent. He entered Penobscot Bay, and landed at Cape Cod, which he named New Holland.]

    THE Half Moon hence pursued a course south and west for the next ten days, and at length arrived, about the middle of August, at the entrance of the Chesapeake Bay, where the first effectual attempt to plant an English colony had been commenced only two years before. Hudson now retraced his steps, and in a few days afterwards discovered, in latitude thirty-nine degrees five minutes, a great bay, which has since been called Delaware. Here he anchored the Half Moon in eight fathom water, and took possession, it is said, of the country. From this place he coasted northward, the shore appearing low, like sunken ground, dotted with islands, and at length descried the Highlands of Navesinck, which, the journalist remarks, is a very good land to fall in with, and a pleasant land to see. He found himself, on the following day, at the mouth of three great rivers, the northernmost of which he attempted to enter; but, having been prevented by a shoal bar at its mouth, he cast about to the southward, and, after due examination of the sounding, rounded a low "sandy hook," and moored the Half Moon, on the following morning, in latitude forty degrees thirty minutes, at a short distance from the shore, in the waters of "The Great North River of New Netherland."

    While the ship lay here at anchor, the natives from the western shore came on board, and seemed to be highly pleased at the arrival of the Europeans. They brought green tobacco, which they desired to exchange for knives and beads. They had divers ornaments, as well as pipes, made of copper; plenty of maize, or Indian corn; dresses of deerskins, well cured, hung loosely around them.

    The next day some men were sent in the boat to explore the bay farther up. They landed on the western bank, which was lined with men, women, and children, by whom they were very kindly received, and presented with tobacco and dried currants. They found the land covered with dried oaks. The natives continued to flock on board the ship, dressed in mantles of feathers and fine furs; their necks adorned with ornaments of copper, and some of the women had hemp.

    [Five of the crew were sent to examine the channel of what appeared to be an extensive river. "They described the land as covered with trees, grass, and flowers, and the air filled with delightful fragrance." On their return they were attacked, for no known cause, by a party of Indians, one man being killed and two wounded. This made Hudson very suspicious of the natives. He would permit no more to come on board, — except a few who were detained as prisoners, but afterwards escaped,— and soon weighed anchor and stood up through the Narrows, entering New York harbor.]

    Hudson, having ascended thus far, prepared now to explore the magnificent river which rolled its waters into the sea from unknown regions, in the probable hope that it would lead him to the long-sought-for passage to the Indies. He accordingly weighed in the afternoon of the 12th September, and commenced his memorable voyage up that majestic stream which has since handed his name down to posterity.

    [He sailed on up the river, through the highland region, being everywhere received with enthusiasm by the natives, who crowded on board with their commodities.]

    Distrusting the savages all along, Hudson determined now to try an experiment which, by throwing them off their guard, would elicit any treachery which might be latent in their dispositions. He accordingly invited several of the chiefs into the cabin, and gave them plenty of brandy to drink, so as to make them intoxicated. The result was that one got drunk, and fell sound asleep, to the great astonishment of this companions, who "could not tell how to take it." They all took suddenly to their canoes and hurried ashore, leaving their stupefied countryman behind them. Their anxiety for his welfare soon induced them, however, to return with a quantity of beads which they gave him, to enable him, perhaps, to bribe or exorcise "the foul fiend" which had possession of him. The savage slept soundly all night, and was quite recovered from the effects of his debauch when his friends came to see him next day. So rejoiced were these people at finding their chief restored, as it were, to life, that they returned on board in crowds again in the afternoon, bringing tobacco and more beads, which they presented to Hudson, to whom they made an oration, showing him the country round about. They then sent one of their company on land, who presently returned with a great platter of dressed venison, which they caused Hudson to eat with them; after which they made him profound reverence and departed, all save the old man, who, having had a taste of the fatal beverage, preferred to remain on board.

    Such was the introduction among the Indians, by the first European that came among them, of that poison which, combined with other causes, has since operated to deprive their descendants of almost a foothold in their native land, and caused, within a few centuries, the almost entire extinction of the Red race.

    The Half Moon had now evidently ascended as high as she could go. She had reached a little below the present city of Albany, and Hudson, having satisfied himself, by despatching a boat some seven or eight leagues higher up, that he had gained the head of the ship-navigation, prepared to retrace his course.

    [His descent of the river was much more expeditious than the upward voyage. On reaching the vicinity of Stony Point he was visited by Indians, one of whom stole some articles from the cabin and was shot and killed by the mate.]

    On the following day they descended about seven leagues farther, and came to anchor. Here they were visited by a canoe, on board of which was one of the savages who had made his escape from the vessel as she was going up. Fearing treachery, Hudson would not allow either him or his companions on board. Two other canoes, filled with armed warriors, now came under the stern, and commenced an attack with arrows. They were repulsed with a loss of three men. More than a hundred savages now pushed off from the nearest point of land, but one of the ship's cannon, having been brought to bear on these, killed two of the party, and the rest fled, thereupon, to the woods. But the savages were not yet discouraged. Nine or ten of the boldest of the warriors, probably incited by the two who had made their escape from the Half Moon on her way up, threw themselves into a canoe and made for the vessel; but these fared no better than those who preceded them. A cannon-shot drove a hole through their canoe, and killed one of the men. This was followed by a discharge of musketry, which killed three or four more, and put an end to the battle. The Half Moon now descended some five miles farther down, probably near Hoboken, and thus got beyond the reach of all enemies.

    Hudson had now thoroughly explored the river, from its mouth to the head of navigation, and had secured for his employers possessions which would reward them beyond measure for the expense they had incurred. For himself he had won an immortality which was destined to hand down his name to the latest age. Happy at the result, he left "the great mouth of the Great River," and put to sea, with all sails set, to communicate to those in Holland in whose service he was the tidings of his valuable discovery.

    [For years a trading-station was the extent of the Dutch settlement on Manhattan Island; yet the number of settlers gradually increased, and in 1615 a settlement was made at Albany. The country was called New Netherland. In 1618 the settlers made an important treaty of peace and alliance with the Iroquois.]

    When the Dutch arrived in America the tribes composing the Five Nations were at war with the Algonquin or Canada Indians. But the latter, having formed an alliance with the French, who some years previous to this date had commenced the settlement of New France, as Canada was called, derived such powerful aid from the fire-arms of their European allies that the Iroquois were defeated in almost every rencontre with their ancient enemy. Smarting under the disgrace of these unexpected repulses, the Iroquois hailed the establishment among them, now, of another European nation familiar with the use of these terrible instruments, which, almost without human intervention, scattered death wherever they were directed, and defied the war-club and bow and arrow as weapons of attack or defence. Though jealous by nature, and given to suspicion, the Indians exhibited none of these feelings towards the new-comers, whose numbers were too few even to protect themselves or to inflict injury on others. On the contrary, they courted their friendship, for through them they shrewdly calculated on being placed in a condition to cope with the foe, or to obtain that bloody triumph for which they thirsted. Such were the circumstances which now led to that treaty of alliance which, as the tradition goes, was concluded on the banks of the Norman's Kill, between the Five Nations and the Dutch.

    Nothing could surpass the importance the warlike inhabitants of those ancient forests attached to the ratification of this solemn treaty. Each tribe sent its chief as its ambassador to represent it on this occasion. The neighboring tribes — the Lenni Lenape and Mohegans — were invited to attend; and there, in the presence of the earth, their common mother, — of the sun, which shed its genial heat on all alike, —by the murmurs of that romantic stream, whose waters had been made to flow by their common Maker from all time, was the belt of peace held fast by the Dutch and their aboriginal allies, in token of their eternal union. There was the calumet smoked, and the hatchet buried, while the Dutch traders declared that they should forthwith erect a church over that weapon of war, so that it would no more be exhumed without overturning the sacred edifice, and whoever dared do that should incur the resentment of the white man. By this treaty the Dutch secured for themselves the quiet possession of the Indian trade, and the Five Nations obtained the means to assert that ascendency which they ever after maintained over the other native tribes, and to inspire terror far and near among the other savages of North America.

    [Up to 1623 only trading-settlements existed. In that year the actual colonization of the country took place, though a governor was not appointed till two years afterwards. Captain Mey, who took out the settlers, also ascended Delaware Bay and River in 1623, and built Fort Nassau, a few miles below Camden. This fort was soon abandoned. In 1631 a colony was planted in Delaware, near the present Lewistown, but the settlers were soon murdered by the Indians. The Dutch claim now extended from Cape Henlopen to Cape Cod. This claim was disputed by the New-Englanders, who formed settlements in Connecticut and on Long Island. They endeavored, also, to trade with the Hudson River Indians. In 1633 one Jacob Eelkins arrived at New Amsterdam in an English ship called the William. He was ordered to depart by Wouter van Twiller, the Dutch governor.]

    After an interval of five days, the factor of the William went again on shore to the fort, to inquire if the director-general would permit him, in a friendly way, to ascend the river, stating at the same time that, if he would not allow it, he [Eelkins] would proceed without his consent, if it should cost him his life. But van Twiller was immovable. Instead of consenting, he ordered the ship's crew on shore, and, in the presence of all, commanded the Prince of Orange's flag to be run up the fort, and three pieces of ordnance to be fired in honor of his highness. Eelkins, not to be outdone, immediately ordered his gunner to go on board the William, to hoist the English flag, and fire a salute of three guns in honor of the King of England, which was accordingly done. Van Twiller now warned Eelkins to take heed that what he was about did not cost him his neck. Eelkins, however, noway daunted, returned on board with the ship's crew. The anchor was weighed, and the William shortly after sailed up the river, "near to a fort called Orange."

    Director van Twiller, incensed at this audacity, collected all the servants of the company in the fort before his door, ordered a barrel of wine to be broached, and, having taken a bumper, cried out, "Those who love the Prince of Orange and me, emulate me in this, and assist me in repelling the violence committed by that Englishman!" The cask of wine was soon emptied, but the people were noways disposed at first to trouble the Englishman. . . .

    The William having, in the mean while, arrived in the neighborhood of Fort Orange, the factor and crew went ashore "about a mile below that fort," set up a tent, and, having landed all their goods, immediately opened an active trade with the natives. It was not long before the news of these proceedings came to the ears of Houten, the commissary at Fort Orange. He forthwith embarked, with a trumpeter, on board a shallop, over which waved some green boughs, and proceeded to where Eelkins was. "By the way the trumpet was sounded, and the Dutchmen drank a bottle of strong waters of three or four pints, and were right merry." The Dutch set up a tent by the side of that of the English; did as much as they could to disparage their cloth and other goods, with a view to hinder the latter's trade; but the Indians, having been well acquainted with Eelkins, who had "heretofore lived four yeares among them," and could speak their language, were a good deal more willing to trade with him than with the others, and he consequently had every prospect of advantageously disposing of his merchandise, having been fourteen days there, when a Dutch officer arrived from below, in command of three vessels, a pinnace, a carvel, and a hoy, bearing two letters, protesting against Eelkins, and ordering him to depart forthwith.

    To enforce these commands came soldiers "from both the Dutch forts, armed with muskets, half-pikes, swords, and other weapons," and, after having beaten several of the Indians who had come to trade with Eelkins, ordered the latter to strike his tent. In vain he pleaded that he was on British soil, and that British subjects had a right to trade there; the Dutch would not listen to any remonstrances. They pulled his tent about his ears, sent the goods on board, "and, as they were carrying them to the ship, sounded their trumpet in the boat in disgrace of the English."

    [In this chronicle of the adventures of the first English ship that sailed up the Hudson we have a scene ridiculous enough to find a place in Knickerbocker's "History of New York." The succeeding troubles of the Dutch were with the Swedes and the Indians. In 1640 war began with the neighboring Indians, which continued till terminated by the mediation of the Iroquois, in 1645. In 1638 the Swedes settled on the Delaware, near the present Wilmington, and gradually extended their settlements until 1655, when they were attacked by the Dutch, and all their forts captured. The Swedes remained, under Dutch government. In 1664 the King of England granted to his brother James all the country from the Connecticut to the Delaware, heedless of the claims of the Dutch. A squadron was sent out, and the Dutch were forced to surrender New Amsterdam. Thus, by an act of flagrant injustice, while England and Holland were at peace, the Dutch dominion in North America was overthrown, after half a century of existence. Mr. O'Callaghan gives some brief details of the condition of affairs in New Amsterdam in 1646, which we transcribe.]

    Slaves constituted, as far back as 1628, a portion of the population. The introduction of this class was facilitated by the establishments which the Dutch possessed in Brazil and on the coast of Guinea, as well as by the periodical capture of Spanish and Portuguese prizes, and the circumstances attendant upon the early settlement of the country. The expense of obtaining labor from Europe was great, and the supply by no means equal to the demand. To add to these embarrassments, the temptations held out by the fur-trade were so irresistible that the servants, or "boere-knechts," who were brought over from Holland, were soon seduced from the pursuits of agriculture. Farmers were consequently obliged to employ negroes, and slave-labor thus became, by its cheapness and the necessity of the case, one of the staples of the country.

    The lot of the African under the Dutch was not as hopeless as his situation might lead us to expect. He was a "chattel," it is true; but he could still look forward to the hour when he too might become a freeman. In the years 1644 and 1646, several negroes and their wives, who had originally been captured from the Spaniards, had been manumitted, in consequence of their long and faithful services. To enable them to provide for their support they obtained a grant of land; but as the price of their manumission they were bound to pay yearly twenty-two bushels and a half of corn, wheat, peas, or beans, and one fat hog valued at eight dollars, failing which, they were to lose their liberty and return again to their former state of servitude..The price of a negro averaged between one hundred and one hundred and fifty dollars..

    The greater number of the houses around Forts Amsterdam and Orange were, in those days, low-sized wooden buildings, with roofs of reed or straw, and chimneys of wood. Wind-or water-mills were erected, here and there, to grind corn, or to saw lumber. One of the latter, situated on Nut or Governor's Island, was leased in 1639 for five hundred merchantable boards yearly, half oak and half pine. Saw- and grist-mills were built upon several of the creeks in the colony of Rensselaerswyck, where "a horse mill" was also erected in 1646. A brewery had been constructed previous to 1637, in the same quarter, by the Patroon, with the exclusive right of supplying retail dealers with beer. But private individuals were allowed the privilege, notwithstanding, to brew whatever quantity of beer they might require for consumption within their own families.

    [These settlements were established under two different systems of government. The "colonies" were governed on a feudal principle, the Patroon, or proprietor, having sovereign authority over his vassals, who swore allegiance to him, and submitted to his special courts, ordinances, and laws. In return he was bound to protect them. The other system was a municipal one, like that of the manors of Holland, the qualified electors of cities, villages, and hamlets being empowered to nominate the magistrates, who needed to be confirmed by the director and council. Through these regulations the democratic spirit of Holland was carried over to New Amsterdam, and a republican sentiment of a different type from that of the English colonies was instituted.]

    THE QUAKER COLONY.

    JOHN STOUGHTON.

    [In 1638 a colony of Swedes settled on Christiana Creek, in the present State of Delaware. Governor Kieft, of New Amsterdam, considered this an intrusion on his territory, and, as a check to their aggression, rebuilt the previously abandoned Fort Nassau, below the present Camden. The Swedes gradually extended their settlements, the territory occupied reaching from Cape Henlopen to a point opposite Trenton. Their governor built a fort and a residence on the island of Tinicum, below Philadelphia. In 1655 the Swedes were attached by the Dutch, and their forts taken. The most of them continued on their estates, under Dutch authority. The territory of New Jersey was granted in 1664 to Lord Berkeley and Sir George Carteret. Berkeley sold his share in 1674 to John Fenwick, in trust for Edward Byllinge, who subsequently assigned his claim to William Penn and two other Quakers. The province was then divided, Carteret receiving the eastern portion, and the Quaker assignees the western portion, on the Delaware. It was in this way that William Penn first became interested in the settlement of America. As two colonies, Massachusetts and Maryland, had already been formed through the desire for religious liberty, it occurred to him to establish a refuge in the New World for the persecuted sect of which he was a member. This was first attempted in West Jersey. A free constitution was given to the settlers, granting important privileges of civil and religious liberty. Quakers were specially recommended to take advantage of it, and more than four hundred emigrated to the province in 1677. In 1682, William Penn and eleven others purchased East Jersey, so that the whole province then came under Quaker control. Robert Barclay, author of the "Apology for Quakers," was appointed governor for life.

    In 1681, Penn obtained from Charles II, a grant of all the lands embraced in the present State of Pennsylvania. His purpose in this was not alone to convert and civilize the Indians, as expressed in the charter, but also to form an asylum for those desirous of civil and religious liberty, in which the principles of Peace, as advocated by his sect, might be efficiently carried out. He soon after obtained a grant of the present State of Delaware, then called "The Territories." In September, 1682, he set sail for his new province, with a large number of emigrants of his own religious belief. Others had preceded him. The story of his landing and his actions in the New World we extract from John Stoughton's "William Penn," from the fact that this writer gives the true story of that celebrated "Treaty with the Indians," concerning which so little is actually known, yet which has been made the basis of so many imaginative statements, full of dramatic interest, yet with very small foundation in fact.]

    CONVENIENCE, thoughts of commerce, the selection of a fitting spot for a great city, the choice of a harbor for the shipping of the world, no doubt mainly determined the site of Philadelphia. But utility and the picturesque often go together.. Whether the commissioners sent out by Penn, who marked the foundation for the noble metropolis of their new State, had much care for landscape beauty, I cannot say; but, at all events, they managed to secure it, even if aiming at far other things. Nearly forty years before, red Indians were haunting the shore about a mile from Fort Nassau, and there some Dutchmen bought land from these wild children of the west, and mounted the flag of their country on a tall boundary-mark as a sign of possession.

    [A quarrel ensued with the neighboring Swedes, who tore down the flag.]

    Between thirty and forty years afterwards the region remained infested with wolves, and the heads of these animals were brought in to be paid for by the scanty settlers at the rate of fifty-five heads for forty guilders. Some acres between "the land of Wiccaco" and "the land of Jurian Hartsfielder" were granted on petition in 1677 to one Peter Rambo, but on the complaint of a neighboring family, who laid claim to it, the grant was cancelled. This became the site of the new city.

    Penn did not land there. His voyage from England lasted two months, and on its way the Welcome was scourged by the small-pox, which swept off no less than one- third of the hundred passengers who had embarked at Deal. The first point on the American coast which the vessel reached was "the Capes," on the 24th of October, 1682, and on the 28th Penn landed at New-Castle. He was "hailed there with acclamation by the Swedes and Dutch," says one authority, who informs us that the Swedes were living in log cabins and clay huts, the men dressed "in leather breeches, jerkins, and match coats," the women "in skin jackets and linsey petticoats;" but the old records of New-Castle give a more stately description of the arrival. Penn produced two deeds of enfeoffment, and John Moll, Esq., and Ephraim Hannan, gentleman, performed livery of seisin by handing over to him turf and twig, water and soil, and with due formality the act was recorded in a document signed with nine names. The inhabitants of the little settlement afterwards gave a pledge of obedience..

    After this Penn visited New York, and returned at the end of a month, when he went to a place called Upland, and, turning round to a Quaker friend who had come with him in the Welcome, he said, "Providence has brought us here safe; thou hast been the companion of my perils: what wilt thou that I should call this place?" Pearson said, "Chester," in remembrance of the city whence he came..

    The Great Law, as it was called, or rather the body of laws, of the province of Pennsylvania, was passed at Chester the 7th of December, 1682; and here we have the scheme of legislation devised by the founder. It requires attention, as expressing his political views. It lays down the principle of liberty of conscience for the whole province, and it recognizes intolerance as intolerable. "If any person shall abuse or deride any other for his or her different persuasion or practice in matter of religion, such shall be looked upon as disturber of the peace, and be punished accordingly." The observance of the Lord's Day is prescribed, but is not enforced by penalties. All government officers and servants are to profess belief in the Divinity of Christ; profaneness and blasphemy are to be punished, and several criminal offences are carefully specified. Drinking healths, and selling rum to Indians, come under the same category; so do stage plays, and other amusements fashionable in the days of Charles II. Days and months are not to be called by heathen names. These are the only peculiar laws; the rest being provisions for trial by jury, for purity of election, and for strictly legal taxation.

    [This code bears a close resemblance, in its provisions for religious tolerance, to that previously passed in Maryland, already quoted.]

    The Assembly which passed the laws of Pennsylvania sat for three days, and after its adjournment Penn paid a visit to Maryland, and had an interview with Lord Baltimore respecting the boundaries of the two provinces.. Penn returned to Chester, and thence proceeded to the spot where, in after-time, the capital city of his province was to rise and spread in all its magnificence. His arrival is an event of great interest; but he himself has given no account of it, nor have any of his contemporaries left a connected description of the circumstances. By piecing together scattered fragments of tradition, how-ever, something like a full narrative of what occurred may be constructed.

    He proceeded along the river in an open boat till he reached "a low and sandy beach," at the mouth of what was called the Dock Creek; on the opposite side of it was a grassy and wet soil, yielding an abundance of whortleberries; beyond was the "Society Hill," rising up to what is now Pine Street, covered then with wild outgrowths,—the neighborhood containing woods in which rose lofty elms and masses of rich laurels. The margin of the creek here and there produced evergreen shrubs, and near them were wigwams of red Indians, who had settled down for a while as a starting-point for favorite hunting-grounds. When Penn and his companions arrived they found some men busy building a low wooden house, destined, under the name of the Blue Anchor, to be an object of interest and a subject of controversy. These men, and a few European colonists who were scattered about the locality, pressed towards the boat to give a cordial welcome as the Englishmen stepped on shore.

    If not immediately, we may be sure that soon afterwards the Indians would come forward to gaze on the white men from the other side of the world; and then would begin those manifestations of kindness towards the children of the forest which made an indelible impression on them, and on others who witnessed the interviews. A lady, who lived to be a hundred, used to speak of the governor as being of "rather short stature, but the handsomest, best-looking, lively gentleman she had ever seen." "He endeared himself to the Indians by his marked condescension and acquiescence in their wishes. He walked with them, sat with them on the ground, and ate with them of their roasted acorns and hominy. At this they expressed their great delight, and soon began to show how they could hop and jump; at which exhibition, William Penn, to cap the climax, sprang up and beat them all." Probably a little imagination enlivened the old lady's recollections, and she condensed several meetings into one; but as Penn was at that time under forty, and he had been fond of active sports in earlier days, the story, on the whole, is quite credible; and it is curious to find an old journalist leaving on record that the founder of Pennsylvania was "too prone to cheerfulness for a grave public Friend," especially in the eye of those of them who held "religion harsh, intolerant, severe."

    Blue Anchor Tavern was pulled down years ago, but some archaeological Philadelphians still preserve relics of the old timbers.

    The city had been planned beforehand, the streets marked, and the names given; and these being Vine, Walnut, Pine, Sassafras, and Cedar, we may believe that such trees abounded in the woods into the midst of which the city ran. The name of Philadelphia was chosen by the founder, its scriptural and historical associations being probably present to his mind; but the chief object of the choice was a lesson to its inhabitants "touching brotherly love, upon which he had come to these parts, which he had shown to Dutch, Swedes, Indians, and others alike, and which he wished might forever characterize his new dominions."

    [The fact stated concerning the founding of Philadelphia is of interest, since it seems to be the only city that was planned and definitely laid out by the early settlers of America. The other ancient cities of the country grew as chance willed. The rectangularity of Penn's idea has its advantages, but its disadvantages as well, and some greater degree of chance growth would have been useful. Penn is said to have purchased the land for his city from its Swedish occupants, and to have made with the Indians a treaty, which has attained great celebrity, though very little is known about it.]

    The Treaty-Elm locality—the spot where stood the traditionary elm—is known, and is identified by a monument on the spot; but as to the treaty said to have been ratified there, imagination has had play, for historical information is wanting. Everybody has seen Benjamin West's picture of the treaty between Penn and the Indians, and the artist's fancy has been made the basis of historical description. So unsatisfactory was the state of the question years ago, that the Historical Society of Philadelphia appointed a committee of inquiry. They reported that a treaty did take place, probably in November, 1682 [this date does not agree with that of Penn's first visit to Philadelphia as above given], at Shackamaxon, under an elm-tree blown down in 1810. The treaty was probably made with the Delaware tribes as "a treaty of amity and friendship," and not for the purchase of territory. The speeches made, the dresses worn, and the surrounding scene, appear now to be altogether fictitious.

    Materials, however, exist for forming some idea of the manner in which the treaty would be conducted. "I have had occasion," says Penn, "to be in council with them upon treaties for land, and to adjust the terms of trade. Their order is thus:

    "The king sits in the middle of an half-moon, and has his council, the old and wise, on each hand. Behind them, or at a little distance, sit the younger fry, in the same figure. Having consulted and resolved their business, the king ordered one of them to speak to me. He stood up, came to me, and in the name of his king saluted me, then took me by the hand, and told me that he was ordered by his king to speak to me, and that now it was not he but the king who spoke, because what he should say was the king's mind. He first prayed with me to excuse them that they had not complied with me the last time. He feared there might be some fault in the interpreter, being neither Indian nor English. Besides, it was the Indian custom to deliberate and take up much time in council before they resolved; and that if the young people and owners of the land had been as ready as he, I had not met with so much delay. Having thus introduced his matter, he fell to the bounds of the land they had agreed to dispose of, and the price, which now is little and dear; that which would have bought twenty miles not buying now two. During the time that this person spoke, not a man of them was observed to whisper or smile, the old grave, the young reverent, in their deportment. They speak little, but fervently, and with elegance. I have never seen more natural sagacity, considering them without the help (I was going to say the spoil) of tradition; and he will deserve the name of wise who outwits them in any treaty about a thing they understand. When the purchase was agreed, great promises passed between us of kindness and good neighborhood, and that the English and Indians must live in love as long as the sun gave light; which done, another made a speech to the Indians in the name of all the sachamakers or kings; first, to tell them what was done; next, to charge and command them to love the Christians, and particularly to live in peace with me and the people under my government; that many governors had been in the river, but that no governor had come himself to live and stay there before; and having now such an one, who had treated them well, they should never do him or his any wrong; at every sentence of which they shouted, and said Amen in their way."

    [It is stated that by the terms of one of Penn's treaties of land-purchase with the Indians, the land granted was to extend as far back as a man could walk in three days. Penn and some of his friends, and a number of Indian chiefs, started to measure this territory, and walked leisurely up the Delaware from the mouth of the Neshaminy for a day and a half, and then stopped, concluding that that was sufficient for the present, and that the remainder might be measured when needed. In 1733 the then Governor of Pennsylvania undertook to measure the remainder. He employed a walker noted for his speed, who succeeded in covering eighty-six miles in his day and a half. This shrewd and rascally trick caused the first breach in the confidence of the Indians, and it is significant that the first murder of a white man by an Indian in Pennsylvania was upon the ground of which they had been thus robbed.]

    When Penn had enjoyed possession of his territory a little while, he wrote an account of it to the "Free Society of Traders of Pennsylvania," and in it he manifests a power of graphic description really admirable. It brings the whole country vividly before our eyes; the land, "the best vales of England watered by brooks; the air, sweet; the heavens, serene like the south of France; the seasons, mild and temperate; vegetable productions abundant, chestnut, walnut, plums, muscatel grapes, wheat and other grain; a variety of animals, elk, deer, squirrel, and turkeys weighing forty or fifty pounds, water-birds and fish of divers kinds, no want of horses; and flowers lovely for color, greatness, figure, and variety.".

    "Philadelphia, the expectation of those who are concerned in this province, is at last laid out, to the great content of those here who are any way interested therein. The situation is a neck of land, and lieth between two navigable rivers, Delaware and Sculkill, whereby it hath two fronts upon the water, each a mile; and two from river to river. Delaware is a glorious river; but the Sculkill, being a hundred miles boatable above the falls, and its course northwest toward the fountain of Susquehanna (that tends to the heart of the province, and both sides our own), it is like to be a great part of the settlement of this age. I say little of the town itself, because a platform will soon be shown you by my agent, in which those who are purchasers of me will find their names and interests. But this I will say, for the good providence of God, of all the places I have seen in the world, I remember not one better seated; so that it seems to me to have been appointed for a town, whether we regard the rivers, or the conveniency of the coves, docks, and springs, the loftiness and soundness of the land, and the air, held by the people of these parts to be very good. It is advanced within less than a year to about fourscore houses and cottages, such as they are, where merchants and handicrafts are following their vocations as fast as they can; while the countrymen are close at their farms."

    [Within two years of his arrival the infant city contained three hundred houses, and the population was reckoned at two thousand five hundred. Penn returned to England in 1684. There he met with misfortunes, and in 1692 his proprietary right was taken from him; but it was restored in 1694. In 1699 he again visited America. He found the people dissatisfied, and demanding further concessions and privileges. He framed a new charter, more liberal than the former. The city now contained seven hundred houses, and was very prosperous. He returned to England in 1701, after having made new treaties with the Indians and done all in his power to settle the affairs of his province. He died in 1718, leaving his interest in Pennsylvania to his sons. It continued in the family until the Revolution, when the claims of the Proprietors were purchased by the commonwealth for a value of about five hundred and eighty thousand dollars.]

    THE "GRAND MODEL" GOVERNMENT.

    HUGH WILLIAMSON.

    [The settlement of the three southern colonies of the United States may be dealt with briefly, as it was attended with no events of special importance. Of these colonies Georgia was not settled until 1732. The consideration of it, therefore, properly belongs to the succeeding section of this work. The provinces of North and South Carolina originally constituted but one. We have already described the early efforts to colonize this region, those of Ribaut at Port Royal and of Raleigh on Roanoke Island. About 1630, Sir Robert Heath was granted a tract embracing the Carolinas, but no settlements were made under the grant. The earliest emigrants came from Virginia about 1650. In 1663 the province of Carolina was granted to Lord Clarendon and seven others. The charter secured religious freedom and a voice in legislation to the people, but retained the main power and privilege in the hands of the proprietaries. In 1660 or 1661 a party of New-Englanders settled on Cape Fear River near Wilmington. The settlement was soon abandoned, on account of Indian hostilities, but a permanent colony was established in the same locality in 1665, by a party of planters from Barbadoes.

    The charter of the proprietaries embraced the whole region from Virginia to Florida, and in 1670 a colony was planted on the Ashley River, in the South Carolina region, which was known as the Carteret County Colony, on the site of Old Charleston. Slaves from Barbadoes were soon introduced, Dutch settlers came from New Netherland, then recently taken by the English, and afterwards from Holland, a colony of Huguenot refugees from France was sent out by the King of England, and the new settlement prospered. In 1680 the city of Charleston was founded, and was at once declared the capital of the province. The growth of the settlements in North Carolina was less rapid, many of the colonists removing south, while domestic dissensions retarded prosperity.

    The most interesting feature attending the colonization of the province of Carolina, however, was the remarkable system of government devised, at the request of the proprietaries, by the celebrated English philosopher John Locke. Made in the retirement of his study, and based upon conditions of society utterly unlike those of the thinly-settled wilderness of America, Locke's scheme was absurdly unsuited to the purpose designed, while its autocratic character was entirely out of accordance with the democratic sentiments of the settlers. As a strenuous effort, however, was made to carry out the provisions of this magnificently-absurd "Grand Model" of government, we may give its leading features, as epitomized by Hugh Williamson in his "History of North Carolina."]

    As it was to be expected that a great and fertile province would become the residence of a numerous and powerful body of people, the lords proprietors thought fit in the infant state of these colonies to establish a permanent form of government. Their object, as they expressed themselves, was "to make the government of Carolina agree, as nearly as possible, to the monarchy of which it was a part, and to avoid erecting a numerous democracy." Lord Ashley, one of the proprietors, who was afterwards created Earl of Shaftesbury, a man of fine talents, was requested by the proprietors to prepare a form of government; but he availed himself of the abilities of John Locke, the celebrated philosopher and metaphysician, who drew up a plan, consisting of one hundred and twenty articles or fundamental constitutions, of which the following are the outlines:

    Carolina shall be divided into counties. Each county shall consist of eight signiories, eight baronies, and four precincts. Each precinct shall consist of six colonies. Each signiory, barony, or colony shall consist of twelve thousand acres. The signiories shall be annexed unalienably to the proprietors; the baronies, to the nobility; and the precincts, being three-fifths of the whole, shall remain to the people..

    There shall be two orders of nobility, chosen by the proprietors,—viz., landgraves and casiques.

    There shall be as many landgraves as counties, and twice as many casiques.

    Each landgrave shall hold four baronies, and each casique two baronies.

    [From the year 1701 the proprietaries and nobility were to be inalienably hereditary.]

    There may be manors, to consist of not less than three thousand acres or more than twelve thousand in one tract or colony.

    The lord of every signiory, barony, or manor shall have the power of holding court leet, for trying causes civil or criminal, with appeal to the precinct or county court,

    No leet man shall remove from the land of his lord without permission.

    There shall be eight supreme courts. The oldest proprietor shall be palatine; and each of the other proprietors shall hold a great office,—viz., the several offices of chancellor, chief justice, constable, admiral, treasurer, high steward, and chamberlain.

    [The formation of the courts of the proprietors is here laid down, and the various officers are designated.]

    Of the forty-two counsellors, in the several courts, the greater number shall be chosen out of the nobles or the sons of proprietors or nobles.

    There shall be a grand council, which is to consist of the palatine, the other seven proprietors, and the forty-two counsellors from the courts of the several proprietors. They shall have the power of making war and peace, etc.

    [The formation of the minor courts is then designated.]

    No cause of any freeman, civil or criminal, shall be tried in any court, except by a jury of his peers.

    Juries are to consist of twelve men, of whom it shall be sufficient that a majority are agreed.

    It shall be a base and infamous thing, in any court, to plead for money or reward.

    The parliament shall meet once every two years. It shall consist of all the proprietors or their deputies, the land-graves, the casiques, and one commoner from each precinct, chosen by the freeholders in their respective precincts. These four estates shall sit in one room, each man having one vote. .

    No matter shall be proposed in parliament that had not previously been prepared and passed by the grand council.

    No act shall continue in force longer than to the next biennial meeting of parliament, unless in the mean time it shall have been ratified by the palatine and a quorum of the proprietors.

