Citation
American historical tales for youth

Material Information

Title:
American historical tales for youth
Spine title:
American historical tales
Creator:
Hawks, Francis L ( Francis Lister ), 1798-1866
Finden, Edward Francis, 1791-1857 ( Engraver )
D. Appleton and Company ( Publisher )
Place of Publication:
New York
Publisher:
D. Appleton & Co.
Publication Date:
Language:
English
Physical Description:
201, 177, 174, <2> p., <3> leaves of plates : ill., port. ; 16 cm.

Subjects

Subjects / Keywords:
History -- Juvenile literature -- United States ( lcsh )
Biographies -- 1852 ( rbgenr )
Embossed cloth bindings (Binding) -- 1852 ( rbbin )
Bldn -- 1852
Genre:
Biographies ( rbgenr )
Embossed cloth bindings (Binding) ( rbbin )
collective biography ( marcgt )
Spatial Coverage:
United States -- New York -- New York
Target Audience:
juvenile ( marctarget )

Notes

General Note:
Each of the three parts also issued separately.
General Note:
Publisher's advertisements follows text.
General Note:
One illustration engraved by E. Finden after Lieut. Hood, R.N.
Funding:
Brittle Books Program

Record Information

Source Institution:
University of Florida
Holding Location:
University of Florida
Rights Management:
This item is presumed to be in the public domain. The University of Florida George A. Smathers Libraries respect the intellectual property rights of others and do not claim any copyright interest in this item. Users of this work have responsibility for determining copyright status prior to reusing, publishing or reproducing this item for purposes other than what is allowed by fair use or other copyright exemptions. Any reuse of this item in excess of fair use or other copyright exemptions may require permission of the copyright holder. The Smathers Libraries would like to learn more about this item and invite individuals or organizations to contact The Department of Special and Area Studies Collections (special@uflib.ufl.edu) with any additional information they can provide.
Resource Identifier:
026806428 ( ALEPH )
23524188 ( OCLC )
ALH1687 ( NOTIS )

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AMERICAN

HISTORICAL TALES

YOUTH.

NEW-YORK:
D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY

M.DCCC.LIL,






CHAPTER I

The birth of John Smith—His boyish restlessness
—His early adventures and wanderings —
His return home—His wanderings resumed—
After strange adventures, he enlists as a soldier
against the Turks—His brilliant exploits as a
soldier—He is taken captive at last and sold as
a slave to the Bashaw Bogal—He sends him to
Constantinople.

In the life of Henry Hudson* Captain John
Smith is spoken of as his “earliest and most
cherished companion.” Of all the remarkable
men, who visited this new world for the purpose
of planting colonies, and subduing the wilder-
ness, there was none more remarkable than John
Smith. His life was a perfect romance, filled
with wild and roving adventures; and I think
my young countrymen will be both instructed
and pleased by reading his history. Here, there-
fore, it is.

* See volume I.of A Library for my Young Countrymen.



14 JOHN SMITH.

Unfortunately, we knew but little of the early
days of Hudson ; but Smith we can follow from
his boyhood up. He was born in Willoughby,
in the county of Lincolnshire, in England, of
respectable parents, in the year 1579, and, from
the earliest boyhood, began to shew his restless,
roving disposition. He was sent to school, a
very young lad, and soon distinguished himself
among his school-fellows for his bold, manly,
and adventurous sports. But books and schoolboy
confinement did not please him. Scarcely yet
thirteen years old, he sold his satchel, books,
and whatever other articles he could part with,
to raise money, that he might goto sea. All
this was unknown, at the time, to his friends,
and he would probably have succeeded in get-
ting away, had not the death of his father oc-
curred at the time, and thereby prevented it.
Now he was left in the hands of guardians. At
the age of fifteen they placed him as an ap-
prentice to a merchant at Lynn, hoping that this
might suit his turn of mind, and prove both
profitable and pleasant to him. Smith seems at
first to have liked this, for his thoughts were
still upon the ocean, and he hoped from time to
time that his master would send him to sea in
his service. But at last, disappointed in this, the



JOHN SMITH. S-

counting-house became wearisome to him, and
he resolved to leave. With only ten shillings
in his pocket, therefore, which he says was
given to him by his friends “to get rid of him,”
he left his employer. It was not long before
young Smith began to fear he had made a sad
mistake. Afraid to report himself to his guard-
ians, and fearful that, if he remained in England,
they would find him, and put him to some other
employment, it is said, he wandered about in
his poverty, scarcely knowing what to do; his
heart resolved only upon this one thing, to start
abroad as soon as he could. He was a boy of
too much principle to steal, and yet he was too
poor to carry out his wishes. The story runs,
that in this sad state of mind, after wandering
another weary day, he was fortunate enough, in
stopping at a public-house, to meet with a noble-
man who was about embarking for France, and
Smith was made happy, when he was allowed
to enter his train, and go along with him. They
journeyed on together now, until they reached Or-
leans, in France, but here, from some cause, they
parted. Whether the nobleman (as has been
said) found Smith wild and ungovernable, or
whether it was that he no longer had need of
his services, here he dismissed him. Yet he



JOHN SMITH.

treated him with great generosity, fo: he gave
him money, that he might return to England,
and live among his friends.

Yet Smith had no thought of returning home,
and now it was that his travels fairly com-
menced. He first went to Paris, and after
. Spending a little time there, he started for Hol-
land. There was in him always a love of
military” life, a sort of military ardor; and
I have supposed that he moved toward the
“Low Countries,” because, at that time, this
was the battle-ground of Europe. A struggle
was then going on between this country and
Spain. Certain it is, that he had scarcely reach-
ed the country, when he enlisted as a soldier; and
now, for some time, he served in the army,
greatly delighted with his new occupation. His
restless spirit, however, grew weary at last, even
of this. Meeting with a Scotch gentleman, (Mr.
David Hume,) he was supplied by him with
money, and letters to his friends in Scotland,
and advised to go with him to that country.
The principal inducement for his going was, (as
his Scotch friend assured him,) that he would
there find friendship and favor at the hands of
King James. Now, then, he embarked for Scot-
land. After suffering from shipwreck, and a



JOHN SMITH 17

violent fit of sickness, he at length arrived there,
and delivered his letters. These letters procured
for him kind attention, and he was treated with
great hospitality—though as far as the king
was concerned, he met with little patronage and
encouragement. His heart, therefore, began to
turn homeward, and he soon started off for his
native town, Willoughby.

Upon his arrival, his friends were all 1 delighted
to see him, and were greatly pleased to hear him
recount his travels. But this being over, he soon
tired of the companions around him: and now
he went to the woods and built him a little
booth, where he might live alone to himself.
Here he became very industrious in pursuing
his studies. His fondness for a soldier’s life
set him upon the study of military history and
tactics; and from time to time he would amuse
himself with sports of hunting and horseman-
ship. His books, his horse, and his lance were
almost the only objects that interested him. Af-
ter a time, it became generally known that
he was living in this quiet way: his strange
habits were much talked of, and this induced an
Italian gentleman, who was himself a great
horseman, to visit him. He soon made the ac-
quaintance of Smith, (for their tastes were alike,)

Qe



18 JOHN SMITH.

and at length persuaded him to leave his retire-
ment, and come back into the world. His little
lodge, therefore, was now deserted.

His restless spirit soon prompted him again
to roam. He now had the means of travelling,
(for he had received his portion of his father’s
estate,) and in spite of the remonstrances and
entreaties of his friends, he resolved upon start-
ing once more. Again led, I suppose, by his mili-
tary ardor, he embarked for Flanders, hoping to
play the part ofa soldier against the Turks. But
here his plans were altered. Accidentally meet-
ing with four Frenchmen, (one of whom passed
for a nobleman, and the other three for his attend-
ants, ) he was persuaded to ‘join them, and travel
with them into Feance. These men were vil-
lains, who noticing the youth and inexperience
of Smith, (for he was now only nineteen, some
say seventeen, years of age,) had resolved upon
robbing him. They all accordingly embarked for
France. It was a dark night when they arrived
at St. Valery, in Picardy; and now these im-
postors had made so much of a friend of their
captain, who was a villain like themselves, that
they were prepared to carry their plan into ex-
ecution. Accordingly, these four Frenchmen,
with the captain at their head, now went ashore



JOHN SMITE. 10°:

in the boat, taking with them the trunks of
Smith. The next moming the captain returned
with the boat. Upon being asked why he had
been gone so long, he stated, that he had been
prevented from returning by the high sea: but
the truth was, he had delayed only that his
thievish companions might escape with their
plunder before it was possible to overtake them.
The crew suspected the villany of the com-
mander, (for the luggage of Smith was now
missed,) and it is said that they proposed to
Smith to kill him, and seize the vessel and car-
go. This, however, he very properly refused to
do, and thus went ashore, poor and friendless.
Indeed, his poverty was now so great, that he
sold part of his clothing to pay his passage.
One of the sailors now took compassion upon
him, and paying his expenses, they travelled to-
gether as far as Mortaine, where the villains
lived, (for this sailor, it seems, knew them.) His
journey proved useless, as far as his trunks were
concerned, for being poor and without friends,
he found it impossible to recover any part of his
property. His desolate situation, however, called
out the sympathy of many good people, and he
was invited to their homes, kindly treated, and
supplied with further sums of money. >: :



20 JOHN SMITH.

Still eager to pursue his travels, and unwilling -
to remain, receiving favors which he could not
return, he resolved upon leaving this place.
With a light heart, therefore, he started on foot
toward the sea-shore, hoping, in some one of
the seaport towns, to find a ship in which he
might embark. In his wanderings, his money
was soon again exhausted. It was during this
journey that he accidentally met one day, near
Dinan, one of the villains who had robbed him.
Without saying a word, they both instantly drew
their swords. A crowd gathered around them;
Smith had wounded him, and he forced the
Frenchman to confess his guilt before the whole
multitude. This, however, was all he obtained,
for he found none of his property. Before he
reached the sea-shore, he suffered many priva-
tions. It is said, that after wandering one day
through a forest, he was so much exhausted to-
ward evening, by fatigue and exposure, that he
threw himself down by a fountain, expecting to
die there; and would probably have died, had
not a kind farmer discovered him, and once more
supplied his wants.

He now remembered an old friend, whom he
had seen before, (the Earl of Ployer,) and knew,
if he could reach him, he would receive sympathy



JOHN SMITH. Qi

and assistance. Accordingly, he managed to
reach the home of this friend, and found all his
hopes realized. The Earl treate¢ him with
marked kindness, and furnished him with money
for his journey. He now travelled along the
French coast to Bayonne, and thence crossed.
over to Marseilles, noticing particularly, by the
way, any and every thing that fed his passion
for naval and military exploits. At Marseilles
he found a ship ready to sail for Italy.

In this ship it happened that there were a
number of pilgrims, going to Rome. Smith,
however, took passage with them, and new
troubles soon met him on the voyage. A storm
at first drove the vessel into the harbor of Tou-
lon: after the tempest had passed away, and
they were again on their voyage, head winds
ere long met them, and they were forced to an-
chor under the little island of Saint Mary, off
Nice, in Savoy. Here the pilgrims began to
murmur and complain. Their bigotry and mad-
ness induced them to suppose that Smith was
the cause of their troubles, because he was what
they called a heretic. They abused him, because
he was a Protestant, and Queen Elizabeth of
England, because she was known to protect
the Protestant religion: and they were scarcely



92 JOHN SMITH.

again under way, when their madness carried
them so far, that they seized Smith, and without
any mercy, threw him overboard. What became
of the pilgrims, I cannot say, but a merciful
Providence watched over Smith, and sustained
him through the struggle of swimming back to
the island. Weak and exhausted, he was in a
pitiable condition. He found no one near hin—
yet, with a heart of hope, he raised signals,
trusting that some ship passing by might mark
his distress. Fortunately, next day, a ship of
Saint Malo put in at the island for shelter, and
doubly fortunate he was when he found that the
commander of this ship was Captain La Roche,
a friend and neighhor to his old friend, the Earl
of Ployer. Of course, Smith now met with every
attention. In a little time the vessel proceeded
on her voyage to Alexandria, in Egypt. Thence
she coasted the Levant. On her return home-
ward, she fell in with a Venetian vessel. The
French captain tried to speak her, but was an-
swered only by “a broadside,” (the French ship
being mistaken, I suppose, for a pirate.) A
sharp action now commenced—Smith bearing
a bold part in it. After a hard contest, the
Venetian ship was taken, and found to be very
richly laden. All that was valuable was seized,



JOHN SMITH. - 93

and the conquerors divided the spoils. ‘Smith,
for his valor, received as his share, a box con-
taining a thousand sequins; (about two thousand
dollars.) At his own request now he'was landed
on the shore of Piedmont, and, with abundance
of money, travelled through Italy, marking every
thing that was interesting. His desire for mili-
tary glory was, however, still uppermost in his
heart, and crossing the Adriatic, he travelled on
till he came to Gratz, in Styria, the seat of Fer-
dinand, the Archduke of Austria. War was at
this time raging between the Germans and the
Turks; and Smith, finding two of his country-
men at the place, was soon introduced ‘to Lord
Eberspaught, Baron Kizel, Count Meldntch,
and other officers of distinction. He at once en-
listed as a volunteer, to serve in the army against
the Turks.

It was not long now, before his genius had
full scope to shew itself. The Turkish army,
(twenty thousand strong,) under Ibrahim Pasha,
having ravaged the neighboring country, were
now laying siege to the strong town of Olym-
pach. Lord Eberspaught was here, shut up with
his army, and cut off from all supplies and com-
munication with his friends. Smith served in
Baron Kizel’s army, who was endeavoring to



24 JOHN SMITH.

help Eberspaught in his perilous condition. De-
sirous of sending a message to him, and finding
it impossible, Smith now proposed to try his
plan for communicating with him—a plan of
which he had formerly talked with Eberspaught.
This was by means of a telegraph, which he had
invented. Kizel consented, and Smith now went
at night with a guard, toa hill in sight of the
town, yet far enough to be unobserved by the
Turkish army. Raising his signals, he conveyed
to Eberspaught this message : “ Thursday night
Iwill charge on the east ; at the alarm sally
thou.” The signal was understood, and the an-
swer came back, “I will.”* Making ready for
Thursday night, he prepared a number of
matches on a string. which he extended in a
line, in a certain direction, Just on the eve of
the attack, these matches were fired, and ex-
ploded like a roar of musketry. The Turks,
thinking they were attacked in that quarter, sal-
lied out to meet the enemy. Kizel, with his
army, rushed upon them at the -moment—the

* Smith’s method of communicating was by means of
torches. Each letter from A to L was designated by shew-
ing one torch as many times as corresponded to the letter’s
place in the alphabet—each letter, from M to Z, was desig-
nated by shewing two torches after the same manner. The
end of a word was signified by shewing three lights.



JOHN SMITH. 25

men in the garrison moved at the same time—
the Turks were routed, numbers of them were
slain, numbers driven into the river and drown-
ed, and two thousand of Kizel’s men enter-
ed the garrison. The next day, the enemy
was glad to abandon the siege. This gallant
action gained great applause for Snith, and he
was at once appointed to the command of a troop
of two hundred and fifty horse, in the regiment
of Count Meldritch.

Flushed with success, the Emperor of Ger-
many now resolved to prosecute the war boldly,
and for this purpose three large armies were
raised. Smith served in that commanded by the
Archduke Matthias, the Emperor’s brother. The
principal command of this force, however, devolv-
ed upon the lieutenant, the Duke Mercury, and
Smith seems to have shared his particular confi-
dence. Ere long, they laid ‘siege to Alba Re-
galis, in Hungary. This was a town strongly
fortified by the Turks. Smith’s skill here an-
noyed the enemy greatly, for he managed to
throw bombs from a sling, in the midst of them,
and two or three times succeeded in setting the
place on fire. After an obstinate resistance, this
place was taken with great loss to the Turks.
So unexpected was this result, that the Turks

3



26 JOHN . SMITH.

could hardly believe themselves routed: and. it
is said, that one of their Bashaws, upon hearing
the sad news, would eat nothing the whole day,
but threw himself upon the ground, and con-
tinued to pray to Mahomet to deliver his coun-
trymen. The Sultan, however, could not rest
satisfied with this defeat, and sent an army of
sixty thousand men to recapture the place. The
Duke Mercury, hearing of the. approach of this
vast number, was not dismayed, though his num-
bers were comparatively small.:; He marched
out to meet them, and, after a desperate battle,
defeated the Turks.once more. The fight must
have been tremendous, for six thousand of the
Turks (it is said) were left dead upon the field.
Smith bore himself as usual, gallantly, through
the whole, escaping narrowly with his life. His
horse was shot under him, and he was severely
wounded.

