Their plans

guage and of gesture, to deeds of bravery and desperation were matured, and every means devised, which power and strategy could suggest, to destroy the devoted band, and to capture the treasures in their charge. And now their royal leader, with all the force and enthusiasm which had characterized the most potent warrior and consummate general that the history of savage life had ever revealed, broke forth, and thus revealed his great and impassioned mind: Warriors! see you the treasures of the pale faces the richest stores of the longknives? See you the young men, few and feeble, that yonder carelessly stroll in the valley? See you our numbers, and the brave warriors that stand around you, and feel not your hearts strong? Is not your arm powerful, and your soul valiant? And who is he that goes before you? Who will direct you in the ambush and the fight? Is it not he who never knew fear?-whose heart is like the mountain, and his arm like the forest oak? - the great chief of the Naragansetts, whose people are like the leaves, and whose warriors are the terror of the pale faces? Follow him, and all is yours! Each hatchet give a fatal aim sink deep these knives ?- these arrows drink their blood! Away! - to death! our fathers and our homes!'

The wild spirit of the proud and lofty Phillip ran like electricity through the savage horde. Each burned for the affray, and quickly sprang into the trail of his great captain. Silently he glided from the mountain, and cowered along the meadow land that lay in a vale by the road side.

Here, deeply immersed in the luxuriant wild grass, shrink one thousand warriors, fiend-like exulting in the anticipated victory and slaughter. Now came the train of teams, cautiously guarded, as they had been thus far, by the chosen corps, and descended the small hill which conducted them into the green vale traversed by the road, and near which lay concealed the foe, ready to dart on their prey. Tradition says that here the noble youths, dreaming little of danger from the enemy, rested for the moment, and gathered grapes from the clustering vines that hung thick with their rich fruit by the road. When, ' sudden as the spark from smitten steel,' the thousand savage forms sprang from their ambush, and with hideous yells rushed to the onslaught. The vigorous youths, unterrified by the sudden assault, the yells, or the fearful numbers of the enemy, instantly rallied, and as quickly brought their rifles to their shoulders. They had received the cloud of arrows, as the savages approached within bow-shot of their victims, but now, in turn, the fatal lead from a still more deadly weapon made many a warrior bite the ground. The certain aim of the young band had told death to as many of the savage clan. Still onward they pressed, over their dead, and thickly hurled their missiles. Again, with deadly aim, the fire of the little and determined group of whites brought down the foremost of the desperate foe, and threw confusion into their ranks.

*History makes no mention of King Phillip being in this part of the country, either at this or any other time; but, from a tradition among the Indians themselves, I am enabled to state, with confidence, that this great sachem both contrived and led on this attack. Added to this, is the historical fact, that he was absent from his seat at Mount Hope about this time, no doubt for the purpose of enlisting other tribes in a warfare against the English; and he probably took advantage of the occasion to display to the tribes hereabout his success in planning, and his prowess in battle.

A gleam of hope broke through the fearful prospect, and for a moment relieved the doubts which the overwhelming numbers and fierce desperation of the savages had inspired. But quickly in front was heard the animating voice of their valiant chieftain, and as quickly did they rally and return the destructive fire. The noble youths, though with half their numbers slain, resolved to sell their lives at fatal cost. Nor was a nerve thrilled with fear, or a heart disposed to falter, as their ultimate fate now became too plainly apparent. Still onward, with brutal force, wrought to madness by the example and the thundering voice of the gigantic Phillip, pressed the exulting foe.

To utmost deeds brave Lathrop now inspired the daring band, as each had caught from him the thrilling cry: Our God!- our homes! our country, and our sires!' But in an instant, pierced with many arrows, he falls among the slain. The heroic captain, 'the bravest of the brave,' now fallen, the enemy express their fiendish joy in loud and terrific yells. The fight thickens, and man conflicts with man. The dying groans of the Christian nerves each youthful arm, which still deeper returns successive blows.