    While a bill is on its passage before the parliament, any proprietor or his deputy may enter his protest against it, as being contrary to any of the fundamental constitutions of government. In which case, after debate, the four orders shall retire to four separate chambers; and if a majority of either of the four estates determines against the bill, it shall not pass. .

    The Church of England being deemed the only true orthodox church, no provision shall be made by parliament for any other church. .

    No, man above the age of seventeen years, shall have any benefit of the laws, whose name is not recorded as a member of some church or religious profession.

    These fundamental and unalterable constitutions were signed by the lords proprietors the first of March, 1669. It would be difficult to account for some of the articles that are contained in this plan of government, except by recurring to the old adage that respects Scylla and Charybdis.

    The proprietors, or some of them, had lately smarted under a government that was called republican. They were zealous royalists; and they expected, by the help of a powerful aristocracy, to obviate the return of republican measures; but we are sorry to find among the works of John Locke, who was an advocate for civil and religious liberty, a plan of government that in some articles does not consist with either.

    It will readily be perceived that a government to be administered by nobles was not well adapted to a country in which there was not one nobleman. . The lords proprietors, in the mean time, resolved to come as near to the great model as possible. For this purpose, Governor Stevens of Albemarle and Sayle of Carteret were instructed to issue writs requiring the freeholders to elect five persons, who, with five others to be chosen by the proprietors, were to form a grand council for the governor.

    The parliament was to be composed of this great council and twenty delegates, who were also to be chosen by the freemen. In the mean time the proprietors made temporary laws for the preservation of good order in the several colonies,—laws that were little respected by men who had not been consulted in forming them.

    [Locke's governmental scheme never took root in Carolina. It was a government of theory, not the result of a natural growth, as all persistent government must be, and was utterly unsuited to the conditions of a thinly-settled colony inhabiting a wilderness and composed of persons little disposed to submit to regulations more aristocratic than those from which they had emigrated. The plain and simple laws under which the colonists had previously lived were suited to their circumstances, while the "great model," with its nobles, palatines, and other grand officers, was in ridiculous contrast with the actually existing condition of sparse population, rude cabins, and pioneer habits. A strong effort was made to establish it, but the people effectually resisted, and, after twenty years of contest, Locke's constitution, which had simply kept the country in a state of discord, was voluntarily abrogated by the proprietaries.]

    LOUISIANA AND THE NATCHEZ.

    LE PAGE DU PRATZ.

    [One more colony whose settlement was effected in the seventeenth century here demands attention,—that of Louisiana. After the death of De Soto on the Mississippi, in 1542, that great river was not visited by the whites until more than a century had elapsed. It was next reached, in its upper courses, by Jesuit missionaries from Canada, whose efforts to convert the heathen made them among the most daring and persistent explorers of the interior of America. As early as 1634 they penetrated the wilderness to Lake Huron, and established missions among the savages of that region. Failing in similar efforts to convert the Iroquois, they pushed farther west, and in 1665 Father Allouez reached Lake Superior, and landed at the great village of the Chippewas. Learning from the Indians of the existence of a great river to the westward, called by them the Mes-cha-ce-be, or "Father of Waters," two missionaries, Marquette and Joliet, set out from Green Bay to make its discovery, under the illusory hope that it might furnish the long-sought water-way to China. They reached the stream on June 17, 1673, and floated down it as far as the mouth of the Arkansas, where they found the natives in possession of European articles, and became convinced that the river must flow into the Gulf of Mexico.

    The Mississippi was again reached, in 1680, by Father Hennepin, the advance pioneer of the exploring party under La Salle, who had set out to investigate thoroughly the great river. Hennepin ascended the stream to beyond the Falls of St. Anthony, where he was held captive for a while by the Sioux Indians. La Salle did not reach the Mississippi until two years afterwards, when he embarked on its mighty flood, and floated down it until its mouth was reached and the adventurers found themselves on the broad surface of the Gulf of Mexico. To the territories through which he passed he gave the name of Louisiana, in honor of Louis XIV. of France. In 1684 he sailed from France, with a party of settlers, for the mouth of the Mississippi, which, however, he failed to find, landing his colonists at the head of Matagorda Bay, in Texas. La Salle was afterwards murdered while journeying overland to the Illinois, and the Matagorda Bay settlement was broken up by Indian hostility.

    In Upper Louisiana a Jesuit mission was established in 1685 at Kaskaskia, the first permanent colony in the Mississippi region. In 1698, Lemoine d'Iberville, a French officer, obtained a patent for planting a colony in the southern part of the territory. He succeeded in finding the mouth of the Mississippi, and was the first to enter that stream from the sea. He sailed up it as far as the mouth of the Red River, and, returning, erected a fort at the head of the Bay of Biloxi. It proved an unhealthy station, and in 1701 he removed the colonists to the western bank of the Mobile River, thus founding the first European settlement in Alabama. The colonizing of southern Louisiana proved a slow process. At successive periods colonists arrived there, but no permanency was attained until 1718, when John Law, the promoter of the notorious "Mississippi Company," sent out eight hundred emigrants. Some of these settled on the Bay of Biloxi, some on the site of New Orleans. With this party was Du Pratz, the historian of the colony. The subsequent disastrous failure of the Mississippi Company did not break up the colony, though the scattered settlements found themselves environed with many difficulties, chief among which were troubles with hostile Indians. These difficulties were principally with the Natchez, who massacred a French settlement and were in turn totally destroyed, and with the Chickasaws, who held their own valiantly against the French, after a war of several years' duration. We append, from Du Pratz's "History of Louisiana," his curiously-interesting story of the war with the Natchez, a tribe which was in several respects the most remarkable among the Indians of the region of the United States. We have already, in our article on the Aborigines of America, described its principal peculiarities.]

    IN the beginning of the month of December, 1729, we heard at New Orleans, with the most affecting grief, of the massacre of the French at the post of the Natchez, occasioned by the imprudent conduct of the commandant. I shall trace that whole affair from its rise.

    The Sieur de Chopart had been commandant of the post of the Natchez, from which he was removed on account of some acts of injustice. M. Perier, commandant- general, but lately arrived, suffered himself to be prepossessed in his favor, on his telling him that he had commanded that post with applause; and thus he obtained the command from M. Perier, who was unacquainted with his character.

    This new commandant, on taking possession of his post, projected the forming one of the most eminent settlements of the whole colony. For this purpose he examined all the grounds unoccupied by the French, but could not find anything that came up to the grandeur of his views. Nothing but the village of the White Apple, a square league at least in extent, could give him satisfaction; where he immediately resolved to settle. This ground was distant from the fort about two leagues. Conceited with the beauty of his project, the commandant sent for the Sun of that village to come to the fort.

    The commandant, upon his arrival at the fort, told him, without further ceremony, that he must look out for another ground to build his village on, as he himself resolved, as soon as possible, to build on the village of the Apple; that he must directly clear the huts and retire somewhere else. The better to cover his design, he gave out that it was necessary for the French to settle on the banks of the rivulet where stood the Great Village and the abode of the Grand Sun. The commandant, doubtless, supposed that he was speaking to a slave whom we may command in a tone of absolute authority. But he knew not that the natives of Louisiana are such enemies to a state of slavery that they prefer death itself thereto; above all, the Suns, accustomed to govern despotically, have still a greater aversion to it.

    The Sun of the Apple thought that if he was talked to in a reasonable manner he might listen to him; in this he had been right, had he to deal with a reasonable person. He therefore made answer that his ancestors had lived in that village for as many years as there were hairs in his double cue, and therefore it was good they should continue there still.

    Scarce had the interpreter explained this answer to the commandant, but he fell into a passion, and threatened the Sun if he did not quit his village in a few days he might repent it. The Sun replied, when the French came to ask us for lands to settle on, they told us there was land enough still unoccupied, which they might take; the same Sun would enlighten them all, and all would walk in the same path. He wanted to proceed further in justification of what he alleged; but the commandant, who was in a passion, told him he was resolved to be obeyed, without any further reply. The Sun, without discovering any emotion or passion, withdrew, only saying he was going to assemble the old men of his village, to hold a council on this affair.

    [At this council it was resolved to represent to the French that the corn was just out of the ground and the chickens were laying their eggs, and to ask for delay. This the commandant rejected, with a threat to chastise them if they did not obey quickly. It was next proposed that each hut in the village would pay him a basket of corn and a fowl for the privilege of remaining till the harvest had been gathered. To this the avaricious commandant agreed. But the Sun had other objects in view. Meetings of the old men of the village were held, at which it was resolved to destroy the insolent intruders who had treated them like slaves and soon would deprive them of all their liberty. It was proposed to cut off the French to a man, in a single hour. The oldest chief advised that, on the day fixed for the contribution, the warriors should carry some corn to the commandant, as an instalment on their payment. He further advised them]

    "also to carry with them their arms, as if going out to hunt, and that to every Frenchman in a French house there shall be two or three Natchez; to ask to borrow arms and ammunition for a general hunting-match on account of a great feast, and to promise to bring them meat; the report of the firing at the commandant's to be the signal to fall at once upon and kill the French; that then we shall be able to prevent those who may come from the old French village (New Orleans) by the great water (Mississippi) ever to settle here."

    He added that, after apprising the other nations of the necessity of taking that violent step, a bundle of rods in number equal to that they should reserve for themselves should be left with each nation, expressive of the number of days that were to precede that on which they were to strike the blow at one and the same time. And to avoid mistakes, and to be exact in pulling out a rod every day and breaking and throwing it away, it was necessary to give this in charge to a person of prudence. Here he ceased, and sat down. They all approved his counsel, and were to a man of his mind.

    The project was in like manner approved of by the Sun of the Apple; the business was to bring over the Grand Sun, with the other petty Suns, to their opinion; because, all the princes being agreed as to that point, the nation would all to a man implicitly obey. They, however, took the precaution to forbid apprising the women thereof, not excepting the female Suns (princesses), or giving them the least suspicion of their designs against the French.

    [Within a short time the Grand Sun, the Stung Serpent, his uncle, and all the Suns and aged nobles, were brought into the scheme. It was kept secret from the people, and none but the female Suns had a right to demand the object of these many meetings. The grand female Sun was a princess scarce eighteen, but the Stung Arm, mother of the Grand Sun, a woman of experience, and well disposed towards the French, induced her son to tell her of the scheme which had been devised. He also told her that the bundle of rods lay in the temple.]

    The Stung Arm, being informed of the whole design, pretended to approve of it, and, leaving her son at ease, henceforward was only solicitous how she might defeat this barbarous design: the time was pressing, and the term prefixed for the execution was almost expired.

    [She vainly attempted to convey a warning to the commandant. The hints of danger she sent him by soldiers were blindly ignored.]

    The Stung Arm, fearing a discovery, notwithstanding her utmost precaution and the secrecy she enjoined, repaired to the temple and pulled some rods out of the fatal bundle; her design was to hasten or forward the term prefixed, to the end that such Frenchmen as escaped the massacre might apprise their countrymen, many of whom had informed the commandant, who clapt seven of them in irons, treating them as cowards on that account. .

    Notwithstanding all these informations, the commandant went out the night before [the fatal day] on a party of pleasure, with some other Frenchmen, to the grand village of the Natchez, without returning to the fort till break of day; where he was no sooner come, but he had pressing advice to be upon his guard.

    The commandant, still flustered with his last night's debauch, added imprudence to his neglect of these last advices, and ordered his interpreter instantly to repair to the grand village and demand of the Grand Sun whether he intended, at the head of his warriors, to come and kill the French, and to bring him word directly. The Grand Sun, though but a young man, knew how to dissemble, and spoke in such a manner to the interpreter as to give full satisfaction to the commandant, who valued himself on his contempt of former advices: he then repaired to his house, situate below the fort.

    The Natchez had too well taken their measures to be disappointed in the success thereof. The fatal moment was at last come. The Natchez set out on the eve of St. Andrew, 1729, taking care to bring with them one of the lower sort, armed with a wooden hatchet, in order to knock down the commandant: they had so high a contempt for him that no warrior would deign to kill him. The houses of the French filled with enemies, the fort in like manner with the natives, who entered in at the gate and breaches, deprived the soldiers, without officers or even a sergeant at their head, of the means of self-defence. In the mean time the Grand Sun arrived, with some warriors loaded with corn, in appearance as the first payment of the contribution; when several shots were heard. As this firing was the signal, several shots were heard at the same instant. Then at length the commandant saw, but too late, his folly: he ran into the garden, whither he was pursued and killed. The massacre was executed everywhere at the same time. Of about seven hundred persons, but few escaped to carry the dreadful news to the capital; on receiving which the governor and council were sensibly affected, and orders were despatched everywhere to put people on their guard.

    The other Indians were displeased at the conduct of the Natchez, imagining they had forwarded the term agreed on, in order to make them ridiculous, and proposed to take vengeance the first opportunity, not knowing the true cause of the precipitation of the Natchez.

    After they had cleared the fort, warehouse, and other houses, the Natchez set them all on fire, not leaving a single building standing.

    [Steps were immediately taken by the French to revenge themselves upon their enemies. A force, partly made up of Choctaw allies, assailed the fort of the Natchez, who offered to release the French women and children prisoners if peace was promised them. This was agreed to, and the Natchez took advantage of the opportunity to vacate the fort by stealth, under cover of night, with all their baggage and plunder, leaving only the cannon and ball behind. They took refuge in a secret place to the west of the Mississippi, which proved difficult to discover. As soon as the place of concealment was found, the French set out to chastise the murderers.]

    The Messrs. Perier set out with their army in very favorable weather, and arrived at last, without obstruction, near to the retreat of the Natchez. To get to that place, they went up the Red River, then the Black River, and from thence up the Silver Creek, which communicates with a small lake at no great distance from the fort which the Natchez had built in order to maintain their ground against the French.

    The Natchez, struck with terror at the sight of a vigilant enemy, shut themselves up in their fort. Despair assumed the place of prudence, and they were at their wits' end on seeing the trenches gain ground on the fort: they equip themselves like warriors, and stain their bodies with different colors, in order to make their last efforts by a sally which resembled a transport of rage more than the calmness of valor, to the terror, at first, of the soldiers.

    The reception they met from our men taught them, however, to keep themselves shut up in their fort; and though the trench was almost finished, our generals were impatient to have the mortars put in a condition to play on the place. At last they are set in battery; when the third bomb happened to fall in the middle of the fort, the usual place of residence of the women and children, they set up a horrible screaming; and the men, seized with grief at the cries of their wives and children, made the signal to capitulate.

    The Natchez, after demanding to capitulate, started difficulties, which occasioned messages to and fro till night, which they wanted to avail themselves of, demanding till next day to settle the articles of capitulation. The night was granted them, but, being narrowly watched on the side next the gate, they could not execute the same project of escape as in the war with M. de Loubois. However, they attempted it, by taking advantage of the obscurity of the night, and of the apparent stillness of the French; but they were discovered in time, the greatest part being constrained to retire into the fort. Some of them only happened to escape, who joined those that were out a-hunting, and all together retired to the Chickasaws. The rest surrendered at discretion, among whom were the Grand Sun, and the female Suns, with several warriors, many women, young people, and children.

    The French army re-embarked, and carried the Natchez as slaves to New Orleans, where they were put in prison; but afterwards, to avoid an infection, the women and children were disposed of in the king's plantation, and elsewhere; among these women was the female Sun called the Stung Arm, who then told me all she had done in order to save the French.

    Some time after, these slaves were embarked for St. Domingo, in order to root out that nation in the colony; which was the only method of effecting it, as the few that escaped had not a tenth of the women necessary to recruit the nation. And thus that nation, the most conspicuous in the colony, and most useful to the French, was destroyed.

    PROGRESS OF THE COLONIES.

    THE PERSECUTION OF THE QUAKERS.

    JAMES GRAHAME.

    [The history of Massachusetts during the latter half of the seventeenth century presents several occurrences of particular interest, such as the Quaker persecution, King Philip's Indian war, and the witchcraft delusion. The first of these now calls for attention. We may premise with a brief statement of preceding events. One of these was an effort in England to prevent Puritan emigration, which is said to have had the effect to retain John Hampden and Oliver Cromwell in that country. If so, the king in this committed an error which in the end proved fatal to himself. In 1638, John Harvard, a minister of Charlestown, left something over three thousand dollars in support of a school previously founded by the colony. This was the origin of Harvard College. In 1643 the four colonies of Plymouth, Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New Hampshire formed a confederacy, under the title of THE UNITED COLONIES OF NEW ENGLAND. Rhode Island was, at a later date, refused admission into the confederacy, which continued in existence for over forty years. Each colony was to contribute men and money to the common defence, while two commissioners from each colony formed an annual assembly for the settlement of all questions relating to the confederacy.

    The religious dissensions which had formerly agitated the colony were renewed by the emigration of persons of other sectarian views, who were little disposed to submit to the intolerance of the Puritan churches and tribunals. In 1651 a party of Anabaptists reached Massachusetts. The doctrines they advocated raised a storm of opposition in the colony; they were arrested, tried, fined, and one of them severely flogged, and a law was passed banishing from the colony any one who should oppose the dogma of infant baptism. The treatment received by the Quakers was of sufficient severity and importance to demand special consideration, and we therefore select a description of it from James Grahame's "History of the United States."]

    THE treatment which the Quakers experienced in Massachusetts was much more severe [than that of the Anabaptists], but certainly much more justly provoked. It is difficult for us in the calm and rational deportment of the Quakers of the present age to recognize the successors of those wild enthusiasts who first appeared in the north of England about the year 1644 and received from the derision of the world the title which they afterwards adopted as their sectarian denomination.... When the doctrines of Quakerism were first promulgated, the effects which they produced on many of their votaries far exceeded the influence to which modern history restricts them, or which the experience of a rational and calculating age finds it easy to conceive. In England, at that time, the minds of men were in a state of feverish agitation and excitement, inflamed with the rage of innovation, strongly imbued with religious sentiment, and yet strongly averse to restraint. The bands that so long repressed liberty of speech being suddenly broken, many crude thoughts were eagerly broached, and many fantastic notions that had been vegetating in the unwholesome shade of locked bosoms were abruptly brought to light: and all these were presented to the souls of men roused and whetted by civil war, kindled by great alarms or by vast and indeterminate designs, and latterly so accustomed to partake or contemplate the most surprising changes, that with them the distinction between speculation and certainty was considerably effaced..

    It was the wildest and most enthusiastic visionaries of the age whom Quakerism counted among its earliest votaries, and to whom it afforded a sanction and stimulus to the boldest excursions of unregulated thought, and a principle that was adduced to consecrate the rankest absurdity of conduct.... The unfavorable impression which these actions created long survived the extinction of the frenzy and folly that produced them.

    While, in pursuance of their determination to proselytize the whole world, some of the Quakers travelled to Rome, in order to illuminate the Pope, and others to Constantinople, for the purpose of converting the Grand Turk, a party of them embarked for America and established themselves in Rhode Island, where persons of every religious (Protestant) denomination were permitted to settle in peace, and no one gave heed to the sentiments or practices of his neighbors. From hence they soon made their way into the Plymouth territory, where they succeeded in persuading some of its inhabitants to embrace the doctrine that a sensible experience of inward light and spiritual impression was the meaning and end of Christianity and the essential characteristic of its votaries, and to oppose all regulated order, forms, and discipline, whether civil or ecclesiastical, as a vain and Judaizing substitution of the kingdom of the flesh for the kingdom of the spirit.

    On their first appearance in Massachusetts (July, 1656), where two male and six female Quakers arrived from Rhode Island and Barbadoes, they found that the reproach entailed on their sect by the insane extravagance of some of its members in England had preceded their arrival, and that they were regarded with the utmost terror and dislike by the great bulk of the people. They were instantly arrested by the magistrates, and diligently examined for what were considered bodily marks of witchcraft. No such indications having been found, they were sent back to the places whence they came, by the same vessels that had brought them, and prohibited with threats of severe punishment from ever again returning to the colony. A law was passed at the same time, subjecting every shipmaster importing Quakers or Quaker writings to a heavy fine; adjudging all Quakers who should intrude into the colony to stripes and labor in the house of correction, and all defenders of their tenets to fine, imprisonment, or exile..

    The penal enactments resorted to by the other settlements [than Rhode Island] served only to inflame the impatience of the Quaker zealots to carry their ministry into places that seemed to them to stand so greatly in need of it; and the persons who had been disappointed in their first attempt returned almost immediately to Massachusetts, and, dispersing themselves through the colony, began to proclaim their mystical notions, and succeeded in communicating them to some of the inhabitants of Salem. They were soon joined by Mary Clarke, the wife of a tailor in London, who announced that she had forsaken her husband and six children in order to convey a message from heaven, which she was commissioned to deliver to New England. Instead of joining with the provincial missionaries in attempts to reclaim the neighboring savages from their barbarous superstition and profligate immoralities, or themselves prosecuting separate missions with a like intent, the apostles of Quakerism raised their voices in vilification of everything that was most highly approved and revered in the doctrine and practice of the provincial churches. Seized, imprisoned, and flogged, they were again dismissed with severer threats from the colony, and again they returned by the first vessels they could procure. The government and a great majority of the colonists were incensed at their stubborn pertinacity, and shocked at the impression which they had already produced on some minds, and which threatened to corrupt and subvert a system of piety whose establishment, fruition, and perpetuation supplied their fondest recollections, their noblest enjoyment, and most energetic desire. New punishments were introduced into the legislative enactments against the intrusion of Quakers and the profession of Quakerism (1657) and in particular the abscission of an ear was added to the former ineffectual severities. Three male Quaker preachers endured the rigor of this cruel law.

    But all the exertions of the provincial authorities proved unavailing, and seemed rather to stimulate the zeal of the obnoxious sectaries to brave the danger and court the glory of persecution (1658). Swarms of Quakers descended upon the colony; and, violent and impetuous in provoking persecution, calm, resolute, and inflexible in sustaining it, they opposed their power of enduring cruelty to their adversaries' power of inflicting it, and not only multiplied their converts, but excited a considerable degree of favor and pity in the minds of men who, detesting the Quaker tenets, yet derived from their own experience a peculiar sympathy with the virtues of heroic patience, constancy, and contempt of danger.. It was by no slight provocations that the Quakers attracted these and additional severities upon themselves.. In public assemblies and in crowded streets, it was the practice of some of the Quakers to denounce the most tremendous manifestations of divine wrath on the people, unless they forsook their carnal system. One of them, named Faubord, conceiving that he experienced a celestial encouragement to rival the faith and imitate the sacrifice of Abraham, was proceeding with his own hands to shed the blood of his son, when his neighbors, alarmed by the cries of the lad, broke into the house and prevented the consummation of this blasphemous atrocity. Others interrupted divine service in the churches by loudly protesting that these were not the sacrifices that God would accept; and one of them illustrated his assurance by breaking two bottles in the face of the congregation, exclaiming, "Thus will the Lord break you in pieces!" They declared that the Scriptures were replete with allegory, that the inward light was the only infallible guide to religious truth, and that all were blind beasts and liars who denied it.

    The female preachers far exceeded their male associates in folly, frenzy, and indecency. One of them presented herself to a congregation with her face begrimed with coal-dust, announcing it as a pictorial illustration of the black pox, which Heaven had commissioned her to predict as an approaching judgment on all carnal worshippers. Some of them in rueful attire perambulated the streets, proclaiming the speedy arrival of an angel with a drawn sword to plead with the people; and some attempted feats that may seem to verify the legend of Godiva of Coventry. One woman, in particular, entered stark naked into a church in the middle of divine service, and desired the people to take heed to her as a sign of the times, and an emblem of the unclothed state of their own souls; and her associates highly extolled her submission to the inward light, that had revealed to her the duty of illustrating the spiritual nakedness of her neighbors by the indecent exhibition of her own person. Another Quakeress was arrested as she was making a similar display in the streets of Salem. The horror justly inspired by these insane enormities was inflamed into the most vehement indignation by the deliberate manner in which they were defended, and the disgusting profanity with which Scripture was linked in impure association with notions and behavior at once ridiculous and contemptible. Among other singularities, the Quakers exemplified and inculcated the for-bearance of even the slightest demonstration of respect to courts and magistrates; they declared that governors, judges, lawyers, and constables were trees that cumbered the ground, and presently must be cut down, in order that the true light might have leave to shine and space to rule alone; and they freely indulged every sally of distempered fancy which they could connect, however absurdly, with the language of the Bible..

    It has been asserted by some of the modern apologists of the Quakers that these frantic excesses, which excited so much attention and produced such tragical consequences, were committed, not by genuine Quakers, buy by the Ranters, or wild separatists from the Quaker body. Of these Ranters, indeed, a very large proportion certainly betook themselves to America.... It is certain, however, that the persons whose conduct we have particularized assumed the name of Quakers, and traced all their absurdities to the peculiar Quaker principle of searching their own bosoms for sensible admonitions of the Holy Spirit, independent of the scriptural revelation of divine will. And many scandalous outrages were committed by persons whose profession of Quaker principles was recognized by the Quaker body, and whose sufferings are related, and their frenzy applauded, by the pens of Quaker writers.

    Exasperated by the repetition of these enormities, and the extent to which the contagion of their radical principle was spreading in the colony, the magistrates of Massachusetts, in the close of this year (1658), introduced into the Assembly a law denouncing the punishment of death upon all Quakers returning from banishment. This legislative proposition was opposed by a considerable party of the colonists; and various individuals, who would have hazarded their own lives to extirpate the heresy of the Quakers, solemnly protested against the cruelty and iniquity of shedding their blood. It was at first rejected by the Assembly, but finally adopted by the narrow majority of a single voice. In the course of the two following years (1659, 1660) this barbarous law was, carried into execution on three separate occasions,—when four Quakers, three men and a woman, were put to death at Boston. It does not appear that any of these unfortunate persons were guilty of the outrages which the conduct of their brethren in general had associated with the profession of Quakerism. Oppressed by the prejudice created by the frantic conduct of others, they were adjudged to die for returning from banishment and continuing to preach the Quaker doctrines. In vain the court entreated them to accept a pardon on condition of abandoning foreever the colony from which they had been repeatedly banished. They answered by reciting the heavenly call to continue there, which on various occasions, they affirmed, had sounded in their ears, in the fields and in their dwellings, distinctly syllabling their names and whispering their prophetic office and the scene of its exercise. When they were conducted to the scaf-fold, their demeanor expressed unquenchable zeal and courage, and their dying declarations breathed in general a warm and affecting piety.

    These executions excited much clamor against the government; many persons were offended by the exhibition of severities against which the establishment of the colony itself seemed intended to bear a perpetual testimony; and many were touched with an indignant compassion for the sufferings of the Quakers, that effaced all recollection of the indignant disgust which the principles of these sectaries had previously inspired. The people began to flock in crowds to the prisons and load the unfortunate Quakers with demonstrations of kindness and pity.

    [This feeling finally became so strong that the magistrates dared no longer oppose it. After the condemnation of Wenlock Christison, who had defended himself with marked ability, the magistrates felt it necessary to change the sentences of the condemned Quakers to flogging and banishment. As the demeanor of the Quakers grew more quiet and orderly, the toleration of them increased, and the flogging of Quakers was soon after prohibited by Charles II.]

    The persecution thus happily closed was not equally severe in all the New England States: the Quakers suffered most in Massachusetts and Plymouth, and comparatively little in Connecticut and New Haven. It was only in Massachusetts that the inhuman law inflicting capital punishment upon them was ever carried into effect. At a subsequent period, the laws relating to vagabond Quakers were so far revived that Quakers disturbing religious assemblies, or violating public decorum, were subjected to corporal chastisement. But little occasion ever again occurred of executing these severities, the wild excursions of the Quaker spirit having generally ceased, and the Quakers gradually subsiding into a decent and orderly submission to all the laws, except such as related to the militia and the support of the clergy,—in their scruples as to which the provincial legislature, with reciprocal moderation, consented to indulge them.

    THE DEATH OF KING PHILIP.

    BENJAMIN CHURCH.

    [After the defeat of the Pequots the New England colonies escaped the horrors of Indian warfare for a period of nearly forty years. This era of peace was destined to be followed by an era of terror and massacre, beginning with the celebrated King Philip's War, and continuing through the successive wars between the French and English, known as King William's and Queen Anne's Wars, and at a later period King George's and the French and Indian Wars, in which all the barbarity of savage warfare was let loose upon the devoted colonies of New England. During the life of Massasoit, the sachem of the Wampanoags, the treaty of peace which he had early made with the Plymouth colony continued unbroken. After his death his sons, Alexander and Philip, were suspected of hostile intentions. Alexander soon died, and Philip became sachem of the tribe. According to the early New England writers, he for several years occupied himself in organizing a secret confederacy of the Indian tribes against the whites, of whose growing power he was jealous. Later historians doubt this, and are inclined to believe that he was driven into hostility by outrages committed by the whites, and impulsive reprisals by Indians. However that be, the existence of a plot, real or spurious, was declared by an Indian missionary, who was soon after murdered. Three Indians were arrested and hung for the crime. Philip now, by his own inclination, or by the determination of his tribe, prepared for war. The women and children of the tribe were sent to the Narragansetts for protection, and in July, 1675, an attack was made on the village of Swanzey, in Massachusetts, and several persons were killed.

    The whole country quickly took the alarm, and troops from Plymouth and Boston marched in pursuit of the enemy. It must be borne in mind that the long interval of peace had greatly changed the conditions of both parties to the war. On the one hand, the whites of New England had greatly grown in strength, and now numbered about sixty thousand souls, while numerous settlements had been founded. On the other hand, the Indians no longer looked upon powder and ball as "bad medicine," which it was dangerous to touch. On the contrary, they had adopted the European methods of fighting, and exchanged the bow and arrow for the musket and bullet. We may briefly relate the events of the war. The pursuing troops made their way to Mount Hope, the residence of Philip, but he fled, with his warriors, at their approach. He was shortly afterwards attacked in a swamp at Pocasset, but after a thirteen days' siege managed to escape. Other tribes were now brought into the war, and a party of twenty whites were ambushed and most of them killed. The remainder intrenched themselves in a house at Brookfield, where they sustained a siege for two days, until relieved.

    On September 5 the Indians were attacked and defeated at Deerfield, and on the 11th they burned the town. On the same day they attacked the town of Hadley. The tradition goes that during the fight a venerable stranger suddenly appeared, put himself at the head of the townsmen, and drove back the foe. This is said to have been General Goffe, one of the judges of Charles I., then concealed in that town. The story is entirely traditionl, and has been called in question. On the 28th a party of eighty teamsters were assailed by a large body of Indians, and nearly all killed. The Indians were subsequently repulsed by a reinforcement of soldiers. Philip's next attack was upon Hatfield, where be met with a defeat.

    By this time the hostility to the whites had extended widely among the Indians. The Narragansetts had as yet kept the treaty of peace which had been made with them, but they were suspected of favoring Philip and of intending to break out into hostilities in the spring. It was therefore determined to crush them during the winter. A force of fifteen hundred men marched against their stronghold,—a fort in the midst of a great swamp, surrounded with high palisades, and having but a single entrance, over a fallen tree, which but one man at a time could cross. Here three thousand Indians had collected, with provisions, intending to pass the winter. They were attacked with fury, on December 29, by the English, but the latter were driven back with heavy loss. Another party of the invaders waded the swamp, and found a place destitute of palisades. They broke through this, with considerable loss, while others forced their way over the tree. A desperate conflict ensued, ending in a defeat of the Indians. The wigwams were then set on fire, contrary to the advice of the officers, and hundreds of women and children, and old, wounded, and infirm men, perished in the flames. Of the Narragansett warriors a thousand were killed or mortally wounded, and several hundreds taken prisoners. Cold and famine during the winter killed many more, but the weak remnant of the tribe joined Philip and became bitterly hostile. The war now extended to Maine and New Hampshire, whose settlements were exposed to the fury of Indian attack. The power of the Indians rapidly diminished, however, before the energy and discipline of the whites, and Philip found himself steadily growing weaker. It is said that he endeavored to persuade the Mohawks to join him, but in vain. In August, 1676, he returned, with a small party of warriors, to Pokanoket, or Mount Hope, the seat of his tribe. Tidings of this fact were brought to Captain Church, one of the most active of his adversaries, who repaired with a small party to the spot. Captain Church has left on record the story of his connection with this war. It is the artless and prolix narrative of one better acquainted with the sword than with the pen, yet has the merit of being an exact relation of the facts, and of showing clearly the spirit of the Indian-fighters of that day. We therefore extract from the "History of the Great Indian War of 1675 and 1676," by this grim old Indian-fighter, an account of the death of King Philip. This history was written by the son of Captain Church, from the notes of his father.]

    CAPTAIN CHURCH being now at Plymouth again, weary and worn, would have gone home to his wife and family, but the government being solicitous to engage him in the service until Philip was slain, and promising him satisfaction and redress for some mistreatment that he had met with, he fixes for another expedition.

    He had soon volunteers enough to make up the company he desired, and marched through the woods until he came to Pocasset. And not seeing or hearing of any of the enemy, they went over the ferry to Rhode Island, to refresh themselves. The captain, with about half a dozen in his company, took horses and rode about eight miles down the island, to Mr. Sanford's, where he had left his wife. [She] ("Who," in the original text.) no sooner saw him, but fainted with surprise; and by that time she was a little revived, they spied two horsemen coming a great pace. Captain Church told his company that "those men (by their riding) come with tidings." When they came up, they proved to be Major Sanford and Captain Golding. [They] ("Who," in the original text.) immediately asked Captain Church, what he would give to hear some news of Philip ? He replied, that was what he wanted. They told him they had rode hard with some hopes of overtaking him, and were now come on purpose to inform him that there were just now tidings from Mount Hope. An Indian came down from thence (where Philip's camp now was) to Sandy Point, over against Trip's, and hallooed, and made signs to be brought over. And being fetched over, he reported that he was fled from Philip, "who (said he) has killed my brother just before I came away, for giving some advice that displeased him." And said he was fled for fear of meeting with the same his brother had met with. Told them, also, that Philip was now in Mount Hope neck. Captain Church thanked them for their good news, and said he hoped by to-morrow morning to have the rogue's head. The horses that he and his company came on, standing at the door (for they had not been unsaddled), his wife must content herself with a short visit, when such game was ahead. They immediately mounted, set spurs to their horses, and away.