In a little time, he was again at the head of
his own company, and with Count Meldritch,
marched into Transylvania. - Here the Turks
were committing their ravages, and the Count
felt peculiarly excited against them, because: his
family possessions lay in that:region. A strong’.
body of Turks, after scouring’ the country, had.
now fortified themselves inthe town of Regal, ’



JOHN SMITH. 27

among the mountains of Transylvania, and here
they felt secure. With eight thousand men
Meldritch laid siege to this place. Fortunately,
he was soon after joined by Prince Moyses, with
nine thousand more. The place was so strong by
nature, and so strongly garrisoned, that the siege
proved long, and seemed, indeed, almost useless.
The Turks, feeling their strength, began to grow
insolent. At length one of their number, the
Lord Turbishaw, (for the purpose, as was
said, of amusing the Turkish ladies,) sent a chal-
lenge to any man of the Christian troops, who
dared come out to fight him. Lots were now
cast, to see who should accept this challenge ;
and the lot fell upon Smith. The time for the
meeting approached, and the battlements of the
town were lined with ladies to witness it. Lord
Turbishaw, elegantly dressed in a magnificent
suit of armor, which blazed with gold, silver,
and jewels, now rode out into the field. Three
men attended him, one bearing his lance, and
two others moving by the side of his horse.
Smith rode out to meet him, attended only by a
page, who bore his lance. The trumpets now
sounded, (as the signal for battle,) and the
conflict commenced. It was soon ended; for
Smith, with his lance, thrust the Turk through



28 JOHN SMITH.

the head, and he fell dead frora his horse. Great
was the shout of joy now raised by the Christian
troops; and loud the lamentations among the
Turkish ladies. The conqueror now cut off the
head of Turbishaw, and bore it back in triumph
among his comrades, leaving his dead body ly-
ing upon the ground. This defeat was more
than the Turks could well bear, and a particular
friend of Turbishaw’s, named Grualgo, was in-
flamed with rage. Burning to revenge the death
of his friend, he sent now a special challenge'to
Smith, to meet him. The challenge was at once
accepted, and the next day fixed for the meet-
ing. It was agreed this time that the conqueror
should have the horse and the armor of the de-
feated. In the morning they met. At their first
attack, their lances were shivered—their pistols
were then discharged, and both were wounded,
Smith slightly, the Turk severely, in the arm.
Smith now had the advantage. The Turk, from
the wound in his arm, being unable to manage
his horse, was easily slain; his head was also
taken from his body, and carried triumphant-
ly to the Christian troops. His horse and his
armor too, were now the trophies of the con-
queror. Proud of his success, in a haughty
spirit, Smith (by permission of his commander)



JOHN SMITH. 29

now sent his challenge to the Turks. If the
ladies, he said, still desired amusement, and
would choose their champion, he would add his
head to the number he had taken, or lose his
own. A champion was soon found in the per-
son of a ferocious Turk, named Bonamolgro—
the challenge accepted, and terms agreed upon.
As Bonamolgro was the challenged person, and
had the choice of arms, having seen Smith’s
skill in using the lance, he avoided this, and se-
lected for the weapons, pistols, battle-axes, anc
swords. The next day they met; their pistols
were first fired, without injuring either party,
and then they fought with battle-axes. The
Turk was more skilled than Smith in the use of
this; and dealing him a heavy blow, he un-
horsed him, while his battle-axe fell from his
hand. The ramparts now rung with the shouts
of ladies, who supposed Smith was discomfited.
But Smith was a fine horseman, and this saved
him. In an instant, he rallied from the blow,
remounted his horse, and by dexterous manage-
ment of the animal, succeeded, not only in avoid-
ing the blows aimed at him by the Turk, but at
a favorable moment ran him through with his
sword. Bonamolg# fell to the ground, and his
head was also taken. The Turks were no dis-
3*



80 JOHN SMITH.

heartened, and ere long the town was cap-
tured.

The triumph of the Christian forces was now
great; but Smith’s triumph was greater, for he
was the special hero of the occasion. He was
conducted to the pavilion of his general by a
' military procession of six thousand men. Be-
fore these were led three horses, and in front of
all were the three Turks’ heads, borne on the
points of three lances. Here hé was received
with great honor. The general embraced him
warmly, presented him with a horse, richly ca-
parisoned, a cimeter and belt, worth three hun-
dred ducats; and, best of all, in Smith’s estima-
tion, made him the major of a regiment of men.
Nor was the honor of his exploits yet ended; for
afterwards, when the Prince of Transylvania
heard of his valor, he presented to Smith his
picture, set in gold; gave him a pension of three
hundred ducats a year, and granted him a coat
of arms, bearing three Turks’ heads in a shield,
The motto of the coat of arms was this: ‘ Vin-
cere est vivere.” His fame was soon known at
home,.as well as abroad; for this patent of the
Prince was afterwards admitted and recorded, in
the College of Heralds, in England, by Sir Henry
Segar, garter king at arms. Smith (it is said)



JOHN SMITH. 31

always remembered this occasion with great ex-
ultation, and to the last day of his. life was proud
of this motto.

His passion for a soldier’s life naturally enough
grew stronger as he advanced in distinction, and
he was soon again in activeservice. _In Wallachia,
which was at this time a Turkish province, the
inhabitants revolted against the reigning prince,
and proclaimed a new one Pressed with a
hard struggle, they applied to the Emperor of
Germany to aid them, and he at once took ad-
vantage of their position, and met their entreaty.
Count Meldritch, Smith, and other officers, with
an army of thirty thousand men, went to the
assistance of the new prince. The deposed
prince, resolute upon maintaining his place, had
gathered together his forces, and now met them
with an army of forty thousand Turks and Tar-
tars. A desperate and bloody struggle followed :
the army of the Turks was routed, and only fif-
teen thousand made good their retreat. Twenty-
five thousand Turks (it is said) lay dead or
wounded upon the field, and the province was
now subject to the Emperor.

With a strong bait, the deposed prince was
still bent upon holdifig his place. He gathered
his troops again. together, and was ere long heard



32. JOHN SMITH.

of in the province of Moldavia. Count Meldritch
and Smith again met him. After several skilful
and successful skirmishes against him, they seem
to have been flushed with pride; and now pressing
eagerly on in a narrow and mountainous pass, near
the town of Rottenton, they were surprised by an
ambuscade. Here an army of forty thousand
men rushed suddenly upon them ; the Christian
troops fought boldly and desperately, but to little
or no purpose. They were overpowered by num-
bers, and all were slain or wounded, except
about thirteen hundred men, who, with Count
Meldritch at their head, escaped by swimming a
river. In this unfortunate struggle, Smith was
badly wounded, and left (as his friends sup-
posed) dead upon the field. In this, however,
they were deceived. The Turks discovered him,
bleeding among the heaps of the dead, and the rich-
ness of his dress and armor, as it turned out, saved
his life. Supposing him to be a man of rank
and distinction, they were too cruel to despatch
him, but saved him, that he might suffer a more
lingering and degrading torment than death.
His wounds were dressed, and after he had suffi-
ciently recovered, he, any others of the
poor prisoners, were take to a Turkish town,
and there sold as slaves, in the market-place.



JOHN SMITH. 33

It was Smith’s lot to be purchased by the Ba-
shaw Bogal; and he now sent him as a present
to his mistress, Tragabigzanda, in Constantino-
ple, accompanying the present with this false-
hood, that Smith was a Bohemian nobleman,
whom he had made prisoner in war



CHAPTER IL

Smith escapes from his captivity—He wanders
through Russia and Poland, and is kindly
entertained—Cordial meeting with his old
friends, in Transylvantia—He journeys to
France, Spain, and Morocco—Returns to
England—Happiness of his friends at meet-
ing him—Meets with Bartholomew Gosnold,
and determines to sail for the New World—
Patent of King James for settling Virginia—
Their ships satl—Unkind treatment of Smith on
the voyage—The Colonists reach Jamestown—
Smith is refused his place as one of the
Council. .

Smitx fared fortunately in the hands of his
Turkish mistress. Being able to speak Italian,
and struck with the manly and noble bearing of
the captive, she from time to time held con-
versations with him, and learned the utter false-
hood of the Bashaw’s me. to her. Instead of
a Bohemian nobleman, se discovered that the
prisoner was an Englishman of good family, and



JOHN SMITH. 35

promising prospects ; that he was a soldier of
fortune, who had fallen into his present position
in the struggle near Rottenton, and had never
seen the Bashaw, till they met in the market-
place. Smith now told her the whole story of his
wanderings, and the lady was captivated by the
man, and his adventures. Finding her heart
drawn toward him, and fearing that he might
be ill-used, or again sold, she resolved to do
what she could for his protection. She sent him
therefore to her brother Timour, the Bashaw of
Nalbraitz, who lived in the country of the Cam-
brian T'artars, on the borders of the Sea of
Azoph. To secure his good treatment, she sent a
letter with him, requesting her brother to treat
him kindly, and frankly telling him, that she felt
a deep attachment for the prisoner. Her letter,
however, instead of helping Smith, as she de-
signed, only outraged her brother. He was
greatly indignant at the thought, that his sister
should love a Christian slave. In an hour after
his arrival, he was stripped of all his clothing—
his head and beard were shaved—an iron collar
was fastened round_his neck—and clothed in a
suit of hair loth res sent out to hard labor
among other poor Christian slaves.

Smith’s situation was now pitiable enough;



36 JOHN SMITH

but his bold spirit was unconquered. His com
panions in misery were sad and in despair; yet
he, though well nigh driven to despair; had ever
the hope of being again free, and watched every
opportunity of making his escape. He thought
first of running away, but he found that he was
watched so closely, that he could not move with-
out being seen. Day after day, therefore, he la-
bored on, but with a heart of hope, that he
should one day be rid of his bondage. How
long he was in captivity here, I cannot say, but
he at last made his escape in the following
manner.

He was employed one day in threshing corn,
at a farm-house, in a field, about three miles
from the place where his tyrannical master liv-
ed. The master was in the habit, at times, of
visiting the laborers at their work, and at such
times, not unfrequently, treated them with great
cruelty. On this occasion he visited the farm-
house, and having a personal dislike to Smith,
was not satisfied with abusing him, but beat
him and kicked him violently. This was more
than the proud spirit of Smith could endure.
Watching his epportani Geren, when no
one was present, he gave-mm a blow with his
threshing flail, and laid him senseless at his feet



JOHN SMITH. “87

No time was now-to. be lost. He at once dressed
himself in the Bashaw’s clothes, hid his body un-
der the straw, filled a bag with corn, closed the
doors, mounted the Bashaw’s horse, and gallop-
ed off into. the wilderness, He was now free, but
in the midst of a wild desert, ignorant of his way.

In this desert he wandered for two or three
days, not knowing whither he was going, and
fortunately meeting no one who might have
marked his iron collar, known him as a slave,
and possibly recaptured him, or given notice, at
least, of his flight. At length it was his good
fortune to reach a cross-road,- where a signpost
directed him, on the main road to Russia. Keep-
ing this road, at the end of sixteen days, (dur-
ing which time his bag supplied him with’ his
only food,) he reached Ecopolis, upon the river
Don, where there was a garrison of the Russians.
The commander of the garrison, learning he was
a Christian, t:eeted him with great kindness ;
his iron collar was taken off, and letters were
given to him, introducing him very kindly to the
other governors in that region. He now travelled
on through Russia and Poland, meeting every
where with kind ion... It was in some part
of this journey that'ne met with the Jady Calla-
mata, who took a deep interest in him, and of

4



38 JOHN SMITH.

whom Smith ever speaks with the utmost grati-
tude. At length he reached Transylvania. Here
he was welcomed with the greatest enthusiasm.
His fame was well known, and his old comrades
crowded around him, rejoicing once more to see
a friend, whom they supposed lost to them for
ever. At Leipsic he had a joyful meeting with
his old commander, Count Meldritch; and the
Prince of Transylvania, (it is said,) hearing of
his arrival, sent for him, and gave him a present
of fifteen. hundred ducats, to repair his losses.
Smith seems to have been so touched with this
kindness, that he was almost ready to listen to
the entreaties of these friends, and make his
home in their country. One thing alone pre-
vented, and that was the longing desire, which
naturally enough rested in his heart, to visit
once more his native land. Who loves not the
spot where he was born, and where he played in
his boyhood? With a sad heart, therefore, he
tore himself from these friends, and journeyed
on. He passed through France, Germany, and
Spain, observing, as was his custom, every thing
attentively on his way. Now he was turned
aside from going directly halle, by his old passion
for military life. Learning that a civil war had
broken out, in the kingdom of Morocco, he im-



JOHN SMITH. 39

mediately sailed for that country, with the in-
tention of embarking in the struggle. Upon his
arrival, however, not being pleased with either
of the contending parties, he determined to take
no part in it whatever, and ere long set sail for
England. Strange adventures were still in his
way: for in his homeward course, he bore his
part in another naval battle. The ship in which
he sailed was attacked by two Spanish vessels
of war, and, after a desperate and bloody fight,
they were driven off. He soon now made his
landing in England, having (it is reported) in
his possession one thousand ducats, which, in ad-
dition {g some property which he held in Eng-
land, enabled him, for the time, to feel quite in-
dependent.

Great was the joy between Smith and his
friends now, in his native land. While he glad-
ly told the story of his travels, they forgot the
sorrows of his exile in the delight of hearing
him. Their joy, however, was soon again over-
cast, for his untired spirit began to pant for
other adventures, and they knew that it was idle
’ to attempt to restrain him. The circumstances
which now roused gif spirit, are circumstances
in which we, as Americans, are nearly in-
terested



40 JOHN SMITH.

At this time, well nigh all Europe was filled
with a desire for maritime discoveries, and no-
where was this desire more ardent than in Eng-
land. Several voyagers had now crossed the
western waters, and seen portions of that New
World which had been discovered by Columbus.
Returning home, they had marvellous stories to
tell of its richness and beauty. More than this
had been done. Attempts had been made to
colonize a part.of the new continent. The bold
genius of that noble Englishma.:, Sir Walter
Raleigh, had (even during the reign of the pre-
ceding sovereign, Queen Elizabeth) attempted
to plant a group of adventurers upon. Roanoke
Island, off the coast of Carolina; and though
this effort, with others, had failed, the desire for
the same sort of adventure was still strongly felt
in England; and as new tidings came from
time to time of the beauty of the new world, this
desire only increased. It happened about the
time of Smith’s return home, that Bartholomew
Gosnold (who, in 1602, had made a voyage to
New England) was talking largely of the pros-
pects of the new world, and was himself desir-
ous and ready to make another adventure there,
for the purpose of planting a colony and sub-
duing the wilderness. Meeting with Smith, he



JOHN SMITH. Ai

found one ready to listen to his story and plans;
a strong friendship was soon formed between
them, and they determined to link their hopes
together in this new undertaking. They now
set resolutely to work, to secure sufficient patron-
age to carry out their design. Other voyagers
returning home, confirmed from time to time the
statements of Gosnold, and animated them the
more in their efforts. Ere long, they found sev-
eral noblemen and gentlemen, of like feeling
with themselves, (among whom we should espe-
cially remember Edward Maria Wingfield, a
merchant, Robert Hunt, a clergyman, and Rich- -
ard Hackluyt,) and now they asked of King
James a royal patent, for making new dis-
coveries, and planting a colony in Virginia.
The king met these proposals, and on the 10th
of April, 1606, issued his letters patent to Sir
Thomas Gates, Sir George Somers, Richard
Hackluyt and others. By these letters, they
were allowed to possess all the territories in
North America, lying between the thirty-fourth
and forty-fifth degrees of north latitude, and all
islands within the same latitudes, within one hun-
dred miles of the shore. These adventurers, I
believe, had asked the privilege of establishing
two colonies. At all events, they were divided
4*



42 JOHN SÂ¥ ITI.

into two companies—ore known as the London
or South Virginia Company—the other, as the
Plymouth Company. The two companies were
to ymake their settlements within the territory
granted-—one in the southern, the other in the
northern part of it, and their colonies were to be
kept one hundred miles apart These colonies
were to be governed by two councils, as they
were called, both selected by the king—one coun-
cil to reside in England, while the other resided
in the colony, and all laws made by the Colo-
nial Council were to be subject to repeal or al-
teration by the king or Supreme Council at home.
These terms were the best the petitioners could
obtain, and the London Company resolved at
once to act under them.

Some little delay was experienced in making
all ready, so that the 19th of December arrived,
before their ships were ready to sail from Eng-
land. On that day three ships, one of one hun-
dred, another of forty, and another of twenty
tons, under the command of Captain Christopher
Newport, fell down the Thames, bound on a
voyage for Virginia. Of course, they were well
stocked with men and provisions for a colony.
Among the leading men on board, were Barthol
omew Gosnold, Captain Smith, Edward Wing-



JOHN SMITH 43

field the merchant, and Robert Hunt the clergy-
man. They had with them, among other things,
a sealed box, containing “ orders for government
in Virginia,” which box was not to be opened
until their arrival there.

