their bone and nerve, and not to skill were they indebted for their success, and the soldiers were of the same character. But, with more art and prudence, they would have achieved a victory with less expense of lives. As the assault was not made by surprise, it is obvious it was too precipitate. Had the fort been reconnoitered, and the attack made simultaneously on several points, according to a preconcerted plan, it might have been carried with a comparatively small loss on the part of the assailants. The conflagration of the cabins, after the enemy had left the place, was an injudicious step. Had they been saved, a comfortable lodging would have been afforded for the English, the succeeding night, the dangerous march through the snow, incumbered with the wounded, avoided, and probably many lives been saved. Captain Church readily perceived the consequences of destroying the cabins, and when he saw they were to be fired, he remonstrated against it, and persuaded the commander to put a stop to the measure; but, being then out of the fort, the conflagration became general, before the orders could be transmitted to the officers within.

We believe it was a sort of Reign-of-Terror successor of Sam, who succeeded in describing his own face by the happy phrase, "Imagine a tiger pitted with the small-pox," which disease was one of the blessings benevolently bequeathed by Sam, along with his "first best gift," the "strong water," to the Indians.

Well, if you can imagine this New-World personage, who instead of handling these Indians like baubles by their scalplocks any longer, had now his marred features seamed with the clefts of tomahawk, and spear, and arrow, while his fair skin was all bruised, like shattered glass, with the pale scars where bullets stunned him, you will see that the Young Sam, as well as Mirabeau, had suffered a sort of small-pox in his heroic vindication of what he called the Rights of Humanity!

It will be perceived from the venerable historian's account, that Sam, like other babies, made some stupid mistakes in this plucky affair, but it must be confessed that he could very well afford to make such.

CHAPTER V.

Capture of Conanchet and of Miantonomah-Annawan, the last captain of Philip Characteristic end of the War.

BUT the combat thickens in this war with Philip, who seems to have been for “Sam a foeman well worthy of his steel. Some of the most picturesque incidents in modern history are to be found in the accounts of this first struggle. What can be finer than this simple story of the capture of Conanchet, the principal chief of the hostile Narragansetts? He was flying from a surprise by a superior force, when, accidentally plunging into the water, he wet his gun. A swiftfooted Pequot (a nation friendly with Sam, because one of his first acts had been nearly to exterminate them), soon overtook the gallant chief, who, rendered hors du combat by the accident, surrendered to him without hesitation. Robert Hamton, a young man-a young 'Sam' of twenty-two years, coming up, began to question the chief on various subjects, to which the indignant captive with a look of contempt, replied:

"You much child-no understand matters of war-let your captain come-him I will answer!"

He was delivered to the English-conveyed to Stonnington, and, after a sort of trial, condemned to be shot by the Mohegan and Pequot sachems. On being offered his life,

provided he would make peace with the English, he rejected the proffer. When told of his fate, he complacently replied, that he liked it well--that he should die before his heart was soft, or he had said anything unworthy of himself." This haughty chief was a son of the famous Miantonomah, who was put to death by Uncas, at Sachem's Plain, and he appeared to have possessed, in a high degree, the proud spirit of his father. Though treated with such scorn by the old sachem, "the young Sam" seemed to have been close on his heels.

The murder of Miantonomah, by his obdurate foe, who was Sam's fast ally, furnishes, also, a striking illustration of the character of the enemy with whom Sam, with all his strength, had first to struggle. A narrative of this, although slightly a preceding incident, is sufficiently characteristic to make it worthy to be given here.

In 1664 a misunderstanding occurred between Uncas, the sachem of the Mohegans, with whom Sam had been in close alliance, and Miantonomah, the sachem of the Narragansetts; and a war broke out between them, into which Sam was likely to be drawn. But the rival tribes, being not yet possessed of fire-arms, and holding in wholesome recollection the first ebullition (namely, the massacre of the Pequods), of the wrath of Sam, to which we have referred, and which resulted in the almost entire extermination of this the first savage tribe which had offended him, they came to the wise conclusion that it was best to make peace with him, and fight out their private quarrel between themselves.