    The two gentlemen that brought him the tidings told him they would gladly wait on him to see the event of the expedition. He thanked them, and told them he should be as fond of their company as any men's; and (in short) they went with him. And they were soon at Trip's ferry (with Captain Church's company), where the deserter was, who was a fellow of good sense, and told his story handsomely. He offered Captain Church to pilot him to Philip, and to help to kill him, that he might revenge his brother's death. Told him that Philip was now upon a little spot of upland, that was in the south end of the miry swamp, just at the foot of the mount, which was a spot of ground that Captain Church was well acquainted with.

    By that time they were over the ferry, and came near the ground, half the night was spent. The captain commands a halt, and bringing the company together, he asked Major Sanford's and Captain Golding's advice, what method was best to take in making the onset; but they declined giving him any advice, telling him that his great experience and success forbid their taking upon them to give advice. Then Captain Church offered Captain Golding the honor (if he would please accept of it) to beat up Philip's head-quarters.

    [He designed to place the remainder of his men in ambush, and fire upon the Indians when they should endeavor to escape through the swamp.]

    Captain Church, knowing that it was Philip's custom to be foremost in the flight, went down to the swamp, and gave Captain Williams of Scituate the command of the right wing of the ambush, and placed an Englishman and an Indian together behind such shelters of trees, etc., that he could find, and took care to place them at such distance that none might pass undiscovered between them; charged them to be careful of themselves, and of hurting their friends, and to fire at any that should come silently through the swamp. But, [it] being somewhat farther through the swamp than he was aware of, he wanted men to make up his ambuscade.

    Having placed what men he had, he took Major Sanford by the hand, [and] said, "Sir, I have so placed them that it is scarce possible Philip should escape them." The same moment a shot whistled over their heads, and then the noise of a gun towards Philip's camp. Captain Church, at first, thought it might be some gun discharged by accident; but before he could speak, a whole volley followed, which was earlier than he expected.

    [Captain Golding had fired at a single Indian whom he perceived.]

    And upon his firing, the whole company that were with him fired upon the enemy's shelter, before the Indians had time to rise from their sleep, and so overshot them. But their shelter was open on that side next the swamp, built so on purpose for the convenience of flight on occasion. They were soon in the swamp, but Philip the foremost, who started at the first gun, threw his petunk and powder-horn over his head, catched up his gun, and ran as fast as he could scamper, without any more clothes than his small breeches and stockings; and ran directly on two of Captain Church's ambush. They let him come fair within shot, and the Englishman's gun missing fire, he bid the Indian fire away, and he did so to purpose; sent one musket-ball through his heart, and another not above two inches from it. He fell upon his face in the mud and water, with his gun under him.

    [This event occurred on the 12th of August, 1676.]

    By this time the enemy perceived they were waylaid on the east side of the swamp, [and] tacked short about. One of the enemy, who seemed to be a great, surly old fellow, hallooed with a loud voice, and often called out, "Jootash, Jootash." Captain Church called to his Indian, Peter, and asked hi, who that was that called so? He answered that it was old Annawon, Philip's great captain, calling on his soldiers to stand to it, and fight stoutly. Now the enemy finding that place of the swamp which was not ambushed, many of them made their escape in the English tracks.

    The man that had shot down Philip ran with all speed to Captain Church, and informed him of his exploit, who commanded him to be silent about it and let no man more know it, until they had driven the swamp clean. But when they had driven the swamp through, and found the enemy had escaped, or at least the most of them, and the sun now up, and so the dew gone, that they could not easily track them, the whole company met together at the place where the enemy's night shelter was, and then Captain Church gave them the news of Philip's death. Upon which the whole army gave three loud huzzas.

    Captain Church ordered his body to be pulled out of the mire to the upland. So some of Captain Church's Indians took hold of him by his stockings, and some by his small breeches (being otherwise naked), and drew him through the mud to the upland; and a doleful, great, naked, dirty beast he looked like. Captain Church then said that forasmuch as he had caused many an Englishman's body to be unburied, and to rot above ground, that not one of his bones should be buried. And calling his old Indian executioner, bid him behead and quarter him. Accordingly he came with his hatchet and stood over him, but before he struck he made a small speech, directing it to Philip, and said "he had been a very great man, and had made many a man afraid of him, but so big as he was, he would now chop him in pieces." And so he went to work and did as he was ordered.

    Philip having one very remarkable hand, being much scarred, occasioned by the splitting of a pistol in it formerly, Captain Church gave the head and that hand to Alderman, the Indian who shot him, to show to such gentlemen as would bestow gratuities upon him; and accordingly he got many a penny by it.

    [All this is brutal enough to have been the action of Indians instead of whites, and shows that disposition to insult a fallen foe which is a characteristic of the warfare of barbarous peoples, but has happily died out in civilized nations. There was a strong spice of savagery in the Indian-fighters of the pioneer days of America, who looked upon the Indians as little better than wild beasts. The fall of Philip ended the war in southern New England, the tribes suing for peace. But hostilities were continued in Maine and New Hampshire till 1678, when a treaty of peace was concluded with the tribes of this locality. The forces of the Indians, and the results of the war, are summarized by Trumbull in the following statement: "When Philip began the war, he and his kinswoman, Wetamoe, had about five hundred warriors, and the Narragansetts nearly two thousand. The Nipmuck, Nashawa, Pocomtock, Hadley, and Springfield Indians were considerably numerous. It is probable, therefore, that there were about three thousand warriors combined for the destruction of the New England colonies, exclusive of the eastern Indians. The war terminated in their entire conquest and almost total extinction. At the same time, it opened a wide door for extensive settlement and population. This, however, in its connection with the war with the eastern Indians, was the most impoverishing and distressing of any that New England has ever experienced from its first settlement to the present time.. About six hundred of the inhabitants of New England, the greatest part of whom were the flower and strength of the country, either fell in battle or were murdered by the enemy. A great part of the inhabitants of the country were in deep mourning. There were few families or individuals who had not lost some near relative or friend. Twelve or thirteen towns, in Massachusetts, Plymouth, and Rhode Island, were utterly destroyed, and others greatly damaged. About six hundred buildings, chiefly dwelling-houses, were consumed with fire. An almost insuperable debt was contracted by the colonies, when their numbers, dwellings, goods, cattle, and all their resources were greatly diminished."]

    THE SALEM WITCHCRAFT

    GEORGE BANCROFT.

    [King Philip's War was followed in New England by a series of interesting events, embracing the actions of Andros, the tyrannical governor, and the effort to abrogate the colonial charters, the wars with the French and Indians known as King William's and Queen Anne's Wars, and the remarkable witchcraft delusion, the only striking instance in this country of a peculiar form of persecution of which the preceding history of Europe is full. We cannot better present the last-named subject than by an extract from Bancroft's "History of the United States," in which it is handled with his usual picturesque ability.]

    IN the last year of the administration of Andros, who, as the servant of arbitrary power, had no motive to dispel superstition, the daughter of John Goodwin, a child of thirteen years, charged a laundress with having stolen linen from the family. Glover, the mother of the laundress, a friendless emigrant, almost ignorant of English, like a true woman with a mother's heart, rebuked the false accusation. Immediately the girl, to secure revenge, became bewitched. The infection spread. Three others of the family, the youngest a boy of less than five years old, soon succeeded in equally arresting public attention. They would affect to be deaf, then dumb, then blind, or all three at once; they would bark like dogs, or purr like so many cats; but they ate well and slept well. Cotton Mather went to prayer by the side of one of them, and, lo! the child lost her hearing till prayer was over. What was to be done? The four ministers of Boston and the one of Charlestown assembled in Goodwin's house, and spent a whole day of fasting in prayer. In consequence, the youngest child, the little one of four years old, was "delivered." But if the ministers could thus by prayer deliver a possessed child, then there must have been a witch; the honor of the magistrates required a prosecution of the affair; and the magistrates, William Stoughton being one of the judges, and all holding commissions exclusively from the English 'king, and 'being irresponsible to the people of Massachusetts, with a "vigor" which the united ministers commended as "just," made "a discovery of the wicked instrument of the devil." The culprit was evidently a wild Irish woman, of a strange tongue. Goodwin, who made the complaint, "had no proof that could have done her any hurt;" but "the scandalous old hag," whom some thought "crazed in her intellectuals," was bewildered, and made strange answers, which were taken as confessions; sometimes, in excitement, using her native dialect. One Hughes testified that, six years before, she had heard one Howen say she had seen Glover come down her chimney. It was plain the prisoner was a Roman Catholic; she had never learned the Lord's prayer in English; she could repeat the paternoster fluently enough, but not quite correctly; so the ministers and Goodwin's family had the satisfaction of getting her condemned as a witch, and executed.

    [Boston had its sceptics as to the reality of this tale of witchcraft but the ministers, and Cotton Mather in particular, did their utmost to inflame the minds of the public on this subject. The Goodwin girl continued bewitched, and Cotton Mather invited her to his house, and made an investigation of the arts of the devil, who proved well skilled in languages, though there was one Indian language which he did not understand, and who could read men's thoughts, though it appeared that "all devils are not alike sagacious." Cotton Mather published a "Discourse" on this subject, and resolved to regard "the denial of devils, or of witches," as an evidence "of ignorance, incivility, and dishonest impudence."

    The next prosecution for witchcraft took place in 1692, three years later. Samuel Parris, a minister of Salem village, who had had bitter controversies with a part of his congregation, produced a bewitched daughter and niece. He flogged Tituba, a half Indian, half negro, servant, into confessing herself a witch. Then he accused Sarah Good, a poor, melancholy woman, who was put on trial for witchcraft.]

    Yet the delusion, but for Parris, would have languished. Of his own niece, the girl of eleven years of age, he demanded the names of the devil's instruments who bewitched the band of "the afflicted," and then became at once informer and witness. In those days there was no prosecuting officer; and Parris was at hand to question his Indian servants and others, himself prompting their answers and acting as recorder to the magistrates. The recollection of the old controversy in the parish could not be forgotten; and Parris, moved by personal malice as well as by blind zeal, "stifled the accusations of some,"—such is the testimony of the people of his own village,—and, at the same time "vigilantly promoting the accusations of others," was "the beginner and procurer of the sore afflictions to Salem village and the country." Martha Cory, who in her examination in the meeting-house before a throng, with a firm spirit, alone, against them all, denied the presence of witchcraft, was committed to prison. Rebecca Nurse, likewise, a woman of purest life, an object of the special hatred of Parris, resisted the company of accusers, and was committed. And Parris, filling his prayers with the theme, made the pulpit ring with it. "Have not I chosen you twelve," such was his text,—"and one of you is a devil?" At this, Sarah Cloyce, sister to Rebecca Nurse, rose up and left the meeting-house; and she, too, was cried out upon, and sent to prison.

    The subject grew interesting; and, to examine Sarah Cloyce and Elizabeth Procter, the deputy governor and five other magistrates went to Salem. It was a great day; several ministers were present. Parris officiated; and, by his own record, it is plain that he himself elicited every accusation. His first witness, John, the Indian servant, husband to Tituba, was rebuked by Sarah Cloyce, as a grievous liar. Abigail Williams, the niece to Parris, was also at hand with her tales; the prisoner had been at the witches' sacrament. Struck with horror, Sarah Cloyce asked for water, and sank down "in a dying fainting fit." "Her spirit," shouted the band of the afflicted, "is gone to prison to her sister Nurse." Against Elizabeth Procter the niece of Parris told stories yet more foolish than false: the prisoner had invited her to sign the devil's book. "Dear child," exclaimed the accused in her agony, "it is not so. There is another judgment, dear child;" and her accusers, turning towards her husband, declared that he, too, was a wizard. All three were committed. Examinations and commitments multiplied. Giles Cory, a stubborn old man of more than fourscore years, could not escape the malice of his minister and his angry neighbors, with whom he had quarrelled. Edward Bishop, a farmer, cured the Indian servant of a fit by flogging him; he declared, moreover, his belief that he could, in like manner, cure the whole company of the afflicted, and, for his scepticism, found himself and his wife in prison. Mary Easty, of Topsfield, another sister to Rebecca Nurse,—a woman of singular gentleness and force of character, deeply religious, yet uninfected by superstition,—was torn from her children and sent to jail. Parris had had a rival in George Burroughs, a graduate of Harvard College, who, having formerly preached in Salem village, had had friends there desirous of his settlement. He, too, a sceptic in witchcraft, was accused and committed. Thus far, there had been no success in obtaining confessions, though earnestly solicited. It had been hinted, also, that confessing was the avenue to safety. At last, Deliverance Hobbs owned everything that was asked of her, and was left unharmed. The gallows were to be set up not for those who professed themselves witches, but for those who rebuked the delusion.

    [A court of magistrates, appointed under the royal charter, with Stoughton, a positive, overbearing man, for its chief judge, was now instituted for the trial of these cases. Bridget Bishop, a poor and friendless old woman, was the first to be tried. She had remarkable powers. "She gave a look towards the great and spacious meeting-house of Salem," says Cotton Mather, "and immediately a daemon, invisibly entering the house, tore down a part of it." She was a witch by all the rules and precedents, and was duly hanged. At the next session of the court five women were condemned. Rebecca Nurse was at first acquitted, then condemned, and afterwards reprieved. But the influence of Parris secured her condemnation, and she was hanged with the rest.]

    Confessions rose in importance. "Some, not afflicted before confession, were so presently after it." The jails were filled; for fresh accusations were needed to confirm the confessions. "Some, by these their accusations of others,"—I quote the cautious apologist Hall,—"hoped to gain time, and get favor from the rulers.".. If the confessions were contradictory, if witnesses uttered aparent falsehoods, "the devil," the judges would say, "takes away their memory, and imposes on their brain." And who would now dare to be sceptical? Who would disbelieve confessors? Besides, there were other evidences. A callous spot was the mark of the devil: did age or amazement refuse to shed tears; were threats after a quarrel followed by the death of cattle or other harm; did an error occur in repeating the Lord's prayer; were deeds of great physical strength performed,—these were all signs of witchcraft. In some instances, phenomena of somnambulism would appear to have been exhibited; and "the afflicted, out of their fits, knew nothing of what they did or said in them."

    Again, on a new session, six were arraigned, and all were convicted. John Willard had, as an officer, been employed to arrest the suspected witches. Perceiving the hypocrisy, he declined the service. The afflicted immediately denounced him, and he was seized, convicted, and hanged.

    At the trial of George Burroughs, the bewitched persons pretended to be dumb. "Who hinders these witnesses," said Stoughton, "from giving their testimonies?" "I suppose the devil," answered Burroughs. "How comes the devil," retorted the chief judge, "so loath to have any testimony borne against you?" and the question was effective. Besides, he had given proofs of great, if not preternatural, muscular strength. Cotton Mather calls the evidence "enough:" the jury gave a verdict of guilty.

    John Procter, who foresaw his doom, and knew from whom the danger came, sent an earnest petition, not to the governor and council, but to Cotton Mather and the ministers. Among the witnesses against him were some who had made no confessions till after torture. "They have already undone us in our estates, and that will not serve their turns without our innocent blood;" and he begged for a trial in Boston, or, at least, for a change of magistrates. His entreaties were vain, as also his prayers, after condemnation, for a respite.

    Among the witnesses against Martha Carrier the mother saw her own children. Her two sons refused to perjure themselves till they had been tied neck and heels so long that the blood was ready to gush from them. The confession of her daughter, a child of seven years old, is still preserved.

    The aged Jacobs was condemned, in part, by the evidence of Margaret Jacobs, his granddaughter. [She retracted her confession, but] the magistrates refused their belief, and, confining her for trial, proceeded to hang her grandfather.

    These five were condemned on the third and hanged on the nineteenth of August; pregnancy reprieved Elizabeth Procter. To hang a minister as a witch was a novelty; but Burroughs denied absolutely that there was, or could be, such a thing as witchcraft, in the current sense. This opinion wounded the self-love of the judges, for it made them the accusers and judicial murderers of the innocent. On the ladder Burroughs cleared his innocence by an earnest speech, repeating the Lord's prayer composedly and exactly, and with a fervency that astonished. Tears flowed to the eyes of many; it seemed as if the spectators would rise up to hinder the execution. Cotton Mather, on horseback among the crowd, addressed the people, cavilling at the ordination of Burroughs, as though he had been no true minister; insisting on his guilt, and hinting that the devil could sometimes assume the appearance of an angel of light; and the hanging proceeded.

    Meantime, the confessions of the witches began to be directed against the Anabaptists. Mary Osgood was dipped by the devil. The court still had work to do. On the ninth, six women were condemned; and more convictions followed. Giles Cory, the octogenarian, seeing that all who denied guilt were convicted, refused to plead, and was condemned to be pressed to death. The horrid sentence, a barbarous usage of English law, never again followed in the colonies, was executed forthwith.

    On the twenty-second of September eight persons were led to the gallows. Of these Samuel Wardwell had confessed, and was safe; but, from shame and penitence, he retracted his confession, and, speaking the truth boldly, he was hanged, not for witchcraft, but for denying witchcraft.. The chief judge was positive that all had been done rightly, and "was very impatient in hearing anything that looked another way." "There hang eight firebrands of hell," said Noyes, the minister of Salem, pointing to the bodies swinging on the gallows.

    Already twenty persons had been put to death for witchcraft; fifty-five had been tortured or terrified into penitent confessions. With accusations, confessions increased; with confessions, new accusations. Even "the generation of the children of God" were in danger of "falling under that condemnation." The jails were full. One hundred and fifty prisoners awaited trial; two hundred more were accused or suspected. It was also observed that no one of the condemned confessing witchcraft had been hanged. No one that confessed, and retracted a confession, had escaped either hanging or imprisonment for trial. No one of the condemned who asserted innocence, even if one of the witnesses confessed perjury, or the foreman of the jury acknowledged the error of the verdict, escaped the gallows. Favoritism was shown in listening to accusations, which were turned aside from friends and partisans. If a man began a career as a witchhunter, and, becoming convinced of the imposture, declined the service, he was accused and hanged. Persons accused, who had escaped from the jurisdiction in Massachusetts, were not demanded, as would have been done in case of acknowledged crime; so that the magistrates acted as if witch-law did not extend beyond their jurisdiction. Witnesses convicted of perjury were cautioned, and permitted still to swear away the lives of others. It was certain that people had been tempted to become accusers by promise of favor. Yet the zeal of Stoughton was unabated, and the arbitrary court adjourned to the first Tuesday in November.

    [In the interval the colonial Assembly met. Remonstrances were presented against the doings of the witch tribunal. There is no record of the discussions, but a convocation of ministers was ordered, the special court was abrogated, and a legal tribunal established. The meeting of this court was delayed till January of the following year. This interval of three months gave the people time to think.]

    When the court met at Salem, six women of Andover, at once renouncing their confessions, treated the witchcraft but as something so called, the bewildered but as "seemingly afflicted." A memorial of like tenor came from the inhabitants of Andover.

    Of the presentments, the grand jury dismissed more than half; and, if it found bills against twenty-six, the trials did but show the feebleness of the testimony on which others had been condemned. The minds of the juries became enlightened before those of the judges. The same testimony was produced, and there, at Salem, with Stoughton on the bench, verdicts of acquittal followed: "Error died among its worshippers." Three had, for special reasons, been convicted: one was a wife, whose testimony had sent her husband to the gallows, and whose testimony had sent her husband to the gallows, and whose confession was now used against herself. All were reprieved, and soon set free. Reluctant to yield, the party of superstition were resolved on one conviction. The victim selected was Sarah Daston, a woman of eighty years old, who for twenty years had enjoyed the undisputed reputation of a witch; if ever there were a witch in the world, she, it was said, was one. In the presence of a throng the trial went forward at Charlestown: there was more evidence against her than against any at Salem; but the common mind was disenthralled, and asserted itself, through the jury, by a verdict of acquittal.

    [Cotton Mather endeavored to cover his confusion by getting up a case of witchcraft in his own parish, the imposture of which was exposed to ridicule by Robert Calef, an unlettered but intelligent man. Parris was indignantly driven from Salem. Others begged forgiveness.]

    Stoughton and Cotton Mather never repented. The former lived proud, unsatisfied, and unbeloved; the latter attempted to persuade others and himself that he had not been specially active in the tragedy. His diary proves that he did not wholly escape the rising impeachment from the monitor within; and Cotton Mather, who had sought the foundation of faith in tales of wonders, himself "had temptations to atheism, and to the abandonment of all religion as a mere delusion."

    The common mind of New England was more wise. It never wavered in its faith; more ready to receive every tale from the invisible world than to gaze on the universe without acknowledging an Infinite Intelligence. But, employing a cautious spirit of search, eliminating error, rejecting superstition as tending to cowardice and submission, cherishing religion as the source of courage and the fountain of freedom, it refused henceforward to separate belief and reason.

    THE TYRANT OF NEW ENGLAND.

    BENJAMIN TRUMBULL.

    [The English colonies in America, with the exception of those of Virginia and the Carolinas, were instituted under conditions of marked liberality, and enjoyed a degree of religious and political freedom unknown in Europe at that day. Small groups of colonists, far removed from European institutions, and struggling with the difficulties of an untamed nature, could not be expected to conform to the intricate regulations of the old nationalities which they had left, and they at once began to govern themselves on the republican principle, in accordance with the simplicity of their conditions. Monarchy made itself felt most fully in Virginia and the Carolinas, yet even here provincial Assemblies were quickly established, and the rigidity of the earlier systems abated. Maryland and Pennsylvania were organized under highly-liberal constitutions, while the New England colonies began their existence as provincial republics.

    This state of affairs long continued with but spasmodic interferences from England, and the spirit of republicanism had greatly developed in the American colonies ere any serious effort was made to deprive them of their liberties. The growth of free institutions had been much favored by the strong republican sentiment then prevailing in England, which resulted in the overthrow of monarchy and the formation of the Commonwealth. After the death of Cromwell, and the re-establishment of the monarchy, indications of a desire to restrict the liberties of the colonies, now flourishing and important, became manifest. Charles II. granted to his brother James, the Duke of York, the whole territory from the Connecticut River to the shores of the Delaware, which grant was quickly followed by the illegal seizure of New Amsterdam, which received the name of New York.

    The Dutch rule over this province had been to a considerable extent autocratic, and this was continued by the English governors, despite-the protests of the people. In 1672, during a war between England and Holland, the city was recaptured by the Dutch, but was returned to the English on the conclusion of peace. The Duke of York now obtained a new patent to confirm his title, and made Edmund Andros governor of the province. The rule of this governor was tyrannical. He levied taxes without asking the consent of the people, and refused them a representative Assembly. He attempted to extend his jurisdiction over New Jersey, and as far east as the Connecticut River, but failed in this. Under Thomas Dongan, the succeeding governor, a representative government was established in New York, through the advice of William Penn.

    With the accession of the Duke of York to the throne, under the title of James II., a vigorous effort to overthrow the liberties of the colonists was made. A direct tax was decreed, printing-presses were forbidden, and many arbitrary edicts passed. In 1686 the late tyrannical governor of New York, now Sir Edmund Andros, was sent to Massachusetts, with a commission as governor of all the New England provinces. In 1688 his rule was extended over New York. He at once displayed the intention to act the tyrant, and immediately on his arrival in Boston, in December, 1686, demanded a surrender of all the charters of the colonies, while publishing edicts which annulled the existing liberties of the people. Of the several colonies, Connecticut alone refused to surrender its charter. To enforce his demand Andros marched to Hartford with a body of soldiers in October, 1687. The story of these events we quote from the antique "History of Connecticut," by Benjamin Trumbull.]

    MR. DUDLEY, while president of the commissioners, had written to the governor and company, advising them to resign the charter into the hands of his majesty, and promising to use his influence in favor of the colony. Mr. Dudley's commission was superseded by a commission to Sir Edmund Andros to be governor of New England. He arrived at Boston on the 19th of December, 1686. The next day his commission was published, and he took on him the administration of government. Soon after his arrival he wrote to the governor and company that he had a commission from his majesty to receive their charter, if they would resign it; and he pressed them, in obedience to the king, and as they would give him an opportunity to serve them, to resign it to his pleasure.. But the colony [of Connecticut] insisted on their charter rights, and on the promise of King James, as well as of his royal brother, to defend and secure them in the enjoyment of their privileges and estates, and would not surrender their charter to either..

    The Assembly met, as usual, in October, and the government continued according to charter until the last of the month. About this time, Sir Edmund, with his suite, and more than sixty regular troops, came to Hartford, when the Assembly were sitting, demanded the charter, and declared the government under it to be dissolved. The Assembly were extremely reluctant and slow with respect to any resolve to surrender the charter, or with respect to any motion to bring it forth. The tradition is that Governor Treat strongly represented the great expense and hardships of the colonists in planting the country, the blood treasure which they had expended in defending it, both against the savages and foreigners; to what hardships and dangers he himself had been exposed for that purpose; and that it was like giving up his life, now to surrender the patent and privileges so dearly bought and so long enjoyed. The important affair was debated and kept in suspense until the evening, when the charter was brought and laid upon the table, where the Assembly were sitting. By this time, great numbers of people were assembled, and men sufficiently bold to enterprise whatever might be necessary or expedient. The lights were instantly extinguished, and one Captain Wadsworth, of Hartford, in the most silent and secret manner, carried off the charter, and secreted it in a large hollow tree, fronting the house of the Honorable Samuel Wyllys, then one of the magistrates of the colony. The people appeared all peaceable and orderly. The candles were officiously relighted, but the patent was gone, and no discovery could be made of it, or of the person who had conveyed it away.

    [This stirring scene which is told with more dramatic additions by later authors, unfortunately rests upon traditional evidence only, and is entirely unsupported by documentary testimony. While it may have actually occurred, there is no positive proof that it did. The documents simply tell us that Sir Edmund assumed the government, and closed the colonial records with a statement of this fact, and the ominous word "Finis." It was, for the time being, "the end" of American liberty.]

    Sir Edmund began his government with the most flattering protestations of his regard to the public safety and happiness. He instructed the judges to administer justice, as far as might be consistent with the new regulations, according to the former laws and customs. It is, however, well observed by Governor Hutchinson, that "Nero concealed his tyrannical disposition more years than Sir Edmund and his creatures did months." He soon laid a restraint upon the liberty of the press; and then one far more grievous upon marriage.. Magistrates only were allowed to join people in the bands of wedlock. The governor not only deprived the clergy of the perquisite from marriages, but soon suspended the laws for their support, and would not suffer any person to be obliged to pay anything to his minister. Nay, he menaced the people that, if they resisted his will, their meeting-houses should be taken from them, and that any person who should give twopence to a non-conformist minister should be punished.

    The fees of all officers, under this new administration, were exorbitant.. Sir Edmund, without an Assembly, nay, without a majority of his council, taxed the people at pleasure. He and Randolph, with four or five others of his creatures, who were sufficiently wicked to join with him in all his oppressive designs, managed the affairs of government as they pleased. But these were but the beginnings of oppression and sorrow. They were soon greatly increased and more extensively spread..

    As the charters were now either vacated, surrendered, or the government under them suspended, it was declared that the titles of the colonists to their lands were of no value. Sir Edmund declared that Indian deeds were no better than "the scratch of a bear's paw." Not the fairest purchases and most ample conveyances from the natives, no dangers, disbursements, nor labors in cultivating a wilderness and turning it into orchards, gardens, and pleasant fields, no grants by charter, nor by legislatures constituted by them, no declarations of preceding kings, nor of his then present majesty, promising them the quiet enjoyment of their houses and lands, nor fifty or sixty years' undisturbed possession, were pleas of any validity or consideration with Sir Edmund and his minions. The purchasers and cultivators, after fifty and sixty years' improvement, were obliged to take out patents for their estates. For these, in some instances, a fee of fifty pounds was demanded..

    The governor, and a small number of his council, in the most arbitrary manner, fined and imprisoned numbers of the inhabitants of Massachusetts, and denied them the benefit of the act of habeas corpus. All town meetings were prohibited, except one in the month of May, for the election of town officers.. No person was suffered to go out of the country without leave from the governor, lest complaints should be carried to England against his administration. At the same time, he so well knew the temper and views of his royal master that he feared little from him, even though complaints should be carried over against him. Hence he and his dependents oppressed the people, and enriched themselves without restraint.

    [Despite his efforts, complaints and petitions made their way to England; yet they proved of little effect upon the king.]

    In the reign of James II., petitions so reasonable and just could not be heard. The prince at home, and his officers abroad, like greedy harpies, preyed upon the people without control. Randolph was not ashamed to make his boast, in his letters, with respect to Governor Andros and his council, "that they were as arbitrary as the Great Turk." All New England groaned under their oppression. The heaviest share of it, however, fell upon the inhabitants of Massachusetts and New Plymouth. Connecticut had been less obnoxious to government than Massachusetts, and, as it was further removed from the seat of government, was less under the notice and influence of those oppressors..

    All the motives to great actions, to industry, economy, enterprise, wealth, and population, were in a manner annihilated. A general inactivity and languishment pervaded the whole public body. Liberty, property, and everything which ought to be dear to men, every day grew more and more insecure. The colonies were in a state of general despondency with respect to the restoration of their privileges, and the truth of that divine maxim, "When the wicked beareth rule the people mourn," was, in a striking manner, everywhere exemplified.

    [Fortunately, this grinding tyranny was not of long continuance. Early in 1689 tidings reached Boston that James II. was no longer king: in November, 1688, William of Orange had landed in England and driven the tyrant from his throne. The Bostonians at once rebelled against Andros. His tyranny was denounced by the magistrates, and he, with several of his creatures, was seized and imprisoned. Andros twice attempted to escape from confinement, and once got as far as Rhode Island, but was captured and brought back. In July he was sent to England, where he was acquitted without trial. And so ended the most prominent early effort to take away the liberties of the American people. Andros was subsequently (in 1692) made governor of Virginia. Here, however, his rule was less arbitrary, and he became popular with the planters.

    The traditions of early Connecticut present one more scene of great dramatic interest, in which the spirit of liberty of the people, and the energy of Captain Wadsworth, were manifested in the same determined manner as in the incident described. This occurred in 1693, during King William's War. An account of it may be quoted from Trumbull.]

    Colonel Benjamin Fletcher, governor of New York, who had arrived at the seat of his government August 29, 1692, had received a commission entirely inconsistent with the charter rights and safety of the colonies. He was vested with plenary powers of commanding the whole militia of Connecticut and the neighboring provinces. He insisted on the command of the militia of Connecticut. As this was expressly given to the colony, by charter, the legislature would not submit to his requisition.

    [A special Assembly met, and drew up a petition to the king, representing the true state of affairs in the colony, and the disadvantage and danger which might result from giving the command of the militia to the governor of another province.]

    The colony wished to serve his majesty's interest, and as far as possible, consistently with their chartered rights, to maintain a good understanding with Governor Fletcher. William Pitkin, Esquire, was therefore sent to New York, to treat and make terms with him respecting the militia, until his majesty's pleasure should be further known. But no terms could be made with him short of an explicit submission of the militia to his command.

    On the 26th of October he came to Hartford, while the Assembly were sitting, and, in his majesty's name, demanded their submission of the militia to his command, as they would answer it to his majesty, and that they would give him a speedy answer in two words, Yes, or No.. He ordered the militia of Hartford under arms, that he might beat up for volunteers. It was judged expedient to call the train-bands of Hartford together; but the Assembly insisted that the command of the militia was expressly vested, by charter, in the governor and company, and that they could by no means, consistently with their just rights and the common safety, resign it into any other hands.

    [In response Governor Fletcher made the declaration that he had no design upon the civil rights of the colonists, and offered the command of the militia to Governor Treat, under his commission.]

    The Assembly, nevertheless, would not give up the command of the militia; nor would Governor Treat receive a commission from Colonel Fletcher.

    The train-bands of Hartford assembled, and, as the tradition is, while Captain Wadsworth, the senior officer, was walking in front of the companies and exercising the soldiers, Colonel Fletcher ordered his commission and instructions to be read. Captain Wadsworth instantly commanded, "Beat the drums;" and there was such a roaring of them that nothing else could be heard. Colonel Fletcher commanded silence. But no sooner had Bayard made an attempt to read again, than Wadsworth commands, "Drum, drum, I say." The drummers understood their business, and instantly beat up with all the art and life of which they were masters. "Silence, silence," says the colonel. No sooner was there a pause, than Wadsworth speaks with great earnestness, "Drum, drum, I say;" and, turning to his excellency, said, "If I am interrupted again I will make the sun shine through you in a moment." He spoke with such energy in his voice and meaning in his countenance that no further attempts were made to read or enlist men. Such numbers of people collected together, and their spirits appeared so high, that the governor and his suite judged it expedient soon to leave the town and return to New York.

    THE LEISLER REVOLT IN NEW YORK.

    WILLIAM SMITH.

    [The news of the accession of William of Orange to the English throne produced in New York an effect very similar to that which it produced in New England,— an uprising of the people against their tyrannical governor. But the revolt here against the lieutenant of Andros grew into a rebellion against the constituted authorities, of sufficient interest to demand special consideration. Another important event of the same period was the massacre of the inhabitants of Schenectady by a party of French and Indians,—a far-off result of the war then raging in Europe between the French and English. We extract a description of these events from William Smith's "History of New York," one of the oldest of American historical works, as it was originally published in 1756.]

    WHILE these things were transacting in Canada [the massacre of the French on the island of Montreal by the Iroquois], a scene of the greatest importance was opening at New York. A general dissatisfaction to the government prevailed among the people. Papists began to settle in the colony under the smiles of the governor. The collector of the revenues, and several principal officers, threw off the mask, and openly avowed their attachment to the doctrines of Rome. A Latin school was set up, and the teacher strongly suspected for a Jesuit. The people of Long Island, who were disappointed in their expectation of mighty boons, promised by the governor on his arrival, were become his personal enemies; and, in a word, the whole body of the people trembled for the Protestant cause. Here the leaven of opposition first began to work. Their intelligence from England, of the designs there in favor of the Prince of Orange, blew up the coals of discontent, and elevated the hopes of the disaffected. But no man dared to spring in action till after the rupture in Boston. Sir Edmund Andros, who was perfectly devoted to the arbitrary measures of King James, by his tyranny in New England had drawn upon himself the universal odium of the people, animated with the love of liberty and in the defence of it resolute and courageous; and, therefore, when they could no longer endure his despotic rule, they seized and imprisoned him, and afterwards sent him to England. The government, in the mean time, was vested in the hands of a committee for the safety of the people, of which Mr. Bradstreet was chosen president. Upon the news of this event, several captains of our militia convened themselves to concert measures in favor of the Prince of Orange. Among these, Jacob Leisler was the most active. He was a man in tolerable esteem among the people, and of a moderate fortune, but destitute of every qualification necessary for the enterprise. Milborne, his son-in-law, an Englishman, directed all his councils, while Leisler as absolutely influenced the other officers.