The ships were now detained for more than
six weeks off the coast of England, by head
winds; and murmurings and complaints arose
among the adventurers. These, however, were
allayed, in some degree, by the affection and per-
severance of the good clergyman, Mr. Hunt.
Though a sick man, he forgot his own troubles
to make them happy. There were some on
board who hated (it seems) him, and his profes-
sion, yet “all this” (we are told) “ could never
force from him so much as a seeming desire to
leave the business, but he preferred the service
of God in so good a voyage, before any affection
to contest with his Godless foes, whose disastrous
designs (could they have prevailed) had even
then overthrown the business, so many discon:
tents did then arise, had he not with the water
of patience, and his Godly exhortations, (but
chiefly by his true devoted examples,) quenched
those flames of envy and dissension.’ At

* Smith’s Virginia—Vol. I., page 150.



44 JOHN: SMITH.

length, with a fair wind, they shaped their
course for the new world, by the old route of the
Canaries and West India Islands. They had
scarcely reached the Canaries, when their mur-
murings became louder than ever, and it seems
now that poor Smith was unconsciously the prin-
cipal cause of them. His bold and manly bear-
ing, together with his conversation, had excited
the suspicion and jealousy of some of his com-
panions. They declared that he had the desire
and intention of murdering the council, and
making himself king of Virginia, and that he
had conspirators among the crew for that pur-
pose. Smith was too proud to make any expla-
nation, when he felt perfectly innocent, and the
consequence was, that he was now seized and
confined as a prisoner for the rest of the voyage.
They were also, it is said, outraged. with -Mr.
Hunt as his friend, and I presume his profession
and prudence alone saved him from the same
fate. They now steered from the Canaries, to
the West Indies. Among these islands they
spent three weeks, recruiting for their farther
voyage, and seem to have.been much pleased
with the appearance of this new and strange
region. Thence they moved off for Virginia.
Visited with unsteady weather, for some tinu



JOHN: SMB. 46

they made but little progress—and having at one
time lost their reckoning for three days, many
of them became dissatisfied again, and urged
strongly a return to England. Fortunately, a
fine breeze relieved them in this time of discon-
tent, and on the 26th day of April, 1607, they
saw land, and entered Chesapeake Bay. The
land first seen was on the north side of the en-
trance to the bay. To this they gave the name
of Cape Henry, and to the point on the south side
of the entrance, the name of Cape Charles, both
in honor of the sons of King James. They sailed
into the first broad river which opened before
them, naming it after their king, James River.
For seventeen days now, they busied themselves
in finding a convenient spot for their settlement,
and during this period landed several times, and
met the savages of thecountry. The first land-
ing was at Cape Henry, where thirty of the ad-
venturers went ashore. Here they found on
the flats abundance of oysters “ laying as thick
as stones,” and‘the- land was covered with wild
flowers and fine strawberries. ‘They were at-
tacked by five savages, and two of their number
badly wounded, before they drove them off with
their muskets. Again’ they landed at Point
Comfort, on the north side of the mouth of James



46 JOHN SMITH,

River, (a place so named by themselves because
they found good anchorage there, which gave
them great comfort.) They met now some In-
dians, who at first were frightened, but upon one
of the white men’s laying his hand upon his
neart, the savages felt that their intentions were
peaceable, and came directly to them, inviting
them to visit their town Kecoughtan, the place
where Hampton is now built. The invitation
was accepted, and when they reached the town,
both parties were well pleased. The Indians
feasted the strangers on cakes of Indian corn,
and entertained them with tobacco and a dance,
while the whites, in their turn, presented to them
beads and other trinkets. Then the chief of the
Rappahannas, hearing of them, sent a messenger
to invite them to come and see him, and to guide
them to his home. This invitation was also ac-
cepted, and they were received in great state by
the chief and his people. They stood upon the
banks of the river to meet them as they landed.
As soon as they were ashore, the chief came be-
fore them at the head of his train, “ playing on
aflute made of a reed, with a crown of deer’s
hair colored red, in fashion of a rose, fastened
about his knot of hair, and a great plate of cop-
per on the other side of his head, with two long



JOHN SMITH. 47

feathers in fashion of a pair of horns, placed in
the midst of his crown. His body was painted
all with crimson, with a chain of beads about
his neck ; his face painted blue besprinkled with
silver ore; his ears all behung with bracelets of
pearl, and in either ear a bird’s claw through it,
beset with fine copper or gold.” He now had
his mat spread upon the ground, and while his
people all stood around him, sat down and smok-
ed his pipe of tobacco. This being over, he
made signs to the whites to follow him to his
town. He went first, leading the way, the
Indians and whites all following, and after pass-
ing through beautiful woods and rich fields of
corn, they at length ascended asteep hill, and were
at the palace of the chief of the Rappahannas.
Here they were treated with great hospitality.
Ascending the river, they afterwards saw a body
of Indians, standing on the shore all armed, and
their chief, Apamatica—holding in one hand his
bow and arrow, and in the other his pipe of to-
bacco—boldly demanded what they had come
for. They made signs of peace, and were again
kindly entertained by him. Still passing on, at
the distance of thirty-two miles from the mouth
of the river, they found the shore on the north
side bold, and covered with heavy timber ; and



48 JOHN SMITH.

- the water near by being six fathoms deep, they
were enabled to moor their ships to the trees on
the land. The appearance of this spot pleased
them more than any they had seen; and upon
being visited by the chief of the Pashipays, who
offered them as much land as they needed for
their purpose, and gave them a deer for their en-
tertainment, they determined here to make their
settlement. It was now the 13th of May—they
went ashore, pitched their tents, and gave to the
spot the name of Jamestown. When the sealed
box containing their orders was opened, it was
found that Bartholomew Gosnold, John Smith,
Edward M. Wingfield, Christopher Newport,
John Ratcliff, John Martin, and George Kendall,
were named as the council for the colony. Their
instructions were to choose a president from
among their number, for one year, and he, with
the help of the other counsellors, was to manage
the affairs of the colony. Matters of importance
were to be “ examined by a jury, but determined
by the major part of the council, in which the
president had two voices.” Edward M. Wing-
field was at once chosen president, and with all
the others, except John Smith, sworn into office.
They were still jealous and suspicious of this
man, (from no good cause whatever, as we shall



JOHN ‘SMITH. 49

see,) and thus refused him the place to which’
he had been appointed. In fact, they even

went so far as to set forth a declaration to the

whole colony, shewing why he was not admitted

to his office.

qn



CHAPTER II.

Noble conduct of Smith—Beginning of James-
town—Wingfield’s imprudence in not prepar-
ing @ fort, and having the men drilled to mil-
itary exercises—S mith visits the chief Powha-
tan—Atiack upon Jamestown by the savages—
Smith demands a trial, and is acquitted—New-
port sails for England—Sufferings of the col-
ony—Selfishness of Wingfield—He tries to
escape from the colony, is prevented, and de-
posed from the Presidency—Ratcliff is made
President—Being a weak man, the care of the
colony falls upon Smith—His excursion to
Kecoughtan, to obtain supplies—His adven
tures up the Chickahomony river—Is made
a prisoner by the Indians—His treatment by
the savages—Presents his compass to Opecan-
chanough, and saves his life thereby—Writes to
Jamestown—lIs led about among various tribes,
and at last brought to Werowcomoco, the resi-
dence of Powhatan.

Tue injustice done to Smith formed good
ground for a quarrel, (and he had some friends
among the colonists,) but his own magnanimity



JOHN SMITH. 51

prevented it. They were all in a wilderness,
and much was to be done ere they could call
themselves at home. He forgot his own trouble,
therefore, in thinking of the good of the colony.
All hands now set resolutely to work. Soine
went to clearing the forests, some to digging and
preparing garden-spots, some to making nets,
fixing up their fishing-tackle, &c. The Council
planned a fort, but from some cause, President
Winefield did not desire a regular fortification,
and to please him, the fort was made to consist
only of the boughs of trees, loosely laid together
' in the shape of a half moon. Some of the Coun-
cil, too, were in favor of having the men regular-
ly drilled to military exercises, that they might
be ready at any time to meet an attack from the
savages, which attack they thought not unlikely
to take place ; but this too was thought idle by
President Wingfield, and consequently was neg-
lected.

Desirous of learning something of the coun-
try, Newport and Smith were despatched with
twenty men, to discover the head of the river.
They passed, as they went up, many small
habitations, and on the sixth day reached the
falls of the river, where they erected a cross,
and took possession of the country in the name



52 JOHN SMITH.

of King James. Near by, they visited the famous
Indian town, Powhatan. This consisted only of
twelve houses, pleasantly situated upon a sloping
hill, and was at the time the residence of the cele-
brated chief after whom it was named. Powhatan
(whose name rang through that region as the
greatest of Indian chiefs) received them with
great kindness, and was greatly delighted with
a hatchet, which was presented to him by Cap-
tain Newport. Some of his men seem to have
been suspicious of the English, and murmured
at their coming among them; but Powhatan re-
buked them, saying, “ Why should we be of-
fended ? they hurt us not, nor take any thing
by force: they want only a little ground, which
we can easily spare.” The English now left
him and returned to Jamestown.

Great was their surprise, on reaching home,
to find that the colony had been attacked by the
savages—seventeen of their companions wound-
ed, and one boy killed. It was fortunate too
that they heard nothing worse than this: for the
whole company came near being massacred.
The colonists had not looked for the attack, and
were all unarmed, and the only thing that saved
them was, that “a cross-barre shot from the ships
struck down a bough of a tree in the midst of



JOHN. SMITH. 63

the Indians, and caused them to retire.’ The
president now saw his folly—the fort was at
once palisadoed—five pieces of artillery were
mounted upon it; and it was ordered that, after
this, the men should be armed and drilled
to their exercises. A regular guard was estab-
lished at night, also in the settlement, and the
men were cautioned about straggling into the
forests.

Six weeks had passed away, and the ships
were well nigh laden for a return to Eng-
land. The accusers of Smith now came for-
ward, and, in pretended mercy, offered to send
his case home, to be judged by the Council in
England. They were unwilling to try him them-
selves, (they said,) because they did not wish to
blacken his reputation, and perhaps take away
his life. Conscious. of his innocence, Smith
spurned their proposal. He knew that his whole
conduct had been uniformly for the good of the
colony, and he now demanded that it should be
rigidly looked to—that he should be tried upon
the spot. The witnesses were brought for-
ward. Falsehood after falsehood was soon de-
tected among them. Some of them were convicted
of perjury, and the whole company at once saw
his innocence. His accusers were now con-

5*



64 TOHN SMITH.

founded. It was seen that Wingfield’s jealousy
of Smith had urged false witnesses against him,
and it was decided that the president should pay
him two huncved pounds for the injury he had
done him. His property was at once seized, and
the two hundred pounds raised and paid over to
Smith, who immediately placed it in the public
treasury, for the good of the colony. Thus,
after a patient imprisonment of thirteen weeks,
he triumphed over his enemies; and his generous
and noble conduct had made him the most
popular man in the colony. He was now ad-
mitted to his place in the council, and by his in-
fluence and that of the good preacher, Mr. Hunt,
other little difficulties, which had arisen among
the colonists, were soon settled. The next Sun-
day they all went in harmony to the communion:
the neighboring Indians soon after came in, de-
siring terms of peace, and on the 22d of June,
Captain Newport was enabled to sail home-
ward, bearing good news along with him. He
left behind him, at Jamestown, one hundred and
four souls, and promised to be back among them
in twenty weeks, with fresh supplies.

Thus left, the colonists ere long began to suf-
fer for the want of provisions; indeed, the want
(it is said) was felt at times before, and had been



JOHN SMITH. 55

relieved at such times, by such supplies from the
ships’ stores as the sailors could furnish. Some,
from this circumstance, have supposed that the
company at home was at fault, in not fitting out
the expedition better, and supplying it with ampler
provisions ; but this censure would hardly seem to
be just. The truth is, the colonists, instead of a
voyage of two months, (as was calculated,) had
made one cf five, and consumed during this time
a large part of their stores; and then they had ar-
rived in Virginia too late for the spring plant-
ing, and thus failed in another expectation.
This seems to have caused the difficulty. Be
this as it may, the want occurred, and they were
now reduced to a regular daily allowance of a
half pint of barley, and a half pint of wheat.
To make their fare worse, the grain, from
having been so long in the ship’s hold, was
filled with insects. Yet this diet they gladly
received, adding to it, from time to time, such
fish as they could take from the river. They
still kept on with their labors, however, exposed
as they were to the scorching rays of the sun by
day, and lying upon the ground, with a poor
shelter over them, at night. As might have
been expected, starvation, exposure, and anxiety,
brought on disease before the end of the fall



56 JOHN SMITH.

season. By the end of September, fifty of their
number had died, among whom was Bartholo-
mew Gosnold. The rest were now divided into
three watches, (for they still kept up the pre-
caution of a watch,) and of these not more than
five in each watch were fit for duty at one
time. During this period of sad distress, the presi-
dent (it is said) thought only of himself. He
was well through the whole of it; and is charged
with having seized and secreted provisions for
his own use. His after conduct seems to con-
firm the charge—at least it shews that he had
but little sympathy with the sufferers. He,
with Kendall, was soon detected in a plan which
they had formed for seizing the pinnace, which
belonged to the colony—deserting the settle-
ment, and escaping to the West Indies. The
settlers were now enraged, and at once took
from him the presidency, and banished Kendall
from the council. John Ratcliff was chosen
president in his place, and he, with Martin and
Smith, were now the only members of the coun-
cil left.

Ratcliff and Martin were men of little courage
or resolution, and thus the management of the
colony fell almost altogether upon Smith; nor
could it have fallen upon a better or abler man.



JOHN SMITH. 57

The first thing to be done was to obtain supplies,
and these they soon had without any difficulty.
Fortunately, their Indian neighbors proved friend-
ly, and came in, bringing such quantities of food
as they could spare. Their hearts were new
cheered ; and Smith, knowing that it was neces-
sary to make preparations for the approaching
winter as rapidly as possible, at once set the
men to work, resolutely leading the way himself.
His words and his example encouraged them
They commenced cutting timber for building
houses, and mowing and binding thatch for cov-
ering them; so that in a little time, Jamestown
was a comfortable village, in which every man
had a shelter and home, except Smith himself.
The stock of provisions which the Indians had
brought in being now nearly exhausted, it was
necessary to look out for more. He chose, there-
fore, five or six of the best men as his compan-
ions, and, well armed, they went down the river
in the shallop to Kecoughtan, the place where
Hampton now stands. Here they found but lit-
tle good feeling toward them. The Indians,
knowing their necessity, and the starving state
of the colony, treatel them with great contempt.
When they offered to trade with them, the sava-
ges would give them only an ear of corn for a



58 JOHN SMITH.

sword, a musket, or one of their garments Pro~
voked by such conduct, and finding that they
were not likely to obtain anything by kind and
gentle treatment, Smith now resolved upon a
bold experiment. He ordered the boat to be
drawn ashore, and his men to fire their muskets.
The frightened Indians now fled to the woods for
shelter: and the party immediately went to their
houses, searching for corn. Of this they found
an abundance: but Smith would not allow them
yet to touch it. Fearing the treachery of the In-
dians, he supposed they would soon appear again
and make a general attack upon him. He there-
fore made ready for them: nor was he disap-
pointed. In a little time some sixty or seventy
of them, painted of different colors, were seen
advancing in the form of a hollow square, bring-
ing their idol Okee in the midst of them. This
idol was nothing more than a figure made of
skins, stuffed with moss, and ornamented with
chains of copper. The savages were armed
with clubs, bows and arrows, and approached in
great confidence, singing and dancing. Smith
and his men again discharged their muskets,
bringing many of them*to the ground, and
with them their idol Okee. The battle was at
once over; the rest now fled to the woods, and



JOHN SMITH. 59

soon after sent some of their number to beg for
peace, and to recover their idol. Smith, now tri-
umphant, was in a condition to make his own
terms. He agreed that if six of them, unarmed,
would come and load his boat with corn, he
would return their idol, be their friend, and give
them presents of beads, hatchets, and copper.
The terms were faithfully performed on both
sides ; indeed, the Indians were so much pleased,
that they brqught, besides, venison, turkeys, and
other game, and kept up their singing and danc-
ing until the white men left for Jamestown.
Finding himself so successful in this enterprise,
Smith now, from time to time, as provisions were
needed, continued his excursions—sometimes. on
foot, sometimes in the boat. He discovered most
of the branches of the James river, and explored
the country extensively. In one of his excur-
sions, he was particularly struck with the fertile
banks of the Chickahomony river, and marked
it as a region where, in time of want, he might
probably obtain plentiful supplies from the In-
dians. But his efforts at aiding the colony were
continually thwarted by bad management during
his absence. Ratcliff and Martin were weak
men, and allowed the stores to be wasted, which
he with so much labor procured. . They suffered



60 JOHN SMITH.

too, the natives to come into the settlement from
time to time, trading, and the whites in their bar

gains outbidding one another at times, soon
taught the savages to set a high value upon all
their articles, and to complain if they did not
always receive the highest prices. Thus, a dis-
contented spirit soon prevailed among them.
Troubles, too, were continually fostered by bad
men in the colony. Wingfield and Kendall, dis-
satisfied at their treatment, made loyd complaints,
and at one time, during Smith’s absence, plotted
to steal the shallop, (which had been made
ready for a trading voyage,) and make their
escape to England. Smith returned in time, how-
ever, to prevent this, though it was done with
difficulty. It was necessary to do it forcibly, and
Kendall was killed. Soon after this, Ratcliff,
with a man named Archer, equally dissatisfied,
attempted the same thing, but these also were
prevented from carrying out their plans. Yo.
perceive, therefore, what struggles Captain Smith
had to encounter He had enemies around him
in the savages, and enemies at home in the colo-
ny, while almost from day to day he had to pro-
vide for the wants of his well nigh starving
countrymen. Yet he was resolved to keep pos-
session of the country, and difficulties only roused



JOHN SMITH. 61

nim the more, to carry out this strong resolution

Fortunately, as winter approached, a plentiful.
supply of wild fowl were taken, and making

friends of the Indians from time to time, they

brought him quantities of corn, beans, and pump-

kins. He was in fact now the father of the
colony: the people turned to him in all then

troubles, and by looking closely to their wants,
he managed to secure most of them as warm

friends to himself.

