sengers of death came by divine permission to execute vengeance upon him, which was thus accomplished.

Such had been his inveterate malice and wickedness against the English, that despairing of mercy from them, he could not bear that any thing should be suggested to him about a peace, insomuch that he caused one of his confederates to be killed for propounding an expedient of peace; which so provoked some of his company, not altogether so desperate as himself, that one of them fled to Rhode Island, whither the brave Captain Church was newly retired to recruit his men for a little time, being much tired with hard marches all that week, informing them that Philip was fled to a swamp in Mount Hope, whither he would undertake to lead them that would pursue him. This was welcome news, and the best cordial for such martial spirits; whereupon he immediately, with a small company of men, part English and part Indians, began another march, which shall prove fatal to Philip, and end that controversy between the English and him: For coming very early to the side of the swamp, his soldiers began to surround it, and (whether the devil appeared to him in a dream that night as he did unto Saul, foreboding his tragical end, it matters not) as he was endeavoring to make his escape out of a swamp, he was shot through the heart by an Indian of his own nation, as it is said, that had all this while preserved a neutrality until this time, but now had the casting vote in his power, by which he determined the quarrel that had been so long in suspense. In him is fulfilled what was said in the prophet, Wo to thee that spoilest, and thou wast not spoiled, and dealest treacherously, and they dealt not treacherously with thee; when thou shalt cease to spoil thou shalt be spoiled, and when thou shalt make an end to deal treacherously, they shall deal treacherously with thee.

With Philip at this time fell five of his trustiest followers, of whom one was said to be the son of his chief captain, that had shot the first gun at the English the year before. This was done the 12th day of August, 1676, a remarkable testimony of divine favor to the colony of Plymouth, who had for the former successes, appointed the 17th day of August following, to be kept as a day of solemn Thanksgiving to Almighty God.

Capture of Annawan. "The next that was seized was one Annawan, a very subtle, politic fellow, and one of Philip's chief counsellors; he had about twelve men, and as many women and children in his company, who were discovered by their shooting at the English horses, and cattle; some of whom being taken, they made known the rest. Church at that time had but five Englishmen and twenty Indians. The place where this Annawan had betaken himself, was a ledge of rocks inaccessible but at one place, which by a few hands

might easily have been defended against a great number of assailants. But Capt. Church by direction got up to their wigwams before they were aware of it; and presently told Annawan that he came to sup with him; whereupon Annawan (who had fallen flat upon the earth, expecting to have his head cut off) looked up and cried taubut, in their language, thank you, as one being much affected with the generosity of our English Captain; they found some of the English beef boiling in the kettles. After supper he had much discourse with the said Annawan, they lay down to sleep together in the wigwam; Capt. Church laying one of his legs upon Annawan, and the other upon his son, that he might have notice if any of them should offer to stir. After midnight Annawan rose up, and Capt. Church was presently awake, and intended to watch after his prisoner. He thought at first he might have gone forth upon some necessary occasion; but not long after he returned again, having fetched out of a swamp hard by, two horns of powder, and a large belt of peag, supposed to be Philip's belt, all which he delivered to Captain Church, in a way of thankful acknowledgment of his courtesy. Amongst other discourses that passed between them concerning the occasion of the war, and carrying it on, the Indian would fain have excused Philip, and laid the blame upon the praying Indians (as they are distinguished from others by that character) and others of the younger sort of his followers, who coming with their several tales (which he likened to sticks laid on a heap) till by a multitude of them a great fire came to be kindled. They make much use of parabolical expressions: for so said Solomon, where no wood is there the fire goeth out; so where there is no tale-bearer, the strife ceaseth, Prov. 26, 20. But Philip

had had large and long experience of the gentleness and kindness of the English, both to himself and to his people, so as unless he had borne an evil and malicious mind against the English, he would never have hearkened to those stories, contrary to his faithful promises and allegiance.

The said Annawan confessed also that he did believe by all those late occurrences that there was a great God that overruled all; and that he had found that whatever he had done to any of those, whether Indians or English, the same was brought upon himself in after time. He confessed also that he had put to death several of the English which they had taken alive, ten in one day, and could not deny but that some of them had been tortured, and now he could not but sce the justice of the great God upon himself, with many other things of a like nature. But whatever his confessions of this nature were, being forced from him by the power of conscience, after he was delivered up to authority, he was put to death, as he justly had deserved."