    The first thing they contrived was to seize the garrison in New York; and the custom, at that time, of guarding it every night by the militia, gave Leisler a fine opportunity of executing the design. He entered it with fortynine men, and determined to hold it till the whole militia should join him. Colonel Dongan, who was about to leave the province, then lay embarked in the bay, having a little before resigned the government to Francis Nicholson, the lieutenant- governor. The council, civil officers, and magistrates of the city were against Leisler, and therefore many of his friends were at first fearful of openly espousing a cause disapproved by the gentlemen of figure. For this reason, Leisler's first declaration in favor of the Prince of Orange was subscribed only by a few, among several companies of the trained bands. While the people for four days successively were in the utmost perplexity to determine what part to choose, being solicited by Leisler on the one hand and threatened by the lieutenant-governor on the other, the town was alarmed with a report that three ships were coming up with orders from the Prince of Orange. This falsehood was very seasonably propagated to serve the interest of Leisler; for on that day, the 3d of June, 1689, his party was augmented by the addition of six captains and four hundred men in New York, and a company of seventy men from East Chester, who all subscribed a second declaration, mutually covenanting to hold the fort for the prince. Colonel Dongan continued till this time in the harbor, waiting the issue of these commotions; and Nicholson's party, being now unable to contend with their opponents, were totally dispersed, the lieutenant-governor himself absconding, the very night after the last declaration was signed.

    [Leisler at once sent to King William an account of his proceedings, but Lieutenant-Governor Nicholson had previously reached England, and had falsely represented the late actions to Leisler's prejudice. The authorities of the city, being opposed to the new party in power, retired to Albany.]

    Except the eastern inhabitants of Long Island, all the southern part of the colony cheerfully submitted to Leisler's command. The principal freeholders, however, by their respectful letters, gave him hopes of their submission, and thereby prevented his betaking himself to arms, while they were privately soliciting the colony of Connecticut to take them under its jurisdiction. They had indeed no aversion to Leisler's authority in favor of any other party in the province, but were willing to be incorporated with a people from whence they had originally colonized; and, therefore, as soon as Connecticut declined their request, they openly appeared to be advocates for Leisler.. The people of Albany, in the mean time, were determined to hold the garrison and city for King William, independent of Leisler, and on the 26th of October, which was before the packet arrived from Lord Nottingham, formed themselves into a convention for that purpose..

    Taking it for granted that Leisler at New York, and the convention at Albany, were equally affected to the revolution, nothing could be more egregiously foolish than the conduct of both parties, who, by their intestine divisions, threw the province into convulsions and sowed the seeds of mutual hatred and animosity, which, for a long time after, greatly embarrassed the public affairs of the colony. When Albany declared for the Prince of Orange, there was nothing else that Leisler could properly require; and, rather than sacrifice the public peace of the province to the trifling honor of resisting a man who had no evil designs, Albany ought in prudence to have delivered the garrison into his hands, till the king's definitive orders should arrive. But while Leisler, on the one hand, was inebriated with his new-gotten power, so, on the other, Bayard, Courtland, Schuyler, and others, could not brook a submission to the authority of a man mean in his abilities and inferior in his degree. Animated by these principles, both parties prepared, the one to reduce, if I may use the expression, the other to retain, the garrison of Albany..

    Jacob Milborne was commissioned for the reduction of Albany. Upon his arrival there, a great number of the inhabitants armed themselves and repaired to the fort, then commanded by Mr. Schuyler, while many others followed the other members of the convention to a conference with him at the city hall. Milborne, to proselyte the crowd, declaimed much against King James, Popery, and arbitrary power; but his oratory was lost upon the hearers, who, after several meetings, still adhered to the convention. Milborne then advanced with a few men up to the fort, and Mr. Schuyler had the utmost difficulty to prevent both his own men and the Mohawks, who were then in Albany, and perfectly devoted to his service, from firing upon Milborne's party, which consisted of an inconsiderable number. In these circumstances, he [Milborne] thought proper to retreat, and soon after departed from Albany. In the spring he commanded another party upon the same errand, and the distress of the country upon an Indian irruption gave him all the desired success. No sooner was he possessed of the garrison than most of the principal members of the convention absconded. Upon which their effects were arbitrarily seized and confiscated, which so highly exasperated the sufferers that their posterity, to this day, cannot speak of these troubles without the bitterest invectives against Leisler and all his adherents.

    [During these proceedings was broke out between the French and the English. A French fleet was sent over, with the design of taking New York; but the distressed condition of the colony in Canada defeated this project. Efforts were then made to bring over the Iroquois Indians to the French side.]

    Among other measures to detach the Five Nations from the British interest and raise the depressed spirit of the Canadians, the Count de Frontenac thought proper to send out several parties against the English colonies. D'Aillebout, De Mantel, and Le Moyne commanded that against New York, consisting of about two hundred French and some Caghnuaga Indians, who, being proselytes from the Mohawks, were perfectly acquainted with that country. Their orders were, in general, to attack New York; but, pursuing the advice of the Indians, they resolved, instead of Albany, to surprise Schenectady, a village seventeen miles northwest from it, and about the same distance from the Mohawks. The people of Schenectady, though they had been informed of the designs of the enemy, were in the greatest security, judging it impracticable for any men to march several hundred miles, in the depth of winter, through the snow, bearing their provisions on their backs. Besides, the village was in as much confusion as the rest of the province, the officers who were posted there being unable to preserve a regular watch, or any kind of military order..

    After two-and-twenty days' march, the enemy fell in with Schenectady on the 8th of February [1690], and were reduced to such straits that they had thoughts of surrendering themselves prisoners of war. But their scouts, who were a day or two in the village entirely unsuspected, returned with such encouraging accounts of the absolute security of the people that the enemy determined on the attack. They entered on Saturday night about eleven o'clock, at the gates, which were found unshut, and that every house might be invested at the same time divided into small parties of six or seven men. The inhabitants were in a profound sleep, and unalarmed, till their doors were broken open. Never were people in a more wretched consternation. Before they were risen from their beds, the enemy entered their houses and began the perpetration of the most inhuman barbarities. No tongue, says Colonel Schuyler, can express the cruelties that were committed. The whole village was instantly in a blaze. Women with child were ripped open, and their infants cast into the flames, or dashed against the posts of the doors. Sixty persons perished in the massacre, and twenty-seven were carried into captivity. The rest fled naked towards Albany, through a deep snow that fell that very night in a terrible storm; and twenty-five of these fugitives lost their limbs in the flight, through the severity of the frost. The news of this dreadful tragedy reached Albany about break of day, and universal dread seized the inhabitants of that city, the enemy being reported to be one thousand four hundred strong. A party of horse was immediately despatched to Schenectady, and a few Mohawks, then in the town, fearful of being intercepted, were with difficulty sent to apprise their own castles.

    The Mohawks were unacquainted with this bloody scene till two days after it happened, our messengers being scarce able to travel through the great depth of snow. The enemy, in the mean time, pillaged the town of Schenectady till noon the next day, and then went off with their plunder and about forty of their best horses. The rest, with all the cattle they could find, lay slaughtered in the streets.

    [This outrage was to some extent revenged by the Mohawks, who pursued and killed a number of the enemy, while during the year the Canadians met with other losses at the hands of the Iroquois. During this year, also, Sir William Phipps made an expedition against Quebec, with a fleet of thirty-two sail. His demand for a surrender was contemned by De Frontenac, and he was quickly repulsed, with loss. Shortly afterwards, Colonel Henry Sloughter, the newly-appointed governor of the province, arrived at New York.]

    If Leisler had delivered the garrison to Colonel Sloughter, as he ought to have done, upon his first landing, besides extinguishing, in a degree, the animosities then subsisting, he would, doubtless, have attracted the favorable notice both of the governor and the crown. But, being a weak man, he was so intoxicated with the love of power that, though he had been well informed of Sloughter's appointment to the government, he not only shut himself up in the fort with Bayard and Nichols, whom he had, before that time, imprisoned, but refused to deliver them up or to surrender the garrison. From this moment he lost all credit with the governor, who joined the other party against him. On the second demand of the fort, Milborne and De Lanoy came out, under pretence of conferring with his excellency, but in reality to discover his designs. Sloughter, who considered them as rebels, threw them both into jail. Leisler, upon this event, thought proper to abandon the fort, which Colonel Sloughter immediately entered. Bayard and Nichols were now released from their confinement, and sworn of the privy council. Leisler, having thus ruined his cause, was apprehended, with many of his adherents, and a commission of oyer and terminer issued to Sir Thomas Robinson, Colonel Smith, and others, for their trials.

    In vain did they plead the merit of their zeal for King William, since they had so lately opposed his governor. Leisler, in particular, endeavored to justify his conduct, insisting that Lord Nottingham's letter entitled him to act in the quality of lieutenant-governor. Whether it was through ignorance or sycophancy, I know not, but the judges, instead of pronouncing their own sentiments upon this part of the prisoner's defence, referred it to the governor and council, praying their opinion whether that letter, "or any other letters, or papers, in the packet from Whitehall, can be understood or interpreted to be and contain any power or direction to Captain Leisler to take the government of this province upon himself, or that the administration thereof be holden good in law." The answer was, as might have been expected, in the negative; and Leisler and his son [-in-law] were condemned to death for high treason.

    [Many of Leisler's adherents immediately fled to the other provinces, in fear of being apprehended. It may be remarked here that later historians relate that the first demand on Leisler to surrender was made by Richard Ingoldsby, who arrived before Colonel Sloughter, and announced his appointment. His demand was peremptorily made, and was refused. On Sloughter's arrival Ingoldsby was again sent to demand a surrender, Leisler's messengers to the governor being detained. Leisler hesitated for a while, but the next day personally surrendered the fort.]

    Colonel Sloughter proposed, immediately after the session [of the Assembly], to set out to Albany; but, as Leisler's party were enraged at his imprisonment and the late sentence against him, his enemies were afraid new troubles would spring up in the absence of the governor: for this reason, both the Assembly and council advised that the prisoners should be immediately executed. Sloughter, who had no inclination to favor them in this request, chose rather to delay such a violent step, being fearful of cutting off two men who had vigorously appeared for the king, and so signally contributed to the revolution. Nothing could be more disagreeable to their enemies, whose interest was deeply concerned in their destruction. And, therefore, when no other measures could prevail with the governor, tradition informs us that a sumptuous feast was prepared, to which Colonel Sloughter was invited. When his excellency's reason was drowned in his cups, the entreaties of the company prevailed with him to sign the death- warrant, and before he recovered his senses the prisoners were executed.

    [Sloughter died suddenly shortly afterwards. Leisler's son made complaint to the king, but the execution was sustained by the authorities in England. Afterwards the attainder of treason was removed, and the estates of Leisler and Milborne were restored to their families. The bodies of the victims were taken up, and interred with great pomp in the old Dutch church of New York city.]

    THE BACON REBELLION.

    CHARLES CAMPBELL.

    [The tyranny that was instituted by Andros in New England was paralleled by despotic proceedings in some of the other colonies. In Virginia these led to a rebellion which was for a time successful. Unlike the inhabitants of the more northerly colonies, the Virginians were stanch advocates of the Church of England and partisans of the king, and were intolerant alike of religious and democratic heresies. When Charles I. was executed the planters of Virginia declared for his son, and only submitted under show of force to the Commonwealth. They gladly welcomed Charles II. to the throne, and accepted with acclamation a royal governor, Sir William Berkeley. It was not long, however, ere they found reason for a change of opinion. Despotic measures were put in force, the Assembly, instead of being re-elected every two years, was kept permanently in session, and the inhabitants became the prey of venal office- holders. Commercial laws were instituted which bore severely upon the planters. Tobacco could be sent to none but English ports, and every tobacco-laden ship had to pay a heavy duty before leaving Virginia, and another on reaching England. Berkeley had the true composition of a tyrant, as is shown in his memorable utterance, "I thank God there are no free schools, nor printing, and I hope we shall not have these hundred years; for learning has brought disobedience into the world, and printing has divulged them and libels against the best governments. God keep us from both!"

    To the evils above mentioned were added a series of Indian depredations, which grew in extent till more than three hundred of the settlers had been killed. The government showed little disposition to repress these savage outrages, and the people grew exasperated. At this juncture a young man named Nathaniel Bacon came forward as a leader, and the people readily supported him in what soon assumed the proportions of a rebellion against the constituted authorities. The story of this outbreak is well told in Campbell's "History of Virginia," from which we select its leading particulars.]

    "ABOUT the year 1675," says an old writer, "appeared three prodigies in that country, which, from the attending disasters, were looked upon as ominous presages. The one was a large comet, every evening for a week or more at southwest, thirty-five degrees high, streaming like a horsetail westward, until it reached (almost) the horizon, and setting towards the northwest. Another was flights of wild pigeons, in breadth nigh a quarter of the mid-hemisphere, and of their length was no visible end; whose weights broke down the limbs of large trees whereon these rested at nights, of which the fowlers shot abundance, and ate them; this sight put the old planters under the more portentous apprehensions because the like was seen (as they said) in the year 1644, when the Indians committed the last massacre; but not after, until that present year, 1675. The third strange phenomenon was swarms of flies about an inch long, and big as the top of a man's little finger, rising out of spigot-holes in the earth, which ate the new-sprouted leaves from the tops of the trees, without other harm, and in a month left us."

    [These prodigies undoubtedly appeared to the superstitious inhabitants as omens of the disasters which at this time fell upon them in murdering incursions of the Indians. A large body of men proceeded against the Susquehannocks, whom they charged with these outrages. But the violent measures which they adopted only inflamed the passions of the savages, who at once broke into open hostilities.]

    At the falls of the James the savages had slain a servant of Nathaniel Bacon, Jr., and his overseer, to whom he was much attached. This was not the place of Bacon's residence: Bacon Quarter Branch, in the suburbs of Richmond, probably indicates the scene of the murder. Bacon himself resided at Curles, in Henrico County, on the lower James River. It is said that when he heard of the catastrophe he vowed vengeance. In that time of panic, the more exposed and defenceless families, abandoning their homes, took shelter together in houses, where they fortified themselves with palisades and redoubts. Neighbors, banding together, passed in co-operating parties from plantation to plantation, taking arms with them into the fields where they labored, and posting sentinels to give warning of the approach of the insidious foe. No man ventured out of doors unarmed. Even Jamestown was in danger. The red men, stealing with furtive glance through the shade of the forest, the noiseless tread of the moccasin scarce stirring a leaf, prowled around like panthers in quest of prey. At length the people at the head of the James and the York, having in vain petitioned the governor for protection, alarmed at the slaughter of their neighbors, often murdered with every circumstance of barbarity, rose tumultuously in self- defence, to the number of three hundred men, including most, if not all the officers, civil and military, and chose Nathaniel Bacon, Jr., for their leader. According to another authority, Bacon, before the murder of his overseer and servant, had been refused the commission, and had sworn that upon the next murder he should hear of he would march against the Indians, "commission or no commission.".

    Bacon had been living in the colony somewhat less than three years, having settled at Curles, on the lower James, in the midst of those people who were the greatest sufferers from the depredations of the Indians, and he himself had frequently felt the effects of their inroads.. At the breaking out of these disturbances he was a member of the council. He was gifted with a graceful person, great abilities, and a powerful elocution, and was the most accomplished man in Virginia; his courage and resolution were not to be daunted, and his affability, hospitality, and benevolence commanded a wide popularity throughout the colony.

    The men who had put themselves under Bacon's command made preparations for marching against the Indians, but in the mean time sent again to obtain from the governor a commission of general for Bacon, with authority to lead out his followers, at their own expense, against the enemy. He then stood so high in the council, and the exigency of the case was so pressing, that Sir William Berkeley, thinking it imprudent to return an absolute refusal, concluded to temporize. Some of the leading men about him, it was believed, took occasion to foment the difference between him and Bacon, envying a rising luminary that threatened to eclipse them. This conduct is like that of some of the leading men in Virginia who, one hundred years later, compelled Patrick Henry to resign his post in the army.

    Sir William Berkeley sent his evasive reply to the application for a commission, by some of his friends, and instructed them to persuade Bacon to disband his forces. He refused to comply with this request, and, having in twenty days mustered five hundred men, marched to the falls of the James. Thereupon the governor, on the 29th day of May, 1676, issued a proclamation declaring all such as should fail to return within a certain time rebels. Bacon likewise issued a declaration, setting forth the public dangers and grievances, but taking no notice of the governor's proclamation. Upon this the men of property, fearful of a confiscation, deserted Bacon and returned home; but he proceeded with fifty- seven men.. The movement was revolutionary,-a miniature prototype of the revolution of 1688 in England, and of 1776 in America. But Bacon, as before mentioned, with a small body of men proceeded into the wilderness, up the river, his provisions being nearly exhausted before he discovered the Indians. At length a tribe of friendly Mannakins were found intrenched within a palisaded fort on the farther side of a branch of the James. Bacon endeavoring to procure provisions from them and offering compensation, they put him off with delusive promises till the third day, when the whites had eaten their last morsel. They now waded up to the shoulder across the branch to the fort, again soliciting provisions and tendering payment. In the evening one of Bacon's men was killed by a shot from that side of the branch which they had left, and, this giving rise to a suspicion of collusion with Sir William Berkeley and treachery, Bacon stormed the fort, burnt it and the cabins, blew up their magazine of arms and gunpowder, and, with a loss of only three of his own party, put to death one hundred and fifty Indians. It is difficult to credit, impossible to justify, this massacre.. Bacon with his followers returned to their homes, and he was shortly after elected one of the burgesses for the County of Henrico.. Bacon, upon being elected, going down the James River with a party of his friends, was met by an armed vessel, ordered on board of her, and arrested by Major Howe, High Sheriff of James City, who conveyed him to the governor at that place, by whom he was accosted thus: "Mr. Bacon, you have forgot to be a gentleman." He replied, "No, may it please your honor." The governor said, "Then I'll take your parole;" which he accordingly did, and gave him his liberty; but a number of his companions, who had been arrested with him, were still kept in irons.

    On the 5th day of June, 1676, the members of the new Assembly, whose names are not recorded, met in the chamber over the general court, and, having chosen a speaker, the governor sent for them down, and addressed them in a brief abrupt speech on the Indian disturbances, and, in allusion to the chiefs who had been slain, exclaimed, "If they had killed my grandfather and my grandmother, my father and mother, and all my friends, yet if they had come to treat of peace they ought to have gone in peace." After a short interval, he again rose, and said, "If there be joy in the presence of the angels over one sinner that repenteth, there is joy now, for we have a penitent sinner come before us. Call Mr. Bacon." Bacon, appearing, was compelled upon one knee, at the bar of the house, to confess his offence, and beg pardon of God, the king, and governor.

    .. When Bacon had made his acknowledgment, the governor exclaimed, "God forgive you, I forgive you;" repeating the words thrice. Colonel Cole, of the council, added, "and all that were with him." "Yea," echoed the governor, "and all that were with him." Sir William Berkeley, starting up from his chair for the third time, exclaimed, "Mr. Bacon, if you will live civilly but till next quarter court, I'll promise to restore you again to your place there" (pointing with his hand to Mr. Bacon's seat), he having, as has been already mentioned, been of the council before those troubles, and having been deposed by the governor's proclamation. But, instead of being obliged to wait till the quarter court, Bacon was restored to his seat on that very day; and intelligence of it was hailed with joyful acclamations by the people in Jamestown. This took place on Saturday. Bacon was also promised a commission to go out against the Indians, to be delivered to him on the Monday following. But, being delayed or disappointed, a few days after (the Assembly being engaged in devising measures against the Indians) he escaped from Jamestown. He conceived the governor's pretended generosity to be only a lure to keep him out of his seat in the house of burgesses, and to quiet the people of the upper country, who were hastening down to Jamestown to avenge all wrongs done him or his friends. .

    In a short time the governor, seeing all quiet, issued secret warrants to seize him again, intending probably to raise the militia, and thus prevent a rescue.

    Within three or four days after Bacon's escape, news reached James City that he was some thirty miles above, on the James River, at the head of four hundred men. Sir William Berkeley summoned the York train-bands to defend Jamestown, but only one hundred obeyed the summons, and they arrived too late, and one-half of them were favorable to Bacon. Expresses almost hourly brought tidings of his approach, and in less than four days he marched into Jamestown unresisted, at two o'clock P. M., and drew up his force (now amounting to six hundred men), horse and foot, in battle-array on the green in front of the state-house, and within gunshot. In half an hour the drum beat, as was the custom, for the Assembly to meet, and in less than thirty minutes Bacon advanced, with a file of fusileers on either hand, near to the corner of the state-house, where he was met by the governor and council. Sir William Berkeley, dramatically baring his breast, cried out, "Here! shoot me — 'fore God, fair mark; shoot!" frequently repeating the words. Bacon replied, "No, may it please your honor, we will not hurt a hair of your head, nor of any other man's; we are come for a commission to save our lives from the Indians, which you have so often promised, and now we will have it before we go." Bacon was walking to and fro between the files of his men, holding his left arm akimbo, and gesticulating violently with his right, he and the governor both like men distracted. In a few moments Sir William withdrew to his private apartment at the other end of the statehouse, the council accompanying him. Bacon followed, frequently hurrying his hand from his sword-hilt to his hat; and after him came a detachment of fusileers, who, with their guns cocked and presented at a window of the Assembly chamber, filled with faces, repeated in menacing tone, "We will have it, we will have it," for half a minute, when a well-known burgess, waving his handkerchief out at the window, exclaimed, three or four times, "You shall have it, you shall have it;" when, uncocking their guns, they rested them on the ground, and stood still, till Bacon returning, they rejoined the main body. It was said that Bacon had beforehand directed his men to fire in case he should draw his sword. In about an hour after Bacon re-entered the Assembly chamber and demanded a commission authorizing him to march out against the Indians.

    The Assembly went on to provide for the Indian war, and made Nathaniel Bacon, Jr., general and commander-in-chief, which was ratified by the governor and council. An act was also passed indemnifying Bacon and his party for their violent acts; and a highly-applausive letter was prepared, justifying Bacon's designs and proceedings, addressed to the king and subscribed by the governor, council, and Assembly. Sir William Berkeley at the same time communicated to the house a letter addressed to his majesty, saying, "I have above thirty years governed the most flourishing country the sun ever shone over, but am now encompassed with rebellion like waters, in every respect like that of Masaniello, except their leader."

    [The new general, who found himself strongly supported by the Assembly and the colonists, at once proceeded with energy to fulfil the duties of his position.]

    His vigorous measures at once restored confidence to the planters, and they resumed their occupations. Bacon, at the head of a thousand men, marched against the Pamunkies, killing many and destroying their towns. Meanwhile the people of Gloucester, the most populous and loyal county, having been disarmed by Bacon, petitioned the governor for protection against the savages. Reanimated by this petition, he again proclaimed Bacon a rebel and a traitor, and hastened over to Gloucester. Summoning the train-bands of that county and Middlesex, to the number of twelve hundred men, he proposed to them to pursue and put down the rebel Bacon,—when the whole assembly unanimously shouted, "Bacon! Bacon! Bacon!" and withdrew from the field, still repeating the name of that popular leader, the Patrick Henry of his day, and leaving the aged cavalier governor and his attendants to themselves. The issue was now fairly joined between the people and the governor. .

    Bacon, before he reached the head of York River, hearing from Lawrence and Drummond of the governor's movements, exclaimed, that "it vexed him to the heart that, while he was hunting wolves which were destroying innocent lambs, the governor and those with him should pursue him in the rear with full cry; and that he was like corn between two millstones, which would grind him to powder if he didn't look to it." He marched immediately back against the governor, who, finding himself abandoned, again, on the twenty-ninth of July, proclaimed Bacon a rebel, and made his escape, with a few friends, down York River and across the Chesapeake Bay to Accomac, on the Eastern Shore.

    [A series of events of secondary importance succeeded, which we cannot particularize. It will suffice to say that the movement was diverted more and more from an expedition against the Indians to a civil war, in which the adherents of Bacon took strong ground against Berkeley and advised his forcible deposal. A successful operation against the Baconites induced the governor to return to Jamestown, from which the friends of Bacon retired.]

    During these events Bacon was executing his designs against the Indians. As soon as he had despatched Bland to Accomac, he crossed the James River at his own house, at Curles, and surprising the Appomattox Indians, who lived on both sides of the river of that name, a little below the falls (now Petersburg), he burnt their town, killed a large number of the tribe, and dispersed the rest. .

    From the falls of the Appomattox, Bacon traversed the country to the southward, destroying many towns on the banks of the Nottoway, the Meherrin, and the Roanoke. His name had become so formidable that the natives fled everywhere before him, and, having nothing to subsist upon, save the spontaneous productions of the country, several tribes perished, and they who survived were so reduced as to be never afterwards able to make any firm stand against the Long-knives, and gradually became tributary to them.

    Bacon, having exhausted his provisions, had dismissed the greater part of his forces before Lawrence, Drummond, Hansford, and the other fugitives from Jamestown joined him. Upon receiving intelligence of the governor's return, Bacon, collecting a force variously estimated at one hundred and fifty, three hundred, and eight hundred, harangued them on the situation of affairs, and marched back upon Jamestown, leading his Indian captives in triumph before him. The contending parties came now to be distinguished by the names of Rebels and Royalists. Finding the town defended by a palisade ten paces in width, running across the neck of the peninsula, he rode along the work and reconnoitred the governor's position. Then, dismounting from his horse, he animated his fatigued men to advance at once, and, leading them close to the palisade, sounded a defiance with the trumpet, and fired upon the garrison. The governor remained quiet, hoping that want of provisions would soon force Bacon to retire; but he supplied his troops from Sir William Berkeley's seat, at Greenspring, three miles distant. He afterwards complained that "his dwelling-house at Greenspring was almost ruined; his household goods, and others of great value, totally plundered; that he had not a bed to lie on; two great beasts, three hundred sheep, seventy horses and mares, all his corn and provisions, taken away."

    Bacon adopted a singular stratagem, and one hardly compatible with the rules of chivalry. Sending out small parties of horse, he captured the wives of several of the principal loyalists then with the governor, and among them the lady of Colonel Bacon, Sr., Madame Bray, Madame Page, and Madame Ballard. Upon their being brought into the camp, Bacon sends one of them into Jamestown to carry word to their husbands that his purpose was to place their wives in front of his men in case of a sally. Colonel Ludwell reproaches the rebels with "ravishing of women from their homes, and hurrying them about the country in their rude camps, often threatening them with death." But, according to another and more impartial authority, Bacon made use of the ladies only to complete his battery, and removed them out of harm's way at the time of the sortie. He raised by moon light a circumvallation of trees, earth, and brushwood around the governor's outworks. At daybreak next morning the governor's troops, being fired upon, made a sortie; but they were driven back, leaving their drum and their dead behind them. Upon the top of the work which he had thrown up, and where alone a sally could be made, Bacon exhibited the captive ladies to the views of their husbands and friends in the town, and kept them there until he completed his works.

    [As a result of these active proceedings, the followers of Berkeley, though superior in numbers to those of Bacon, and well intrenched, hastily retired, leaving their antagonist master of the situation. Bacon at once determined to burn the town, so that the "rogues should harbor there no more." It was accordingly set on fire and laid in ashes. Jamestown, at this period, consisted of a church and some sixteen or eighteen well-built brick houses. Its population was about a dozen families, since all the houses were not inhabited.]

    Bacon now marched to York River, and crossed at Tindall's (Gloucester) Point, in order to encounter Colonel Brent, who was marching against him from the Potomac with twelve hundred men. But the greater part of his men, hearing of Bacon's success, deserting their colors declared for him, "resolving, with the Persians, to go and worship the rising sun." Bacon, making his head-quarters at Colonel Warmer's, called a convention in Gloucester, and administered the oath to the people of that county, and began to plan another expedition against the Indians, or, as some report, against Accomac, when he fell sick of a dysentery brought on by exposure. Retiring to the house of a Dr. Pate, and lingering for some weeks, he died. Some of the loyalists afterwards reported that he died of a loathsome disease, and by a visitation of God; which is disproven by T. M.'s Account, by that published in the Virginia Gazette, and by the Report of the King's Commissioners. Some of Bacon's friends suspected that he was taken off by poison; but of this there is no proof. .

    The place of Bacon's interment has never been discovered, it having been concealed by his friends, lest his remains should be insulted by the vindictive Berkeley, in whom old age appears not to have mitigated the fury of the passions. According to one tradition, in order to screen Bacon's body from indignity, stones were laid on his coffin by his friend Lawrence, as was supposed; according to others, it was conjectured that the body had been buried in the bosom of the majestic York, where the winds and the waves might still repeat his requiem.

    [The death of Bacon ended the rebellion, though disastrous consequences to his adherents followed. Berkeley sated his revengeful spirit upon those who fell into his hands, many of whom were executed. The governor had sent to England for troops, and employed them in executing his schemes of revenge. The Assembly at last insisted that these executions should cease. Nothing decisive was gained by the rebellion, yet it clearly showed the spirit of resistance to tyranny in the Virginians.

    The determination not to submit to tyranny, of which we have particularized several instances in the colonies, declared itself in the Carolinas at the same period. Several open revolts there took place, which may be briefly described. Many of the adherents of Bacon had taken refuge in North Carolina, where they were welcomed, and it is probable that their influence intensified the democratic sentiment of the people, who soon after broke out into rebellion against the arbitrary revenue laws. A vessel from New England was seized as a smuggler, upon which the people flew to arms, and imprisoned the president of the colony and six of his council. The people chose their own governors for several years thereafter. In 1688 another revolt occurred against Seth Sothel, one of the proprietors, and governor of the province. He was tried for oppressing the people, and banished from the colony. Revolts of a like character took place in South Carolina. Governor Colleton, who sought to carry out Locke's system of government, and to collect the rents claimed by the proprietors, drove the people into a rebellion. They took possession of the public records, and held an Assembly despite the governor, who thereupon called out the militia and proclaimed martial law. This increased the exasperation of the colonists, and the governor was impeached and banished. He was succeeded by Seth Sothel, who had been banished from North Carolina. In 1692, after two years of tyranny, this governor was also deposed and banished. The "Grand Model" of government of Locke had by this time very effectually lost its potency.]

    COLONIAL HOSTILITIES.

    F. X. GARNEAU.

    [In previous articles we have briefly reviewed the history of the French in Canada, down to the futile expedition of Denonville against the Iroquois in 1687, and the severe reprisal of the Indians, in which they massacred the inhabitants of the island of Montreal and endangered the very existence of the colony. At this juncture Denonville was recalled, and Count de Frontenac sent out. The succeeding history of the colony is largely one of war with the English colonists, in which the Indian allies of the hostile whites took active part. On the English side were the Iroquois, the most warlike and powerful of all the aborigines, of whom the French had made enemies upon their first entrance into the country. The French were supported by the Hurons and other Indians of Canada, and by the tribes of northern New England, while the southern New England tribes were allies of the English.

    The several wars which raged in Europe between France and England roused the colonies to invasions of one another's territory, in which the Indians gave full went to their savage instincts in murdering the helpless settlers. King William's War, which continued from 1689 to 1697, was marked by several such atrocities. At the very opening of the war, Dover, in New Hampshire, was attacked, and revenge taken upon Major Waldron, who had acted treacherously towards the Indians during King Philip's War. During the succeeding year occurred the massacre at Schenectady, which we have already described. Other settlements were assailed, and several of the English forts taken. In reprisal, an expedition under Sir William Phipps captured Port Royal, and essayed to conquer Quebec, but was driven off. At the same time a fruitless land-expedition was sent from New York against Montreal. The Indian depredations upon the English frontiers continued, the latest being an attack on Haverhill, Massachusetts, in 1697, in which forty persons were killed or taken captive. Among these latter were a Mrs. Duston, her nurse, and a boy, who on their way to Canada attacked their captors while sleeping, killed ten out of twelve of them, and returned in safety to their friends. During this war the French attempted to punish the hostile Iroquois, and Frontenac marched into their territory, where he committed much damage. On his return, however, he was severely harassed by the Indians.

    In 1702 another war broke out between France and England, which continued till 1713. In America it was marked by the same atrocities as the previous war. The Iroquois were neutrals during most of this war, and New York was preserved from danger, the weight of the war falling on the New England colonies. In 1704 the town of Deerfield was captured by a French and Indian force, forty of the inhabitants killed, and one hundred and twelve captured, who were marched through the winter snows to Canada. Throughout the war the frontier settlements were continually harassed by the savage foe. In 1707 the English attacked Port Royal, but were repulsed. In 1710 it was again assailed, and captured, its name being changed to Annapolis, in honor of Queen Anne, and the province of Acadia, or Nova Scotia, was permanently added to the English possessions. In the succeeding year an extensive invasion of Canada was projected, which met with an unfortunate termination. The story of this expedition we select from Andrew Bell's translation of Garneau's "L'Histoire du Canada."]

    IN spring, 1711, an expedition was got up to act in conjunction with such forces as the plantations could supply for the invasion of Canada. The fleet, under the orders of Admiral Sir Hovenden Walker, had companies of seven regiments of regulars on board, drafted from the army Marlborough was leading from victory to victory. The force was put under the charge of Brigadier-General Hill.

    Walker arrived in Boston harbor, June 25, where his presence was impatiently expected. The land-force was now augmented by the junction of the militias of New York, New Jersey, Connecticut, etc., which raised it to a total of six thousand five hundred infantry. The fleet now consisted of eighty-eight ships and transports. The army which was intended to act simultaneously with the ascent to Quebec by an advance on Montreal, and was now reconstituted, got ready to act, under the orders of General Nicholson. It was composed of four thousand Massachusetts and other militia-men, and six hundred Iroquois. Having moved his corps to the banks of Lake George, Nicholson there awaited the event of the attack on Quebec. Meantime, the invading fleet sailed from Boston, July 30.