It is well nigh impossible to please all men :
and Smith soon found that some few were com-
plaining of him, that he had not done all that he
could for their relief. He had, as I have told
you, discovered the Chickahomony river—and
the complaint now was, that wanting resolution,
he had not explored it to its source, made friends
of the Indians there, and opened the way for a
continued supply from them. Resolved that such
a complaint, however groundless, should no lon-
ger exist, he now fitted up the boat, and taking
some of the men, started for thatriver. He went
sohigh up the stream this time, that he was forced
to cut the trees that had fallen into the river, that
the boat might pass through. At Jength, having
moved up as high as the boat would float, she
was dragged ashore to a safe place, and the men

6



62 JOHN: SMITH

were ordered to remain there with her, until he
should come back. Taking now two of his
men, with two Indians as guides, he moved up in
an Indian canoe, to the meadows at the head of
the river. Here he left his two men with the
canoe, and with the guides passed on for many
miles over the meadows. Smith's men disobey-
ed his orders, and consequently brought trouble
upon the whole party. Instead of remaining
with the boat, they went straggling into. the
woods, and ere long were discovered by a party
of three hundred Indians. These Indians were
commanded by Opechancanough, the brother of
Powhatan. The crew.all escaped with great
difficulty, except one man, who was made pris-
oner. The Indians now forced him to tell all
that he knew, and particularly where Captain
Smith was, and then put him todeath. Follow-
ing the stream in search of him, they came, be-
fore a great while, to the two men left with the
canoe. These poor fellows were sleeping by a
fire which they had kindled, and were instantly
murdered. Ere long they discovered Smith in
the meadows, and immediately let fly their ar-
rows at him. One of these struck him in the
leg, and wounded him badly. His situation was
perilous enough, but he did not for a moment



JOHN SMITH. 63

lose his presence of mind. He instantly seized
one of his Indian guides, and tied him with lis
garter to his left arm. This man he used as his
shield ; and having his gun with him, he kept up
a fire upon them as fast as he could. Three of
them fell dead, and several were wounded. For-
tunately, his gun carried farther than their bows,
and they kept atsome distance. During all this
time, he was retreating as rapidly as he could to-
ward the canoe; but watching his enemies, and
not marking his footsteps, he with his guide sunk
to the middle in a hole in the meadow, and
stuck fast in the mud. His courage had so
amazed the Indians, that they dared not approach
him, helpless as he was, and incapable now of
doing them any injury. At last, almost dead
with cold, he threw away his arms, and begged
that he might be.taken. They now came up,
dragged him out, and led him to the fire. Here
the saw the dead bodies of his two countrymen,
and knew at once what would probably be his
fate. Still he was calm. The Indians chafed
his cold limbs, and he now called for their chief
Opechancanough. Knowing that to beg for his
life was only to lose it, when the chief came be-
fore him he drew from his pocket his ivory
compass and dial, which he carried to guide him



64 JOHN SMITH.

in his wanderings, and presented it to him. The
chief and his people were greatly pleased. The
motions of the needle, which they could see but
not touch, delighted and astonished them. Smith
had been in the country Jong enough to know
something of their language, and marking their
feelings, he now began to explain to them the
use of the compass—the discoveries that had been
made by means of it—to talk “ of the earth, the
skies, sun, moon, and stars, and how the sun did
chase the night round about the world continually,
the greatness of the land and sea, the diversity of
nations, variety of complexions,”’* &c., while the
savages stood amazed with admiration.

In a little time, however, their astonishment
was over, and they were ready to execute him.
They now tied him to a tree, and prepared with
their bows and arrows to despatch him. Just at
this time, the chief held up the ivory compass,
the savages threw down their arms, and forming
themselves into a military procession, led the
poor captive in triumph toward their village
Orapaxe. They were very particular in arrang-
ing the order of this triumphal march. They
ranged themselves in single file, their chief or
king being in the midst, and before him were

* Smith’s Virginia—Vol. I., page 158.



JOHN SMITH. 65

borne the swords and muskets taken from Smith
and his companions. Next to the chief came
Smith, held by three of the stoutest of their
number, aid on each side a file of six archers.
When they arrived at the village, the old men,
women, and children came out to meet them,
and were greatly amazed and delighted when
they saw the prisoner. Some strange manceu-
vres were now performed by the warriors, and
at length they formed themselves into a circle
around Smith and their chief, and commenced
dancing and singing. Their looks and sounds
were strange enough to Smith. They were all
painted, dressed up in furs and feathers, and be-
sides yelling, made a great noise by brandishing
their rattles, which were made of the tails of rat-
tlesnakes. This circular dance was performed
three times, and Smith was then conducted to a
long hut, and forty men placed there to guard
him. Here he was feasted so bountifully with
Indian bread and venison, that he began to think
they were fattening him only to kill and devour him.

Kindness will win the heart of almost any
man, and Smith now perceived the effect of it
upon the heart of asavage. One of the Indians,
to whom it seems he had formerly given some
green beads, and other trifling trinkets, now came,

6*



66 JOHN SMITH.

presenting to him a garment of furs, to protect
him from the cold. The name of this man was
Maocassater, and it deserves to be remembered,

Very different from this was the conduct of
another Indian, an old man, who tried to kill
him, because his son was dying. Whether it was
that he supposed that Smith, by some enchant-
ment, had made his boy sick, or whether the son
had been wounded in battle, we are not told.
At all events, the old man’s revenge was curbed,
and the prisoner was conducted by his guard to
the dying youth. He now told them that he had
a medicine, at Jamestown, that would cure him,
if they would allow him to go and bring it, but
this they refused to do. They were unwilling
to part with him, for they were all making
ready for an attack upon Jamestown, and cal-
culated upon great assistance from him. They
needed him as a guide, and now they made
large offers to secure his services. They promised
him his life, liberty, and as much Jand as he
should wish for, if he would only aid them. Smith
told them of the great difficulty of the under-
taking, talked to them of the guns, mines, and
other defences of the place. All this terrified
them, but did not dissuade them from their in-
tention. He was now permitted to write a note



JOHN SMITH. 7

‘to Jamestown, asking for the medicine, and
some other things that he desired, and some of
the Indians were to deliver it. Taking advantage
of this, he tore a leaf from his pocket-book, and
wrote the note, asking for what he needed,
telling his countrymen of his situation, of the
designs of the savages, and the best way of
frightening the messengers, when they should
arrive there. Through frost and snow the mes-
sengers made their way, and ere long came near
‘Jamestown. The whites, seeing them, ‘allied
‘out to meet them, and the frightened Indians,
dropping their note, ran away. At night, tak-
ing courage, they returned, and discovered all
the articles which Smith had sent for, on the
very spot where he told them they would find
them. Gathering them up, they now returned
homeward, telling their countrymen of the mar-
‘yellous sights that they had seen; and wonder-
ing, most of all, at thé power of the speaking
leaf, which had secured for Smith the articles
sent for. .

What they had seen, induced the savages to
give up the thought of an attack upon James-
town, and looking upon Smith as a wonderful
man, they now led him about the country, mak-
ing a show of him. They passed with him



68 JOHN SMITH.

through several tribes of Indians, ‘on the Rap-
pahannoc and Potowmac rivers, and at length
brought him to Pamunkee, the home of Ope-
chancanough. Halting here, they performed a
strange ceremony, the design of which (as they
said) was to find out whether Smith’s feelings
toward them were those of a friend or enemy.
The ceremony was as follows :

“ Early in the morning a great fire was made
in a long house, and a mat spread, on the one
side as on the other; on the one they caused
him to sit, and all the guard went out of the
house, and presently came skipping in a great
grim fellow, all painted over with coal, mingled
with oil; and many snakes, and weasels’ skins,
stuffed with moss, and all their tails tied together,
so as they met on the crown of his head ina
tassel; and round about the tassel was a coronet
of feathers, the skins hanging round about his
head, back, and shoulders, and in a manner
covered his face; with a hellish voice, and a
rattle in his hand. With most strange gestures
and passions, he began his invocation, and en-
vironed the fire with a circle of meal: which
done, three men, like devils, came iushing in,
with the like antic tricks, painted half black,
half red ; but all their eyes were painted white



JOHN SMITH. 69

and some red strokes, like mustachios, along
their cheeks: round about him, these fiends
danced a pretty while, and thea came in three
more as ugly as the rest, with red eyes and white
strokes over their black faces; at last they all
sat down right against him; three of them on
the one hand of the chief priest, and three on
the other. Then all, with their rattles, began
a song; which ended, the chief priest laid down
five wheat corns: then straining his arms and
hands with such violence that he sweat, and his
veins swelled, he began a short oration: at the
conclusion, they all gave a short groan, and
then laid down three grains more. After that
began their song again, and then another ora-
tion, ever laying down so many corns as before,
till they had twice encircled the fire; that done,
they took.a bunch of little sticks, prepared for
that purpose, continuing still their devotion, and
at the end of'every song and oration, they laid
down a stick between the divisions of corn. Till
night, neither he nor they did eat or drink, and
then they feasted merrily, with the best pro-
visions they could make. Three days they used
this ceremony: the meaning whereof, they told
him, was to know if he intended them well or
no. Fhe circle of meal signified the country,



70. JOHN: SMPRH,

the circle of corn the bounds of the #ea,std the
sticks his country. They imagined the world to
be flat and round, like a -trencher, and they in
the midst.”* Smith, of course, did. not under-
stand the meaning of all this, nor did-he know,
at the end of it, whether they discovered him to
be a friend or foe. 7
This ceremony being ovér, they brought ‘hita
a bag of gunpowder, telling ‘him that- they
should mingle it. with their corti, and plant it the
next season. He was now irivited by Opitcha-
pan (one. of the brothers of Powhatan) to’ come
and visit him. He went.to his home, and was
welcomed “with platters of bread, fowl, ‘and
wild beasts ;”* but, as usual, not one of the savages
would eat with him. After this they brought
him to Werowocomoco, the residence of their
great Emperor Powhatan a

* Smith’s Vitgiai, vol. i. page 161, :..



CHAPTER IV.

Smith is received by Powhatan in great state—
The savages propose to kill him—His life is
saved by the Princess Pocahontas—He is re-
leased and returns to Jamestown-——Troubles at
Jamestown—He soon restores order—Kindness
of Pocahontas—Arrival of Captain Newport,
in 1607—His visit to Powhatan—Strange
trafficking—Fire at Jamestown—Sufferings
in the colony—Newport sails homeward—
Smith rebuilds the town—Arrival of Captain
Nelson—Disturbance between Smith and Pow-
hatan—Bold conduct of Smith—Peace is re-
stored—Nelson sails for England.

Werowocomoco, the home of Powhatan, is
stated to have been “on the north side of York
River, in Gloucester county, about twenty-five
miles below the fork of the river.” When
Smith arrived in this village, more than two
hundred savages came around him, gazing at
him as “though he had been a monster.” He
was not yet brought into the presence of, theix



72 JOHN SMITH.

chief, until due preparations had been made
for receiving him. All being ready, he at
length came before Powhatan. In a long hut,
in the midst of which there was a large fire, he
found him seated upon a sort of throne, while
his two young daughters sat on either side of
him. He was dressed in a heavy robe of rac-
coon skins. On each side of the hut there were
two rows of men, and behind them as many
women, with their heads and shoulders painted
red. Some had their heads decked off with the
white down of birds, and some had strings of
white beads around their necks. When Smith
came in, they all gave a great shout. The
queen of Apamatox brought him water to wash
his hands—while another damsel brought him a
bunch of feathers, to serve as a towel to dry
them. After this, they feasted him with their
best provisions, and then they consulted among
themselves, as to what should be done with him
Smith soon understood his fate, when, at the
end of this consultation, two large stones were
brought in, placed before Powhatan, and he
seized and dragged toward them. His head
was laid upon them, and now the savages raised
their clubs to beat out his brains. The king’s
daughter, Pocahontas, (it seems,) had entreated



JOHN SMITH, q3-

that his life might be spared, but all her en-
treaties had proved useless. Just at this mo-
ment, she rushed toward the captive, folded his
head in her arms, and laid her own upon it. In
an instant more, poor Smith would have been
despatched. The king’s heart was now soften-
ed: he consented that the prisoner should live,
to make hatchets for him, and bells and beads
for his daughter.

Whether farther entreaties of Pocahontas pre-
vailed or not, we are not told; but certain it is,
that in a little time the king was even more
generous to the prisoner. Two days after this,
he caused Smith to be carried to “a great house
in the woods,” and there to be left, seated alone
apon a mat, before a large fire. “Not long
afte;, from behind a mat that divided the house,
was wade the most doleful noise he ever heard :”
and in rushed Powhatan, painted black, and
disguised “in a fearful manner,” followed by
‘wo hundred other savages, as black as him-
self. The chief now told him that they were
friends, and that he might return to Jamestown.
He had but one favor to ask of him, which was,
that he would send him “two great guns, and
a grindstone,” and he promised, in return, to
“give him the country of Capahowosick, and

7



74 JOHN SMITH.

to esteem him for ever as his son, Vantaquoud.”
So, with twelve guides, Smith was started home-
ward. Night came on, and “ they quartered in
the woods, Smith expecting (as he had done all
this long time of his imprisonment) every hour
to be put to one death or other; but Almighty
God (by his divine providence) had mollified the
hearts of thosestern Barbarians with compassion.”
Early the next morning they reached James-
town, and Smith treated his guides with great
hospitality. He now shewed to Rawhunt, the
trusty servant of Powhatan, (who was one of
the guides,) the two large guns and the grind-
stone for his master. The Indians tried to lift
them, but found they were too heavy. Smith
now had the guns loaded with stones, and dis-
charged at a tree covered with icicles. The
loud report, and the rattling of the icicles, fright-
ened the savages, and they ran away. In a lit-
tle time, however, they came back, and after
being loaded with trinkets and other presents,
for Powhatan and his daughter, they left him.
It was well that Smith came home just at
this time. His presence, of course, had been
missed, and all was now confusion at James-
town. The men had got to quarelling, and a
large party had seized the pinnace determined



JOHN SMITH. %

to leave the country. At the risk of his life once
more, he checked this plot. He brought his
guns to bear, and threatened to sink the pin-
nace, if they attempted to move off. Inflamed
with anger, these discontented men (the presi-
dent among the number) now conspired against
his life. They said he deserved to die, because
he had caused the death of the two poor fellows
who had been murdered at the canoe, in the
meadows. Their design proved idle, for they
‘knew in their hearts that he was an innocent
man, and they soon had the worst of this effort ;
‘for we are told, “he quickly took such order
with such lawyers, that he laid them by the
heels, till he sent some of them prisoners for
England.”

After this a better spirit soon prevailed. Smith
now cheered his countrymen, by telling them of
the rich domains of Powhatan, the plentiful
supplies that might be obtained there, and the
great kindness and liberality of the chief. He
spoke, too, of the generosity of Pocahontas, and
what aid they might expect from her. They
soon learned for themselves to understand her
fidelity. From time to time, she would come,
with her train of female attendants, to James-
town, bringing them stores of provisions to re-



%6 JOHN SMITH.

lieve their wants. Smith had made wartn friends,
also, of other Indians. The savages would now
come in bringing presents to him, and trading
with him at such prices as he fixed. Many of
them had learned (it is said) to look upon him
as a supernatural being.

In the latter part of the year 1607, two ships
sailed from England to the colony—the one
commanded by their old friend Captain New-
port, the other by Captain Nelson. Nelson, (it
appears, ) after coming as far as Cape Henry,
had his ship dismasted, and contrary winds now
drove him in distress to the West Indies. New-
port, more fortunate, arrived in safety. It hap-
pened, that Smith had predicted his arrival about
this time, and while the colonists of course were
happy upon his return, the Indians Jooked upon
Smith as a prophet. They knew that Smith
worshipped the God “ who created all things,”
and now they would talk of the “ God of Captain
Smith.”

