to the ground. His horse ran a few rods, and fell likewise, and both the lads were taken. The Indians, in their savage manner, coming up to Howe, pierced his body with a spear, tore off his scalp, stuck a hatchet in his head, and left him in this forlorn condition.

3. He was found alive the morning after, by a party of men from Fort Hinsdale; and being asked by one of the party whether he knew him, he answered, Yes, I know you all. These were his last words, though he did not expire until after his friends had arrived with him at Fort Hinsdale. Grout was so fortunate as to escape unhurt.

4. But Gaffield, in attempting to wade through the river, at a certain place, which was indeed fordable at that time, was unfortunately drowned. Flushed with the success they had met with here, the savages went directly to Bridgman's Fort. There was no man in it, and only three women and some children, Mrs. Jemima Howe, Mrs. Submit Grout, and Mrs. Eunice Gaffield.

5. Their husbands I need not mention again, and their feelings at this juncture I will not attempt to describe. They had heard the enemy's guns, but knew not what happened to their friends.

6. Extremely anxious for their safety, they stood longing to embrace them, until at length, concluding from the noise they heard without, that some of them were come, they unbarred the gate in a hurry to receive them; when, lo! to their inexpressible disappointment and surprise, instead of their husbands, in rushed a number of hideous Indians, to whom they and their tender offsprings became an easy prey; and from whom they had nothing to expect, but either an immediate death, or a long and doleful captivity.

7. The latter of these, by the favor of Providence, turned out to be the lot of these unhappy women, and their still more unhappy, because more helpless, children. Mrs. Gaffield had but one, Mrs. Grout had three, and Mrs. Howe seven. The eldest of Mrs. Howe's was eleven years old, and the youngest but six months.

8. The two eldest were daughters, which she had by her first husband, Mr. William Phips, who was also slain by the Indians, of which I doubt not you have seen an account in Mr. Doolittle's history. It was from the mouth of this woman, that I lately received the foregoing account. She also gave me, I doubt not, a true, though, to be sure, a very brief and imperfect history of her captivity, which I here insert for your perusal.

9. The Indians (she says) having plundered and put fire to the fort, we marched, as near as I could judge, a mile and a half into the woods, where we encamped that night.

10. When the morning came, and we had advanced as much farther, six Indians were sent back to the place of our late abode, who collected a little more plunder, and destroyed some other effects that had been left behind; but they did not return until the day was so far spent, that it was judged best to continue where they were through the night.

11. Early the next morning, we set off for Canada, and continued our march eight days successively, until we had reached the place where the Indians had left their canoes, about fifteen miles from Crown Point. This was a long and tedious march; but the captives, by Divine assistance, were enabled to endure it with less trouble and difficulty than they had reason to expect.

12. From such savage masters, in such indigent circumstances, we could not rationally hope for kinder treatment than we received. Some of us, it is true, had a harder lot than others; and among the children, I thought my son Squire had the hardest of any.

13. He was then only four years old; and when we stopped to rest our weary limbs, and he sat down on his master's pack, the savage monster would often knock him off, and sometimes too with the handle of his hatchet. Several ugly marks, indented in his head by the cruel Indians, at that tender age, are still plainly to be seen.

14. At length we arrived at Crown Point, and took up our quarters there, for the space of near a week. In the mean time, some of the Indians went to Montreal, and took several of the weary captives along with them, with a view of selling them to the French. They did not succeed, however, in finding a market for any of them.

15. They gave my youngest daughter to the governor, de Vaudreuil, had a drunken frolic, and returned again to Crown Point, with the rest of their prisoners. From hence we set off for St. John's, in four or five canoes, just as night was coming on, and were soon surrounded with darkness.

16. A heavy storm hung over us. The sound of the rolling thunder was very terrible upon the waters, which at every flash of expansive lightning, seemed to be all in a blaze. Yet to this we were indebted for all the light we enjoyed. No object could we discern any longer than the flashes lasted.

17. In this posture we sailed, in our open, tottering canoes, almost the whole of that dreary night. The morning indeed had not yet begun to dawn, when we all went ashore; and having collected a heap of sand and gravel for a pillow, I laid myself down, with my tender infant by my side, not knowing where any of my other children were, or what a miserable condition they might be in.

18. The next day, however, under the wing of that ever

present and all-powerful Providence, which had preserved us through the darkness and imminent dangers of the preceding night, we all arrived in safety at St. John's.

19. Our next movement was to St. Francois, the metropolis, if I may so call it, to which the Indians who led us captive belonged. Soon after our arrival at that wretched capital, a council, consisting of the chief sachem and some principal warriors of the St. Francois tribe, was convened; and after the ceremonies usual on such occasions were over, I was conducted and delivered to an old squaw, whom the Indians told me I must call my mother.

20. My infant still continued to be the property of its original Indian owners. I was nevertheless permitted to keep it with me a while longer, for the sake of saving them the trouble of looking after it. When the weather began to grow cold, shuddering at the prospect of approaching winter, I acquainted my new mother, that I did not think it would be possible for me to endure it, if I must spend it with her, and fare as the Indians did. 21. Listening to my repeated and earnest solicitations, that I might be disposed of among some of the French inhabitants of Canada, she at length set off with me and my infant, attended by some male Indians, upon a journey to Montreal, in hopes of finding a market for me there. But the attempt proved unsuccessful, and the journey tedious indeed.