    The opposing force of the Canadians was proportionally small, in number at least. It did not exceed five thousand men of all ages between fifteen and seventy, and included at the most five hundred savages. But Quebec was now in a better state for defence than ever it had been before, there being more than one hundred cannons mounted upon the works. The banks of the St. Lawrence immediately below the city were so well guarded that it would have been perilous to an enemy to land anywhere; above it the invaders would hardly adventure. The garrison was carefully marshalled, and every man assigned to an appointed place, with orders to repair to it as soon as the enemy's fleet appeared.

    But the elements were now the best defenders of Canada, which Providence seemed to have taken under his special protection. During the night of August 22, a storm from the southwest arose, accompanied by a dense fog, in the Gulf of St. Lawrence; and the hostile fleet was put in imminent jeopardy for a time. The admiral's ship barely escaped wreck upon breakers. Eight of the transports were driven ashore on the Ile-aux-CEufs, one of the Seven Islands, and nine hundred out of seventeen hundred persons on board perished in the waves. Among the corpses strewed on the beach afterwards were found the bodies of a number of emigrants from Scotland, intended colonists for Anglicized Canada; and among other waifs found at the same time were copies of a proclamation to the Canadians, in Queen Anne's name, asserting the suzerainty of Britain, in right of the discovery of their country by Cabot.

    Admiral Walker now altered his course, and rendezvoused with his scattered fleet, as soon as it could be collected, at Cape Breton, where he called a council of war, in which it was decided to renounce the enterprise. The British division of the fleet left for England, and the colonial vessels returned to Boston. But disasters ceased not to attend this ill-starred expedition; for the Feversham, an English frigate of thirty-six guns, and three transports, were lost when still in the Laurentian gulf; while the Edgar, of seventy guns, Walker's flag-ship, was blown up at Portsmouth, October 15, with four hundred men on board.

    [A strong Canadian force was now collected at Montreal, in preparation for Nicholson's advance. No advance was made, however, though the militia were kept under arms, on guard against a Canadian invasion. But the Canadians, just now, had work enough at home. The Outagamis, a warlike tribe from beyond Lake Michigan, had moved eastward to the locality of Detroit, under British instigation. It was their purpose to burn the settlement and kill all the French. In this they were joined by the Mascoutins. On the other hand, some six hundred warriors of friendly tribes were banded in defence of the French, and forced the hostiles to take a defensive attitude.]

    The Outagamis and Mascoutins took refuge in an intrenched camp they had formed near the French fort. M. Dubuisson, the governor, finding that they presented so imposing a front, was willing that they should retire peacefully to their villages on seeing that their hostile intents were anticipated and provided against; but his native allies would not allow of this, and proceeded to invest their fastness. This was so well defended, however, that the assailants became dispirited, and wished to retire from the contest; but Dubuisson, now encouraging them to remain, turned the siege into a blockade. In a short time provisions, even water, failed the besieged; and when any of them issued from the enclosure to procure the latter, they were set on by their foes, killed on the spot, or burnt alive to make a savage holiday.

    The beleaguered tried, by every means, to detach the native auxiliaries present from the French interest; but all in vain. They then sent envoys to the governor to crave a truce of two days, to enable their foragers to procure food. This singular request was refused, but had better been accorded; for in revenge the Outagamis shot fire-arrows against the straw-roofed houses of the village, which were thereby entirely consumed. The cannon of the fort avenged this act of desperation. Already from three to four score of the besieged were dead of hunger and thirst, and the air was tainted with putrefaction. A third deputation came to implore quarter. Pemousa, a chief, who brought with him his wife and children as hostages, adjured the governor to "take pity on his flesh" and on the other women and children about to be put at French discretion. Some of the allied chiefs present at this piteous scene, instead of being moved by it, coolly proposed to Dubuisson to cut down four of the envoys, who, they alleged, were the chief defenders of the place. This much, at least, was refused.

    The besieged, despairing of success, and hopeless of quarter if they surrendered, prepared to take advantage of any moment of relaxed vigilance in their besiegers, and try to escape. One stormy night they succeeded in this attempt, but, exhausted by the privations they had undergone, halted on peninsular ground near St. Clair, whither they were soon followed. They intrenched themselves again, stood a siege of four days more, and then gave in. Not one of the men escaped, and it is very doubtful whether any of the women were spared; but the contemporary reports of what passed at the time are in disaccord on this point.

    [The remnant of the Outagami or Fox nation, however, long carried on a harassing warfare with the French, and rendered the routes between the posts in Canada and those on the Mississippi so dangerous as to be almost impassable. The peace of Utrecht, in 1713, put an end to this desolating war. During the succeeding thirty years but few events of importance occurred in the English colonies or in Canada. It was a much-needed era of tranquillity, during which the colonies grew rapidly in population and importance. The Canadian settlements were principally confined to the St. Lawrence region, from Quebec to Montreal. Farther west there were detached forts and stations, with a weak settlement at Detroit, but nothing which could properly be called a colony. Yet the spirit of exploration of the French continued. In 1731 an effort was made to reach the Pacific overland. M. Verendrye, a trader with the Indians, who had learned much from the Western tribes of the country that lay beyond, undertook an exploring expedition west- ward. He proceeded to Lake Superior, where his trading interests kept him till 1733. Meanwhile, some of his people made their way to the Lake of the Woods, and thence to Lake Winnipeg, extending their journey to the point of branching of the river Saskatchewan.

    In 1738 the explorers reached the country of the Mandans, and in 1742 followed the upper Missouri as far as the Yellowstone. Finally, on January 1, 1743, two of the sons of M. Verendrye found themselves in front of the great range of the Rocky Mountains, sixty years in advance of the discovery of this mighty mountain-system by the American explorers Lewis and Clarke.

    In 1744 another war, known in America as "King George's War," broke out between France and England, and at once brought the colonists into hostile relations. The most important event of this war was the capture of Louisburg, a powerful stronghold founded by the French in 1720 on the island of Cape Breton and intended to be made impregnable. The town grew until it contained several thousand inhabitants and was a mile in length. We extract from Garneau an account of its siege and capture.]

    France and Britain were now on the eve of war, chiefly for the good pleasure of the German king of the latter, as the chief of a petty Continental principality, who set about trimming what was called the "balance of power in Europe." This had been deranged, it appeared, by the part which the French king had taken against the Empress Theresa when a coalition was formed against her by Prussia, Bavaria, Saxony, etc., in Cermany, with Spain and Sardinia. In January, 1745, a treaty of alliance was signed between the empress (already at war with the French), the King of Great Britain, the King of Poland, the Elector of Saxony, and the United States of Holland, against France.

    As on former occasions, the colonial dependencies of the two great nations had perforce to go to war also, whether they understood the points in dispute which led to hostilities between their mother-countries or not. There was also a "balance of power" between New France and New England, getting more and more difficult every year satisfactorily to adjust. Canada, however, like the snorting war-horse, seemed to scent the coming hostilities while yet distant; for her administrators had already repaired and munitioned all the frontier posts, especially Fort St. Frederic and Fort Niagara. The defensive works of Quebec, also, were augmented. Other demonstrations were made, about the same time, by the Canadian government and its colonists, which showed that a continued state of peace with the British plantations was neither expected nor desired.

    After the belligerents were in full tilt in Europe, for the king of Britain and his favorite son were battling, not with much honor to either, on that eternal fighting-ground, Flanders, there was no appearance, for a time, of either government sending any expedition against the North American dependencies of the other.... During its early stages the war in America between the two rival races was carried on almost entirely without European aid.

    In a few months after the declaration of war, the American waters swarmed with French privateers. Several were equipped at Louisburg, Cape Breton, with amazing despatch, and made a great number of prizes before vessels of war could arrive to protect the British colonial shipping. Louisburg became, in all respects, a kind of hornets' nest in regard to New England, its trade and fisheries, which it was now determined to dig out if possible.

    Meanwhile, M. Duquesnel, governor of Cape Breton, embarked part of the garrison of Louisburg with some militia and made a descent upon the settlement of Canso, in Acadia, which he burnt, and made the garrison and settlers prisoners of war. He then summoned Annapolis, but was deterred from investing it by the arrival of a reinforcement from Massachusetts. Duquesnel returned to Louisburg, where he died shortly thereafter. Governor Shirley had for some time conceived the project of taking possession of Cape Breton, now rightly regarded as the seaward bulwark of Canada, and a highly-important post as a safeguard to the French fisheries and to American trade. The fortifications of Louisburg, the capital, even in their uncompleted state, had taken twenty-five years to construct, at a cost, it was reported, of thirty million livres (nearly one million five hundred thousand pounds sterling). They comprised a stone rampart nearly forty feet high, with embrasures for one hundred and forty-eight cannon, had several bastions, and strong out-works; and on the land-side was a fosse fully fourscore feet broad. The garrison, as reported afterwards by the French, was composed of six hundred regulars and eight hundred armed inhabitants, commanded by M. Duchambois. Upon the same authority we may mention here that at this time there were not more than one thousand soldiers in garrison, altogether, from the lower St. Lawrence to the eastern shore of Lake Erie.

    [At a council held by Governor Shirley, it was decided that an effort to take Louisburg would be too costly and hazardous. But the colonists, learning of the scheme, were so enthusiastic that the council was forced into it. In a few weeks more than four thousand militia were raised in the several colonies, and placed under the command of a New England merchant, named Pepperel. The expedition sailed about the last of March, and reached Canso on April 5, 1745.]

    Colonel Pepperel having sent some shallops to ascertain whether the coast was clear of ice, and the report being favorable, the expedition resumed its voyage, and a disembarkation on Cape Breton Island was begun at Chapeau Rouge on the 27th of April. The garrison was, through the promptitude of the invaders, taken completely by surprise. The descent could not have been effected much earlier with safety; for till the end of March or beginning of April the ocean in that region is covered with thick fogs, while both the seaboard and the harbors of Cape Breton are choked with thick-ribbed ice. By this time Admiral Warren arrived with a few ships, and more were expected. His seamen assisted during fourteen days in dragging a siege-train of ordnance, through marshy ground, to the neighborhood of Louisburg, which was thought at first to be too strongly defended on the seaward side to be confronted by the fleet. Meanwhile, the garrison was in a state of revolt, having demurred to being employed to put the works into a proper state, a duty which had been too long postponed. The men had other grievances besides, being ill paid, and otherwise badly treated; but, their feelings of military honor being appealed to, they resumed their arms and prepared to defend the place.

    During the night of May 13, Mr. Vaughan, son of the lieutenant-governor of New Hampshire, who knew the localities well, having visited the place the year before, landed with four hundred men, marched to the northeast part of the bay, and fired some buildings filled with brandy, etc., and naval stores. A party in a neighboring fort, thinking probably that the incendiaries were the van of a large attacking force, quitted their post and took refuge in the town. Next morning Vaughan was able to surprise a battery and hold possession of it until the arrival of a reinforcement.

    A great mischance for the French now hastened the fall of the place. La Vigilante, a ship of sixty-four guns, with five hundred and sixty soldiers and supplies for the garrison on board, was captured by Admiral Warren. Had this succor reached its destination, it is very doubtful whether Pepperel could have captured the strongest fortress in America, and which was reported to be impregnable. The next operation was not so favorable to the besiegers, who, having tried, with four hundred men, to carry a battery on the island of St. John, which protected the entry of the harbor, were driven off, leaving sixty dead, and one hundred and sixteen of their men, wounded or whole, in the hands of the French. But this gleam of success only delayed the certain capture of the place, now that all further hope of succor from without was gone, and its defenders were as discouraged as they were malcontent before. In a word, Duchambois capitulated, and was allowed to march out with the honors of war. In terms of the capitulation, the garrison, and about two thousand people, the entire population of Louisburg, were embarked in British transports and landed at Brest.

    Great was the exultation, naturally enough, at the success of this expedition thus admirably planned and spiritedly executed. Messrs. Shirley and Pepperel were rewarded with baronetcies; and the British Parliament voted a sum of money to repay the cost incurred by the colonists in getting up the enterprise. The discouragement in New France for the loss of Cape Breton was commensurate with the elation at its capture in New England and the other Anglo-American provinces.

    [An effort was made by the French to recapture the place, but their fleet was scattered by a storm, while a deadly epidemic broke out among the soldiers and marines. Acadia was at the same time assailed by the Canadians, with considerable success. A force of five hundred New England militia, sent to oppose them, was attacked by the French and Indians, and nearly half the men killed or wounded, and the rest forced to surrender.]

    Beginning with the autumn of 1745, the frontiers of the British plantations themselves were cruelly ravaged in twenty-seven successive raids of the Canadians during three years. Fort Massachusetts, fifteen miles above Fort St. Frederic, surrendered to M. Rigaud, who, with seven hundred colonists and savages, devastated the country for fifty miles beyond. M. Corne de St. Luc attacked Fort Clinton, and signally defeated an American corps. Saratoga was taken, and its people massacred. Fort Bridgman was taken by De Lery. In a word, the frontier-line, from Boston to Albany, being no longer tenable, the inhabitants fled into the interior, and left their lands at the discretion of the enemy.

    [A treaty of peace was concluded October 7, 1748. By its stipulations the British and French mutually gave up whatever territory each had taken, and greatly to the dissatisfaction of the English colonists, Cape Breton, with its fortress, was surrendered to its old masters, and the vigorous effort of the New-Englanders thus rendered useless. From that time peace prevailed in Europe, but hardly in America, hostilities scarcely ceasing during the interval from the treaty to the outbreak of the French and Indian War.]

    THE SPANISH INVASION OF GEORGIA.

    WILLIAM BACON STEVENS.

    [While the Northern colonies were at war with the French and their Indian allies, the Southern were similarly at war with the Spaniards of Florida, and the Indian wars of the North had their counterparts in the South. The troubles with the Indians of Virginia we have already described. Of the Indians of North Carolina, those in contact with the settlers rapidly disappeared, destroyed by strong drink and other accompaniments of civilization. The settlers came next into collision with more remote tribes, the Tuscaroras and the Corees, who showed decided symptoms of hostility and organized a secret attack. On the night of October 2, 1711, they suddenly fell upon the settlements and massacred one hundred and thirty persons. A war ensued, the whites being aided by a large body of friendly Indians from the more southern tribes. In 1713 the Tuscaroras were besieged in their fort, and eight hundred taken prisoners. The remainder migrated north, and joined their kindred, the Iroquois of New York. Peace was concluded with the Corees in 1715.

    South Carolina, when settled, contained comparatively few of the aborigines. A long and destructive war between two tribes, and a fatal epidemic which afterwards prevailed, had decimated the Indians, and left their lands open to the settlers. In 1702, during the war of England against France and Spain which broke out that year, Governor Moore of Carolina organized an expedition against the Spanish settlement of St. Augustine in Florida. He proceeded by sea, while Colonel Daniel led a land-expedition of twelve hundred men, half of whom were Indians. The Spanish fortification proving too strong for their means of assault, Daniel was sent to Jamaica for siege-guns. During his absence two Spanish ships appeared off the harbor, and Moore, in a panic, abandoned his fleet and hastily retreated. Daniel, on his return, stood in towards the harbor, and narrowly escaped capture. This useless and expensive expedition gave great dissatisfaction to the people of Carolina. It was followed by a successful expedition against the Appalachian Indians, allies of Spain. They were completely defeated, their towns burned, and their whole province made English territory.

    In 1706 a French and Spanish fleet appeared before Charleston. But the city was valiantly defended, and the invaders driven off with loss. A general Indian war broke out in 1715, comprising numerous tribes, the Yamassees at their head. For a while the colony was threatened with destruction. The frontier settlements were ruined, Port Royal abandoned, and Charleston in serious peril. At length the settlers made head, drove back the enemy, and on the banks of the Salkehatchie gained a complete victory. The Yamassees were driven from their territory, and retired to Florida. In 1719 a revolution against the Proprietors broke out in South Carolina; the settlers refused to pay their exorbitant claims, and in the name of the king proclaimed James Moore governor. The difficulty was settled in 1729, when seven of the eight Proprietors sold out to the king, and the two Carolinas were separated and became royal governments.

    The colony of Georgia was first devised in 1732, by James Oglethorpe, an English philanthropist, as an asylum for the poor of England and for the oppressed Protestants of all countries. He reached America in February, 1733, with one hundred and twenty emigrants, and planted a settlement on the site of Savannah. A treaty of peace and friendship was at once concluded with the Creek Indians, a powerful neighboring confederacy. The colony rapidly increased in numbers. But trouble soon arose with the Spaniards of Florida, who claimed that the English were intruding on their territory. Hostilities being threatened, Oglethorpe returned to England, and brought out a regiment of six hundred men for the defense of his frontier. Soon afterwards, in 1739, war broke out between England and Spain, and Oglethorpe invaded Florida. He had with him five hundred men of his regiment, with other troops, and Indian allies. Several Spanish forts were taken, but St. Augustine was boldly defended, and after being nearly reduced by famine, obtained supplies from vessels that ran the blockade of the English fleet. This destroyed all hopes of success, and Oglethorpe returned to Georgia. Two years later, the Spaniards, in reprisal, invaded Georgia with a large fleet and a numerous army. Oglethorpe, with a much smaller force, withdrew to his fort at Frederica, on St. Simon's Island, near the mouth of the Altamaha River. The interesting story of this invasion we extract from the "History of Georgia," by Rev. William Bacon Stevens.]

    IN May [1742] the armament destined for the conquest of Georgia, consisting of fifty-six vessels and about seven thousand men, left Havana for St. Augustine. One of their large vessels, with one hundred and fifty men, was lost in passing the Moro castle; and soon after the fleet was dispersed by a storm.. Of the arrival of this force in St. Augustine, Oglethorpe was informed by his Indian spies, deserters, and the letters of Captain Hamar; and he addressed himself at once to the task of preparing for their attack. [The Spanish fleet was unsuccessful in its first efforts against the English forts.]

    On the 28th [of June] the Spanish fleet, largely reinforced, again appeared off St. Simon's bar, and, having taken the bearings and soundings, lay off and on, waiting for a fair wind, to run up to Frederica. All was now activity on St. Simon's. The general raised another troop of rangers, armed the planters, extended his fortifications, dismantled many of the small vessels and from them rigged out a merchant-ship, called the Success, with an armament of twenty-two guns, which he placed under the command of Captain Thompson.

    The following day [July 5], favored by a strong easterly wind and a flood tide, the squadron of thirty-[fifty-] six vessels, comprising one of twenty-four guns, two ships of twenty guns, two large scows of fourteen guns, four schooners, four sloops, and the rest half-galleys, entered St. Simon's harbor.. For four hours the vessels and two small batteries of the English maintained the unequal contest; but the fleet was too numerous, and they passed up the river with a leading breeze, sinking one guard schooner and disabling several of the trading- craft.

    [The English now spiked the guns and destroyed the munitions at Fort St. Simon's, and withdrew to Frederica. The Spanish vessels passed up the river, and landed about five thousand men four miles below Frederica. These marched down and took possession of the dismantled fort.]

    They made their camp at the fort which he [Oglethorpe] had abandoned, and, hoisting the bloody flag on the commodore's ship, erected a battery and planted in it twenty eighteen-pounders. Among the troops landed were a regiment of artillery, a regiment of dismounted dragoons, a regiment of negroes, officered by negroes, in the style and pay of grenadiers, and a regiment of mulattoes, besides the Havana battalion, the Havana militia, and the St. Augustine forces. On the seventh a part of this force was put in motion, and reached within a mile of Frederica, when they were discovered by the rangers, and the alarm given. Oglethorpe immediately advanced with a party of Indians, rangers, and the Highland company, that were then on parade, ordering the regiment to follow, being resolved to engage them in the defiles of the wood before they could get out and deploy in the open savannah. He charged at the head of his force with such effect that nearly all of the party, consisting of one hundred and twenty- five of their best woodsmen, and forty-five Indians, were either killed, wounded, or taken prisoners... The pursuit was continued several miles, to an open meadow or savannah, upon the edge of which he posted three platoons of the regiment and a company of Highland foot, so as to be covered by the woods from the enemy, who were obliged to pass through the meadow under the English fire. Hastening back to Frederica, he got in readiness the rangers and marines; but scarcely were they in marching order when he heard firing in the direction of his ambushed troops, and, speeding thither, met two of the platoons, who, in the smoke and drifting rain, had retreated before the advance of Don Antonio Barba, who, with one hundred grenadiers and two hundred infantry, consisting of Indians and negroes, had pushed into the meadow and drove out the ambuscade with loud huzzas and rolling drums. The soldiers informed Oglethorpe that all his force was routed; but, finding one platoon and a company of rangers missing, and still hearing firing in the direction of the woods, he ordered the officers to rally their men and follow him.

    In the mean time this platoon and company of rangers, under the command of Lieutenants Sutherland and Mackay, instead of retreating with their comrades, no sooner reached the wood than by a skilfully-executed detour they gained the rear of the pursuing enemy, and, at a point where the road passed from the forest to the open marsh across a small semi-circular cove, planted themselves in ambuscade in the thick palmettoes by which this narrow pass was nearly surrounded.

    Scarcely had they secreted themselves near this defile, when the Spaniards, on their return, marched out of the wood, and, supposing themselves secure from attack, protected as they were on the one side by an open morass and on the other by the crescent-shaped hedge of palmettoes and underwood, they stacked their arms and yielded themselves to repose. Sutherland and Mackay, who from their hiding-places had anxiously watched all their movements, now raised the signal of attack,-a Highland cap upon a sword,—and the soldiers poured in upon the unsuspecting enemy a well-delivered and most deadly fire. Volley succeeded volley, and the sand was strewed with the dead and dying. A few of the Spanish officers attempted, though in vain, to re-form their broken ranks; discipline was gone, orders were unheeded, safety alone was sought; and when, with a Highland shout of triumph, the platoon burst among them with levelled bayonet and flashing claymore, the panic-stricken foe fled in every direction,-some to the marsh, where they mired, and were taken,-some along the defile, where they were met by the tomahawk and the broadsword,-and some into the thicket, where they became entangled and lost; and a few only escaped to their camp. Their defeat was complete. Barba was taken, after being mortally wounded; another captain, a lieutenant, two sergeants, two drummers, and one hundred and sixty privates, were killed, and a captain and nineteen men were taken prisoners. This was a feat of arms as brilliant as it was successful, and won for the gallant troops the highest praise. Oglethorpe, with the two platoons, did not reach the scene of this action, which has ever since borne the appropriate name of "Bloody Marsh," until the victory was achieved; and, to show his sense of their services, he promoted the brave young officers who had gained it, on the very field of their valor.

    [The retreating enemy were pursued into their camp. On the next day Oglethorpe withdrew his forces to Frederica. The misfortunes of the Spaniards caused dissensions among their leaders, learning of which, Oglethorpe resolved to surprise them by a night attack.]

    For this purpose he marched down, on the twelfth July, five hundred men, and, leaving them within a mile of the Spanish quarters, went forward at night with a small party to reconnoitre, intending to surprise them, but was prevented by the treachery of a Frenchman among Captain Carr's marines, who, firing his musket, sounded the alarm, and, favored by the darkness, deserted to the enemy. Finding himself thus discovered, the general distributed the drums about the wood, to represent a large force, and ordered them to beat the grenadiers' march, which they did for half an hour, and then, all being still, noiselessly returned to Frederica.

    Aware of his weakness, and fearing that the disclosures which the Frenchman might make would embolden them to surround and destroy him, which their superior force by land and sea easily enabled them to do, he devised an ingenious stratagem to defeat his information and retrieve the effects of his desertion. The next day he prevailed with a prisoner, and gave him a sum of money, to carry a letter privately and deliver it to that Frenchman who had deserted. This letter was written in French, as if from a friend of his, telling him he had received the money; that he should strive to make the Spaniards believe the English were weak; that he should undertake to pilot up their boats and galleys, and then bring them under the woods where he knew the hidden batteries were; and that if he could bring that about, he should have double the reward he had already received; but if he failed in thus decoying them under the guns of the water-battery, to use all his influence to keep them at least three days more at Fort St. Simon's, as within that time, according to advices just received, he should be reinforced by two thousand infantry and six men-of-war, which had already sailed from Charleston; and, by way of postscript, he was cautioned against mentioning that Admiral Vernon was about to make a descent upon St. Augustine. The Spanish prisoner got into the camp, and was immediately carried before the general, Don Manuel de Montiano. He was asked how he escaped, and whether he had any letters, but, denying his having any, was strictly searched, and the letter found in his possession. Under a promise of pardon, he confessed that he had received money to deliver it to the Frenchman, for the letter was not directed. The Frenchman denied his knowing anything of its contents, or having received any money, or having had any correspondence with Oglethorpe, and vehemently protested that he was not a spy.

    [The contents of the captured letter seriously perplexed the Spanish commander, for whom the Frenchman had acted as a spy among the English. Most of the council looked on him as a double spy, believed the information of the letter, and advised an immediate retreat. While the council grew warm in their debate, word was brought to the commander that three vessels had been seen off the bar. Supposing this to be part of the threatened fleet, the council no longer doubted the truth of the letter, and resolved to fly before they should be hemmed in by sea and land. They set fire to the fort, and hastily embarked, abandoning a quantity of their military stores in their hurry to escape. Oglethorpe followed them with the vessels at his command, and hastened the rapidity of their flight.]

    Thus the vigilance of Oglethorpe, the skilfulness of his plans, the determined spirit of resistance, the carnage of Bloody Marsh, the havoc done to the enemy's ships, and his ingenious stratagem to defeat the designs of the French deserter, saved Georgia and Carolina from falling into the hands of the Spaniards. The force employed by the Spaniards in this invasion comprised.. over five thousand men, commanded by Montiana, governor of St. Augustine, and brought to Georgia in fifty-six vessels. The command of Oglethorpe consisted of only six hundred and fifty-two men, including Indians and militia. The triumph of Oglethorpe was complete. For fifteen days, with only two ships and six hundred men, he had baffled the Spanish general with fifty-six vessels and five thousand men, and at last compelled him to retreat, with the loss of several sail, scores of his best troops, and much of his provisions, munitions, and artillery. The repulse of such a formidable invasion by such a handful of troops is unparalleled in colonial history.

    [The news of this victory was received with universal joy in the North, and Oglethorpe was warmly congratulated on his victory by the governors of the other English provinces. In the succeeding year an attack was made on St. Augustine by an army under Oglethorpe. This expedition proved unsuccessful. There no further movements of invasion, though Georgia experienced annoyance from the Florida Indians, who were stirred up by Spanish hostility.]

    THE NEGRO PLOT IN NEW YORK.

    MARY L. BOOTH.

    [The witchcraft delusion of Salem had its counterpart in an equally baseless epidemic of suspicion and cruelty in New York, of sufficient importance to call for special consideration. The only other event of marked importance in that city, between the Leisler rebellion and the French and Indian War, was a conflict between the democratic and aristocratic parties in 1732. These parties divided the province, and were in violent opposition. The editor of a popular journal was imprisoned and sued for libel for an attack upon the measures of the governor and council. He was acquitted upon trial, and Andrew Hamilton, one of his defenders, was presented with an elegant gold box by the magistrates, for his defence of popular rights and the liberty of the press. The other occurrence referred to the negro plot of 1741, which for a while threw the city into an unreasoning panic, is fully described in Mary L. Booth's "History of the City of New York," from which we extract its leading particulars.]

    THE negro plot of the city of New York will long continue to be classed in the foremost rank of popular delusions, even exceeding in its progress and its fearful denouement the celebrated Popish Plot concocted by Titus Oates. At this distance, it is difficult to ascertain how many grains of truth were mingled in the mass of prejudice, or to discover the wild schemes which may have sprung up in the brains of the oppressed and excitable negroes, but certain it is that nothing can justify the wholesale panic of a civilized community, or the indiscriminate imprisonment and execution of scores of ignorant beings without friends or counsel, on no other evidence than the incoherencies of a few wretches more degraded than they, supported by the horror of a terror-struck imagination. We shall endeavor to follow the development of this singular plot clearly and simply, leaving the reader to draw his own inference from the facts and to determine how much credence should be given the testimony.

    At this time New York contained about ten thousand inhabitants, nearly one-fifth of whom were negro slaves. Since the first introduction of slavery into the province in the days of Wilhelm Kieft, it had increased and flourished to an alarming extent. Every householder who could afford it was surrounded by negroes, who were contemptuously designated as "the black seed of Cain," and deprived not only of their liberty, but also of the commonest rights of humanity.. The ordinances [against them] were of the most stringent character. "All blacks were slaves," says a late historian, "and slaves could not be witnesses against a freeman. They were incapable of buying anything, even the minutest necessary of life; they were punishable by master or mistress to any extent short of life or limb; as often as three of them were found together, they were punished with forty lashes on the bare back; and the same legal liability attended the walking with a club outside the master's grounds without a permit. Two justices might inflict any punishment short of death or amputation for a blow or the smallest assault upon a Christian or a Jew." Such was the spirit of the laws of the times.

    It had been the constant policy, both of the Dutch and English governments, to encourage the importation of slaves as much as possible; the leading merchants of the city were engaged in the traffic, which was regarded by the public as strictly honorable, and at the time of which we speak New York was literally swarming with negroes, and presented all the features of a present (1859.) Southern city, with its calaboose on the Commons and its market-place at the foot of Wall Street. The people were not blind to the possible danger from this oppressed yet powerful host that was silently gathering in their midst, and the slightest suspicious movement on the part of the negroes was sufficient to excite their distrust and alarm. Since the supposed plot of 1712, of which we have already spoken, a growing fear of the slaves had pervaded the city, and the most stringent measures had been adopted to prevent their assemblages and to keep them under strict surveillance. But it was difficult to restrain the thieving propensities of the negroes; petty thefts were constantly committed, and it was one of these that first paved the way to the real or supposed discovery of a plot to murder the inhabitants and take possession of the city.

    On the 14th of March, 1741, some goods and silver were stolen from the house of a merchant named Robert Hogg, on the corner of Broad and Mill or South William Streets. The police immediately set to work to discover the thieves, and, suspicion having fallen upon John Hughson, the keeper of a low negro tavern on the shores of the North River, his house was searched, but to no effect. Soon after, an indentured servant-girl of Hughson's, by the name of Mary Burton, told a neighbor that the goods were really hidden in the house, but that Hughson would kill her if he knew she had said so. This rumor soon came to the ears of the authorities, who at once arrested Mary Burton and lodged her in the city jail, promising Mary Burton and lodged her in the city jail, promising her her freedom if she would confess all that she knew about the matter.

    [On a hearing, Mary Burton charged a negro named Caesar with complicity in the robbery, and he and another slave, named Prince, were arrested and imprisoned. Shortly afterwards the governor's house at the fort took fire and burned to the ground. Other fires took place in rapid succession, and there spread among the alarmed inhabitants a rumor that the negroes had plotted to burn the city. This suspicion soon took the form of certainty. Some free negroes had recently been brought into the port, as the crew of a Spanish prize vessel, and had been sold as slaves. They were exasperated by this harsh usage, and indulged in murmurs and threats. One of them being questioned about a fire, his answers seemed evasive, and "Take up the Spanish negroes!" became the instant cry. They were at once arrested and thrown into prison.]

    The magistrates met the same afternoon to consult about the matter, and while they were still in session another fire broke out in the roof of Colonel Philipse's storehouse. The alarm became universal: the negroes were seized indiscriminately and thrown into prison,—among them many who had just helped to extinguish the fire. People and magistrates were alike panic-struck, and the rumor gained general credence that the negroes had plotted to burn the city, massacre the inhabitants, and effect a general revolution.

    On the 11th of April, 1741, the Common Council assembled, and offered a reward of one hundred pounds and a full pardon to any conspirator who would reveal his knowledge of the plot, with the names of the incendiaries. Many of the terrified inhabitants removed with their household goods and valuables from what they began to deem a doomed city, paying exorbitant prices for vehicles and assistance. The city was searched for strangers and suspicious persons, but none were found, and the negroes were examined without effect. Cuff Philipse, (The negroes were familiarly called by the surnames of their masters.) who had been among those arrested, was proved to have been among the most active in extinguishing the fire at his master's house, yet he was held in prison to await further developments.

    [Before the grand jury, which soon after met, Mary Burton deposed that she had overheard a plot to burn the city and kill the whites. Hughson was then to be governor, and Cuff king. Peggy Carey, an Irishwoman who lived in Hughson's house, was charged with complicity in the plot. She was convicted of having received and secreted the stolen goods, and was sentenced to death along with Prince and Caesar.]

    Terrified at the prospect of a speedy death, the wretched Peggy endeavored to avert her fate by grasping the means of rescue which had before been offered her, and begged for a second examination, and, this being granted her, confessed that meetings of negroes had been held in the last December at the house of John Romme, a tavernkeeper near the new Battery, of the same stamp with Hughson, at which she had been present, and that Romme had told them that if they would set fire to the city, massacre the inhabitants, and bring the plunder to him, he would carry them to a strange country and give them all their liberty. This confession was so evidently vamped up to save herself from the gallows that even the magistrates hesitated to believe it. Yet Cuff Philipse, Brash Jay, Curacoa Dick, Caesar Pintard, Patrick English, Jack Beasted, and Cato Moore, all of whom she had named in her confession, were brought before her and indentified as conspirators. Romme absconded, but his wife was arrested and committed to prison, and the accused were locked up for further examination. Upon this, the terrified negroes began to criminate each other, hoping thereby to save themselves from the fate that awaited them. But these efforts availed them nothing, any more than did the confession of the miserable Peggy, who was executed at last, vainly denying with her dying breath her former accusations. In the mean time several fires had occurred at Hackensack, and two negroes, suspected of being the incendiaries, were condemned and burnt at the stake, though not a particle of evidence was found against them.

    On Monday, the 11th of May, Caesar and Prince, the first victims of the negro plot, were hung on a gallows erected on the little island in the Fresh Water Pond, denying to the last all knowledge of the conspiracy, though they admitted that they had really stolen the goods.

    Hughson and his wife were tried and found guilty, and with Peggy Carey, were hanged on a gibbet erected on the East River shore, near the corner of Cherry and Catharine Streets.. Cuff Philipse and Quack were next brought to trial, a negro boy named Sawney appearing as witness against them. This boy was at first arrested and brought before the magistrates, when he denied all knowledge of the conspiracy. He was told, in reply, that if he would tell the truth he would not be hanged. To tell the truth had now come to be generally understood to mean the confession of a plot for burning the town.