Míantonomah invaded the Mohegans with nine hundred of his warriors. Uncas met him at the head of four hundred of his men, on a large plain; both prepared for action, and advanced within gunshot. Before the conflict commenced Uncas advanced singly, and thus addressed his antagonist: "You have a number of men with you, and so have I with me; it is a great pity that such brave warriors should be killed in a private quarrel between us. Come, like a man, as you profess to be, and let us fight it out. If you kill me, my men shall be yours, but if I kill you your men shall be mine." Miantonomah replied, "My men came to fight, and they shall fight!" Uncas instantly fell upon the ground, and his men poured a shower of arrows upon the

Narragansetts, and with a horrible yell advanced rapidly upon them and put them to flight.

Uncas and his men pressed on and drove them down a precipice, scattering them in all directions. Miantonimoh was overtaken and seized by Uncas, who, by a shout, recalled his furious warriors. About thirty Narragansetts were slain and many wounded, among whom were many noted chiefs.

Finding himself in the hands of his implacable enemy, Miantonimoh remained silent, nor could Uncas, by any art, force him to break his sullen mood. "Had you taken me," said he to his conqueror, "I should have asked you for my life." No reply was made by the indignant chief, and he submitted, without a murmur, to his humiliating condition. He was afterward conducted to Hartford by his conqueror and delivered to the English, by whom he was held in duress until his fate should be determined by the commissioners of the colonies.

After an examination of his case, the commissioners resolved, "That as it was evident that Uncas could not be safe while Miantonimoh lived, but, either by secret treachery or open force, his life would be constantly in danger, he might justly put such a false and blood-thirsty enemy to death; but this was to be done out of the English jurisdiction, and without cruelty or torture.

Miantonimoh was delivered to Uncas, and by a number of his trusty men marched to the spot where he was captured, attended by two Englishmen, to see that no torture was inflicted; and the moment he arrived at the fatal spot, one of Uncas's men came up behind, and with his hatchet split the skull of the unfortunate chief. It is stated that the savage Uncas then cut out a piece of the shoulder of the dead body and ate it with triumph, exclaiming:

"It is the sweetest meat I ever ate! it makes my heart strong!" The body was buried on the spot and a heap of stones piled upon the grave. The place, since that time, has been known by the name of Sachem's Plain, and is situated in the town of Norwich, Connecticut.

It was most probable, from witnessing and participating in, (with the exception of the Cannibalism, of course,) such scenes as these we are relating, that the "heart" of our Infant Prodigy was rapidly made "strong," too-for it

certainly must have required considerable strength of heart, or of something else, perhaps more dubious in its significancy, to have enabled the big-fisted innocent to perpetrate the fate with which he visited the heroic Annawan, the wisest and noblest captain of the murdered Philip.

This was an achievement of the veritable Captain Church, whom we have noticed for his orthodox name, and which occurred in this wise.

Annawan, Philips' chief captain and counselor, was now at the head of the hostile Indians. He was an artful and long experienced warrior, and had often declared that the English should not take him while alive. After the defeat at the swamp, where his comrades were killed, he, with fifty or sixty of his best men, took post in Squanaconk Swamp, in the southeast part of Rehoboth. Several Indians, from his camp, were soon after captured, among whom was an Indian with his daughter.

By these Church was informed of the situation of Annawan's camp, and by a stratagem which none but the most daring would have adopted, succeeded in capturing the whole without resistance. At the head of a small party, conducted by the captured Indian and his daughter, who, it appears, readily engaged in the attempt, Church, by a cautious approach in the evening, reached the edge of a rocky precipice, under which Annawan was encamped, and made a critical examination of the position.

A tree had been felled close under the precipice and boughs placed against it to form a sort of hut; fires were burning near, pots and kettles boiling, and spits turning, loaded with meat, the fire-arms stood near the foot of the rock, resting upon a pole supported by crotches and covered with a mat, to keep them dry; the Indians were separated into three parties at small distances, surrounded by a rude abattis, and Annawan, with his son, lay reposing very near the arms.

Having viewed the camp sufficiently, Church and his party withdrew and formed his plan for the surprise. Informed by his guide that no one was allowed to go out or enter the camp except by the precipice, he determined to make his effort in that direction. The guide and his daughter, with baskets upon their backs, as if bringing in provisions, were directed to precede Church and his men, while the latter, close in the