22. Our provision was so scanty, as well as insipid and unsavory; the weather was so cold, and the traveling so very bad, that it often seemed as if I must perish on the way.

23. While we were at Montreal, we went into the house of a certain French gentleman, whose lady being sent for, and coming into the room where I was, to examine me, seeing I had an infant, exclaimed with an oath, "I will not buy a woman who has a child to look after."

24. There was a swill-pail standing near me, in which I observed some crusts and crumbs of bread, swimming on the surface of the greasy liquor it contained. Sorely pinched with hunger, I skimmed them off with my hands, and ate them; and this was all the refreshment which the house afforded me.

25. Somewhere in the course of this visit to Montreal, my Indian mother was so unfortunate as to catch the small-pox, of which distemper she died, soon after our return, which was by water, to St. Francois. And now came on the season when the Indians began to prepare for a winter's hunt.

26. I was ordered to return my poor child to those of them who still claimed it as their property. This was a severe trial. The babe clung to my bosom with all its might; but I was obliged to pluck it thence, and deliver it, shrieking and screaming, enough to penetrate a heart of stone, into the hands of

those unfeeling wretches, whose tender mercies may be termed cruel.

27. It was soon carried off by a hunting party of those Indians, to a place called Missisko, at the lower end of Lake Champlain, whither, in about a month after, it was my fortune to follow them. And here I found it, it is true, but in a condition that afforded me no great satisfaction; it being greatly emaciated,

and almost starved.

28. I took it in my arms, put its face to mine, and it instantly bit me with such violence, that it seemed as if I must have parted with a piece of my cheek. I was permitted to lodge with it that and the two following nights; but every morning that intervened, the Indians, I suppose on purpose to torment me, sent me away to another wigwam, which stood at a little distance, though not so far from the one in which my distressed infant was confined, but that I could plainly hear its incessant cries, and heart-rending lamentations.

29. In this deplorable condition, I was obliged to take my leave of it, on the morning of the third day after my arrival at the place. We moved down the lake several miles the same day; and the night following was remarkable on account of the great earthquake which terribly shook that howling wilderness.

30. Among the islands near this place, we spent the winter season, often shifting our quarters, and roving about from one place to another; our family consisting of three persons only, beside myself, viz. my late mother's daughter, whom therefore 1 called my sister, her sanhop, and a pappoos.

31. They once left me alone two dismal nights; and when they returned to me again, perceiving them smile at each other, I asked, what is the matter? They replied that two of my children were no more. One of which, they said, died a natural death, and the other was knocked on the head.

32. I did not utter many words, but my heart was sorely pained within me, and my mind exceedingly troubled with strange and awful ideas. I often imagined, for instance, that I plainly saw the naked carcasses of my deceased children, hanging upon the limbs of the trees, as the Indians are wont to hang the raw hides of those beasts which they take in hunting.

33. It was not long, however, before it was so ordered by kind Providence, that I should be relieved in a good measure from those horrid imaginations; for as I was walking one day upon the ice, observing a smoke at some distance upon the land, it must proceed, thought I, from the fire of some Indian hut; and who knows but some of my poor children may be there?

34. My curiosity, thus excited, led me to the place, and there 1 found my son Caleb, a little boy between two and three years old, whom I had lately buried, in apprehension at least; or

rather imagined to have been deprived of life, and perhaps also denied a decent grave.

35. 1 found him likewise in tolerable health and circumstances, under the protection of a fond Indian mother; and moreover, had the happiness of lodging with him in my arms one joyful night. Again we shifted our quarters, and when we had traveled eight or ten miles upon the snow and ice, came to a place where the Indians manufactured sugar, which they extracted from the maple trees.

36. Here an Indian came to visit us, whom I knew, and who could speak English. He asked me why I did not go to see my son Squire. I replied that I had lately been informed he was dead. He assured me that he was yet alive, and but two or three miles off, on the opposite side of the lake.

37. At my request, he gave me the best directions he could, to the place of his abode. I resolved to embrace the first opportunity that offered, of endeavoring to find him. While I was busy in contemplating this affair, the Indians obtained a little bread, of which they gave me a small share.

38. I did not taste a morsel of it myself, but saved it all for my poor child, if I should be so lucky as to find him. At length, having obtained of my keeper leave to be absent one day, I set off early in the morning, and steering, as well as I could, according to the directions which the friendly Indian had given me, I quickly found the place which he had so accurately marked out.

39. I beheld, as I drew nigh, my little son without the camp; but he looked, thought I, like a starved and mangy puppy, that had been wallowing in the ashes. I took him in my arms, and he spoke to me these words, in the Indian tongue: "Mother, are you come?"

40. I took him into the wigwam with me, and observing a number of Indian children in it, I distributed all the bread which I had reserved for my own child, among them all; otherwise I should have given great offense.

41. My little boy appeared to be very fond of his new mother, kept as near me as possible while I stayed; and when I told him I must go, he fell, as though he had been knocked down by a club.

42. But having recommended him to the care of Him who made him, when the day was far spent, and the time would permit me to stay no longer, I departed, you may well suppose, with a heavy load at my heart. The tidings I had received of the death of my youngest child, had a little before been confirmed to me beyond a doubt; but I could not mourn so heartily for the deceased, as for the living child.

43. When the winter broke up, we removed to St. John's;

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