    [The frightened boy told a tissue of doubtful tales, on the strength of which the accused negroes were tried for their lives. All the lawyers of the city were on the side of the prosecution, leaving the prisoners without counsel.]

    Ignorant of the forms of law, and terrified at the prospect of their impending danger, it is not strange that their bewildered and contradictory statements were construed by their learned adversaries into evidences of their guilt. Quack and Cuffee were found guilty, and sentenced to be burned at the stake on the 3d of June.

    On the day appointed, the fagots were piled in a grassy valley in the neighborhood of the present Five Points, and the wretched victims led out to execution. The spot was thronged with impatient spectators, eager to witness the terrible tragedy. Terrified and trembling, the poor wretches gladly availed themselves of their last chance for life, and, on being questioned by their last chance for life, and, on being questioned by their masters, confessed that the plot had originated with Hughson, that Quack's wife was the person who had set fire to the fort, he having been chosen for the task by the confederated negroes, and that Mary Burton had spoken the truth and could name many more conspirators if she pleased. As a reward, they were reprieved until the further pleasure of the governor should be known. But the impatient populace, which had come out for a spectacle, would not so easily be balked of its prey. Ominous mutterings resounded round the pile, with threats of evil import, and the sheriff was ordered to proceed with his duty. Terrified by these menaces, he dared not attempt to take the prisoners back to the jail; and the execution went on. Despite their forced confessions, the terrible pile was lighted, and the wretched negroes perished in the flames, knowing that, with their last breath, they had doomed their fellows to share their fate in vain.

    On the 6th of June, seven other negroes, named Jack, Cook, Robin, Caesar, Cuffee, Cuffee, and Jamaica, were tried and found guilty on the dying evidence of Quack and Cuffee, with the stories of Mary Burton and the negro boy Sawney. All were executed the next day, with the exception of Jack, who saved his life by promising further disclosures. These disclosures implicated fourteen others, one of whom, to save his life, confessed and accused still mor.

    On the 11th of June, Francis, one of the Spanish negroes, Albany, and Curacoa Dick were sentenced to be burned at the stake. Ben and Quack were condemned to the same fate five days after. Three others were at the same time sentenced to be hanged, and five of the Spanish negroes were also convicted.

    [On June 19 the governor proclaimed pardon to all who should confess and reveal the names of their accomplices before July 1. The accusations at once multiplied. Mary Burton, who had declared that Hughson was the only white man in the plot, now accused John Ury, a schoolmaster and reputed Catholic priest. To the negro plot were now added rumors of a Popish plot. The evidence against Ury was of the most improbable character, yet he was condemned, and sentenced to be hanged.]

    The arrest of Ury was the signal for the implication of others of the whites. It was a true foreshadowing of the Reign of Terror. Every one feared his neighbor, and hastened to be the first to accuse, lest he himself should be accused and thrown into prison. Fresh victims were daily seized, and those with whom the jails were already full to overflowing were transported or hanged with scarcely the form of a trial in order to make room for the new-comers. So rapid was the increase that the judges feared that the numbers might breed an infection, and devised short methods of ridding themselves of the prisoners, sometimes by pardoning, but as often by hanging them. From the 11th of May to the 29th of August, one hundred and fifty-four negroes were committed to prison, fourteen of whom were burned at the stake, eighteen hanged, seventy-one transported, and the rest pardoned or discharged for the want of sufficient evidence. In the same time, twenty-four whites were committed to prison, four of whom were executed.

    The tragedy would probably have continued much longer, had not Mary Burton, grown bolder by success, begun to implicate persons of consequence. This at once aroused the fears of the influential citizens, who had been the foremost when only the negroes were in question, and put a stop to all further proceedings. The fearful catalogue of victims closed on the 29th of August with the execution of John Ury. The 24th of September was set apart as a day of general thanksgiving for the escape of the citizens from destruction; Mary Burton received the hundred pounds that had been promised her as the price of blood, and the city fell back into a feeling of security.

    Whether this plot ever had the shadow of an existence except in the disordered imaginations of the citizens can never with certainty be known.. The witnesses were persons of the vilest character, the evidence was contradictory, inconsistent, and extorted under the fear of death, and no real testimony was adduced that could satisfy any man in the possession of a clear head and a sound judgment. Terror was really the strongest evidence, and the fear of the Jesuits the conclusive proof. The law passed in 1700 for hanging every Catholic priest who voluntarily came within the province still disgraced the statute-book, while the feeling of intolerance which had prompted it remained as bitter and unyielding as ever.

    THE FRENCH AND INDIAN WAR.

    INTRODUCTORY REMARKS.

    THE three colonial wars between the French and English, which we have described, arose from events taking place on the other side of the Atlantic, and were nearly fruitless in results, so far as America was concerned. The bloodshed, torture, and other horrors which accompanied them might all have been spared, since neither of the them might all have been spared, since neither of the contestants gained any important advantages from them. The war which we have yet to describe differed from the others in both the particulars mentioned. It had its origin in America, and it ended in a very decided change in the relative positions of the contestants.

    The progress of the colonies had by the middle of the eighteenth century aroused conflicting claims to territory which could scarcely fail to result in a struggle. The treaty of Aix-la-Chapelle had endeavored to adjust the relative claims to North American territory by the three powers of England, France, and Spain. But as yet these powers occupied only a narrow strip along the Atlantic coast, and though they claimed, by their charters, the whole country from ocean to ocean, yet their ignorance of the vast region thus appropriated on paper was very sure to bring them into disputes concerning boundaries. The English claimed the whole sea-coast from Newfoundland to Florida, in virtue of the discovery by the Cabots, and their grants of territory were assumed as extending westward to the Pacific. This claim to the interior was partly based on treaties with the Iroquois Indians, who, on the pretence that they had at some former time conquered all the territory from the Alleghanies to the Mississippi, ceded this territory to the English, without heed to the rights of the tribes actually occupying it.

    The French, on the other hand, based their claims to the Mississippi region on actual discovery and exploration. In their view, the half of New York, and the greater portion of New England, fell within the limits of New France and Acadia; while their western provinces of Upper and Lower Louisiana were held to include the entire valley of the Mississippi and its tributaries.

    The original basis of the war which now arose between the French and the English was a dispute as to the ownership of the territory bordering on the Ohio. The first step towards it was a grant from the English government to a company of merchants, called the Ohio Company. The movements of this company towards a settlement of the territory assigned them at once roused the apprehensions of the French that the English were seeking to deprive them of their trade with the western Indians and to sever their line of communication between Canada and Louisiana. They immediately took active measures to secure their claim to this territory.

    As for the aboriginal owners of the land, not the slightest attention was paid to their rights of possession. Two sachems sent a messenger to Mr. Gist, an agent sent out by the Ohio Company, to inquire of him "where the Indians' land lay, for the French claimed all the land on one side of the Ohio River, and the English on the other." This pertinent question forcibly shows the real merits of the case, and that neither of the colonial contestants had the slightest claim in equity to the territory.

    Yet, disregarding all Indian rights, the pioneer settlers of the two nations proceeded to make good their claims. The first act of hostility was committed by the French, in 1753. Three British traders, who had advanced into the disputed territory, were seized by a party of French and Indians and carried prisoners to Presque Isle, on Lake Erie, where the French were then erecting a fort. In reprisal, the Twightwees, a tribe in alliance with the English, seized several French traders, whom they sent to Pennsylvania.

    These evident hostilities between the whites aroused the Indians, ever ready for war and bloodshed. Instigated, as is supposed, by French emissaries, they began inroads upon the borders. The settlers of the Shenandoah Valley, who were suffering from these savage raids, called upon Governor Dinwiddie, of Virginia, for aid. A messenger was sent out to ascertain the temper of the Indians and the intentions of the French. He returned in alarm at the hostility discovered. Orders now arrived from the British ministry to the governor of Virginia, directing him to build two forts near the Ohio, intended to hold in check the Indians and to prevent French encroachments. The orders arrived too late. The French had already taken possession of the territory, and were securing it by the erection of forts.

    Such were the instigating causes of the Seven Years' War in America, a conflict which continued for several years before any declaration of hostilities was made by the mother-countries, and which resulted in a radical change in the relations of the colonists of America.

    THE OPENING OF THE WAR.

    JARED SPARKS.

    [It was deemed desirable, before taking any more active measures, to send a messenger to the commander of the French forces on the Ohio and demand his authority for invading the territory of Virginia, and with what designs he was there. Governor Dinwiddie selected for this important mission George Washington, then but twenty-one years of age, yet already holding a commission of major in the Virginia militia, and a man of note in the colony. In addition to his ostensible mission, he was instructed to learn all he could in regard to the disposition of the Indians, the number of French troops in the country, and what reinforcements were expected, with all possible information as to the location, strength, and garrisons of the French forts. Provided with credentials from the governor, he set out from Williamsburg on October 31, 1753. His journey, which was in great part through a wilderness, mainly mountainous, covered a distance of five hundred and sixty miles. Reaching Will's Creek, beyond Winchester, he induced Mr. Gist, an experienced woodsman, to accompany him as guide. The party that there left the extreme limit of civilization and plunged into the primeval forest consisted of eight persons. The season proved severe, and the mountains difficult to cross, but they at length reached the Ohio at the point of junction of its two affluents. The military advantages of this place were perceived by Major Washington, and he advised the erection of the fortification which was soon begun there, and which was destined to prove famous in the coming war. Twenty miles farther, at Logstown, he called together some of the Indian chiefs, with whom he sought to make an alliance, and whom he asked for an escort. In neither was he fully successful, only four Indians accompanying him. A journey of one hundred and twenty miles farther took him to the station of the French commandant, at a fort situated on French Creek, about fifteen miles south of Lake Erie. The journey had occupied forty-one days. He was received with great politeness by M. de St.-Pierre, the commandant, and delivered his letters, which expressed surprise at the French encroachments, demanded their authority, and urged a speedy and peaceful departure. While the French officers were in consultation, Washington took the opportunity to inspect the fort thoroughly. Finally he received the answer that the French were there by authority and could not retire, and that the message should have been sent to the governor of Canada.

    The return of the party proved a difficult one. They proceeded by canoe to the French post of Venango, at the mouth of French Creek, on the Ohio. Here their horses proved so emaciated as to be fit only to carry the provisions and baggage, and the party determined to proceed on foot. After three days more the horses grew so feeble that Major Washington and Mr. Gist left the rest of the party, and started alone through the woods by a more direct route. They had some exciting adventures, and in crossing the Alleghany, which was full of drifting ice, they narrowly escaped drowning. They managed to escape from their raft to an island, and reached the opposite shore the next morning; but Mr. Gist's hands and feet were frozen by the intense cold, and the night was one of extreme suffering. Washington finally reached Williamsburg on January 16, after an absence of eleven weeks.

    As the intentions of the French were now evident, no time was lost in preparing for energetic action. Efforts to raise a colonial army were at once made, but Virginia had mainly to depend upon herself, the other colonies taking little interest in the matter. At length, in April, 1754, Washington, now colonel, set out with two companies of recruits, and reached Will's Creek on the 20th. The account of the subsequent events we extract from "The Life of George Washington." by Jared Sparks.]

    A PARTY of Captain Trent's men had already gone to the Ohio, and begun to build a fort. Just before Colonel Washington reached Will's Creek, a rumor came from the interior that these men were taken by the French; and two days afterwards the alarming intelligence was confirmed by the ensign of Captain Trent's company. He reported that, while they were at work, forty-one in number, a body of French troops descended the river from Venango, consisting of one thousand men, with eighteen pieces of cannon, sixty bateaux, and three hundred canoes, under the command of Captain Contrecoeur, and summoned them to surrender, threatening to take forcible possession of the fort if this summons were not immediately obeyed. No alternative remained, and, the captain and lieutenant being absent, Ensign Ward acceded to articles of capitulation, and gave up the fort, but was permitted to retire with his men. He came to Will's Creek, and brought the news of the disaster. His statement, however, as to the numbers of the French, their cannon and boats, turned out to be very much exaggerated. This was the first open act of hostility in the memorable war of seven years that followed. The French enlarged and completed the fort, which they called Fort Duquesne, in compliment to the governor of Canada.

    [The position of Colonel Washington was now a somewhat critical one. His small force of ill-disciplined recruits might easily be surrounded and cut off. But he determined to advance, to construct a road as he did so, and, if he could reach the Monongahela, to build a fort at the mouth of Redstone Creek. The progress was a slow one. Great difficulties had to be overcome, and provisions grew scarce. Washington attempted to find a passage by water down the Youghiogheny, but failed, from obstructions in the river. On his return he received word from the Half-King, a friendly sachem, that a party of French were marching towards him, determined to attack the first English they should meet.]

    Not knowing their number, or at what moment they might approach, he hastened to a place called the Great Meadows, cleared away the bushes, threw up an intrenchment, and prepared, as he expressed it, "a charming field for an encounter." He then mounted some of the soldiers on wagon-horses, and sent them out to reconnoitre. They came back without having seen any traces of the enemy; but the camp was alarmed in the night, the sentries fired, and all hands were kept under arms till morning. Mr. Gist came to the camp, also, and reported that a French detachment, consisting of fifty men, had been at his settlement the day before, and that he had observed their tracks within five miles of the Great Meadows.

    The approach of the French with hostile designs was now deemed certain; and the best preparation was made to receive them which circumstances would permit. In the mean time, about nine o'clock at night, another express came from the Half- King, who was then with a party of his warriors about six miles from the camp, stating that he had seen the tracks of two Frenchmen, and that the whole detachment was near that place. Colonel Washington immediately put himself at the head of forty men, leaving the rest to guard the camp, and set off to join the Half-King. The night was dark, the rain fell in torrents, the paths through the woods were narrow and intricate, and the soldiers often lost their way, groping in the bushes, and clambering over rocks and fallen trees.

    The whole night was spent in the march, and they got to the Indian encampment just before sunrise. A council was held with Tanacharison [the Half-King] and his chief warriors, and it was agreed that they should march in concert against the French. Two Indians went out to ascertain the position of the enemy, which was discovered to be in an obscure retreat, surrounded by rocks, half a mile from the road. The plan of attack was then formed. Colonel Washington and his men were to advance on the right, and the Indians on the left. The march was pursued in single file, according to the Indian manner, till they came so near as to be discovered by the French, who instantly seized their arms and put themselves in an attitude of defence.

    At this moment the firing commenced on both sides. A smart skirmish ensued, which was kept up for a quarter of an hour, when the French ceased to resist. M. de Jumonville, the commander of the French party, and ten of his men, were killed. Twenty-two were taken prisoners, one of whom was wounded. A Canadian made his escape during the action. One of Colonel Washington's men was killed, and two or three wounded. No harm happened to the Indians, as the enemy's fire was directed chiefly against the English. This event occurred on the 28th of May. The prisoners were conducted to the Great Meadows, and thence, under a guard, to Governor Dinwiddie.

    [This actior, the opening conflict of arms in the war, acquired a notoriety far beyond its importance. When the news of the event reached Paris it was greatly misrepresented. Jumonville was considered a messenger bearing a civil summons, who had been waylaid and assassinated; and an able French poet, named Thomas, made it the foundation of an epic poem entitled "Jumonville," and his fiction has become to some extent the fact of modern French historians. Jumonville did bear a summons, but it was an order for the English to retire, with a threat of compulsion if they failed to obey. This summons he did not show, but approached the English camp stealthily, and brought on himself, by his imprudence, the fate which he experienced.

    Some reinforcements soon after reached Virginia, consisting of three hundred and fifty men from North Carolina, one hundred from South Carolina, and two companies from New York. Of these only those from South Carolina arrived at Great Meadows.]

    It was foreseen by Colonel Washington that when the French at Fort Duquesne should get the news of Jumonville's defeat a strong detachment would be sent out against him. As a preparation for this event, he set all his men at work to enlarge the intrenchment at the Great Meadows, and to erect palisades. To the structure thus hastily thrown up he gave the name of Fort Necessity.

    The Indians, who leaned to the English interest, fled before the French and flocked to the camp, bringing along their wives and children and putting them under his protection. Among them came Tanacharison and his people, Queen Aliquippa and her son, and other persons of distinction, till between forty and fifty families gathered around him and laid his magazine of supplies under a heavy contribution. It may be said, once for all, that the burden of supporting these sons of the forest during this campaign, and the perplexities of managing them, were by no means counterbalanced by any advantage derived from their aid. As spies and scouts they were of some service; in the field they did nothing.

    The forces at the Great Meadows, including Captain Mackay's [South Carolina] company, had now increased to about four hundred men. But a new difficulty arose, which threatened disagreeable consequences. Captain Mackay had a royal commission, which in his opinion put him above the authority of Colonel Washington, who was a colonial officer, commissioned by the governor of Virginia. He was a man of mild and gentlemanly manners, and no personal difference interrupted the harmony between them; but still he declined receiving the orders of the colonel, and his company occupied a separate encampment. .

    To avoid altercation, and prevent the contagious example of disobedience from infecting the troops, Colonel Washington resolved to advance with a large part of his army, and, if not obstructed by the enemy, to go on by the shortest route to the Monongahela River. Captain Mackay's company was left at Fort Necessity, as a guard to that post. The road was to be cleared and levelled for artillery- carriages; and the process was so laborious that it took two weeks to effect a passage through the gorge of the mountains to Gist's settlement, a distance of only thirteen miles . . Due vigilance was practised, and scouts were kept abroad, even as far as the neighborhood of Fort Duquesne, so that the first motions of the enemy might be detected.

    [It was soon discovered that Fort Duquesne had been reinforced from Canada, and that a force was preparing to march against the English. It was at first decided to make a stand at Gist's settlement, and Mackay's company was ordered up. But another council decided that the enemy's force was too large, and that a retreat was necessary. It was achieved with great difficulty and exertion, the horses being few and weak, and the burden of labor falling on the men.]

    In two days they all got back to the Great Meadows. It was not the intention at first to halt at this place, but the men had become so much fatigued from great labor and a deficiency of provisions that they could draw the swivels no farther, nor carry the baggage on their backs. They had been eight days without bread, and at the Great Meadows they found only a few bags of flour. .

    Colonel Washington set his men to felling trees, and carrying logs to the fort, with a view to raise a breastwork and enlarge and strengthen the fortification in the best manner that circumstances would permit. The space of ground called the Great Meadows is a level bottom, through which passes a small creek, and is surrounded by hills of a moderate and gradual ascent. This bottom, or glade, is entirely level, covered with long grass and bushes, and varies in width. At the point where the fort stood, it is about two hundred and fifty yards wide, from the base of one hill to that of the opposite. The position of the fort was well chosen, being about one hundred yards from the upland, or wooded ground, on the one side, and one hundred and fifty on the other, and so situated on the margin of the creek as to afford an easy access to water. .

    On the 3d of July, early in the morning, an alarm was received from a sentinel, who had been wounded by the enemy; and at nine o'clock intelligence came that the whole body of the enemy, amounting, as was reported, to nine hundred men, was only four miles off. At eleven o'clock they approached the fort, and began to fire, at the distance of six hundred yards, but without effect. Colonel Washington had drawn up his men on the open and level ground outside of the trenches, waiting for the attack, which he presumed would be made as soon as the enemy's forces emerged from the woods; and he ordered his men to reserve their fire till they should be near enough to do execution. . He maintained his post till he found the French did not incline to leave the woods and attack the fort by an assault, as he supposed they would, considering their superiority of numbers. He then drew his men back within the trenches, and gave them orders to fire according to their discretion, as suitable opportunities might present themselves. The French and Indians remained on the side of the rising ground which was nearest to the fort, and, sheltered by the trees, kept up a brisk fire of musketry, but never appeared in the open plain below. The rain fell heavily through the day, the trenches were filled with water, and many of the arms of Colonel Washington's men were out of order and used with difficulty.

    In this way the battle continued from eleven in the morning till eight at night, when the French called and requested a parley. Suspecting this to be a feint to procure the admission of an officer into the fort, that he might discover their condition, Colonel Washington at first declined to listen to the proposal.

    [He afterwards agreed to it, and, articles of capitulation being proposed by the French commander, they were accepted and signed by both parties.]

    By the terms of the capitulation, the whole garrison was to retire, and return without molestation to the inhabited parts of the country; and the French commander promised that no embarrassment should be interposed, either by his won men or the savages. The English were to take away everything in their possession, except their artillery, and to march out of the fort the next morning with the honors of war, their drums beating and colors flying. As the French had killed all the horses and cattle, Colonel Washington had no means of transporting his heavy baggage and stores; and it was conceded to him that his men might conceal their effects, and that a guard might be left to protect them, till horses could be sent up to take them away. Colonel Washington agreed to restore the prisoners who had been taken at the skirmish with Jumonville; and, as a surety for this article, two hostages, Captain Vanbraam and Captain Stobo, were delivered up to the French, and were to be retained till the prisoners should return. It was, moreover, agreed that the party capitulating should not attempt to build any more establishments at that place, or beyond the mountains, for the space of a year.

    Early the next morning Colonel Washington began to march from the fort in good order, but he had proceeded only a short distance when a body of one hundred Indians, being a reinforcement to the French, came upon him, and could hardly be restrained from attacking his men. They pilfered the baggage, and did other mischief. He marched forward, however, with as much speed as possible in the weakened and encumbered condition of his army, there being no other mode of conveying the wounded men and the baggage than on the soliders' backs. As the provisions were nearly exhausted, no time was to be lost; and, leaving much of the baggage behind, he hastened to Will's Creek, where all the necessary supplies were in store. Thence Colonel Washington and Captain Mackay proceeded to Williamsburg, and communicated in person to Governor Dinwiddie the events of the campaign.

    [The narration here given is of especial importance, as recording the first military event in the life of George Washington, who was afterwards to become so famous in the annals of war. Although but a youth, unskilled in war, he had shown remarkable prudence, courage, and ability. His conduct, as well as that of his troops, was highly approved by the authorities, and the House of Burgesses passed a vote of thanks to Colonel Washington and his officers "for their bravery and gallant defence of their country."]

    BRADDOCK'S DEFEAT.

    JOHN FROST.

    [As it was now becoming apparent that war with France was inevitable, and as the continued advances of the French upon what was claimed by the English colonists as their territory demonstrated the necessity of co-operation in the colonies, the English government recommended that a convention should be held at Albany, for the double purpose of forming a league with the Iroquois and of devising a plan of general defence against the common enemy. The delegates from the colonies met in June, 1754, made a treaty of peace with the Six Nations, and considered the subject of colonial union. Among the delegates was Benjamin Franklin, of Philadelphia, who, starting in life as a printer's boy, was now postmaster-general of America, and was looked upon by many as the ablest of American thinkers. He proposed a plan of union, which the convention adopted on July 4. There was to be a general government of the colonies, presided over by a governor-general appointed by the crown, and conducted by a council chosen by the colonial legislatures. The council was to have the power to raise troops, declare war, make peace, collect money, and pass all measures necessary for the public safety. The governor-general was to have the power to veto its ordinances, while all laws were required to be ratified by the king. This plan was favored by all the delegates except those of Connecticut, who objected to the veto power of the governor-general and to the authority to lay general taxes. But when submitted to the colonial Assemblies and to the British government it was rejected by both, the colonies considering that it gave too much power to the king, and the king that it gave too much power to the people. As this plan had failed, the British ministry determined to take the control of the war into their own hands, and to send out an army strong enough to force the French to keep within their own territory. The story of the ensuring events we select from Frost's "Life of General Washington."]

    IN January, 1755, General Braddock was despatched from Ireland, with two regiments of infantry, to co-operate with the Virginian forces in recovering the command of the Ohio. The arrival of Braddock excited enthusiastic hopes among the colonists. The different provinces seemed to forget their disputes with each other and with Great Britain, and to enter into a resolution to chastise the French, at whatever cost. At the request of the British commander, a meeting of the governors of five of the colonies was held at Alexandria, at which they determined to undertake three simultaneous expeditions. The first of these was to be conducted by Braddock, with the British troops, against Fort Duquesne; the second, under the command of Governor Shirley, now honored with the commission of a general from the king, was intended for the reduction of the French fort of Niagara, and was composed of American regulars and Indians; the third was an expedition against Crown Point, to be undertaken by a regiment of militia.

    [The orders brought by Braddock divested the colonial generals and field- officers of all rank while serving with British officers of the same grade, and made company officers subordinate to those of the regular army. This left Washington without rank in the new army; yet he was eager to take part in the expedition, and at Braddock's request he joined him with the rank of aide-de- camp. The army proceeded by way of Frederic Town and Winchester to Will's Creek, which was reached about the middle of May. Here a long halt was made, to obtain wagons and horses, though Washington strongly opposed the delay, and recommended an immediate advance, before the French could reinforce their posts on the Ohio. Finally the wagons were obtained, through the strenous exertions of Benjamin Franklin and his personal influence with the farmers of Pennsylvania. On the 10th of June the army recommenced its march. As it proceeded very slowly, Washington advised a rapid advance of a portion of the troops, leaving the rear division, with the baggage, heavy artillery, etc, to follow more slowly.]

    This advice prevailed in the council, and, being approved by the general, he advanced on the 19th of June, with twelve hundred chosen men, and officers from all the different corps, leaving the remainder, with most of the wagons, under the command of Colonel Dunbar, with instructions to follow as fast as he could. Notwithstanding this arrangement, Braddock advanced very slowly, "halting to level every mole-hill and to erect bridges over every brook, by which means he was four days in advancing twelve miles."

    [Washington was now prostrated with a severe fever, and was obliged to remain with the rear division. He rejoined the general on the day before the battle, and was then able to sit on horseback, though still very weak.]

    On joining Braddock's division on the 8th, at the mouth of the Youghiogheny, Washington was surprised to find them, though within fifteen miles of the fort, marching in regular European order, in as perfect security as if they were on the wide plains of the Eastern Hemisphere, or in a peaceful review, on a field- day, in England. They marched without advanced guards or scouts; and the offer of Washington to scour the woods, in front and on the flanks, with his Virginian provincials, was haughtily rejected.

    A considerable bend in the Monongahela River, and the nature of the banks, made it necessary for the army to cross it twice before they reached the fort. On the morning of the 9th of July, everything being in readiness, the whole train crossed the river in perfect order, a short distance below the mouth of the Youghiogheny, and took up their line of march along its southern bank, in high spirits. The garrison of the fort was understood to be small, and quite inadequate to resist the force now brought to bear upon it; exulting hope filled every heart; and no one doubted that he should see the British flag waving, next day, over the battlements, and the enemy obliged to retire to Canada or surrender themselves prisoners of war. The march on that morning is described as a splendid spectacle, being made in full military array, in exact order, the sun glancing from the burnished bayonets to the scarlet uniform of the regulars, with a majestic river on the right, and dark, deep woods on the left. Not an enemy appeared, and the most profound silence reigned over this wild territory. The only countenance among them which was clouded with care or concern was that of Washington, who, as he rode beside the general, vainly represented that the profound silence and apparent solitude of the gloomy scenes around them afforded no security in American warfare against deadly and imminent danger. Again, and still vainly, did he offer to scour the woods in front and on the left with the provincial troops. The general treated his fears as the effects of fever on his brain, and the provincials were ordered to form the rearguard of the detachment.

    About noon they reached the second crossing-place, within ten miles of Fort Duquesne, and at one o'clock had all crossed the river in safety. Three hundred men under Colonel Gage formed the advance party, which was closely followed by a party of two hundred; and last of all followed the general with the main body, consisting of about seven hundred men, the artillery and baggage.

    After crossing the river, the road along which they marched led for about half a mile through a low plain, and then commenced a gradual ascent of about three degrees, the prospect being shut in by hills in the distance. About a hundred and fifty yards from the bottom of this inclined plain, and about equidistant from the road leading to the fort, commenced two ravines, from eight to ten feet deep, which led off in different directions until they terminated in the plain below. Covered as these ravines were with trees and long grass, and the British having no scouts, it was impossible for them to discover their existence without approaching within a few feet of them. Up this inclined plain, between these ravines, General Braddock led his army on the afternoon of the 9th of July.

    While the English were thus leisurely advancing, the scouts of the French kept the commandant at Fort Duquesne accurately informed of their motions and their numbers. Believing the small force under his command wholly inadequate to the defence of the fort against three thousand men, with a formidable park of artillery, as his scouts had represented them, he was hesitating what course to pursue, when Captain de Beaujeu offered to lead a small party of French and Indians to meet the enemy and harass his march. It required a great deal of persuasion to induce the Indians to engage in what they considered an impossible undertaking; but, possessing their confidence, he finally subdued their unwillingness, and induced about six hundred of them to accompany him. With these and about two hundred and fifty French and Canadians, he intended to occupy the banks of the Monongahela and harass the English as they crossed the river. It was only on the morning of the 9th that he was ready to start on this expedition, and when he arrived near the river his spies reported that Braddock had already crossed. Finding that he was too late to pursue his original plan, de Beaujeu placed his followers in the ravines before mentioned, between which the English were seen advancing along the road.

    When the three hundred under Gage came near the head of the ravines, a heavy discharge of musketry was poured in upon their front, and immediately after another upon their left flank. This was the first notice which they had of the presence of an enemy. Braddock was completely surprised. Gage ordered his men to fire, and though no enemy was visible, yet they poured such a discharge upon the spot where the smoke of the first fire was still to be seen, that the Indians, believing that it proceeded from artillery, were upon the point of retreating. Their indecision was but for an instant, for the advance, falling back upon the main body, threw them into confusion; and instead of following the example of the Indians and taking to the trees, or opening upon their invisible foe a discharge of grape, they were ordered by Braddock to maintain their ranks and advance. Captain de Beaujeu was killed by the first discharge of Gage's men, and Captain Dumas, who succeeded him in the command, immediately rallied the Indians, and, sending them down the ravines, ordered them to attack the enemy on each flank, while he, with the French and Canadians, maintained his position in front. Then commenced a terrible carnage. The British, panic-struck and bewildered, huddled together in squads, heeded not the commands of their officers, who were riding about madly urging them to advance, but they only fled from one side of the field to be met by the fire of an invisible foe on the other side; and then they would gather in small parties as if they hoped to shield themselves behind the bodies of their friends, firing without aim, oftener shooting down their own officers and men than Indians. Their only hope would now have been to separate, rush behind the trees, and fight man to man with their assailants; but Braddock insisted on forming them into platoons and columns, in order to make regular discharges, which struck only the trees or tore up the ground in front. The Virginians alone seemed to retain their senses. Notwithstanding the prohibition of the general, they no sooner knew the enemy with whom they had to deal, than they adopted the Indian mode of fighting, and each for himself, behind a tree, manifested bravery worthy of a better fate.

    Meanwhile the French and Indians, secure behind their natural breastworks, aimed deliberately first at the officers on horseback, and then at others, each shot bringing down a man. The leaders, selected by unerring aim, fell first. Captains Orme and Morris, two of the three aides-de-camp, were wounded early in the action, and Washington was the only person left to distribute the general's orders, which he was scarcely able to do, as he was not more than half recovered from his illness. Notwithstanding the neglect with which his warnings had been treated, he still aided the general with his mental as well as his physical powers; though the troops lay thick around him in slaughtered heaps, he still gave the aid of salutary counsel to his ill-fated chief, and urged it with all the grace of eloquence and all the force of conviction. Riding in every direction, his manly form drew the attention of the savages, and they doomed him to destruction. The murdering rifles were levelled, the quick bullets flew winged with death, and pierced his garments; but, obedient to the Sovereign will, they dared not shed his blood. One chieftain especially singled Washington out as a conspicuous mark, fired his rifle at him many times, and ordered his young warriors to do the same, until they became convinced that he was under the special protection of the Great Spirit, and would never die in battle, when they desisted. Although four balls passed through Washington's coat, and two horses were shot under him, he escaped unhurt.

    Washington's conduct in the action is described by an eye-witness whose verbal account is thus given by Mr. Paulding: "I saw him take hold of a brass field- piece as if it had been a stick. He looked like a fury; he tore the sheet-lead from the touch-hole; he placed one hand on the muzzle, the other on the breach; he pulled with this, and he pushed with that, and wheeled it around as if it had been nothing. It tore the ground like a barshare. The powder-monkey rushed up with the fire, and then the cannon began to bark, I tell you. They fought and they fought, and the Indians began to holla, when the rest of the brass cannon made the bark of the tress fly, and the Indians come down. That place they call Rock Hill, and there they left five hundred men dead on the ground."

    After the slaughter had thus continued for three hours, General Braddock, after having three horses killed under him, received a shot through the right arm and the lungs, and was borne from the field by Colonel Gage. More than one-half of the soliders who had so proudly crossed the river three hours before were now killed or wounded, and the rest, on the fall of the general, fled precipitately. The provincials, who were among the last to leave the ground, were kept in order by Washington, and served to cover the retreat of the regulars. The officers in general remained on the field while there seemed any hope of rallying their troops, and consequently, out of eighty-six engaged, sixty-three were killed or wounded. Of the privates, seven hundred and fourteen fell. The rout was complete, and the more disgraceful in that it was before an inferior enemy, who attacked without the least hope of such success, and during the whole battle lost but forty men. Most of these were Indians killed in venturing out of the ravine to take scalps.

    Captain Dumas thought his force too weak to pursue the fugitives, who fled precipitately until they had recrossed the Monongahela, when, being no longer in imminent danger, they again formed. Colonel Washington hastened forward to bring up wagons and other conveyances for the wounded.

    General Braddock, under the particular charge of Captain Stewart of the Virginia forces, was at first conveyed in a tumbril; afterwards he was placed on horseback, but being unable to ride, he was obliged to be carried by soldiers. In this way he was transported until the night of the 13th, when they arrived within a mile of Fort Necessity, where he died, and was buried in his cloak, in the road, to elude the search of the Indians, Washington, by the light of a torch, read the funeral service over his remains.

    The news of the defeat soon reached the rear division under Colonel Dunbar. The greatest confusion for a time reigned in his camp. The artillery stores were destroyed, the heavy baggage burned, and as soon as the fugitives arrived he took up the line of march with all speed for Philadelphia. Colonel Washington proceeded to Mount Vernon, Justly indignant at the conduct of the regulars in the late engagement, though his own bravery and good conduct in the action gained him the applause of all his countrymen.