Whether it was that some of the council were
foolishly jealous of Smith’s influence over the
Indians, or whether it was only mprudence,
certain it is, that they were in the strange habit
of giving the Indians higher prices for their ar-
ticles than Smith had fixed ; and now, when the



JOHN SMITH. 7

sailors arrived, they were allowed to trade with
the savages just as they pleased. The conse-
quence was, that it was soon found impossible to
obtain as much for a pound of copper, as had
been before procured for an ounce. Newport,
too, in sailor-like style, was very lavish in his
dealings with the natives, and especially in
making rich presents to Powhatan, whom he
desired to impress with an idea of his greatness
The arrival of the ship, therefore, made some
little trouble.

Smith had talked much of Newport, and his
conversations, together with the presents, had
made Powhatan very desirous of seeing him again.
The boat was therefore now made ready, and
Captain Smith, Captain Newport, and a Mr.
Scrivener, (a gentleman who had come out on
the last voyage of Newport, and was now a
member of the council,) together with a guard
of forty chosen men, started on a visit to the
chief. When they arrived at Werowocomoco,
Newport, who was unacquainted with the coun-
try, began to suspect treachery on the part of the
savages. This place, you know, had been the
home of Powhatan, but thinking it too near to
the English, he had removed now to the village
Orapaxe. Smith tried to convince him that his

7



78 JOHN SMITH

fears: were idle, but finding it impossible, under
took with twenty men to goon alone. But he
began ere long to suspect mischief himself. He
had to pass many creeks and streams, and find-
ing the bridges over these to be made only of
poles, with bark thrown over them loosely, sup-
posed that they might be only traps or snares for
the white men. It seems, however, that he had
some Indian guides, and he made them pass over
first, to assure himself of safety. Thus he passed
on, until he was at length met by a party of
three hundred savages, who kindly conducted
bim to the home of the chief. . Entering the
village, he was received with great shouts of joy,
and then a splendid feast was prepared for him.
Powhatan again received him in great state.
Smith found him clothed in.a fine robe of skins,
seated “upon his bed of mats, his pillow of
leather embroidered after their rude manner,
with pearl and white beads,” while “ at his head
and feet sat a handsome young woman.” Other
women stood around, having their heads and
shoulders painted red, and strings of white beads
hanging about their necks. Before these sat
“some of his chiefest men.” He was welcomed
heartily by the chief, as an old friend. A guard
of fivé hundred men was appointed to attend



JOHN SMITH. ‘7B

‘upon him, and the king’s proclamation was is-
sued, that no Indian should do harm to Smith or
‘any of his followers, under penalty of death.
Then the savages commenced anew their feast-
ing, with dancing and singing; and when night
came, the party quartered with Powhatan.

_ The next day Captain Newport. airived, and
was also treated with great. kindness. He had
with him an English boy, named Thomas Sal-
vage, whom he’ gave to Powhatan, calling
him his son. In return, Powhatan gave
him NVamontack, one of his trusty servants.
Now they commenced again their dancing and
feasting. Three or four days were spent in this
way, together with trading, for Newport had
brought along with him many articles of traffic.
‘Powhatan bore himself hke.a chief, and the
whites admired him very much; but before the
visit was over, he proved himself to be a cunning
old man, and would have outwitted them all, but
for the superior cunning of Captain Smith. 1
will tell you of his stratagem.

While Newport was trading with him, the old
chief became greatly dissatisfied, at what he
thought bargaining and trafficking in a small
way. Hesaid therefore to him, “ Captain New-
port, it is not agreeable to my greatness, in this



80 JOHN SMITH.

peddling manner to trade for trifles; and I ex
teem you also a great Werowance. Therefore,
lay me down all your commodities together :
what I like I will take, and in recompense give
you what I think fitting their value.” Captain
Smith was acting as interpreter between them,
and seeing at once the cunning of the chief, ad-
vised Newport not to agree toit. But Newport,
desirous of making a display, and thinking he
could manage the matter himself, immediately
consented, and spread out all his wares. Pow-
hatan instantly selected such articles as pleased
him, but when he came to making payment for
them, set such a high value upon his corn, that
Newport did not receive four bushels “ where he
expected twenty hogsheads.” Smith was natu-
rally enough provoked at Newport’s folly, and
determined that, if possible, the savage should
be no gainer by it. He now took out some
wares of his own: among other things, some
blue glass beads, which, as if accidentally, he
placed where Powhatan might see them. The
king was at once struck with them, and greatly
desired to have them. But Smith could not con.
sent to part with them. They were made (he
said) “of a rare substance of the color of the
skies, and not to be worn but by the greatest



JOHN SMITH. $1

kings in the world.” This only increased the
desire of the chief: but the more he longed for
them, the more unwilling was Smith to let them
go. At last, as a favor, he allowed the king to
trade for some of them, and now, for his glass
beads, he received two or three hundred bushels
of corn. After this, they parted good friends,
and the party went off to see Opechancanough,
king of Pamunke. Here they made another
good bargain with their blue beads. Indeed,
blue beads became now of such high value, that
they were all bought up at almost any price, and
none but the kings, their wives, or their daugh-
ters allowed to wear them.

They now returned to Jamestown, well laden
with provisions. Scarcely, however, had they
stored them away, when unfortunately a fire
broke out in the town, and consumed well
nigh everything. Their houses, made of wood,
and thatched with reeds and straw, were like
tinder for the flames, and quantities of arms,
bedding, clothing, and provisions were alike de-
stroyed. In this fire, their clergyman, Mr. Hunt,
“Jost all his library, and all he had but the
clothes on his back, yet none ever heard him
repine at his loss.” Indeed, most of the colonists
appear to have borne the calamity as well as



82 JOHN SMITH.

could have been expected. They saved what
provisions they could from the flames, and by
prudent management, there might still have been
enough for present wants, but for the delay of the
ship. Instead of returning homeward promptly,
Newport and his crew were seized with a “ gold
fever.’ They were busy every day in digging
the earth, and loading the ship with what they
thought so much treasure. Thus they delayed sail-
ing for fourteen weeks, during all which time there
were of course so many more mouths to be filled
in the colony. Smith and Scrivener were both
sensible men, and looked upon all this search for
gold as idle; but still they could not induce
Newport to leave earlier. At length the ship
was ready to sail, and the poor half-starving set-
tlement had to furnish supplies ere she could
move off. They were furnished cheerfully, for
her departure was regarded as a blessing. Wing-
field and Archer, too, to the great joy of the.de-
cent part of the colony, were sent home in her
Upon reduced allowances, their sufferings now
increased. The winter was a very severe one,
many of the men houseless, and though Smith
did al} that he could for their relief, before the
cold season. was ended, more than half of them
had died.



JOHN SMITH. 83

As the spring approached, Smith and Scriv-
ener set resolutely to the work of rebuilding
Jamestown. A new church was erected, the
storehouse and palisadoes were repaired, and
new dwelling-houses put up. The fields, too,
were prepared under their direction, and corn
was planted. While they were engaged in all
this, to their surprise, Captain Nelson arrived in
the Phenix, from the West Indies. He had
spent his winter there, (after being driven, as
you will remember, from the coast of Virginia,)
and now, to their great joy, came laden with am-
ple provisions for the colony, for six months.

Nelson was a man of good spirit; his heart
was touched with the sorrows of his country-
men, and he kindly served them in any way that
he could. He moved freely among them, en-
couraging them by his words and actions, and
rousing their drooping spirits. In this way he
succeeded in awakening a spirit of enterprise,
even in the inefficient president; for he now
urged Smith “to discover and search the com-
modities of the Monacan’s country, beyond the
falls of James river,” that he might profitably
relade the ship for a return homeward. Sixty
men were allotted to him for this adventure,
and in six days, Smith had so drilled them to



84 JOHN SMITH.

their arms, that they were ready for the enter-
prise. He was for loading the vessel with cedar,
while Martin and some others, were foolishly in-
tent upon filling her also with “golden dirt.”
Just as he was about starting, a difficulty oc-
curred, which kept him at home. The difficulty
was this.

When Newport was on the point of starting,
Powhatan had sent him as a present, twenty
turkeys, and in return, asked that he might re-
ceive twenty swords. Newport had imprudent-
ly given them to him; and now the chief sent a
like present to Smith, making a similar demand.
Smith refused to meet it, and the chief set his
men at once upon various stratagems, to seize
the arms of the colonists. Sometimes they
would enter Jamestown, and take them by force,
or steal them—then they would surprise the
men at their work, and annoy them in every
possible way. Notwithstanding this insolence,
nothing was done in return, until they meddled
with Smith, The colonists had orders from
home, to keep peace with Powhatan and his
people, and they were desirous of obeying. But
their insolence had now touched him, and Smith
at once “took the matter into his own hands.”
He sallied out with a party, seized some of



JOHN SMITH, 85

the Indians.and whipped them, and then re~
turned, bringing with him seven prisoners, as
hostages for their good behavior. But good
behavior was not in them. They, in return,
finding two straggling soldiers, seized them as
prisoners: and now they advanced almost to
the fort, in strong numbers, demanding their
seven countrymen, and threatening immediate
death to the whites, if they were not delivered up.
Smith instantly sallied out amongst them again,
and, in less than an hour, so completely cured
their insolence, that they surrendered the two
white men, and were glad to sue for peace. In
making terms of peace, he forced them to
tell their intentions. They declared, that what
they had done was by order of Powhatan, and
that his design was to get possession of their
weapons, that he might destroy the whites.
Powhatan soon finding his plans discovered, sent
his favorite daughter, Pocahontas, with presents
to Smith, begging that he would excuse all in-
juries that might have been done by any of his
“untoward subjects,” and assuring him of his
love for ever. But Smith was not to be deceived
in this way. He punished the savages, there-
fore, as he thought they deserved; and then
delivered up the prisoners, declaring, that i
8



86 JOHN SMITH.

was merely for the sake of the princess that he
spared their lives.

The Council, fearful that all this might make
an enemy of Powhatan, were dissatisfied with
Smith; but in a little time they perceived their
error. The truth was, it was the only way of
teaching the savages not to molest the settle-
ment; and when they soon after discovered,
that instead of “having peace and war twice
in a day,” (as had been the case for some time, )
they enjoyed uninterrupted quiet, they were per-
fectly contented.

The ship was soon sent home, laden with
cedar, as Smith advised; and Martin, instead of
loading her with “golden dirt,” as he desired,
was himself allowed to return home in her. He
had proved himself to be a weak and almost
useless man in the colony, and they were well
pleased at his departure.



CHAPTER V.

The adventures of Captain Smith during two
voyages made in an open boat, for the purpose
of exploring Chesapeake Bay.

Orver being somewhat restored, Smith now
prepared for further adventures. His design
was to explore the lands on Chesapeake Bay,
and become acquainted with the inhabitants.
As the ship hoisted sail, therefore, on the second
day of June, with fourteen men he embarked in
an open barge, and moved down the river.
Parting with the ship at Cape Henry, they
passed directly across the mouth of the bay,
and discovered, to the east of Cape Charles, a
group of islands, to which they gave the name
of “ Smith’s Isles.” This name, I believe, they
still bear. Soon after, in turning the last men-
tioned cape, they saw two savages, who boldly
demanded who they were, and what they came
for. Presently they seemed more friendly, and
directed them to Accomack, the home of their



88 JOHN SMITH.

chief. Upon reaching him, they were received
with great kindness. Leaving him, they coasted
along the eastern shore of the bay, “ searching
every inlet fit for harbors and habitations.”
Sometimes they landed upon the main land, and
then upon the low islands which skirted the
shores, to one group of which they gave the
name of “ Russel’s Isles? in honor of Doctor
Russel, their surgeon. This group is now known,
I think, by the name of the Tangier Islands.
Suffering now for a supply of. fresh water, they
procured. such as they could, and moving still
farther north, were ere long, as they came near
another group .of islands, visited by a violent
tempest. .Their mast and sail were blown over-
board, and. with great labor they kept. their
barge from sinking.. These islands, now known
as Watt’s Islands, received from them the strange
name of Limbo, on account of their disaster
Here they were forced to remain two days. At
length, the storm abated, and having repair-
ed the sail with their shirts, they passed over
to the eastern shore, and entered the river
Wicomico. The natives, seemg them, “ran
amazed in troops from place to place, and
divers got into the tops of trees.” Regarding
them as enemies, they discharged volleys of ar-



JOHN SMITH. 89

rows at them, but the barge was anchored too
far from them, to suffer any injury. The next
day the party landed, and entering their deserted
huts, left copper trinkets, beads, and looking-
glasses. When the savages found these, they
were greatly pleased, and-soon became friendly.
Here, upon this river, we are told,* lived “ the
people of Sarapinagh, Nause, Arseek, and Nan-
taquak, the best merchants of all other sav-
ages,”

“Finding this eastern shore shallow broken
isles, and. for most part without fresh water,”
they determined to pass over to the western
shore of the bay. Proceeding some distance
further north without discovering any thing
remarkable, they crossed, and came coasting
down the western side, marking all the creeks
and rivers. To the first large river which they
entered on this side, they gave the name of
Bolus, because “ the clay, in many places, did
grow up in red and white knots, as gum out of
trees,” which made them “think it bole am-
moniac.” The river is now known by the Indian
name Patapsco. Here the crew commenced
rourmuring. Their bread had been damaged by
the rain; in an open boat, exposed to all weather

- © Smith’s Virginia, vol.i. page 175.
g*



90 JOHN SMITH.

they had spent twelve or fourteen days toiling
at the oar, and they now urged Smith to return
homeward. But he was for making farther
discoveries, and answered them in the following
words, which at once shew his spirit and reso-
lution :—

“Gentlemen, if you would remember the
memorable history of Sir Ralph Lane, how his
company importuned him to proceed in the dis-
covery of Moratico, alleging they had yet a
dog, that being boiled with sassafras leaves,
would richly feed them in their return: then
what a shame would it be for you, (that have
been so suspicious of my tenderness,) to force
me to return, with so much provision as we
have, and scarce able to say where we have
been, nor yet heard of that we were sent to
seek? You cannot say but I have shared with
you in the worst which is past; and for what
is to come of lodging, diet, or whatsoever, I am
contented you allot the worst part to myself.
And for your fears, that I will lose myself in
these unknown large waters, or be swallowed
up in some stormy gust: abandon these childish
fears, for worse than is past is not likely to happen,
and there is as much danger to return as to pro-
ceed. Regain, therefore, your old spirits, for re-



JOHN SMITH. 9)

turn I will not, (if God please,) til’ \ have seen
the Massawomeks, found Patawomek, or the
head of this water you conceit to be endless.””*
Some of the discontented were now ashamed,
put others who were half sick, still complain-
ed, and to please them, Smith reluctantly
started homeward. Passing southwardly, ere
long they fell in with the mouth of the rive
Potomac. .As the stream came rolling broad
and beautiful into the bay, the spirits of the men
revived, and now they “were all content to
take some pains to know the name of that seven
mile broad stream.” They sailed thirty miles
up the river, without finding any inhabitants. At
length, seeing two savages, they were conducted
by them up a little creek, where they soon dis-
covered multitudes of the natives. The truth was,
it was an ambuscade. Three or four thousand
savages were lying in wait here, ready to in-
snare them; and now they came forward with
hideous yells, making threatening gestures to-
ward them. Smith was not frightened, but pre-
pared very coolly for an encounter. As an an-
swer to their threats, he commanded his men to
discharge their muskets over the water. This
was sufficient. The grazing of the balls upon

* Smith’s Virginia, vol. i. pages 176, 177.



92 JOHN SMITH.

the water, and the loud echo of the report
through the woods, terrified the natives. They
threw down their bows and arrows, sued for
peace, and at once exchanged hostages. James
Watkins (one of Smith’s party) was now sent
six miles higher up, to the residence of their
king. In a little time these Indians became un-
usually friendly, and frankly told Smith their
whole plan. They had for some time been y-
ing in wait for the party, in the hope of cutting
them off. To this deed they had been excited
by Powhatan, who had heard of Smith’s in-
tended expedition up the bay, through some of
the worthless and discontented men at James-
town. These miserable men, because Smith
had prevented them from deserting the colony,
had thus, in revenge, attempted a plot for his
destruction.

They now moved up the river as far as their
boat would float. In their progress they some-
times met Indian canoes, laden with bear’s any
deer’s flesh, and readily obtained supplies; then
again they would fall in with hostile and threat-
ening savages, or others whose character then
doubted ; but Smith’s prudence and courage were
ample always for this kind of difficulty. He
had one regular mode of proceeding. When he



JOHN SMITH. 93.

met the savages, he always put on a bold face: |
if they seemed to desire peace, he would at
once demand their bows and arrows, and one
or two of their children, as pledges for their sin-
cerity. If they complied with the demand, he
regarded them as friends; if they refused, they
were Inoked upon as enemies, and treated ac-
cordingly.