Conclusion of Philip's War. After the death of Philip, the Indians generally submitted to the English; or fled, and incorporated themselves with distant and strange nations. In this short but destructive war about six hundred persons, composing the flower of the strength of New England fell in battle, or were murdered by the enemy; twelve or thirteen towns were entirely destroyed; and about six hundred buildings, chiefly dwelling houses, were burnt. About every eleventh family had been burned out, and every eleventh soldier had perished.

Within twenty days after Philip kindled the war at the southward, the flame broke out in the most northeasterly part of the country, at the distance of 200 miles; and in the year 1675 and 1676, most of the plantations in the province of Maine, with those on the river Piscataqua, partook in the general calamity. After the death of Philip, the Massachusetts forces, which were then at liberty to turn their arms in that quarter, surprised about 400 of the Eastern Indians at Cochecho (Sept. 6, 1676) and took them prisoners. One half of them being found accessory to the late rebellion, seven or eight, who were known to have killed any Englishmen, were condemned and hanged; the rest were sold in foreign parts for slaves. These were called strange Indians, who had fled from the southward, and taken refuge among the Penacooks. This stroke humbled the Indians in the east, although the war continued until the spring of 1678,"-Holmes' Annals.

FRENCH AND INDIAN WARS.

For more than half a century previous to the treaty of Paris in 1763, the English colonies, particularly those of New England and New York were often harrassed by frequent wars with the French and Indians. The French settled in Canada as early as 1608, and explored the country bordering on the lakes. They were the first discoverers of the Ohio and Mississippi rivers, and claimed the territory westward of the Alleghany mountains. In order to strengthen their claims and possessions they attempted to establish a chain of forts from Canada to Florida, back of the English settlements. They also used much art, to gain over the various tribes to their interests, in which they were generally successful. The Indians instigated, and sometimes accompanied by the French, came down upon the English, destroyed their settlements, and murdered or carried away captive the inhabitants. These and other injuries were soon succeeded by open war.

Destruction of Schenectady. The war during the reign of William and Mary, in England, commonly called "King Wil liam's War," commenced in 1690 and continued about seven years. In the depth of winter, Count Frontenac, governor of Canada, fitted out three expeditions against the colonies-one against New York, a second against New Hampshire, and a third against the province of Maine. The following relating of the destruction of Schenectady is extracted from the account given in Mr. Drake's "Book of the Indians" (Book 1.)

"After two and twenty days' march, the enemy fell in with Schenectady, February 8. There were about 200 French, and perhaps 50 Caughnewaga Mohawks, and they at first intended to have surprised Albany; but their march had been so long and tedious, occasioned by the deepness of the snow and coldness of the weather, that, instead of attempting any thing offensive, they had hearly decided to surrender themselves to the first English they should meet, such was their distressed situation, in a camp of snow, but a few miles from the devoted settlement. The Indians, however, saved them from the disgrace. They had sent out a small scout from their party, who entered Schenectady without even exciting suspicion of their errand. When they had staid as long as the nature of their business required, they withdrew to their fellows.

Seeing that Schenectady offered such an easy prey, it put new courage into the French, and they came upon it as above related. The bloody tragedy commenced between 11 and 12 o'clock, on Saturday night; and, that every house might be surprised at nearly the

same time, the enemy divided themselves into parties of six or seven men each. Although the town was empaled, no one thought it necessary to close the gates, even at night, presuming the severity of the season was a sufficient security; hence the first news of the approach of the enemy was at every door of every house, which doors were broken as soon as the profound slumbers of those they were intended to guard. The same inhuman barbarities now followed, that were afterwards perpetrated upon the wretched inhabitants of Montreal. 'No tongue,' said Colonel Schuyler, can express the cruelties that were committed.' Sixty three houses, and the church, were immediately in a blaze. Enciente women, in their expiring agonies, saw their infants cast into the flames, being first delivered by the knife of the midnight assassin! Sixty three persons were put to death, and twenty seven were carried into captivity.

A few persons fled towards Albany, with no other covering but their night-clothes; the horror of whose condition was greatly enhanced by a great fall of snow; 25 of whom lost their limbs from the severity of the frost. With these poor fugitives came the intelligence to Albany, and that place was in dismal confusion, having, as usual upon such occasions, supposed the enemy to have been seven times more numerous than they really were. About noon, the next day, the enemy set off from Schenectady, taking all the plunder they could carry with them, among which were forty of the best horses. The rest, with all the cattle and other domestic animals, lay slaughtered in the streets. One of the most considerable men of Schenectady, at this time, was Captain Alexander Glen. He lived on the opposite side of the