    THE BATTLE AT LAKE GEORGE.

    FRANCIS PARKMAN.

    [Of the three principal operations laid out for the year 1755, that against Fort Duquesne ended, as we have seen, in a disastrous defeat for the English. The news of this defeat put an end to the expedition against Fort Niagara, through the discouragement which it produced. The third expedition, that against Crown Point, was more successful, and led to an engagement of such importance as to merit a special description. The forces selected for this purpose were militia- men from New England and New York, under the command of a prominent New-Yorker named William Johnson, a man of great influence with the Five Nations. All his influence and endeavors, however, only induced about three hundred of them to enlist for the expected battle. From Parkman's spirited history, entitled "Montcalm and Wolfe," we select an account of the events of this campaign.]

    WHILE the British colonists were preparing to attack Crown Point, the French of Canada were preparing to defend it. Duquesne, recalled from his post, had resigned the government to the Marquis de Vaudreuil, who had at his disposal the battalions of regulars that had sailed in the spring from Brest under Baron Dieskau. His first thought was to use them for the capture of Oswego; but the letters of Braddock, found on the battle-field, warned him of the design against Crown Point, while a reconnoitring party which had gone as far as the Hudson brought back news that Johnson's forces were already in the field. Therefore the plan was changed, and Dieskau was ordered to lead the main body of his troops, not to Lake Ontario, but to Lake Champlain. He passed up the Richelieu, and embarked in boats and canoes for Crown Point. The veteran knew that the foes with whom he had to deal were but a mob of countrymen. He doubted not of putting them to rout, and meant never to hold his hand till he had chased them back to Albany. "Make all haste," Vaudreuil wrote to him; " for when you return we shall send you to Oswego to execute our first design."

    Johnson, on his part, was preparing to advance. In July about three thousand provincials were encamped near Albany, some on the "Flats" above the town, and some on the meadows below. Hither, too, came a swarm of Johnson's Mohawks,- warriors, squaws, and children. They adorned the general's face with war-paint, and he danced the war-dance; then with his sword he cut the first slice from the ox that had been roasted whole for their entertainment. "I shall be glad," wrote the surgeon of a New England regiment, "if they fight as eagerly as they ate their ox and drank their wine."

    [Though promptness was of great importance, there was much delay in bringing the troops together. The army, though crude in its makeup, had in it much good material. Among the men were two who were destined to make their names well known in American history,-I srael Putnam, a private in a Connecticut regiment, and John Stark, a New Hampshire lieutenant, the future hero of Bennington.]

    The soldiers were no soldiers, but farmers and farmers' sons who had volunteered for the summer campaign. One of the corps had a blue uniform faced with red. The rest wore their daily clothing. Blankets had been served out to them by the several provinces, but the greater part brought their own guns; some under the penalty of a fine if they came without them, and some under the inducement of a reward. They had no bayonets, but carried hatchets in their belts as a sort of substitute. At their sides were slung powder-horns, on which, in the leisure of the camp, they carved quaint devices with the points of their jack-knives. They came chiefly from plain New England homesteads,-rustic abodes, unpainted and dingy, with long well-sweeps, capacious barns, rough fields of pumpkins and corn, and vast kitchen-chimneys, above which in winter hung squashes to keep them from frost, and guns to keep them from rust.

    [Mohawk scouts who had been sent to Canada returned with the report that eight thousand men were marching to defend Crown Point. Indecision followed, but it was finally resolved to march to Lake George.]

    The train of Dutch wagons, guarded by the homely soldiery, jolted slowly over the stumps and roots of the newly-made road, and the regiments followed at their leisure. The hardships of the way were not without their consolations. The jovial Irishman who held the chief command made himself very agreeable to the New England officers. "We went on about four or five miles," says Pomeroy in his Journal, "then stopped, ate pieces of broken bread and cheese, and drank some fresh lemon-punch and the best of wine with General Johnson and some of the field-officers." It was the same on the next day. "Stopped about noon and dined with General Johnson by a small broke under a tree; ate a good dinner of cold boiled and roast venison; drank good fresh lemon-punch and wine."

    That afternoon they reached their destination, fourteen miles from Fort Lyman. The most beautiful lake in America lay before them; then more beautiful than now, in the wild charm of untrodden mountains and virgin forests. "I have given it the name of Lake George," wrote Johnson to the Lords of Trade, "not only in honor of His Majesty, but to ascertain his undoubted dominion here." His men made their camp on a piece of rough ground by the edge of the water, pitching their tents among the stumps of the newly-felled trees. In their front was a forest of pitch-pine; on their right, a marsh, choked with alders and swamp- maples; on their left, the low hill where Fort George was afterwards built; and at their rear, the lake. Little was done to clear the forest in front, though it would give excellent cover to an enemy. Nor did Johnson take much pains to learn the movements of the French in the direction of Crown Point, though he sent scouts towards South Bay and Wood Creek. Every day stores and bateaux, or flat- boats, came on wagons from Fort Lyman; and preparation moved on with the leisure that had marked it from the first. About three hundred Mohawks came to the camp, and were regarded by the New England men as nuisances..

    While Johnson lay at Lake George, Dieskau prepared a surprise for him. The German baron had reached Crown Point at the head of three thousand five hundred and seventy-three men, regulars, Canadians, and Indians. He had no thought of waiting there to be attacked. The troops were told to hold themselves ready to move at a moment's notice. Officers—so ran the order—will take nothing with them but one spare shirt, one spare pair of shoes, a blanket, a bearskin, and provisions for twelve days; Indians are not to amuse themselves by taking scalps till the enemy is entirely defeated, since they can kill ten men in the time required to scalp one. Then Dieskau moved on, with nearly all his force, to Carillon, or Ticonderoga, a promontory commanding both the routes by which alone Johnson could advance, that of Wood Creek and that of Lake George.

    The Indian allies were commanded by Legardeur de Saint-Pierre, the officer who had received Washington on his embassy to Fort Le Boeuf. These unmanageable warriors were a constant annoyance to Dieskau, being a species of humanity quite new to him. "They drive us crazy," he says, "from morning till night. There is no end to their demands. They have already eaten five oxen and as many hogs, without counting the kegs of brandy they have drunk. In short, one needs the patience of an angle to get on with these devils; and yet one must always force himself to seem pleased with them."

    [Dieskau, being falsely informed by a prisoner that Fort Lyman was indefensible, resolved on a rapid movement to seize it. He passed down Lake Champlain to the site of Whitehall, by canoe, and then took up the line of march through the forest. Word came in now that there was a large force encamped on Lake George, and the Indians decided that they would not attack the fort, but were ready to proceed against the camp. This movement was determined on.]

    They moved rapidly on through the waste of pines, and soon entered the rugged valley that led to Johnson's camp. On their right was a gorge where, shadowed in bushes, gurgled a gloomy brook; and beyond rose the cliffs that buttressed the rocky heights of French Mountain, seen by glimpses between the boughs. On their left rose gradually the lower slopes of West Mountain. All was rock, thicket, and forest; there was no open space but the road along which the regulars marched, while the Canadians and Indians pushed their way through the woods in such order as the broken ground would permit.

    They were three miles from the lake, when their scouts brought in a prisoner who told them that a column of English troops was approaching. Dieskau's preparations were quickly made. While the regulars halted on the road, the Canadians and Indians moved to the front, where most of them hid in the forest along the slopes of West Mountain, and the rest lay close among the thickets on the other side. Thus, when the English advanced to attack the regulars in front, they would find themselves caught in a double ambush. No sight or sound betrayed the snare; but behind every bush crouched a Canadian or a savage, with gun cocked and ears intent, listening for the tramp of the approaching column.

    The wagoners who escaped the evening before had reached the camp about midnight, and reported that there was a war-party on the road near Fort Lyman. Johnson had at this time twenty-two hundred effective men, besides his three hundred Indians. He called a council of war in the morning, and a resolution was taken which can only be explained by a complete misconception as to the forces of the French. It was determined to send out two detachments of five hundred men each, one towards Fort Lyman, and the other towards South Bay, the object being, according to Johnson, "to catch the enemy in their retreat." Hendrick, chief of the Mohawks, a brave and sagacious warrior, expressed his dissent after a fashion of his own. He picked up a stick and broke it; then he picked up several sticks, and showed that together they could not be broken. The hint was taken, and the two detachments were joined in one. Still the old savage shook his head. "If they are to be killed," he said, "they are too many,; if they are to fight, they are too few." Nevertheless, he resolved to share their fortunes; and, mounting on a gun-carriage, he harangued his warriors with a voice so animated and gestures so expressive that the New England officers listened in admiration, though they understood not a word. One difficulty remained. He was too old and fat to go afoot; but Johnson lent him a horse, which he bestorde, and trotted to the head of the column, followed by two hundred of his warriors as fast as they could grease, paint, and befeather themselves..

    It was soon after eight o'clock when Ephraim Williams left the camp with his regiment, marched a little distance, and then waited for the rest of the detachment under Lieutenant-Colonel Whiting. Thus Dieskau had full time to lay his ambush. When Whiting came up, the whole moved on together, so little conscious of danger that no scouts were thrown out in front or flank; and, in full security, they entered the fatal snare. Before they were completely involved in it, the sharp eye of old Hendrick detected some sign of an enemy. At that instant, whether by accident or design, a gun was fired from the bushes. It is said that Dieskau's Iroquois, seeing Mohawks, their relatives, in the van, wished to warn them of danger. If so, the warning came too late. The thickets on the left blazed out a deadly fire, and the men fell by scores. In the words of Dieskau, the head of the column "was doubled up like a pack of cards." Hendrick's horse was shot down, and the chief was killed with a bayonet as he tried to rise. Williams, seeing a rising ground on his right, made for it, calling on his men to follow; but as he climbed the slope, guns flashed from the bushes, and a shot through the brain laid him dead. The men in the rear pressed forward to support their comrades, when a hot fire was suddenly opened on them from the forest along their right flank. Then there was a panic; some fled outright, and the whole column recoiled. The van now became the rear, and all the force of the enemy rushed upon it, shouting and screeching. There was a moment of total confusion; but a part of Williams's regiment rallied under command of Whiting, and covered the retreat, fighting behind trees like Indians, and firing and falling back by turns, bravely aided by some of the Mohawks and by a detachment which Johnson sent to their aid. "And a very handsome retreat they made," writes Pomeroy; "and so continued till they came within about three- quarters of a mile of our camp. This was the last fire our men gave our enemies, which killed great numbers of them; they were seen to drop as pigeons." So ended the fray long known in New England fireside story as the "bloody morning scout." Dieskau now ordered a halt, and sounded his trumpets to collect his scattered men. His Indians, however, were sullen and unmanageale, and the Canadians also showed signs of wavering. The veteran who commanded them all, Legardeur de Saint-Pierre, had been killed. At length they were persuaded to move again, the regulars leading the way.

    About an hour after Williams and his men had begun their march, a distant rattle of musketry was heard at the camp; and as it grew nearer and louder, the listeners knew that their comrades were on the retreat. Then, at the eleventh hour, preparations were begun for defence. A sort of barricade was made along the front of the camp, partly of wagons, and partly of inverted bateaux, but chiefly of the trunks of trees hastily hewn down in the neighboring forest and laid end to end in a single row. The line extended from the southern slopes of the hill on the left across a tract of rough ground to the marshes on the right. The forest, choked with bushes and clumps of rank ferns, was within a few yards of the barricade, and there was scarcely time to hack away the intervening thickets. Three cannon were planted to sweep the road that descended through the pines, and another was dragged up to the ridge of the hill. The defeated party began to come in: first, scared fugitives, both white and red; then, gangs of men bringing the wounded; and at last, an hour and a half after the first fire was heard, the main detachment was seen marching in compact bodies down the road.

    Five hundred men were detailed to guard the flanks of the camp. The rest stood behind the wagons or lay flat behind the logs and inverted bateaux, the Massachusetts men on the right, and the Connecticut men on the left. Besides Indians, this actual fighting force was between sixteen and seventeen hundred rustics, very few of whom had been udner fire before that morning. They were hardly at their posts when they saw ranks of white-coated soldiers moving down the road, and bayonets that to them seemed innumerable glittering between the bougs. At the same time a terrific burst of war-whoops rose along the front; and, in the words of Pomeroy, "the Canadians and Indians, helter-skelter, the woods full of them, came running with undaunted courage right down the hill upon us, expecting to make us flee." Some of the men grew uneasy; while the chief officers, sword in hand, threatened instant death to any who should stir from their posts. If Dieskau had made an assault at that instant, there could be little doubt of the result.

    This he well knew; but he was powerless. He had his small force of regulars well in hand; but the rest, red and white, were beyond control, scattering through the woods and swamps, shouting, yelling, and firing from behind trees. The regulars advanced with intrepidity towards the camp where the trees were thin, deployed, and fired by platoons, till Captain Eyre, who commanded the artillery, opened on them with grape, broke their ranks, and compelled them to take to cover. The fusillade was now general on both sides, and soon grew furious. "Perhaps," Seth Pomeroy wrote to his wife, two days after, "the hailstones from heaven were never much thicker than their bullets came; but, blessed be God! that did not in the least daunt or disturb us." Johnson received a flesh-wound in the thigh, and spent the rest of the day in his tent. Lyman took command; and it is a marvel that he escaped alive, for he was four hours in the heat of the fire, directing and animating the men. "It was the most awful day my eyes ever beheld," wrote Surgeon Williams to his wife; "there seemed to be nothing but thunder and lightning and perpetual pillars of smoke.".

    Dieskau had directed his first attack against the left and centre of Johnson's position. Making no impression here, he tried to force the right, where lay the regiments of Titcomb, Ruggles, and Williams. The fire was hot for about an hour. Titcomb was shot dead, a rod in front of the barricade, firing from behind a tree like a common soldier. At length Dieskau, exposing himself within short range of the English line, was hit in the leg. His adjutant, Montreuil, himself wounded, came to his aid, and was washing the injured limb with brandy, when the unfortunate commander was hit again in the knee and thigh. He seated himself behind a tree, while the adjutant called two Canadians to carry him to the rear. One of them was instantly shot down. Montreuil took his place; but Dieskau refused to be moved, bitterly denounced the Canadians and Indians, and ordered the adjutant to leave him and lead the regulars in a last effort against the camp.

    It was to late. Johnson's men, singly or in small squads, were already crossing their row of logs; and in a few moments the whole dashed forward with a shout, falling upon the enemy with hatchets and the butts of their guns. The French and their allies fled. The wounded general still sat helpless by the tree, when he saw a soldier aiming at him. He signed to the man not to fire; but he pulled trigger, shot him across the hips, leaped upon him, and ordered him in French to surrender. " I said," writes Dieskau, " ' You rascal, why did you fire? You see a man lying in his blood on the ground, and you shoot him!' He answered, 'How did I know that you had not got a pistol? I had rather kill the devil than have the devil kill me.' 'You are a Frenchman?' I asked. 'Yes,' he replied; 'it is more than ten years since I left Canada; ' whereupon several others fell on me and stripped me. I told them to carry me to their general, which they did. On learning who I was, he sent for surgeons, and, though wounded himself, refused all assistance till my wounds were dressed."

    It was near five o'clock when the final rout took place. Some time before, several hundred of the Canadians and Indians had left the field and returned to the scene of the morning fight, to plunder and scalp the dead. They were resting themselves near a pool in the forest, close beside the road, when their repose was interrupted by a volley of bullets. It was fired by a scouting party from Fort Lyman, chiefly backwoodsmen, under Captains Folsom and McGinnis. The assailants were greatly out-numbered; but after a hard fight the Canadians and Indians broke and fled. McGinnis was mortally wounded. He continued to give orders till the firing was over, then fainted, and was carried, dying, to the camp. The bodies of the slain, according to tradition, were thrown into the pool, which bears to this day the name of Bloody Pond.

    [Johnson had great difficulty in preserving the life of Dieskau, the Mohawks, who were furious at the death of Hendrick, making several efforts to kill him. The wounded baron, however, survived to reach England, where he recovered sufficiently to live for several years, though wretchedly shattered by his wounds.

    The success attained by Johnson was not improved. He failed to follow the flying foe, on the excuse that his men were tired. Yet five hundred of them had stood still all day, and there were boats enough to transport them to where Dieskau had left his canoes and provisions, ten miles down the lake. Nor did he send out scouts to Ticonderoga till a week afterwards. On the contrary, he intrenched himself against a possible assault, and let two weeks pass away, by the end of which time the enemy was intrenched at Ti-conderoga in force enough to defy him. Thus the expedition against Crown Point, though attended with such an incidental success, proved a failure. Johnson remained a month longer at the lake, when he sent his army home. With the art of the courtier, he changed the name of Fort Lyman to Fort Edward after one of the king's grandsons, and called his new fort at Lake George William Henry, after another. As a result of his victory and his policy he received five thousand pounds from Parliament and was made a baronet by the king.]

    THE EXPULSION OF THE ACADIANS.

    JAMES HANNAY.

    [The year of the conflicts last described was marked by another event of great importance, and one which has aroused more feeling than any other circumstance of the war. This was the removal of the French settlers from Acadia, and their dispersion through the English settlements. This event has been treated mainly from the stand-point of sentiment, the cruelty of the deportation strongly dwelt on, and the action of the English regarded as indefensible. A calmer and fuller review of the circumstances gives a new face to the situation, and shows that the English action, though it proved of little utility, had much warrant in the circumstances of the case. We extract an account of this deportation from Hannay's valuable "History of Acadia."

    It was preceded by certain military events which need to be outlined. About the last of May, 1755, Colonel Monckton sailed from Boston, with three thousand troops, with the design of reducing the French settlements on the Bay of Fundy, which were considered as encroachments on the English province of Nova Scotia. This province, the Acadia of a former period, had been taken by the English in 1710, and was ceded to the English government by the treaty of Utrecht in 1713. The French, however, had steadily encroached upon the peninsula, and had strengthened themselves by forts on its New Brunswick border, from which a hostile influence disseminated itself through the French population of the peninsula. Monckton's expedition was successful in reducing these forts. A block-house on Chignecto Bay was first carried by assault, and then Fort Beausejour, a strong post on the neck of the peninsula, was invested, and taken after a four days' siege. Fort Gaspereau, on Green Bay, was next captured, after which the French abandoned their post on the St. John's River. As the hostility of the Acadians to British rule continued unabated, and as their presence endangered the security of the province, it was resolved to remove them and endeavor to replace them by settlers loyal to the British government. The circumstances of this removal we append in the words of Mr. Hannay.]

    THE English, after a possession of Acadia which lasted nearly forty years, had not succeeded in founding a single English settlement or adding to the English- speaking population of the province. The French Acadians, on the other hand, had gone on increasing and spreading themselves over the land. They were strong and formidable, not only by reason of their number, but because of their knowledge of wood-craft, of the management of canoes, and of many other accomplishments which are essential to those who would live in a forest country, and which were almost indispensable qualifications for soldiers in such a land as Acadia. All that the English had to show for their thirty-nine years' occupation of the country were the fortifications of Annapolis and a ruined fishing-station at Canso. All the substantial gains of that time belonged to France, for the Acadians were nearly three times as numerous as when Port Royal fell, and they were quite as devoted to the interests of France as their fathers had been. Acadia in 1749 was as much a French colony as it had been forty years before. The only difference was that the English were at the expense of maintaining a garrison instead of the French, and that they sometimes issued orders to the inhabitants, which the latter very seldom chose to obey.

    [Of the various schemes to give Acadia an English population all proved failures, except that of 1749, in which a large colony was established at a point hitherto unoccupied, where a town rapidly arose from which has sprung the present city of Halifax. The Acadians, however, steadily refused to take the oath of allegiance to Great Britain, and, while professing to be neutral between the English and the French, secretly abetted the latter. Three hundred of them were found in Fort Beausejour when captured, and their hostility to the English was pronounced.]

    The event for which the year 1755 will be ever memorable in the history of this continent was not the capture of Beausejour, nor the defeat of Braddock. These were results which occurred in the ordinary course of warfare, and which grew naturally out of the struggle which England and France were waging in America. Our interest in them is merely the interest of patriotism; we feel no sympathy for the individual soldier who lays down his life for his country, for it is the business of the soldier to fight and to die, and to some a death on the field of battle which is lighted by the sun of victory seems the happiest death of all. The event which gives the year 1755 a sad pre-eminence over its fellows — the expulsion of the Acadians — was an occurrence of a very different character. The sufferers were men who were, or ought to have been, non-combatants, and in the common ruin which overtook them their wives and children were involved. The breaking up of their domestic hearths, their severance from their property, the privations they endured when driven among strangers, and the numberless ills which overtook them as the result of their first misfortune, have an interest for the people of every nation, for they appeal to our common humanity. It seems at the first view of the case an outrage on that humanity and a grievous wrong that such an occurrence as the expulsion of the Acadians should have taken place merely from political motives. The misfortunes and sufferings of the Acadians stand out prominently, and appeal to every eye; a great poet has sung of their sorrows; (Longfellow, in "Evangeline.") innumerable writers of books have referred to their expulsion in terms of condemnation; and so the matter has grown until it came to be almost a settled opinion that the expulsion of the Acadians was something which could not be justified, and of which its authors should have been ashamed. That is the view which one historian of Nova Scotia gives of the affair. Perhaps those who examine the whole matter impartially, in the light of all the facts, will come to the conclusion that it would have been a real cause for shame had the Acadians been permitted longer to misuse the clemency of the government, to plot against British power, and to obstruct the settlement of the province by loyal subjects.

    One statement has been very industriously circulated by French writers with a view to throw odium on the transaction. They say that the Acadians were expelled "because the greedy English colonists looked upon their fair farms with covetous eyes," and that the government was influenced by these persons. A more flagrant untruth never was told. . . . None of the lands of the Acadians were settled by the English until several years after the French were expelled, and not until most of the lands had gone back to a state of nature in consequence of the breaking of the dikes. . . . Five years elapsed after the expulsion before the noble diked lands of Grand Pre were occupied by English settlers, and the lands of Annapolis were not occupied by the English until nine or ten years after the French had left them. . . . From motives of economy, if for no other reason, it was considered highly desirable that the Acadians should remain on their lands, in order that they might supply the garrisons with provisions at a fair price, and so reduce the cost of maintaining them. It was also felt that the French, if they could be induced to become loyal subjects, would be a great source of strength to the colony, from their knowledge of wood-craft and from their friendly relations with the Indians. It was, therefore, on no pretext that this desire to keep the French in the province — which is attested by more than forty years of forbearance — was succeeded by a determination to remove them from it. . . . It must be remembered that in 1755 England was entering on a great war with France, which, although it ended disastrously for the latter power, certainly commenced with the balance of advantage in her favor. In such a death-struggle, it was evident that there was no room for half-way measures, and that a weak policy would almost certainly be fatal to British power. Ever since the treaty of Utrecht, a period of more than forty years, the Acadians had lived on their lands without complying with the terms on which they were to be permitted to retain them, which was to become British subjects. Although the soil upon which they lived was British territory, they claimed to be regarded as "Neutrals," not liable to be called upon to bear arms either for or against the English. Their neutrality, however, did not prevent them from aiding the French to the utmost of their power and throwing every possible embarrassment in the way of the English. It did not prevent many of them from joining with the Indians in attacks on the garrison at Annapolis and on other English fortified posts in Acadia. It did not prevent them from carrying their cattle and grain to Louisburg, Beausejour, and the river St. John, instead of to Halifax and Annapolis, when England and France were at war. It did not prevent them from maintaining a constant correspondence with the enemies of England, or from acting the part of spies on the English and keeping Vergor at Beausejour informed of the exact state of their garrisons from time to time. It did not prevent them from being on friendly terms with the savages, who beset the English so closely that an English settler could scarcely venture beyond his barn, or an English soldier beyond musket-shot of his fort, for fear of being killed and scalped.

    [The Acadians seem to have been badly advised. No interference was attempted with their religion, yet some of their priests acted as political agents of France, used all their influence to keep alive hostility to the English, and induced many of the inhabitants to emigrate from the province. Several thousand Acadians in all thus emigrated, fourteen hundred of whom, led by a French officer, remained on the borders of the province, armed, and reinforced by a large body of Indians. This fact made the authorities more persistent in their efforts to force the inhabitants to take the oath of allegiance, and induced them to adopt measures to disarm them. Acadian deputies soon after came to Halifax, demanding that their guns should be restored, but persistently refusing to take the oath "to be faithful and loyal to his majesty George Second." Other negotiations ensued, but the deputies were determined to take no oath except one with a reservation that they should not be obliged to take up arms. Governor Lawrence insisted that they should become full British subjects, or they could not be permitted to remain in the country, declaring that they had always secretly aided the Indians, and many of them openly taken up arms against the British. To this they replied that they were determined, one and all, to quit their lands rather than take any other oath than that they had already taken.

    On Monday, the 28th of July, the final memorial of the inhabitants was received. They all firmly refused to take the unconditional oath of allegiance to the British government. In consequence, it was decided to expel them from the province.]

    The determination to remove the Acadians having been taken, it only remained to make such arrangements as seemed necessary to carry out the object effectually. The council decided that, in order to prevent them from returning and again molesting the English settlers, they should be distributed amongst the colonies from Massachusetts to Virginia. On the 31st July, Governor Lawrence wrote to Colonel Monckton, stating the determination of the government with reference to the Acadians, and informing him that as those about the isthmus had been found in arms, and were therefore entitled to no favor from the government, it was determined to begin with them first. He was informed that orders had been given to send a sufficient number of transports up the bay to take the Acadians of that district on board. Monckton was ordered to keep the measure secret until he could get the men into his power, so that he could detain them until the transports arrived. He was directed to secure their shallops, boats, and canoes, and to see that none of their cattle was driven away, they being forfeited to the crown. He was told that the inhabitants were not to be allowed to carry away anything but their ready money and household furniture. He likewise received explicit directions as to the supply of provisions for the inhabitants while on the voyage.

    Lieutenant-Colonel Winslow, who was commanding the troops at Mines, received instructions relative to the removal of the Acadians in that district, dated the IIth August. He was told to collect the inhabitants together, and place them on board the transports, of which there would be a number sufficient to transport two thousand persons, five hundred of whom were to be sent to North Carolina, one thousand to Virginia, and five hundred to Maryland. After the people were shipped he was ordered to march overland to Annapolis with a strong detachment to assist Major Handfield in removing the inhabitants of that river. Handfield's instructions were similar to those of Winslow, and he was informed that vessels sufficient to transport one thousand persons would be sent to Annapolis. Of these, three hundred were to be sent to Philadelphia, two hundred to New York, three hundred to Connecticut, and two hundred to Boston.

    [Each master of a transport bore a circular letter from Governor Lawrence to the governor of the province to which he was destined, giving his reasons for this extreme measure. These reasons were those already given, that the Acadians had persistently refused to take the oath prescribed by treaty forty years before, that their claim of neutrality was a false one, that they had continually furnished the French and Indians with intelligence, provisions, and aid in annoying the English, that part of them had acted treacherously and part had broken into armed rebellion, that to drive them into Canada would but strengthen the enemy, and that the step taken was indispensably necessary to the security of the colony.]

    The work of removing the Acadians met with no success at Chignecto, where the population was large and comparatively warlike. Boishebert, after being driven from the St. John, had betaken himself to Shediac, and from there he directed the movements of the Acadians of the isthmus. When the English tried to collect the inhabitants for the purpose of removing them, they found that they had fled to the shelter of the woods, and when they attempted to follow them they were met by the most determined resistance. On the 2d September, Major Frye was sent with two hundred men from the garrison at Fort Cumberland [formerly Fort Beausejour] to burn the villages of Shepody, Petitcodiac, and Memramcook. At Shepody they burnt one hundred and eighty-one buildings, but found no inhabitants, except twenty-three women and children, whom they sent on board the vessel they had with them. They sailed up the Petitcodiac River on the following day and burnt the buildings on both sides of it for miles. At length the vessel was brought to anchor, and fifty men were sent on shore to burn the chapel and some other buildings near it, when suddenly they were attacked by three hundred French and Indians under Boishebert and compelled to retreat with a loss of twenty-three men killed and wounded, including Dr. March, who was killed, and Lieutenant Billings, dangerously wounded. Boishebert was found to be too strong to be attacked even with the aid of the main body of troops under Major Frye, so the party had to return to Fort Cumberland, after having destroyed in all two hundred and fifty-three buildings and a large quantity of wheat and flax.

    At Mines Lieutenant-Colonel Winslow succeeded in accomplishing his unpleasant duty without resistance. On the 2d September he issued an order to the inhabitants of the districts of Grand Pre, Mines, River Canard, and vicinity, commanding all the males from ten years upward to attend at the church in Grand Pre on the following Friday, the 5th September, to hear what his majesty had authorized him to communicate to them. The inhabitants attended in obedience to this summons to the number of upwards of four hundred, and were informed by Winslow that, in consequence of their disobedience, their lands and tenements, cattle, live-stock, and all their effects, except their money and household goods, were forfeited to the crown, and they themselves were to be removed from the province. He told them, however, that he would take in the vessels with them as large a portion of their household effects as could be carried, and that families would not be separated, but conveyed in the same vessel. Finally, he told them that they should remain prisoners at the church until the time came for them to embark. At Piziquid, Captain Murray collected the male inhabitants in the same way to the number of nearly two hundred, and kept them in confinement. Considering the situation in which they were placed, they manifested but little emotion, and offered no resistance worthy of the name. The task of getting so many families together, and embarking them with their household effects, proved tedious, but finally it was accomplished, and the inhabitants of Mines and Piziquid, to the number of more than nineteen hundred persons, were got on board the transports, and carried away from their homes in Acadia to lands of which they knew nothing, and where their presence was not desired.

    At Annapolis many families took the alarm when the transports arrived, and fled to the woods for safety, and much difficulty was experience din collecting them. Hunger finally compelled most of them to surrender themselves, and upwards of eleven hundred were placed on board the vessels and sent away. One vessel with two hundred and twenty-six Acadians on board was seized by them in the Bay of Fundy, and taken into St. John, and the passengers she carried were not afterwards recaptured. The total number removed from Acadia in 1755 was some- what in excess of three thousand souls. Some of them were taken to Massachusetts, some to Pennsylvania, some to Virginia, some to Maryland, some to North and South Carolina, and some even to the British West Indies, Wherever they were taken they became for the time a public charge upon the colony, and were the occasion of much correspondence between the governments which were obliged to maintain them and that of Nova Scotia. Many of those who went to Georgia and South Carolina hired small vessels and set out to return to Acadia, and the governors of those colonies were very glad to facilitate their movements northward by giving them passes to voyage along their coasts. Several hundred of those who landed in Virginia were sent by the government of that colony to England, where they remained for seven years, finally taking the oath of allegiance, and many of them returning to Acadia. A number of these people went from Virginia to the French West Indies, where they died in large numbers. The great bulk of the Acadians, however, finally succeeded in returning to the land of their birth. Some got back in the course of a few months, others did not succeed in returning until many years had elapsed, yet they succeeded, nevertheless, and the ultimate loss of population by their enforced emigration in 1755 was much less than would be supposed.

    [It must be admitted that the preceding narrative is, to a considerable extent, a case of special pleading, by a writer determined to put the best face on a bad matter. The deportation of a whole people, against their consent, of which there are many cases in history, is necessarily attended with hardship and suffering which only the most extreme need can justify. It cannot fairly be said that this need existed in the case of the Acadians. Though some of them were actively hostile to the English, the bulk of the people were quiet, industrious, and inoffensive, and the extent of their crime was that they refused to take an oath that would oblige them to bear arms against their countrymen. The expulsion was one of those instances in which, it being difficult to distinguish between the sheep and the wolves, they are made to suffer together. The position of the English was an awkward one, and their action, though it occasioned much suffering and proved of no special utility, had much good argument in its favor.

    The resistance of the Acadians continued for twelve years longer, and not till 1767 did any considerable number of them consent to take the oath of allegiance required, though the whole country had long been English. Many of them had emigrated to the French West Indies. Of these a considerable number returned, disgusted with the government of those islands, and fully ready to take the oath. Others, who were surrounded by English colonies, did likewise. Each family, on doing so, received a grant of land from the government, and soon there arose an eagerness to take the oath of allegiance to England equal to the former determination to resist it.]

    THREE YEARS OF WARFARE.

    ABIEL HOLMES.

    [The succeeding events of the war between the colonies we shall describe with more brevity, lest the reader grow wearied with the details of battle and bloodshed which constitute all there is to offer. The year 1755 had ended with a balance of advantages between the two contestants. In the two years succeeding all the advantage lay with the French, and it was not until 1758 that the English began to make head against their opponents, in preparation for the decisive operations of the following year. The events of the years 1756, 1757, and 1758 are briefly but clearly described in Holmes's "Annals of America," a useful old work from which we make our present selection.

    Although the war had continued for two years in America, and been actively aided by the home powers, no declaration of war was made until 1756, the English king declaring war against France on May 17, and the French king replying with a like declaration in the following month. Both powers now took more active measures to support the war. The Earl of Loudoun was appointed commander-in-chief of the British forces in America, while the Marquis de Montcalm took command of the French forces in Canada. General Abercrombie was sent over in advance of Lord Loudoun, to take immediate command. Three expeditions were planned for the year's campaign, one of ten thousand men against Crown Point, one of six thousand against Niagara, and one of three thousand against Fort Duquesne. In addition, two thousand men were to advance up the Kennebec River and keep Canada in alarm. These forces were considerably greater than had hitherto been employed in America.]

    THE command of the expedition against Crown Point was given to Major-General Winslow, who, on reviewing the provincial troops destined for that service, found them not much to exceed seven thousand men,—a number which, after deducting from it the necessary garrisons, was declared inadequate to the enterprise. The arrival of British troops with General Abercrombie, while it relieved this difficulty, created a new one, which occasioned a temporary suspension of the projected expedition. The regulations of the crown respecting military rank had excited great disgust in America; and Winslow, when consulted on this delicate subject by Abercrombie, expressed his apprehensions that, if the result of a junction of British and provincial troops should be the placing of provincials under British officers, it would produce very general discontent, and perhaps desertion. To avoid so serious an evil, it was finally agreed that British troops should succeed the provincials in the posts then occupied by them, so as to enable the whole colonial force to proceed under Winslow against Crown Point. . . . Scarcely was this point of honor satisfactorily adjusted, when the attention of both British and provincial soldiers was arrested to a more serious subject.