Having frequently heard of a rich mine m
this neighborhood, Smith determined to visit
it. An Indian guide was procured, and in a
little time some of the party reached it. They
commenced digging the earth, and soon filled
several bags with just such stuff as Newport had
taken home for so much silver ore, but which
proved utterly worthless. The Indians thought
much of: this mine. It produced a substance
“like antimony,” which, after washing, they
used as paint, to beautify themselves and their
idols. This paint (we are told) only “ made
them look like blackamoors, dusted over with
silver,” but they thought it very beautiful. The
party, though they discovered no mineral trea-
sures, found some profit in this adventure, for
they returned to the barge well laden with ot-
ter’s, kear’s, and martin’s skins, which they ob-
tained from a straggling party of savages.



94 JOHN SMITH.

They now came down the Potomac, seeing no=
thing farther, worthy of remark, except the great
quantities of fish in the water.

The men being now in better humor, Smith
was in no hurry to return homeward, and
therefore resolved to move up the Rappahan-
nock, and visit his old Indian acquaintances,
where he had once been in captivity. As the
barge came near the mouth of the stream, she
ran aground, and while they were waiting for
the flood tide to take her off, the men amused
themselves by catching fish in a curious way.
Quantities of them had been left by the tide upon
the flats, and sticking them with the points of
their swords, they “took more in an hour than
they could eat in a day.”? Sporting in this way,
Smith met with an accident, which alarmed him
and all his friends, and at once gave a name to
the place, which it still bears. Having stuck
his sword into a stingray, (a curious fish, with
a long tail, having stings at the end of it,) the
fish raised his tail, and struck him on the wrist.
No blood followed the wound, but in a little
time he was seized with the most violent pain,
and in four hours, his hand, arm, and shoulder
were so much swollen, that Smith himself, as
well as his companions, supposed he was dying



JOHN SMITH. 956

With great calmness, he directed where they
should bury his body, and with sorrowful hearts
they “ prepared his grave in an island hard by.”
Their sad labors, however, proved unnecessary.
The surgeon, Dr. Russel, having probed the
wound, by means of a certain oil so far relieved
the pain and swelling, that Smith, as night ap-
proached, was so much better that he was able
to eat a part of the fish for his supper. The
point of land where this occurred, took the name
of Stingray Point.

It was the twenty-first of July when they
reached Jamestown ; having been absent more
than six weeks. As they came near the town,
Smith determined to frighten old President Rat-
cliffe. The old man was known to be weak and
inefficient, and the crew were all ready to enjoy
the frolic. With the colored earth from their
bags, they painted the barge and decked her off
with strange streamers in such a way, that they
succeeded admirably. The terrified old man
roused the colonists, supposing that a party of
Spamards were approaching to attack him.
When they landed and shewed themselves, they
all enjoyed a hearty laugh.

As usual, Smith found that his absence had
produced confusion in the colony. The presi-



96: JOHN SMITH.

dent had been rioting upon the public stores, and:
was now éngaged in building for himself a house
in the woods, where, living alone, he might es-
cape the murmurs of the people. Even the poor
colonists who were sick had been neglected ;
this added to the discontent, and now the gener-
al cry was, that Ratcliffe was not fit for presi-
dent, and ought to be deposed. He was conse-
quently turned out of his office, and Smith chosen
to fill his place. The captain had not yet ex-
plored the bay as thoroughly as he desired, and
his design was to be off again as soon as possible.
He remained therefore but three days at James-
town, cheering the men by the story of his ad-
ventures, dividing provisions amongst them, and:
making other arrangements for their comfort ;
and then appointing Mr. Scrivener to ‘act as his
deputy during his absence, was ready for his
departure.

On the twenty-fourth of July, with twelve
men, he again started. Contrary winds detained
them for two or three days at Kecoughtan, where
the savages treated them with great hospitality.
To amuse them in return, they set off at night a
few rockets, which alarmed the natives, and gave
them a wonderful idea of their greatness, The
wind now changing, they proceeded on their



JOHN SMITH. 97:

voyage, and anchored at night off Stingray Point.
The next day they crossed the mouth of. the Po-
tomac, and reached as far as the river Bolus, or
Patapsco. Hastening onward, they came ere
long to the head of the bay. Here they dis-
covered four streams, all of which they explored
as far as their boat could sail, and found inhabi-
tants on the banks of two of them only. As
they crossed the bay, they spied seven or eight
canoes filled with Indians, who proved to belong
to the tribe of the Massawomeks, a warlike
people of whom Smith had often heard. It
seems that only six men in the barge were now
able to stand ; (the rest being sick ;) yet as these
Indians shewed signs of hostility, Smith prepared
to meet them. The whites dropped their oars,
and under.a press of sail soon came near them.
To give them the appearance of strength in the
eyes of the Indians, they now resorted to a strat-
agem. The hats ef the sick men were hoisted
apon sticks, and between every two sticks, a
man was stationed with two muskets, The
savages, counting the hats, were readily deceived
as to the number of men, quickly paddled fr
the shore, and there stood gazing at the barge.
It was a long time, before any of them could be
induced to come on board. At length they sent
9 .



98 JOHN SMITH.

two of their number unarmed in a canoe, while
the rest all followed, to help them if it became
necessary. Their fears were soon over. When
the two reached the barge, upon bells and other
trinkets being presented to them, they persuaded
their companions 40 come on board. In a little
time they were trading freely, and by means
of signs talking freely with the whites. Veni-
son, bears’ flesh, fish, bows, arrows, clubs, tar-
gets, and bear-skins, were readily exchanged for
such things as the whites could spare. They were
at war with the Tockwoghe Indians, (a people
living upon the Tockwoghe, or what is now
known as the Sassafras River,) and these Mas-
sawomeks were just returning from a battle,
with their wounds still bleeding.

Soon after, upon entering the Tockwoghe
River, they found the barge surrounded by fleets
of canoes “ filled with fierce looking warriors.”
These were Tockwoghes. Fortunately, one of
these Indians could speak the language of Powha-
tan, and he persuaded his companions “to hold a
friendly parley” with the whites. Upon coming
anus, ahd seeing Smith’s party in possession of
some of the weapons of the Massawomeks, they
at once concludea that they had been at war
with that nation; and now they conducted them



JOHN SMITH. 99

in triumph, to their strong pallisadoed town.
Here, mats were spread for them to sit upon,
and they were entertained with songs, dancing,
and feasting. These Indians had hatchets, knives,
and pieces of iron and brass, which they said they
received from the Susquehanocks, a tribe living
on the Susquehanock River, “ two days’ journey
higher than the barge could pass.” This tribe
they reported to be, like themselves, “ mortal
enemies to the Massawomeks.” Smith was de-
sirous of seeing these people, and prevailed upon
the Tockwoghes to send an interpreter, to invite
them to come and visit him. In answer to this
invitation, in three or four days, sixty of them
came down, laden with presents of venison, bask-
ets, targets, bows and arrows. A curious scene
now occurred with these men, which will at once
show the proper habits of Smith, and the light
in which they regarded him.

It was his daily custom to have “ prayers and
a psalm” with his men. The poor savages,
marking his devotions, were struck with wonder,
and soon commenced theirs. ‘They began in
a most passionate manner to hold up their hands
to the sun, with a most fearful song: then em-
bracing the captain, they began to adore him in
like manner : though he rebuked them, yet they



-J00 JOHN SMITH.

proceeded till their song was finished: which
done, with a most strange furious action, and a
hellish voice, began an oration of their loves;
that ended, with a great painted bear’s skin they
covered him ; then one ready with a great chain
of white beads, weighing at least six or seven
pounds, hung it about his neck; the others had
eighteen mantels, made of divers sorts of skins
sewed together ; all these with many other toys
they laid at his feet, stroking their ceremonious
hands about his neck, for his creation to be their
governor and protector, promising their aid,
victuals, or what they had, to be his, if he would
stay with them, to defend and revenge them of
the Massawomeks.” Their promises and en-
treaties did not prevail, and in a little time Smith
.with. his party moved off from the Tockwoghe
River, leaving them “very sorrowful for their
departure.”

-,. Coming. down the bay, they continued ex-
ploring every inlet and headland, and giving
names to them in honor of some of their compa-
ny. To mark their right of possession as dis-
coverers, after moving up the streams as far. as
their barge would float, they would erect crosses,
or boring holes in the trees, would deposite
m them notes or crosses of brass. The Patuxent



JOHN SMITH. “191

River was particularly explored, and they again
visited the Potomac, on both of which streams
they were treated kindly by the inhabitants.
Ere long they entered the Rappahannock.
Here they: met a friendly people known as the
Moraughtacunds, and among them an‘old Indian
acquaintance. This was a man by the name of
Mosco—a curious looking fellow who had served
as their guide to the mine on the Potomac, on
their former visit. Unlike-most of his country-
men, this man had a black bushy beard, of which
he was very proud, and thinking he resembled
the whites, was very happy to call them “ his
countrymen.” His home (I believe) was on the
Potomac, but like most Indians, he was a wan-
derer. Mosco was very kind, and urged Smith
in no case to visit the Rappahannocks, stating
that they were a hostile people, and would pro-
bably kill them for being friends to the Moraugh-
tacunds. These Moraughtacunds, it appeared,
had lately stolen three women from the chief of
the Rappahannocks, and the tribes were on no
friendly terms. Mosco’s words weighed little
with Smith He supposed that his whole state-
ment, was only a cunning story invented to
keep his men trading where they were, and
therefnre passed on up the river. Mosco, ac-
g*



102 JOHN SMITH.

companied him, still repeating what he had said,
and this induced Smith to take one precaution.
The Massawomeks, you will remember, had given
them, among other things, some targets. These
were nothing more than shields “ made of little
small sticks, woven betwixt strings of their
hemp and silk grass, as is our cloth, but so firm-
ly that no arrow can possibly pierce them.” These
targets were now set up as a sort of breast-work
in the bow of the boat, in case ofdanger. Pre-
sently the danger was at hand. Upon coming
near a little creek, they discovered some canoes
at the shore, and upon seeing the savages, offer-
ed tc exchange hostages. The Indians, after
consultation, readily consented. Five of them
now walked out in the stream to the barge,
bringing their man, and proposing to receive one
of the whites in return. They came without
clubs, bows, or arrows, and seemed in every way
friendly. The caution of Smith, however, in

duced him to send one of his men (Anas Tod

kill) ashore, to observe if there were any signs
of an ambuscade. The man performed his part
well, though he came near losing his life. Upon
landing, he said he wished to go over the land
to bring some wood. The Indians refused to
allow him to go, unless the barge would enter the



JOHN SMITH. 103

creek, and come near the shore. This seemed
strange; but Todkill, being a resolute man,
started onward. Now he perceived their cun-
ning. He had not gone far, when he discovered
some two or three hundred Indians lurking
behind the trees. He turned back, calling to
his countrymen that they were betrayed. The
hostage in the barge instantly leaped into the
water, but was instantly killed. The savages
pursued Todkill with clouds of arrows; the party
in the barge discharged their muskets, and pull-
ed for the shore. ‘Todkill fell wounded, but his
countrymen were now on the land and rescued
him. Thus Mosco’s words had proved true;
and to reward him for his fidelity, Smith, after
gathering and breaking all the arrows that could
be found, presented to him the canoes of the
Rappahannocks.

Notwithstanding this unkind reception, Smith
was resolved to proceed up the river. The rest
of the day, therefore, was spent in fixing the
barge in better condition for any farther attack.
Targets were now raised along the sides, making
a thorough breast-work all around the barge.
The next morning they started, and in a little
time felt the benefit of this prudence. As they
reached a narrow pass in the river, they heard



“104 JOHN SMITH.

‘the sudden twang of bowstrings, and: arrows
fell fast around them. Mosco fell flat in the
boat, crying out “the Rappahannocks.” . Upon
looking out they saw no enemy. The banks of
the stream were lined with beautiful green
bushes: all was still, and they were at a loss to
understand where an enemy could be. Ere long
they saw the branches moving, and discovered
the stratagem. It seems that thirty or forty
Rappahannocks had “so accommodated them-
selves with branches as to look like little bushes
growing among the sedge.” The whites in.
stantly discharged their muskets; the savages
fell down in the sedge, and the barge moved on
After passing on about half a mile, upon looking
‘back they saw these enemies, who now showed
themselves openly, “dancing and singing very
merrily.” Thus Mosco’s words were verified a
second time.

In their farther ascent up this river, they
met nothing but kindness. Some of the men
(who from exposure had been sick) now re-
covered, with the exception of one, a worthy
man, whose death was much lamented by his
comrades. This was Richard Fetherstone. On
the shore of a “little bay” his companions dug
his grave, and in honor of his good character



JOHN SMITH. 108.

and. services,.as his body was laid in the ground, .
the. guns: were fired. over -him, and the place
marked as “'etherstone’s Bay.”

. Being now at the falls of the river, they went.
ashore, and some commenced setting up crosses
and marking their names upon trees, while others
wandered about in search of “stones, herbs, and
Springs of water.” They. had taken the precau+
tion to post a sentinel on duty, and as an arrow
fell by him, he gave the: alarm. Scarcely had
they rallied and seized their arms, when they.
were attacked by a hundred savages.. Sheltered
behind the trees, the Indians kept up the fight
for a half hour and then. retreated. Mosco’s
services here, proved very valuable in bringing
about this retreat. He discharged his arrows
among them so rapidly, that the retreating men
imagined that a body of Indians was in league
with the whites, and that their position was des-
perate. After the skirmish was over, upon look-
ing around, they discovered one of the enemy
lying upon the ground, bleeding freely. He
had been badly wounded by a ball, and Mosco,
savage like, would soon have despatched him
by beating out his brains. From this cruelty,
however, he was restrained. The poor fellow’s
wounds were dressed by Dr. Russel the surgeon,



106 JOHN SMITH.

and in an hour or two, he was able to eat and
speak. Mosco now questioned him, to know
who he was. He said he belonged to the tribe
of Hassininga, one of the four composing the
‘nation of the Mannahocks. When asked why
his people had in this manner attacked the whites
who came among them in peace and kindness,
he answered that they had heard the whites
“were a people come from under the world to
take their world from them.” Mosco asked him
how many worlds there were. He replied that
“he knew no more but that which was under
the sky that covered him, which belonged to the
Powhatans, the Monacans, and the Massawo-
meks that were higher up in the mountains.”
When asked what there was beyond the moun-
tains, his answer was, “the sun.” “The Mona-
cans,” he said, “ were their neighbors and friends,
and did dwell as they, in the hilly countries by
small rivers, living upon roots and fruits, but
chiefly by hunting. The Massawomeks did dwell
upon a great water, and had many boats, and so
many men that they made war with all the
world.* For their kings, they were gone every
one a several way with their men on hunting:

Stith, in his history of Virginia, supposes these Massawo-
meks may have been the same as the “ Six Nations.”



JOHN SMITH. 107

but those with him came thither a fishing till
they saw us, notwithstanding they would be all
together at night at Mahaskahod.”* After this,
the whites presented him with many toys, and
persuaded him to go along with them. Mosco
now urged that they should immediately leave
this region, for he suspected treachery. But
the captive begged that they would stay till night,
and see the kings of the Mannahocks, who would
befriend them for their kind usage of him. In
spite of the remonstrances of Mosco, they de-
termined to remain, and he, shewing that he still
had his own thoughts, busied himself all day in
preparing his arrows.

All this time the chief of Hassininga was moy-
ing among his countrymen, and consulting as to
what should be done. At night the English de-
parted, and ere long they were attacked from the
banks’ by the Mannahocks. They followed them
all night, yelling, and hallooing, and shooting their
arrows. They could be brought to no terms of
peace, for their noise was so loud that the voice
of their countryman in the barge could not be
heard. When morning dawned, the barge an-
chored, and Amoroleck, (this was the name of
their captive countryman, ) shewing himself, was

*Smith’s Virginia—Vol. I., page 187



108 JOHN SMITH.

able to speak to them. He told them that he
had been used very kindly ; that there was one
of the Potomacs along who would have killed
him, but the whites had saved him; that he
could have his liberty if they would be friends
to the whites, and even if they chose rather to
be enemies, they could do them no possible harm.
Upon this, they all hung their bows and quivers
upon the trees, and two now came swimming to
che barge, the one bringing upon his head:a bow,
the other a quiver of arrows. These were pre-
sented to Captain Smith in token of. submission.
He treated them very kindly, and told them that
if the other three kings would do the same thing,
he would be a friend to their nation. This was
hardly demanded, before it was assented to. The
parties now went ashore upon a low point of
land near by, the acts of submission were per-
formed, and Amoroleck was delivered up to his
countrymen. The whites were soon again on
their way, leaving upon the shore four or five
hundred Indians, singing, dancing, and making
loud rejoicings.