Impelled with fury at the destruction which was yet making in their ranks by the almost superhuman efforts of the brave whites, they strove, with all the brutality of fiends, to complete their deadly work. At length the number of the valiant youths was reduced to a solitary few; when the foremost of these, on turning to animate his comrades, saw himself supported by seven only of his associates. These, finding all efforts at victory hopeless, and that longer warfare would but add to the scalps of the victors, dashed their weapons in the face of the foe, and attempted to escape. The two who stood last in this unequal contest the most athletic of the chivalrous corps - bounding over the slain, took a direction toward the Deerfield river, followed by two hundred Indians, hurling with almost deadly precision their arrows and hatchets. The whizzing of these missiles urged the powerful remnant to their utmost speed. One of these, plunging into the stream, vainly attempted to reach its opposite bank; pierced by the arrows of the savages, he sank lifeless to its bottom, while the other, running along the shore, screened by the under-brush on its banks, silently sank into the water. Here, amid a thick and dark cluster of weeds and bushes, he supported himself by the trunk of an old tree lying on the edge of the stream, with his face sufficiently elevated to admit of respiration, until the Indians had relinquished their search for him, continually hearing, near by him, their hasty tramp, and fearful yells of disappointment. When all was still, and during the darkness of night, he swam across the river; and, stiff and cold, began his march for Hadley, where he arrived on the following day, the last and only living witness, as tradition says, of the battle of Bloody Brook. Reader, this youth was the writer's grandfather!

Returning to the spot which history has so justly designated as 'Bloody Brook,' the barbarous enemy, on completing their destruction of life, began that of the dead. The busy scalping-knife was doing its frightful office, and the naked heads, severed from the lifeless trunks, were dancing high in air on the points of poles. The sickening sight made the less savage foe revolt. Death had not done its last kind duties, when this infernal sport commenced. The convulsive

throe still showed the struggle between life and death. The spouting blood, still warm with life, was seen to gush forth from the gaping wounds and, trickling along the green-sward, find a repository in the gurgling brook near by. The gory rills were fast purpling the little stream, and transporting the red tide down to oblivion - the richest flood that ever rivulet bore. All around was horror, torture, and death; when suddenly appeared, on the crown of the hill, a large company of white men, who had come from Greenfield, with all possible haste, to the succor of their brethren. But, alas! it was too late! The scene we have described was presented instead. Filled with rage and madness, this furious band rushed down the hill upon the brutal force, yet gloating in blood, and falling like lions among them, made terrible havoc. Alarmed at this furious and unexpected assault, the savages sprang, with fear and desperate fleetness, from the scene, striving only to escape the death which their barbarity so justly merited. But full many a warrior fell by the strong arm of the vengeful white man. Flight alone saved the few remaining enemy.

A sad duty now devolved on the final victors. They dug on the spot the sepulchre which to this day contains the commingling dust of their youthful brethren, and over its mouth is to be seen a smooth flat stone, the only humble testimonial of posterity. Yes, there by the side of the road leading from the pretty villages we have mentioned, and near the little brook destined to give immortality to the event, may the curious traveler, as he passes through the green fields of the Connecticut valley, see the mound which designates the place where fought and sleep the unhonored brave. Peace to thy manes, heroic youths! Thy country's history shall preserve thy memory!

It is not a little curious, among the phenomena of mind, to mark the effect of external objects in recalling long-lost impressions. While standing on the spot thus hallowed by deeds of bravery, and while dwelling on the scenes which the imagination was picturing before me, I was all at once overwhelmed, as if by a sudden rush of light from the darkness of the past. Circumstances, localities - the realities, in all the vividness with which they were related to me, when but eight years of age, by my grandsire started fresh into life. More than thirty years have elapsed since memory recalled one of those impressions, and yet every word that was dropped from the lips of that venerated man his actions -his very look, while relating to me the affray at Bloody Brook,' came back upon me more freshly than a dream of yester-night. Every incident of that sanguinary fight, than which none in the history of our country was more fatally decisive, came up from the abyss of time, with all the vigor and clearness of present vision. He was then but eighteen years of age of powerful mould, and great muscular activity. The thrilling particulars which he described in his venerable age, thus presented themselves to my mind, a short time since, on the consecrated spot, to which neither history nor tradition has yet done justice.