    M. Montcalm, who succeeded the baron Dieskau in the chief command of the French forces in Canada, approached Fort Ontario at Oswego on the 10th of August with more than five thousand regulars, Canadians, and Indians. Having made the necessary dispositions, he opened the trenches on the 12th at midnight, with thirty-two pieces of cannon, besides several brass mortars and howitzers. The garrison having fired away all their shells and ammunition, Colonel Mercer, the commanding officer, ordered the cannon to be spiked up, and crossed the river to Little Oswego Fort, without the loss of a single man. The enemy, taking immediate possession of the deserted fort, began a fire from it which was kept up without intermission. About four miles and a half up the river was Fort George, the defence of which was committed to Colonel Schuyler. On the abandonment of the first fort by Colonel Mercer, about three hundred and seventy of his men had joined Colonel Schuyler, in the intention of having an intercourse between his fort and that to which their own commander retreated; but a body of twenty-five hundred Canadians and Indians boldly swam across the river in the night between the 13th and 14th and cut off that communication. On the 13th, Colonel Mercer was killed by a cannon-ball. The garrison, deprived of their commander, who was an officer of courage and experience, frustrated in their hope of aid, and destitute of a cover to their fort, demanded a capitulation on the following day, and surrendered as prisoners of war. They were the regiments of Shirley and Pepperell, and amounted to fourteen hundred men. The conditions required, and acceded to, were that they should be exempted from plunder, conducted to Montreal, and treated with humanity. No sooner was Montcalm in possession of the two forts at Oswego than, with admirable policy, he demolished them in presence of the Indians of the Six Nations, in whose country they had been erected, and whose jealousy they had excited.

    On this disastrous event, every plan of offensive operation was immediately relinquished.

    [All the forces which had been raised remained on the defensive, in anticipation of possible advances by the French. The only active operation was against the Indians of western Pennsylvania, who, since the event of Braddock's defeat, had severely raided the outlying settlements.]

    Fort Granby, on the confines of Pennsylvania, was surprised by a party of French and Indians, who made the garrison prisoners. Instead of scalping the captives, they loaded them with flour, and drove them into captivity. The Indians on the Ohio, having killed above a thousand of the inhabitants of the western frontiers, were soon chastised with military vengeance. Colonel Armstrong, with a party of two hundred and eighty provincials,marched from Fort Shirley, which had been built on the Juniata River, about one hundred and fifty miles west of Philadelphia, to Kittanning, an Indian town, the rendezvous of those murdering Indians, and destroyed it. Captain Jacobs, the Indian chief, defended himself through loop-holes of his log-house. The Indians refusing the quarter which was offered them, Colonel Armstrong ordered their houses to be set on fire; and many of the Indians were suffocated and burnt; others were shot in attempting to reach the river. The Indian captain, his squaw, and a boy called the King's Son were shot as they were getting out of the window, and were all scalped. It was computed that between thirty and forty Indians were destroyed. Eleven English prisoners were released.

    [The plan of proceedings for the year 1757 was less complex than that for the preceding year, but was no more successful. Leaving the frontier posts strongly garrisoned. Lord Loudoun determined on the siege of the highly-important fortress of Louisburg, on Cape Breton, with all his disposable force. But after reaching Halifax with his fleet and army he learned that Louisburg was garrisoned with six thousand French regulars, in addition to the provincials, and that seventeen line-of-battle ships were in the harbor. This destroyed all hope of success, and the expedition was abandoned. In September, the British fleet, cruising off Louisburg, narrowly escaped destruction from a violent gale, which drove one frigate ashore and seriously injured most of the others. The only military advantage of the year was gained by the French under Montcalm, in an expedition against Fort William Henry, which had been erected by Johnson at the scene of his victory two years before.]

    The Marquis de Montcalm, availing himself of the absence of the principal part of the British force, advanced with an army of nine thousand men and laid siege to Fort William Henry. The garrison at this fort consisted of between two thousand and three thousand regulars, and its fortifications were strong and in very good order. For the further security of this important post, General Webb was stationed at Fort Edward with an army of four thousand men. The French commander, however, urged his approaches with such vigor that, within six days after the investment of the fort, Coloned Monroe, the commandant, after a spirited resistance, surrendered by capitulation. The garrison was to be allowed the honors of war, and to be protected against the Indians until within the reach of Fort Edward; but no sooner had the soldiers left the place than the Indians in the French army, disregarding the stipulation, fell upon them and committed the most cruel outrages.

    The British officers complained that the troops were pillaged, and that the men were dragged out of the ranks and tomahawked, before the exertions of the Marquis de Montcalm to restrain the savages were effectual. Carver says the captured troops were, by the capitulation, to be allowed covered wagons to transport their baggage to Fort Edward, and a guard to protect them; that the promised guard was not furnished; and that fifteen hundred persons were either killed or made prisoners by the Indians. . . Minot says, "The breach of this capitulation, whether voluntary or unavoidable on the part of the French, was a most interesting subject of reproach at the time, and long continued to fill the British colonists with indignation and horror." A great part of the prisoners, he observes, were pillaged and stripped, and many of them murdered, by the savages; some reached Fort Edward in a scattering manner, and others returned again to the French.

    [This disastrous event has seriously tarnished the fair fame of the Marquis de Montcalm. To what extent he and his officers intervened to stop the butchery is uncertain, but there is good reason to believe that the French in general permitted the massacre to go on with scarce an effort to stop it. General Webb is also severely blamed by historians for not reinforcing Monroe, and is accused of cowardice, for which accusation his behavior gave abundant warrant. The massacre was the more terrible in that there were many women and children in the retreating column, who were killed indiscriminately with the men. The Indians present with the English were taken prisoners by their foes and reserved for the more horrible fate of death by torture.

    The year 1758 opened gloomily for the British colonies. The successes of the year before had all been in favor of the French, and they now occupied positions which gave them special advantages in the continuance of the war. The taking of Oswego had destroyed all English control of the Northern lakes; the capture of Fort William Henry gave the French possession of Lakes Champlain and George, and a position in the heart of the British territory; and the retention of Fort Duquesne gave them possession of the country west of the Alleghanies, and enabled them to exert a powerful influence over the Indians. Yet, despite this gloomy aspect of affairs, the British prepared for the next year's campaign with unabated energy and courage. William Pitt, now prime minister of England, put all his vigor and ability into the prosecution of the war. Twelve thousand troops were sent over under General Amherst, and General Abercombie, who was now made commander-in-chief of the British forces, was at the head of much the greatest army as yet ever seen in America, consisting of fifty thousand men, of whom twenty-two thousand were regular troops.]

    Three expeditions were proposed for this year: the first, against Louisburg; the second, against Ticonderoga and Crown Point; and the third, against Fort Duquesne. On the first expedition, Admiral Boscawen sailed from Halifax on the 28th of May, with a fleet of twenty ships of the line and eighteen frigates, and an army of fourteen thousand men under the command of General Amherst, and arrived before Louisburg on the 2nd of June. The garrison of that place, commanded by the Chevalier de Dracourt, an officer of courage and experience, was composed of two thousand five hundred regulars, aided by six hundred militia. The harbor being secured by five ships of the line, one fifty-gun ship, and five frigates, three of which were sunk across the mouth of the basin, it was found necessary to land at some distance from the town. When, with some difficulty but little loss, the landing was effected at the creek of Cormoran, and the artillery and stores were brought on shore, General Wolfe was detached with two thousand men to seize a post occupied by the enemy at the Lighthouse point, from which the ships in the harbor and the fortifications in the town might be greatly annoyed. On the approach of that gallant officer, the post was abandoned; and several very strong batteries were erected there. Approaches were also made on the opposite side of the town, and the siege was pressed with resolute but slow and cautious vigor. A very heavy cannonade being kept up against the town and the vessels in the harbor, a bomb at length set on fire and blew up one of the great ships, and the flames were communicated to two others, which shared the same fate. The English admiral now sent six hundred men in boats into the harbor, to make an attempt on the two ships of the line which still remained in the basin; and one of them, that was aground, was destroyed, and the other was towed off in triumph. This gallant exploit putting the English in complete possession of the harbor, and several breaches being made practicable in the works, the place was deemed no longer defensible, and the governor offered to capitulate. His terms, however, were refused; and it was required that the garrison should surrender as prisoners of war, or sustain an assault by sea and land. These humiliating terms, though at first rejected, were afterwards acceded to; and Louisburg, with all its artillery, provisions, and military stores, as also Island Royal, St. John's, and their dependencies, were placed in the hands of the English, who, without further difficulty, took entire possession of the island of Cape Breton. In effecting this conquest about four hundred of the assailants were killed or wounded. The conquerors found two hundred and twenty-one pieces of cannon and eighteen mortars, with a very large quantity of stores and ammunition. The inhabitants of Cape Breton were sent to France in English ships; but the garrison, sea-officers, sailors, and marines, amounting collectively to five thousand six hundred and thirty-seven, were carried prisoners to England. The garrison lost upwards of fifteen hundred men, and the town was left "almost a heap of ruins."

    The armies intended for the execution of the plans against Ticonderoga and Fort Duquesne were to rendezvous at Albany and Philadelphia. The first was commanded by General Abercrombie, and consisted of upwards of fifteen thousand men, attended by a formidable train of artillery. On the 5th of July the general embarked his troops on Lake George, on board of one hundred and twenty-five whale-boats and nine hundred bateaux. His first operations were against Ticonderoga. After debarkation at the landing-place in a cove on the west side of the lake, the troops were formed into four columns, the British in the centre and the provincials on the flanks. In this order they marched towards the advanced guard of the French, which, consisting of one battalion only, posted in a logged camp, destroyed what was in their power and made a precipitate retreat. While Abercrombie was continuing his march in the woods, towards Ticonderoga, the columns were thrown into confusion, and in some degree entangled with each other. At this juncture, Lord Howe, at the head of the right centre column, fell in with a part of the advanced guard of the enemy which was lost in the wood in retreating from Lake George, and immediately attacked and dispersed it, killing a considerable number, and taking one hundred and forty-eight prisoners. In this skirmish, Lord Howe fell on the first fire.

    The English army, without further opposition, took possession of a post within two miles of Ticonderoga. Abercrombie, having learned from the prisoners the strength of the enemy at that fortress, and from an engineer the condition of their works, resolved on an immediate storm, and made instant disposition for an assault. The troops, having received orders to march up briskly, rush upon the enemy's fire, and reserve their own till they had passed a breastwork, marched to the assault with great intrepidity. Unlooked-for impediments, however, occurred. In front of the breastwork, to a considerable distance, trees had been felled with their branches outward, many of which were sharpened to a point, by means of which the assailants were not only retarded in their advance, but, becoming entangled among the boughs, were exposed to a very galling fire. Finding it impracticable to pass the breastwork, which was eight or nine feet high, and much stronger than had been represented, General Abercrombie, after a contest of nearly four hours, ordered a retreat, and the next day resumed his former camp on the south side of Lake George. In this ill-judged assault nearly two thousand of the assailants were killed and wounded, of which number towards four hundred were provincials. Almost half of the Highland regiment, commanded by Lord John Murray, with twenty-five of its officers, were either killed or desperately wounded. The loss of the enemy, who were covered during the whole action, was inconsiderable.

    [This severe defeat put an end to the expedition against Crown Point. One success, however, was gained. Abercrombie detached three thousand men under Colonel Bradstreet on an expedition which the colonel had proposed against Fort Frontenac, an important post on the western shore of the outlet of Lake Ontario, at the site of the present city of Kingston. Bradstreet marched to Oswego, embarked on the lake, and landed near the fort on August 25. Two days' siege compelled a surrender, and the post with all its contents fell into his hands. Having destroyed it, and the vessels in the harbor, he withdrew his forces.]

    The demolition of Fort Frontenac facilitated the reduction of Fort Duquesne. General Forbes, to whom this enterprise was intrusted, had marched early in July from Philadelphia at the head of the army destined for the expedition; but such delays were experienced, it was not until September that the Virginia regulars, commanded by Colonel Washington, were ordered to join the British troops at Raystown. Before the army was put in motion, Major Grant was detached with eight hundred men, partly British and partly provincials, to reconnoitre the fort and the adjacent country. Having invited an attack from the French garrison, this detachment was surrounded by the enemy; and after a brave defence, in which three hundred men were killed and wounded, Major Grant and nineteen other officers were taken prisoners. General Forbes, with the main army, amounting to at least eight thousand men, at length moved forward from Raystown, but did not reach Fort Duquesne until late in November. On the evening preceding his arrival, the French garrison, deserted by their Indians, and unequal to the maintenance of the place against so formidable an army, had abandoned the fort, and escaped in boats down the Ohio. The English now took possession of that important fortress, and, in compliment to the popular minister, called it Pittsburg. No sooner was the British flag erected on it than the numerous tribes of the Ohio Indians came in and made their submission to the English. General Forbes, having concluded treaties with these natives, left a garrison of provincials in the fort, and built a block-house near Loyal Hannan; but, worn out with fatigue, he died before he could reach Philadelphia.

    [Other advantages were gained by the English, and, despite the repulse at Ticonderoga, the balance of success in the year's operations was decidedly on the side of the British forces. One remarkable personal adventure of the war we may select, in conclusion, its hero being the afterwards celebrated general Israel Putnam.]

    While the intrenchments of Abercrombie enclosed him in security, M. de Montcalm was active in harassing the frontiers, and in detaching parties to attack the convoys of the English. Two or three convoys having been cut off by these parties, Major Rogers and Major Putnam made excursions from Lake George to intercept them. The enemy, apprised of their movements, had sent out the French partisan Molang, who had laid an ambuscade for them in the woods. While proceeding in single file in three divisions, as Major Putnam, who was at the head of the first, was coming out of a thicket, the enemy rose, and with discordant yells and whoops attacked the right of his division. Surprised, but not dismayed, he halted, returned the fire, and passed the word for the other divisions to advance for his support. Perceiving it would be impracticable to cross the creek, he determined to maintain his ground. The officers and men, animated by his example, behaved with great bravery. Putnam's fusee at length missing fire, while the muzzle was presented against the breast of a large and well-proportioned Indian, this warrior, with a tremendous war-whoop, instantly sprang forward with his lifted hatchet and compelled him to surrender, and, having disarmed him and bound him fast to a tree, returned to the battle The enemy were at last driven from the field, leaving their dead behind them; Putnam was untied by the Indian who had made him prisoner, and carried to the place where they were to encamp that night. Besides many outrages, they inflicted a deep wound with a tomahawk upon his left cheek. It being determined to roast him alive, they led him into a dark forest, stripped him naked, bound him to a tree, piled combustibles at a small distance in a circle round him, and, with horrid screams, set the pile on fire. In the instant of an expected immolation, Molang rushed through the crowd, scattered the burning brands, and unbound the victim. The next day Major Putnam was allowed his moccasins, and permitted to march without carrying any pack; at night the party arrived at Ticonderoga, and the prisoner was placed under the care of a French guard. After having been examined by the Marquis de Montcalm, he was conducted to Montreal by a French officer, who treated him with the greatest indulgence and humanity. The capture of Fort Frontenac affording occasion for an exchange of prisoners, Major Putnam was set at liberty.

    WOLFE AND MONTCALM AT QUEBEC.

    WASHINGTON IRVING.

    [According to the plan of operations for 1759, General Wolfe, whose bravery at Louisburg had gained him great favor, was to ascend the St. Lawrence with a fleet of war-vessels and an army of eight thousand men, as soon as the river should be clear of ice, and lay siege to Quebec. General Amherst was to advance by the often-attempted road of Lake George, with the purpose of reducing Ticonderoga and Crown Point, then to cross Lake Champlain and push on to co- operate with Wolfe. A third expedition, under General Prideaux, assisted by Sir William Johnson and his Indians, was to attack Fort Niagara. Amherst's expedition consisted of nearly twelve thousand men. The forts threatened had no hope of a successful resistance against such a force, and they were deserted as the English army advanced, their garrisons retiring towards Montreal. Instead of pursuing. Amherst stopped to repair the works at Ticonderoga and build a new fort at Crown Point, useless measures just then, and causing a delay which deprived Wolfe of very desirable assistance. The expeditions of Prideaux and Wolfe proved more valuable in their results. We select a description of them from Irving's "Life of Washington," in which the exploits of Wolfe are described with all the clerness and rhetorical beauty of this excellent historian.]

    GENERAL PRIDEAUX embarked at Oswego on the 1st of July, with a large body of troops, regulars and provincials, — the latter partly from New York. He was accompanied by Sir William Johnson and his Indian braves of the Mohawk. Landing at an inlet of Lake Ontario, within a few miles of Fort Niagara, he advanced, without being opposed, and proceeded to invest it. The garrison, six hundred strong, made a resolute defence. The siege was carried on by regular approaches, but pressed with vigor. On the 20th of July, Prideaux, in visiting his trenches, was killed by the bursting of a cohorn. Informed by express of this misfortune, General Amherst detached from the main army Brigadier-General Gage, the officer who had led Braddock's advance, to take the command. In the mean time the siege had been conducted by Sir William Johnson with courage and sagacity. He was destitute of military science, but had a natural aptness for warfare, especially for the rough kind carried on in the wilderness. Being informed by his scouts that twelve hundred regular troops, drawn from Detroit, Venango, and Presque Isle, and led by D'Aubry, with a number of Indian auxiliaries, were hastening to the rescue, he detached a force of grenadiers and light infantry, with some of his Mohawk warriors, to intercept them. They came in sight of each other on the road between Niagara Falls and the fort, within the thundering sound of the one and the distant view of the other. Johnson's "braves" advanced to have a parley with the hostile red-skins. The latter received them with a war-whoop, and Frenchman and savage made an impetuous onset. Johnson's regulars and provincials stood their ground firmly, while his red warriors fell on the flanks of the enemy. After a sharp conflict, the French were broken, routed, and pursued through the woods, with great carnage. Among the prisoners taken were seventeen officers. The next day Sir William Johnson sent a trumpet, summoning the garrison to surrender, to spare the effusion of blood and prevent outrages by the Indians. They had no alternative; were permitted to march out with the honors of war, and were protected by Sir William from his Indian allies.

    [This victory secured the key of communication between Lakes Ontario and Erie, and to the vast interior region surrounding. But more important events were to follow.]

    Wolfe, with his eight thousand men, ascended the St. Lawrence in the fleet, in the month of June. With him came Brigadiers Monckton, Townshend, and Murray, youthful and brave like himself, and, like himself, already schooled in arms. Monckton, it will be recollected, had signalized himself, when a colonel, in the expedition in 1755 in which the French were driven from Nova Scotia. The grenadiers of the army were commanded by Colonel Guy Carleton, and part of the light infantry by Lieutenant-Colonel William Howe, both destined to celebrity in after-years, in the annals of the American Revolution. Colonel Howe was a brother of the gallant Lord Howe, whose fall in the preceding year was so generally lamented. Among the officers of the fleet was Jervis, the future admiral, and ultimately Earl St. Vincent, and the master of one of the ships was James Cook, afterwards renowned as a discoverer.

    About the end of June, the troops debarked on the large, populous, and well- cultivated Isle of Orleans, a little below Quebec, and encamped in its fertile fields. Quebec, the citadel of Canada, was strong by nature. It was built round the point of a rocky promontory, and flanked by precipices. The crystal current of the St. Lawrence swept by it on the right, and the river St. Charles flowed along on the left before mingling with that mighty stream. The place was tolerably fortified, but art had not yet rendered it, as at the present day, impregnable.

    Montcalm commanded the post. His troops were more numerous than the assailants; but the greater part were Canadians, many of them inhabitants of Quebec; and he had a host of savages. His forces were drawn out along the northern shore below the city, from the river St. Charles to the Falls of Montmorency, and their position was secured by deep intrenchments.

    The night after the debarkation of Wolfe's troops a furious storm caused great damage to the transports, and sank some of the small craft. While it was still raging, a number of fire-ships, sent to destroy the fleet, came driving down. They were boarded intrepidly by the British seamen, and towed out of the way of doing harm. After much resistance, Wolfe established batteries at the west point of the Isle of Orleans, and at Point Levi, on the right (or south) bank of the St. Lawrence, within cannon-range of the city, — Colonel Guy Carleton commander at the former battery, Brigadier Monckton at the latter. From Point Levi bomb- shells and red-hot shells were discharged; many houses were set on fire in the upper town; the lower town was reduced to rubbish; the main fort, however, remained unharmed.

    Anxious for a decisive action, Wolfe, on the 9th of July, crossed over in boats from the Isle of Orleans to the north bank of the St. Lawrence, and encamped below the Montmorency. It was an ill-judged position, for there was still that tumultuous stream, with its rocky banks, between him and the camp of Montcalm; but the ground he had chosen was higher than that occupied by the latter, and the Montmorency had a ford below the falls, passable at low tide. Another ford was discovered, three miles within land, but the banks were steep, and shagged with forest. At both fords the vigilant Montcalm had thrown up breast-works and posted troops.

    On the 18th of July, Wolfe made a reconnoitring expedition up the river with two armed sloops and two transports with troops. He passed Quebec unharmed, and carefully noted the shores above it. Rugged cliffs rose almost from the water's edge. Above them, he was told, was an extent of level ground, called the Plains of Abraham, by which the upper town might be approached on its weakest side; but how was that plain to be attained, when the cliffs, for the most part, were inaccessible, and every practicable place fortified?

    He returned to Montmorency disappointed, and resolved to attack Montcalm in his camp, however difficult to be approached, and however strongly posted. Townshend and Murray, with their brigades, were to cross the Montmorency at low tide, below the falls, and storm the redoubt thrown up in front of the ford. Monckton, at the same time, was to cross with part of his brigade, in boats from Point Levi. The ship Centurion, stationed in the channel, was to check the fire of a battery which commanded the ford; a train of artillery, planted on an eminence, was to enfilade the enemy's intrenchments; and two armed flat-bottomed boats were to be run on shore, near the redoubt, and favor the crossing of the troops.

    As usual in complicated orders, part were misunderstood or neglected, and confusion was the consequence. Many of the boats from Point Levi ran aground on a shallow in the river, where they were exposed to a severe fire of shot and shells. Wolfe, who was on the shore, directing everything, endeavored to stop his impatient troops until the boats could be got afloat and the men landed. Thirteen companies of grenadiers and two hundred provincials were the first to land. Without waiting for Brigadier Monckton and his regiments, without waiting for the co-operation of the troops under Townshend, without waiting even to be drawn up in form, the grenadiers rushed impetuously towards the enemy's intrenchments. A sheeted fire mowed them down, and drove them to take shelter behind the redoubt, near the ford, which the enemy had abandoned. Here they remained, unable to form under the galling fire to which they were exposed whenever they ventured from their covert. Monckton's brigade at length was landed, drawn up in order, and advanced to their relief, driving back the enemy. Thus protected, the grenadiers retreated as precipitately as they had advanced, leaving many of their comrades wounded on the field, who were massacred and scalped in their sight by the savages. The delay thus caused was fatal to the enterprise. The day was advanced; the weather became stormy; the tide began to make; at a later hour retreat, in case of a second repulse, would be impossible. Wolfe, therefore, gave up the attack, and withdrew across the river, having lost upwards of four hundred men through this headlong impetuosity of the grenadiers. The two vessels which had been run aground were set on fire, lest they should fall into the hands of the enemy.

    Brigadier Murray was now detached with twelve hundred men, in transports, to ascend above the town and co-operate with Rear-Admiral Holmes in destroying the enemy's shipping and making descents upon the north shore. The shipping was safe from attack; some stores and ammunition were destroyed, some prisoners taken, and Murray returned with the news of the capture of Fort Niagara, Ticonderoga, and Crown Point, and that Amherst was preparing to attack the Isle aux Noix.

    Wolfe, of a delicate constitution and sensitive nature, had been deeply mortified by the severe check sustained at the Falls of Montmorency, fancying himself disgraced; and these successes of his fellow-commanders in other parts increased his self-upbraiding. The difficulties multiplying around him, and the delay of General Amherst in hastening to his aid, preyed incessantly on his spirits; he was dejected even to despondency, and declared he would never return without success, to be exposed, like other unfortunate commanders, to the sneers and reproaches of the populace. The agitation of his mind, and his acute sensibility, brought on a fever, which for some time in-capacitated him from taking the field.

    In the midst of his illness he called a council of war, in which the whole plan of operations was altered. It was determined to convey troops above the town, and endeavor to make a diversion in that direction, or draw Montcalm into the open field. Before carrying this plan into effect, Wolfe again reconnoitred the town in company with Admiral Saunders, but nothing better suggested itself.

    The brief Canadian summer was over; they were in the month of September. The camp at Montmorency was broken up. The troops were transported to Point Levi, leaving a sufficient number to man the batteries on the Isle of Orleans. On the 5th and 6th of September the embarkation took place above Point Levi, in transports which had been sent up for the purpose. Montcalm detached De Bougainville with fifteen hundred men to keep along the north shore above the town, watch the movements of the squadron, and prevent a landing. To deceive him, Admiral Holmes moved with the ships of war three leagues beyond the place where the landing was to be attempted. He was to drop down, however, in the night, and protect the landing. Cook, the future discoverer, also, was employed with others to sound the river and place buoys opposite the camp of Montcalm, as if an attack were meditated in that quarter.

    Wolfe was still suffering under the effects of his late fever. "My constitution," writes he to a friend, "is entirely ruined, without the consolation of having done any considerable service to the state, and without any prospect of it." Still he was unremitting in his exertions, seeking to wipe out the fancied disgrace incurred at the Falls of Montmorency. It was in this mood he is said to have composed and sung at his evening mess that little campaigning song still linked with his name:

    "Why, soldiers, why Should we be melancholy, boys? Why, soldiers, why,- Whose business 'tis to die?"

    Even when embarked in his midnight enterprise, the presentiment of death seems to have cast its shadow over him. A midshipman who was present used to relate that, as Wolfe sat among his officers, and the boats floated down silently with the current, he recited, in low and touching tones, Gray's Elegy in a Country Churchyard, then just published. One stanza may especially have accorded with his melancholy mood:

    "The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Await alike the inevitable hour: The paths of glory lead but to the grave."

    "Now, gentlemen," said he, when he had finished, "I would rather be the author of that poem than take Quebec."

    The descent was made in flat-bottomed boats, past mid-night, on the 13th of September. They dropped down silently with the swift current. "Qui va la?" (Who goes there?) cried a sentinel from the shore. "La France," replied a captain in the first boat, who understood the French language. "A quel regiment?" was the demand. "De la Reine" (The queen's), replied the captain, knowing that regiment was in De Bougainville's detachment. Fortunately, a convoy of provisions was expected down from De Bougainville, which the sentinel supposed this to be. "Passe," cried he, and the boats glided on without further challenge. The landing took place in a cove near Cape Diamond, which still bears Wolfe's name. He had marked it in reconnoitring, and saw that a cragged path straggled up from it to the Heights of Abraham, which might be climbed, though with difficulty, and that it appeared to be slightly guarded at top. Wolfe was among the first that landed and ascended up the steep and narrow path, where not more than two could go abreast, and which had been broken up by cross-ditches. Colonel Howe, at the same time, with the light infantry and Highlanders, scrambled up the woody precipices, helping themselves by the roots and branches, and putting to flight a sergeant's guard posted at the summit. Wolfe drew up the men in order as they mounted, and by the break of day found himself in possession of the fateful Plains of Abraham.

    Montcalm was thunderstruck when word was brought to him in his camp that the English were on the heights, threatening the weakest part of the town. Abandoning his intrenchments, he hastened across the river St. Charles and ascended the heights which slope up gradually from its banks. His force was equal in number to that of the English, but a great part was made up of colony troops and savages. When he saw the formidable host of regulars he had to contend with, he sent off swift messengers to summon De Bougainville with his detachment to his aid, and De Vaudreuil to reinforce him with fifteen hundred men from the camp. In the mean time he prepared to flank the left of the English line and force them to the opposite precipices. Wolfe saw his aim, and sent Brigadier Townshend to counteract him with a regiment which was formed on potence, and supported by two battalions, presenting on the left a double front.

    The French, in their haste, thinking they were to repel a mere scouting-party, had brought but three light field-pieces with them; the English had but a single gun, which the sailors had dragged up the heights. With these they cannonaded each other for a time, Montcalm still waiting for the aid he had summoned. At length, about nine o'clock, losing all patience, he led on his disciplined troops to a close conflict with small-arms, the Indians to support them with a galling fire from thickets and corn-fields. The French advanced gallantly, but irregularly, firing rapidly, but with little effect. The English reserved their fire until their assailants were within forty yards, and then delivered it in deadly volleys. They suffered, however, from the lurking savages, who singled out the officers. Wolfe, who was in front of the line, a conspicuous mark, was wounded by a ball in the wrist. He bound his handkerchief round the wound and led on the grenadiers, with fixed bayonets, to charge the foe, who began to waver. Another ball struck him in the breast. He felt the wound to be mortal, and feared his fall might dishearten his troops. Leaning on a lieutenant for support, "Let not my brave fellows see me drop," said he, faintly. He was borne off to the rear; water was brought to quench his thirst, and he was asked if he would have a surgeon. "It is needless," he replied; "it is all over with me." He desired those about him to lay him down. The lieutenant seated himself upon the ground, and supported him in his arms. "They run! they run! see how they run!" cried one of the attendants. "Who run?" demanded Wolfe, earnestly, like one aroused from sleep. "The enemy, sir; they give way everywhere." The spirit of the expiring hero flashed up. "Go, one of you, my lads, to Colonel Burton; tell him to march Webb's regiment with all speed down to Charles River, to cut off the retreat by the bridge." Then, turning on his side, "Now, God be praised, I will die in peace!" said he, and expired,—soothed in his last moments by the idea that victory would obliterate the imagined disgrace at Montmorency.

    Brigadier Murray had indeed broken the centre of the enemy, and the Highlanders were making deadly havoc with their claymores, driving the French into the town or down to their works on the river St. Charles. Monckton, the first brigadier, was disabled by a wound in the lungs, and the command devolved on Townshend, who hastened to re-form the troops of the centre, disordered in pursuing the enemy. By this time De Bougainville appeared at a distance in the rear, advancing with two thousand fresh troops, but he arrived too late to retrieve the day. The gallant Montcalm had received his death-wound near St. John's Gate, while endeavoring to rally his flying troops, and had been borne into the town.

    Townshend advanced with a force to receive De Bougainville; but the latter avoided a combat, and retired into woods and swamps, where it was not thought prudent to follow him. The English had obtained a complete victory, slain about five hundred of the enemy, taken above a thousand prisoners, and among them several officers, and had a strong position on the Plains of Abraham, which they hastened to fortify with redoubts and artillery, drawn up the heights.

    The brave Montcalm wrote a letter to General Townshend, recommending the prisoners to British humanity. When told by his surgeon that he could not survive above a few hours, "So much the better," replied he; "I shall not live to see the surrender of Quebec." To De Ramsey, the French king's lieutenant, who commanded the garrison, he consigned the defence of the city. "To your keeping," said he, "I commend the honor of France. I'll neither give orders, nor interfere any further. I have business to attend to of greater moment than your ruined garrison and this wretched country. My time is short: I shall pass this night with God, and prepare myself for death. I wish you all comfort, and to be happily extricated from your present perplexities." He then called for his chaplain, who, with the bishop of the colony, remained with him through the night. He expired early in the morning, dying like a brave soldier and a devout Catholic. Never did two worthier foes mingle their life-blood on the battle- field than Wolfe and Montcalm.

    [This victory was quickly followed by a surrender of the city, whose garrison made no effort to defend it. It capitulated on the 17th of September, and was at once strongly occupied by the British, who hastened to put it in a strong defensive condition. Had Amherst followed up Wolfe's success by a prompt advance, the subjugation of Canada would have been completed that year. His delay gave the French time to rally, and enabled De Levi, the successor of Montcalm, to make a vigorous effort to recover the lost city.]

    In the following spring, as soon as the river St. Lawrence opened, he approached Quebec, and landed at Point au Tremble, about twelve miles off. The garrison had suffered dreadfully during the winter from excessive cold, want of vegetables and of fresh provisions. Many had died of scurvy, and many more were ill. Murray, sanguine and injudicious, and hearing that De Levi was advancing with ten thousand men and five hundred Indians, sallied out with his diminished forces of not more than three thousand. English soldiers, he boasted, were habituated to victory; he had a fine train of artillery, and stood a better chance in the field than cooped up in a wretched fortification. If defeated, he would defend the place to the last extremity, and then retreat to the Isle of Orleans and wait for reinforcements. More brave than discreet, he attacked the vanguard of the enemy. The battle which took place was fierce and sanguinary. Murray's troops had caught his own headlong valor, and fought until nearly a third of their number were slain. They were at length driven back into the town, leaving their boasted train of artillery on the field.

    De Levi opened trenches before the town the very evening of the battle. Three French ships, which had descended the river, furnished him with cannon, mortars, and ammunition. By the 11th of May he had one bomb battery and three batteries of cannon. Murray, equally alert within the walls, strengthened his defences and kept up a vigorous fire. His garrison was now reduced to two hundred and twenty effective men, and he himself, with all his vaunting spirit, was driven almost to despair, when a British fleet arrived in the river. The whole scene was now reversed. One of the French frigates was driven on the rocks above Cape Diamond; another ran on shore and was burnt; the rest of their vessels were either taken or destroyed. The besieging army retreated in the night, leaving provisions, implements, and artillery behind them; and so rapid was their flight that Murray, who sallied forth on the following day, could not overtake them.

    [A last stand was made at Montreal. But a force of nearly ten thousand men, with a host of Indians, gathered around the town, which was forced to capitulate on the 8th of September, including in the surrender not only Montreal, but all Canada.]

    Thus ended the contest between France and England for dominion in America, in which, as has been said, the first gun was fired in Washington's encounter with De Jumonville. A French statesman and diplomatist consoled himself by the persuasion that it would be a fatal triumph to England. It would remove the only check by which her colonies were kept in awe. "They will no longer need her protection," said he; "she will call on them to contribute towards supporting the burdens they have helped to bring on her, and they will answer by striking off all dependence." (Count de Vergennes, French ambassador at Constantinople.)