As they came down the river, they found
all the friendly Indians greatly rejoiced to hear
of their success over the Mannahocks, for these
people were not looked upon as friends by



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12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00044.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00044.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00045.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00045.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00046.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00046.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00047.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00047.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00048.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00048.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00049.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00049.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00050.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00050.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00051.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00051.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00052.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00052.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00053.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:52 PM 00053.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00054.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00054.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00055.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00055.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00056.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00056.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00057.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00057.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00058.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00058.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00059.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00059.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00060.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00060.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00061.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00061.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00062.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00062.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00063.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00063.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00064.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00064.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00065.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00065.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00066.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00066.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00067.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00067.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00068.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00068.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00069.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00069.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00070.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00070.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00071.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00071.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00072.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00072.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00073.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00073.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00074.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00074.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00075.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00075.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00076.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00076.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00077.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00077.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00078.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00078.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00079.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00079.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00080.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00080.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00081.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00081.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00082.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00082.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:53 PM 00083.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00083.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00084.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00084.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00085.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00085.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00086.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00086.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00087.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00087.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00088.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00088.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00089.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00089.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00090.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00090.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00091.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00091.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00092.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00092.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00093.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00093.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00094.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00094.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00095.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00095.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00096.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00096.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00097.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00097.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00098.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00098.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00099.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00099.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00100.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00100.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00101.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00101.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00102.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00102.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00103.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00103.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00104.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00104.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00105.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00105.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00106.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00106.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00107.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00107.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00108.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00108.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00109.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00109.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:54 PM 00110.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00110.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00111.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00111.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00112.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00112.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00113.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00113.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00114.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00114.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00115.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00115.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00116.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00116.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00117.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00117.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00118.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00118.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00119.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00119.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00120.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00120.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00121.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00121.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00122.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00122.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00123.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00123.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00124.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00124.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00125.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00125.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00126.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00126.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00127.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00127.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00128.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00128.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00129.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00129.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00130.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00130.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00131.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00131.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00132.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00132.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00133.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00133.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00134.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00134.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00135.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00135.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00136.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00136.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00137.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00137.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00138.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00138.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00139.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00139.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00140.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00140.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00141.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00141.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00142.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00142.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:55 PM 00143.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00143.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00144.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00144.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00145.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00145.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00146.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00146.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00147.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00147.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00148.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00148.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00149.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00149.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00150.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00150.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00151.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00151.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00152.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00152.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00153.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00153.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00154.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00154.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00155.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00155.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00156.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00156.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00157.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00157.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00158.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00158.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00159.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00159.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00160.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00160.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00161.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00161.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00162.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00162.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00163.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00163.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00164.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00164.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00165.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00165.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00166.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00166.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00167.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:56 PM 00167.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00168.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00168.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00169.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00169.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00170.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00170.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00171.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00171.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00172.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00172.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00173.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00173.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00174.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00174.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00175.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00175.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00176.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00176.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00177.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00177.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00178.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00178.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00179.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00179.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00180.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00180.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00181.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00181.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00182.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00182.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00183.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00183.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00184.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00184.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00185.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00185.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00186.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00186.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00187.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00187.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00188.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00188.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00189.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00189.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00190.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00190.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00191.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00191.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00192.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00192.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00193.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00193.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00194.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00194.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00195.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00195.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00196.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00196.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00197.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00197.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00198.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00198.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00199.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00199.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00200.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00200.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00201.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:57 PM 00201.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00202.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00202.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00203.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00203.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00204.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00204.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00205.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00205.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00206.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00206.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00207.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00207.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00208.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00208.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00209.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00209.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00210.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00210.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00211.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00211.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00212.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00212.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00213.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00213.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00214.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00214.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00215.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00215.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00216.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00216.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00217.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00217.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00218.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00218.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00219.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00219.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00220.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00220.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00221.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00221.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00222.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00222.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00223.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00223.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00224.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00224.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00225.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00225.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00226.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00226.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00227.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00227.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00228.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00228.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00229.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00229.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00230.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00230.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00231.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00231.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00232.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00232.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00233.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00233.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00234.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00234.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00235.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00235.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00236.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00236.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00237.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00237.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:58 PM 00238.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00238.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00239.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00239.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00240.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00240.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00241.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00241.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00242.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00242.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00243.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00243.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00244.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00244.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00245.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00245.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00246.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00246.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00247.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00247.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00248.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00248.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00249.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00249.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00250.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00250.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00251.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00251.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00252.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00252.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00253.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00253.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00254.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00254.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00255.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00255.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00256.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00256.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00257.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00257.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00258.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00258.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00259.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00259.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00260.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00260.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00261.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00261.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00262.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00262.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:50:59 PM 00263.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00263.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00264.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00264.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00265.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00265.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00266.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00266.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00267.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00267.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00268.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00268.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00269.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00269.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00270.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00270.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00271.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00271.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00272.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00272.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00273.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00273.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00274.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00274.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00275.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00275.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00276.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00276.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00277.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00277.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00278.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00278.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00279.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00279.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00280.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00280.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00281.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00281.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00282.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00282.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00283.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00283.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00284.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00284.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00285.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00285.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00286.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00286.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00287.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00287.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00288.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00288.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00289.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00289.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00290.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00290.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00291.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00291.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00292.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00292.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00293.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:00 PM 00293.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00294.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00294.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00295.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00295.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00296.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00296.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00297.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00297.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00298.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00298.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00299.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00299.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00300.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00300.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00301.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00301.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00302.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00302.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00303.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00303.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00304.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00304.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00305.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00305.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00306.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00306.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00307.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00307.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00308.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00308.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00309.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00309.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00310.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00310.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00311.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00311.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00312.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00312.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00313.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00313.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00314.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00314.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00315.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00315.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00316.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00316.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00317.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00317.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00318.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00318.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00319.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00319.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00320.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00320.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00321.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00321.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00322.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:01 PM 00322.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00323.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00323.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00324.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00324.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00325.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00325.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00326.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00326.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00327.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00327.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00328.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00328.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00329.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00329.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00330.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00330.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00331.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00331.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00332.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00332.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00333.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00333.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00334.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00334.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00335.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00335.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00336.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00336.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00337.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00337.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00338.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00338.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00339.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00339.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00340.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00340.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00341.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00341.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00342.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00342.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00343.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00343.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00344.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00344.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00345.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00345.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00346.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00346.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00347.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00347.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00348.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00348.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00349.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00349.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00350.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00350.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00351.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00351.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:02 PM 00352.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00352.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00353.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00353.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00354.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00354.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00355.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00355.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00356.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00356.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00357.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00357.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00358.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00358.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00359.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00359.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00360.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00360.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00361.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00361.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00362.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00362.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00363.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00363.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00364.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00364.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00365.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00365.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00366.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00366.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00367.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00367.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00368.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00368.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00369.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00369.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00370.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00370.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00371.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00371.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00372.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00372.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00373.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00373.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00374.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00374.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00375.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:03 PM 00375.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00376.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00376.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00377.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00377.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00378.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00378.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00379.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00379.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00380.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00380.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00381.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00381.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00382.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00382.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00383.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00383.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00384.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00384.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00385.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00385.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00386.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00386.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00387.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00387.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00388.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00388.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00389.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00389.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00390.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00390.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00391.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00391.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00392.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00392.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00393.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00393.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00394.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00394.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00395.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00395.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00396.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00396.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00397.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00397.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00398.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00398.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00399.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00399.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00400.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00400.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00401.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00401.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00402.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00402.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00403.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00403.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00404.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00404.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00405.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:04 PM 00405.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00406.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00406.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00407.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00407.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00408.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00408.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00409.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00409.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00410.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00410.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00411.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00411.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00412.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00412.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00413.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00413.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00414.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00414.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00415.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00415.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00416.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00416.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00417.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00417.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00418.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00418.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00419.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00419.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00420.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00420.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00421.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00421.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00422.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00422.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00423.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00423.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00424.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00424.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00425.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00425.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00426.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00426.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00427.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00427.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00428.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00428.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00429.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00429.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00430.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00430.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00431.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00431.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00432.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00432.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00433.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00433.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00434.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00434.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00435.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00435.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00436.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00436.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00437.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00437.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:05 PM 00438.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00438.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00439.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00439.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00440.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00440.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00441.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00441.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00442.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00442.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00443.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00443.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00444.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00444.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00445.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00445.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00446.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00446.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00447.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00447.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00448.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00448.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00449.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00449.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00450.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00450.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00451.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00451.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00452.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00452.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00453.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00453.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00454.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00454.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00455.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00455.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00456.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00456.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00457.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00457.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00458.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00458.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00459.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00459.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00460.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00460.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00461.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00461.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00462.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00462.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00463.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00463.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00464.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:06 PM 00464.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00465.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00465.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00466.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00466.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00467.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00467.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00468.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00468.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00469.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00469.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00470.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00470.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00471.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00471.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00472.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00472.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00473.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00473.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00474.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00474.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00475.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00475.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00476.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00476.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00477.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00477.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00478.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00478.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00479.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00479.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00480.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00480.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00481.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00481.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00482.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00482.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00483.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00483.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00484.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00484.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00485.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00485.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00486.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00486.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00487.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00487.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00488.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00488.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00489.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00489.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:07 PM 00490.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00490.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00491.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00491.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00492.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00492.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00493.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00493.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00494.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00494.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00495.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00495.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00496.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00496.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00497.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00497.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00498.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00498.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00499.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00499.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00500.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00500.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00501.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00501.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00502.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00502.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00503.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00503.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00504.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00504.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00505.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00505.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00506.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00506.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00507.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00507.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00508.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00508.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00509.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00509.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00510.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00510.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00511.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00511.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00512.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00512.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00513.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00513.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00514.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00514.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00515.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00515.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:08 PM 00516.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00516.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00517.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00517.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00518.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00518.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00519.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00519.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00520.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00520.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00521.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00521.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00522.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00522.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00523.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00523.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00524.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00524.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00525.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00525.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00526.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00526.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00527.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00527.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00528.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00528.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00529.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00529.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00530.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00530.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00532.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00532.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00533.jpg is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM 00533.jp2 is specified in the METS file but not included in the submission package!

12/15/2014 12:51:09 PM












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AMERICAN

HISTORICAL TALES

YOUTH.

NEW-YORK:
D. APPLETON & CO., 200 BROADWAY

M.DCCC.LIL,
CHAPTER I

The birth of John Smith—His boyish restlessness
—His early adventures and wanderings —
His return home—His wanderings resumed—
After strange adventures, he enlists as a soldier
against the Turks—His brilliant exploits as a
soldier—He is taken captive at last and sold as
a slave to the Bashaw Bogal—He sends him to
Constantinople.

In the life of Henry Hudson* Captain John
Smith is spoken of as his “earliest and most
cherished companion.” Of all the remarkable
men, who visited this new world for the purpose
of planting colonies, and subduing the wilder-
ness, there was none more remarkable than John
Smith. His life was a perfect romance, filled
with wild and roving adventures; and I think
my young countrymen will be both instructed
and pleased by reading his history. Here, there-
fore, it is.

* See volume I.of A Library for my Young Countrymen.
14 JOHN SMITH.

Unfortunately, we knew but little of the early
days of Hudson ; but Smith we can follow from
his boyhood up. He was born in Willoughby,
in the county of Lincolnshire, in England, of
respectable parents, in the year 1579, and, from
the earliest boyhood, began to shew his restless,
roving disposition. He was sent to school, a
very young lad, and soon distinguished himself
among his school-fellows for his bold, manly,
and adventurous sports. But books and schoolboy
confinement did not please him. Scarcely yet
thirteen years old, he sold his satchel, books,
and whatever other articles he could part with,
to raise money, that he might goto sea. All
this was unknown, at the time, to his friends,
and he would probably have succeeded in get-
ting away, had not the death of his father oc-
curred at the time, and thereby prevented it.
Now he was left in the hands of guardians. At
the age of fifteen they placed him as an ap-
prentice to a merchant at Lynn, hoping that this
might suit his turn of mind, and prove both
profitable and pleasant to him. Smith seems at
first to have liked this, for his thoughts were
still upon the ocean, and he hoped from time to
time that his master would send him to sea in
his service. But at last, disappointed in this, the
JOHN SMITH. S-

counting-house became wearisome to him, and
he resolved to leave. With only ten shillings
in his pocket, therefore, which he says was
given to him by his friends “to get rid of him,”
he left his employer. It was not long before
young Smith began to fear he had made a sad
mistake. Afraid to report himself to his guard-
ians, and fearful that, if he remained in England,
they would find him, and put him to some other
employment, it is said, he wandered about in
his poverty, scarcely knowing what to do; his
heart resolved only upon this one thing, to start
abroad as soon as he could. He was a boy of
too much principle to steal, and yet he was too
poor to carry out his wishes. The story runs,
that in this sad state of mind, after wandering
another weary day, he was fortunate enough, in
stopping at a public-house, to meet with a noble-
man who was about embarking for France, and
Smith was made happy, when he was allowed
to enter his train, and go along with him. They
journeyed on together now, until they reached Or-
leans, in France, but here, from some cause, they
parted. Whether the nobleman (as has been
said) found Smith wild and ungovernable, or
whether it was that he no longer had need of
his services, here he dismissed him. Yet he
JOHN SMITH.

treated him with great generosity, fo: he gave
him money, that he might return to England,
and live among his friends.

Yet Smith had no thought of returning home,
and now it was that his travels fairly com-
menced. He first went to Paris, and after
. Spending a little time there, he started for Hol-
land. There was in him always a love of
military” life, a sort of military ardor; and
I have supposed that he moved toward the
“Low Countries,” because, at that time, this
was the battle-ground of Europe. A struggle
was then going on between this country and
Spain. Certain it is, that he had scarcely reach-
ed the country, when he enlisted as a soldier; and
now, for some time, he served in the army,
greatly delighted with his new occupation. His
restless spirit, however, grew weary at last, even
of this. Meeting with a Scotch gentleman, (Mr.
David Hume,) he was supplied by him with
money, and letters to his friends in Scotland,
and advised to go with him to that country.
The principal inducement for his going was, (as
his Scotch friend assured him,) that he would
there find friendship and favor at the hands of
King James. Now, then, he embarked for Scot-
land. After suffering from shipwreck, and a
JOHN SMITH 17

violent fit of sickness, he at length arrived there,
and delivered his letters. These letters procured
for him kind attention, and he was treated with
great hospitality—though as far as the king
was concerned, he met with little patronage and
encouragement. His heart, therefore, began to
turn homeward, and he soon started off for his
native town, Willoughby.

Upon his arrival, his friends were all 1 delighted
to see him, and were greatly pleased to hear him
recount his travels. But this being over, he soon
tired of the companions around him: and now
he went to the woods and built him a little
booth, where he might live alone to himself.
Here he became very industrious in pursuing
his studies. His fondness for a soldier’s life
set him upon the study of military history and
tactics; and from time to time he would amuse
himself with sports of hunting and horseman-
ship. His books, his horse, and his lance were
almost the only objects that interested him. Af-
ter a time, it became generally known that
he was living in this quiet way: his strange
habits were much talked of, and this induced an
Italian gentleman, who was himself a great
horseman, to visit him. He soon made the ac-
quaintance of Smith, (for their tastes were alike,)

Qe
18 JOHN SMITH.

and at length persuaded him to leave his retire-
ment, and come back into the world. His little
lodge, therefore, was now deserted.

His restless spirit soon prompted him again
to roam. He now had the means of travelling,
(for he had received his portion of his father’s
estate,) and in spite of the remonstrances and
entreaties of his friends, he resolved upon start-
ing once more. Again led, I suppose, by his mili-
tary ardor, he embarked for Flanders, hoping to
play the part ofa soldier against the Turks. But
here his plans were altered. Accidentally meet-
ing with four Frenchmen, (one of whom passed
for a nobleman, and the other three for his attend-
ants, ) he was persuaded to ‘join them, and travel
with them into Feance. These men were vil-
lains, who noticing the youth and inexperience
of Smith, (for he was now only nineteen, some
say seventeen, years of age,) had resolved upon
robbing him. They all accordingly embarked for
France. It was a dark night when they arrived
at St. Valery, in Picardy; and now these im-
postors had made so much of a friend of their
captain, who was a villain like themselves, that
they were prepared to carry their plan into ex-
ecution. Accordingly, these four Frenchmen,
with the captain at their head, now went ashore
JOHN SMITE. 10°:

in the boat, taking with them the trunks of
Smith. The next moming the captain returned
with the boat. Upon being asked why he had
been gone so long, he stated, that he had been
prevented from returning by the high sea: but
the truth was, he had delayed only that his
thievish companions might escape with their
plunder before it was possible to overtake them.
The crew suspected the villany of the com-
mander, (for the luggage of Smith was now
missed,) and it is said that they proposed to
Smith to kill him, and seize the vessel and car-
go. This, however, he very properly refused to
do, and thus went ashore, poor and friendless.
Indeed, his poverty was now so great, that he
sold part of his clothing to pay his passage.
One of the sailors now took compassion upon
him, and paying his expenses, they travelled to-
gether as far as Mortaine, where the villains
lived, (for this sailor, it seems, knew them.) His
journey proved useless, as far as his trunks were
concerned, for being poor and without friends,
he found it impossible to recover any part of his
property. His desolate situation, however, called
out the sympathy of many good people, and he
was invited to their homes, kindly treated, and
supplied with further sums of money. >: :
20 JOHN SMITH.