C.

VOL. VIII.

The paths, o'er which our bounding feet
Outstripp'd the deer in headlong race-
The noon-tide covert's cool retreat,

Familiar as a brother's face-
Oh, who can love another earth,
Like the bright spot that gave him birth!

Ay, the old trees stand tall and gray,
Beneath whose unforgotten shade
The youthful warrior brought his prey,
At evening, to his dark-eyed maid-
And every flower that decked her hair,
Still blooms in summer beauty there.

But there no more shall chieftain hurl
The shaft of war, or sportive lance,
And there no more shall Indian girl

Beneath those verdant arches dance;
Or pluck the flowers, or in the shade
Her feathery chaplet ever braid!

Our fathers held their sires in awe,

But we must bend, and sue, and seek
For this, they say, is Christian law,
To grind the poor and daunt the weak:
Oh, forest-free the red-bird roams,
But we are slaves in foreign homes!

Not such the tale our warriors told;
And is the eagle-spirit fled ?
Gone, with the fiery hearts of old,
To slumber with the noble dead?
Gone, like the morning's misty breath-
Gone, with the white man's broken faith?

Oh, better far than thus to go,

-

Withering and dwindling, day by day,
To venture all upon one blow,

Before our spirits melt away,

Scorn this dull life of lingering slaves,
And die around our fathers' graves!

57

G. L.

THE PORTICO.

NUMBER TWO.

Ingenuas dedicisse fideliter artes,
Emollit mores, nec sinit esse feros.

HORACE.

In our last number, we undertook to display the numerous and important advantages which have been gained both by Europe and our own country, since the revival of learning and reformation in religion in the old world, and the hopes which may be rationally indulged, for the future, from the present condition and improved fortunes of our race. In perusing the records of history, and tracing the progress of human affairs, nothing can be more astonishing to the philosopher, or more afflictive to the laudable pride of the patriot and philanthropist, than to observe the slow advances which are made by science and right understanding, in demolishing the fortifications of ignorance and error, and subduing the dominions of prejudice and superstition. Upon a contemplation of this formidable evil, this pertinacious adherence to inveterate errors, which seems to be the inherent malady of the social state, we are led involuntarily to exclaim, Can it be possible, that our nature is so radically imperfect, and our understandings so irrecoverably blinded to the truth, as that the lights of science cannot by any process be poured into the minds of men? — that they cannot be made to comprehend those topics which are the most deeply interesting to them, and that in so many communities the great mass of the people must forever grope their way in darkness, and remain the willing dupes of cunning and imposture? Is the veil of ignorance, credulity, and delusion, too thick to be penetrated by the rays of science, and are the people irretrievably doomed to spend their days, through perpetual generations, enveloped in the darkness, gloominess, and miserable torpor of ignorance, error, and superstition? This deplorable state of things can never have been contemplated by that great and good Being, who has created mankind in his own heavenly image, who has enriched them with such exalted faculties of body and mind, who has inspired them with an ardent appetency for knowledge and insatiable curiosity, and who has stimulated them to the investigation of truth by so many powerful motives of expediency and satisfaction. In our country, it is fervently to be hoped, that as man finds himself in a condition so auspicious to the exercise and utmost cultivation of his talents, he will learn to claim his native honors and privileges, indulge his spirit of inquiry in its largest range, give unbounded scope to that reason which is the brightest ray of the divinity enkindled within him, and learn to compass its boldest conclusions. Never was a finer and more glorious field opened than in our country, in which reason may engage in a fair and equal contest of argument, in which truth may manfully wage war with error, and in which right, if its forces be judiciously summoned and adequately conducted, is more sure of an ultimate victory over might. Let us, then, be fully apprized of the inestimable advantages we enjoy in this respect, in this land of freedom, intelligence, and bold inquiry. Morality, religion, public order, have nothing to apprehend, from the fair conflict of opposing intellects, in the open field of argument and free discussion;