Still eager to pursue his travels, and unwilling -
to remain, receiving favors which he could not
return, he resolved upon leaving this place.
With a light heart, therefore, he started on foot
toward the sea-shore, hoping, in some one of
the seaport towns, to find a ship in which he
might embark. In his wanderings, his money
was soon again exhausted. It was during this
journey that he accidentally met one day, near
Dinan, one of the villains who had robbed him.
Without saying a word, they both instantly drew
their swords. A crowd gathered around them;
Smith had wounded him, and he forced the
Frenchman to confess his guilt before the whole
multitude. This, however, was all he obtained,
for he found none of his property. Before he
reached the sea-shore, he suffered many priva-
tions. It is said, that after wandering one day
through a forest, he was so much exhausted to-
ward evening, by fatigue and exposure, that he
threw himself down by a fountain, expecting to
die there; and would probably have died, had
not a kind farmer discovered him, and once more
supplied his wants.

He now remembered an old friend, whom he
had seen before, (the Earl of Ployer,) and knew,
if he could reach him, he would receive sympathy
JOHN SMITH. Qi

and assistance. Accordingly, he managed to
reach the home of this friend, and found all his
hopes realized. The Earl treate¢ him with
marked kindness, and furnished him with money
for his journey. He now travelled along the
French coast to Bayonne, and thence crossed.
over to Marseilles, noticing particularly, by the
way, any and every thing that fed his passion
for naval and military exploits. At Marseilles
he found a ship ready to sail for Italy.

In this ship it happened that there were a
number of pilgrims, going to Rome. Smith,
however, took passage with them, and new
troubles soon met him on the voyage. A storm
at first drove the vessel into the harbor of Tou-
lon: after the tempest had passed away, and
they were again on their voyage, head winds
ere long met them, and they were forced to an-
chor under the little island of Saint Mary, off
Nice, in Savoy. Here the pilgrims began to
murmur and complain. Their bigotry and mad-
ness induced them to suppose that Smith was
the cause of their troubles, because he was what
they called a heretic. They abused him, because
he was a Protestant, and Queen Elizabeth of
England, because she was known to protect
the Protestant religion: and they were scarcely
92 JOHN SMITH.

again under way, when their madness carried
them so far, that they seized Smith, and without
any mercy, threw him overboard. What became
of the pilgrims, I cannot say, but a merciful
Providence watched over Smith, and sustained
him through the struggle of swimming back to
the island. Weak and exhausted, he was in a
pitiable condition. He found no one near hin—
yet, with a heart of hope, he raised signals,
trusting that some ship passing by might mark
his distress. Fortunately, next day, a ship of
Saint Malo put in at the island for shelter, and
doubly fortunate he was when he found that the
commander of this ship was Captain La Roche,
a friend and neighhor to his old friend, the Earl
of Ployer. Of course, Smith now met with every
attention. In a little time the vessel proceeded
on her voyage to Alexandria, in Egypt. Thence
she coasted the Levant. On her return home-
ward, she fell in with a Venetian vessel. The
French captain tried to speak her, but was an-
swered only by “a broadside,” (the French ship
being mistaken, I suppose, for a pirate.) A
sharp action now commenced—Smith bearing
a bold part in it. After a hard contest, the
Venetian ship was taken, and found to be very
richly laden. All that was valuable was seized,
JOHN SMITH. - 93

and the conquerors divided the spoils. ‘Smith,
for his valor, received as his share, a box con-
taining a thousand sequins; (about two thousand
dollars.) At his own request now he'was landed
on the shore of Piedmont, and, with abundance
of money, travelled through Italy, marking every
thing that was interesting. His desire for mili-
tary glory was, however, still uppermost in his
heart, and crossing the Adriatic, he travelled on
till he came to Gratz, in Styria, the seat of Fer-
dinand, the Archduke of Austria. War was at
this time raging between the Germans and the
Turks; and Smith, finding two of his country-
men at the place, was soon introduced ‘to Lord
Eberspaught, Baron Kizel, Count Meldntch,
and other officers of distinction. He at once en-
listed as a volunteer, to serve in the army against
the Turks.

It was not long now, before his genius had
full scope to shew itself. The Turkish army,
(twenty thousand strong,) under Ibrahim Pasha,
having ravaged the neighboring country, were
now laying siege to the strong town of Olym-
pach. Lord Eberspaught was here, shut up with
his army, and cut off from all supplies and com-
munication with his friends. Smith served in
Baron Kizel’s army, who was endeavoring to
24 JOHN SMITH.

help Eberspaught in his perilous condition. De-
sirous of sending a message to him, and finding
it impossible, Smith now proposed to try his
plan for communicating with him—a plan of
which he had formerly talked with Eberspaught.
This was by means of a telegraph, which he had
invented. Kizel consented, and Smith now went
at night with a guard, toa hill in sight of the
town, yet far enough to be unobserved by the
Turkish army. Raising his signals, he conveyed
to Eberspaught this message : “ Thursday night
Iwill charge on the east ; at the alarm sally
thou.” The signal was understood, and the an-
swer came back, “I will.”* Making ready for
Thursday night, he prepared a number of
matches on a string. which he extended in a
line, in a certain direction, Just on the eve of
the attack, these matches were fired, and ex-
ploded like a roar of musketry. The Turks,
thinking they were attacked in that quarter, sal-
lied out to meet the enemy. Kizel, with his
army, rushed upon them at the -moment—the

* Smith’s method of communicating was by means of
torches. Each letter from A to L was designated by shew-
ing one torch as many times as corresponded to the letter’s
place in the alphabet—each letter, from M to Z, was desig-
nated by shewing two torches after the same manner. The
end of a word was signified by shewing three lights.
JOHN SMITH. 25

men in the garrison moved at the same time—
the Turks were routed, numbers of them were
slain, numbers driven into the river and drown-
ed, and two thousand of Kizel’s men enter-
ed the garrison. The next day, the enemy
was glad to abandon the siege. This gallant
action gained great applause for Snith, and he
was at once appointed to the command of a troop
of two hundred and fifty horse, in the regiment
of Count Meldritch.

Flushed with success, the Emperor of Ger-
many now resolved to prosecute the war boldly,
and for this purpose three large armies were
raised. Smith served in that commanded by the
Archduke Matthias, the Emperor’s brother. The
principal command of this force, however, devolv-
ed upon the lieutenant, the Duke Mercury, and
Smith seems to have shared his particular confi-
dence. Ere long, they laid ‘siege to Alba Re-
galis, in Hungary. This was a town strongly
fortified by the Turks. Smith’s skill here an-
noyed the enemy greatly, for he managed to
throw bombs from a sling, in the midst of them,
and two or three times succeeded in setting the
place on fire. After an obstinate resistance, this
place was taken with great loss to the Turks.
So unexpected was this result, that the Turks

3
26 JOHN . SMITH.

could hardly believe themselves routed: and. it
is said, that one of their Bashaws, upon hearing
the sad news, would eat nothing the whole day,
but threw himself upon the ground, and con-
tinued to pray to Mahomet to deliver his coun-
trymen. The Sultan, however, could not rest
satisfied with this defeat, and sent an army of
sixty thousand men to recapture the place. The
Duke Mercury, hearing of the. approach of this
vast number, was not dismayed, though his num-
bers were comparatively small.:; He marched
out to meet them, and, after a desperate battle,
defeated the Turks.once more. The fight must
have been tremendous, for six thousand of the
Turks (it is said) were left dead upon the field.
Smith bore himself as usual, gallantly, through
the whole, escaping narrowly with his life. His
horse was shot under him, and he was severely
wounded.

In a little time, he was again at the head of
his own company, and with Count Meldritch,
marched into Transylvania. - Here the Turks
were committing their ravages, and the Count
felt peculiarly excited against them, because: his
family possessions lay in that:region. A strong’.
body of Turks, after scouring’ the country, had.
now fortified themselves inthe town of Regal, ’
JOHN SMITH. 27

among the mountains of Transylvania, and here
they felt secure. With eight thousand men
Meldritch laid siege to this place. Fortunately,
he was soon after joined by Prince Moyses, with
nine thousand more. The place was so strong by
nature, and so strongly garrisoned, that the siege
proved long, and seemed, indeed, almost useless.
The Turks, feeling their strength, began to grow
insolent. At length one of their number, the
Lord Turbishaw, (for the purpose, as was
said, of amusing the Turkish ladies,) sent a chal-
lenge to any man of the Christian troops, who
dared come out to fight him. Lots were now
cast, to see who should accept this challenge ;
and the lot fell upon Smith. The time for the
meeting approached, and the battlements of the
town were lined with ladies to witness it. Lord
Turbishaw, elegantly dressed in a magnificent
suit of armor, which blazed with gold, silver,
and jewels, now rode out into the field. Three
men attended him, one bearing his lance, and
two others moving by the side of his horse.
Smith rode out to meet him, attended only by a
page, who bore his lance. The trumpets now
sounded, (as the signal for battle,) and the
conflict commenced. It was soon ended; for
Smith, with his lance, thrust the Turk through
28 JOHN SMITH.

the head, and he fell dead frora his horse. Great
was the shout of joy now raised by the Christian
troops; and loud the lamentations among the
Turkish ladies. The conqueror now cut off the
head of Turbishaw, and bore it back in triumph
among his comrades, leaving his dead body ly-
ing upon the ground. This defeat was more
than the Turks could well bear, and a particular
friend of Turbishaw’s, named Grualgo, was in-
flamed with rage. Burning to revenge the death
of his friend, he sent now a special challenge'to
Smith, to meet him. The challenge was at once
accepted, and the next day fixed for the meet-
ing. It was agreed this time that the conqueror
should have the horse and the armor of the de-
feated. In the morning they met. At their first
attack, their lances were shivered—their pistols
were then discharged, and both were wounded,
Smith slightly, the Turk severely, in the arm.
Smith now had the advantage. The Turk, from
the wound in his arm, being unable to manage
his horse, was easily slain; his head was also
taken from his body, and carried triumphant-
ly to the Christian troops. His horse and his
armor too, were now the trophies of the con-
queror. Proud of his success, in a haughty
spirit, Smith (by permission of his commander)
JOHN SMITH. 29

now sent his challenge to the Turks. If the
ladies, he said, still desired amusement, and
would choose their champion, he would add his
head to the number he had taken, or lose his
own. A champion was soon found in the per-
son of a ferocious Turk, named Bonamolgro—
the challenge accepted, and terms agreed upon.
As Bonamolgro was the challenged person, and
had the choice of arms, having seen Smith’s
skill in using the lance, he avoided this, and se-
lected for the weapons, pistols, battle-axes, anc
swords. The next day they met; their pistols
were first fired, without injuring either party,
and then they fought with battle-axes. The
Turk was more skilled than Smith in the use of
this; and dealing him a heavy blow, he un-
horsed him, while his battle-axe fell from his
hand. The ramparts now rung with the shouts
of ladies, who supposed Smith was discomfited.
But Smith was a fine horseman, and this saved
him. In an instant, he rallied from the blow,
remounted his horse, and by dexterous manage-
ment of the animal, succeeded, not only in avoid-
ing the blows aimed at him by the Turk, but at
a favorable moment ran him through with his
sword. Bonamolg# fell to the ground, and his
head was also taken. The Turks were no dis-
3*
80 JOHN SMITH.

heartened, and ere long the town was cap-
tured.

The triumph of the Christian forces was now
great; but Smith’s triumph was greater, for he
was the special hero of the occasion. He was
conducted to the pavilion of his general by a
' military procession of six thousand men. Be-
fore these were led three horses, and in front of
all were the three Turks’ heads, borne on the
points of three lances. Here hé was received
with great honor. The general embraced him
warmly, presented him with a horse, richly ca-
parisoned, a cimeter and belt, worth three hun-
dred ducats; and, best of all, in Smith’s estima-
tion, made him the major of a regiment of men.
Nor was the honor of his exploits yet ended; for
afterwards, when the Prince of Transylvania
heard of his valor, he presented to Smith his
picture, set in gold; gave him a pension of three
hundred ducats a year, and granted him a coat
of arms, bearing three Turks’ heads in a shield,
The motto of the coat of arms was this: ‘ Vin-
cere est vivere.” His fame was soon known at
home,.as well as abroad; for this patent of the
Prince was afterwards admitted and recorded, in
the College of Heralds, in England, by Sir Henry
Segar, garter king at arms. Smith (it is said)
JOHN SMITH. 31

always remembered this occasion with great ex-
ultation, and to the last day of his. life was proud
of this motto.

His passion for a soldier’s life naturally enough
grew stronger as he advanced in distinction, and
he was soon again in activeservice. _In Wallachia,
which was at this time a Turkish province, the
inhabitants revolted against the reigning prince,
and proclaimed a new one Pressed with a
hard struggle, they applied to the Emperor of
Germany to aid them, and he at once took ad-
vantage of their position, and met their entreaty.
Count Meldritch, Smith, and other officers, with
an army of thirty thousand men, went to the
assistance of the new prince. The deposed
prince, resolute upon maintaining his place, had
gathered together his forces, and now met them
with an army of forty thousand Turks and Tar-
tars. A desperate and bloody struggle followed :
the army of the Turks was routed, and only fif-
teen thousand made good their retreat. Twenty-
five thousand Turks (it is said) lay dead or
wounded upon the field, and the province was
now subject to the Emperor.

With a strong bait, the deposed prince was
still bent upon holdifig his place. He gathered
his troops again. together, and was ere long heard
32. JOHN SMITH.

of in the province of Moldavia. Count Meldritch
and Smith again met him. After several skilful
and successful skirmishes against him, they seem
to have been flushed with pride; and now pressing
eagerly on in a narrow and mountainous pass, near
the town of Rottenton, they were surprised by an
ambuscade. Here an army of forty thousand
men rushed suddenly upon them ; the Christian
troops fought boldly and desperately, but to little
or no purpose. They were overpowered by num-
bers, and all were slain or wounded, except
about thirteen hundred men, who, with Count
Meldritch at their head, escaped by swimming a
river. In this unfortunate struggle, Smith was
badly wounded, and left (as his friends sup-
posed) dead upon the field. In this, however,
they were deceived. The Turks discovered him,
bleeding among the heaps of the dead, and the rich-
ness of his dress and armor, as it turned out, saved
his life. Supposing him to be a man of rank
and distinction, they were too cruel to despatch
him, but saved him, that he might suffer a more
lingering and degrading torment than death.
His wounds were dressed, and after he had suffi-
ciently recovered, he, any others of the
poor prisoners, were take to a Turkish town,
and there sold as slaves, in the market-place.
JOHN SMITH. 33

It was Smith’s lot to be purchased by the Ba-
shaw Bogal; and he now sent him as a present
to his mistress, Tragabigzanda, in Constantino-
ple, accompanying the present with this false-
hood, that Smith was a Bohemian nobleman,
whom he had made prisoner in war
CHAPTER IL

Smith escapes from his captivity—He wanders
through Russia and Poland, and is kindly
entertained—Cordial meeting with his old
friends, in Transylvantia—He journeys to
France, Spain, and Morocco—Returns to
England—Happiness of his friends at meet-
ing him—Meets with Bartholomew Gosnold,
and determines to sail for the New World—
Patent of King James for settling Virginia—
Their ships satl—Unkind treatment of Smith on
the voyage—The Colonists reach Jamestown—
Smith is refused his place as one of the
Council. .

Smitx fared fortunately in the hands of his
Turkish mistress. Being able to speak Italian,
and struck with the manly and noble bearing of
the captive, she from time to time held con-
versations with him, and learned the utter false-
hood of the Bashaw’s me. to her. Instead of
a Bohemian nobleman, se discovered that the
prisoner was an Englishman of good family, and
JOHN SMITH. 35

promising prospects ; that he was a soldier of
fortune, who had fallen into his present position
in the struggle near Rottenton, and had never
seen the Bashaw, till they met in the market-
place. Smith now told her the whole story of his
wanderings, and the lady was captivated by the
man, and his adventures. Finding her heart
drawn toward him, and fearing that he might
be ill-used, or again sold, she resolved to do
what she could for his protection. She sent him
therefore to her brother Timour, the Bashaw of
Nalbraitz, who lived in the country of the Cam-
brian T'artars, on the borders of the Sea of
Azoph. To secure his good treatment, she sent a
letter with him, requesting her brother to treat
him kindly, and frankly telling him, that she felt
a deep attachment for the prisoner. Her letter,
however, instead of helping Smith, as she de-
signed, only outraged her brother. He was
greatly indignant at the thought, that his sister
should love a Christian slave. In an hour after
his arrival, he was stripped of all his clothing—
his head and beard were shaved—an iron collar
was fastened round_his neck—and clothed in a
suit of hair loth res sent out to hard labor
among other poor Christian slaves.

Smith’s situation was now pitiable enough;
36 JOHN SMITH

but his bold spirit was unconquered. His com
panions in misery were sad and in despair; yet
he, though well nigh driven to despair; had ever
the hope of being again free, and watched every
opportunity of making his escape. He thought
first of running away, but he found that he was
watched so closely, that he could not move with-
out being seen. Day after day, therefore, he la-
bored on, but with a heart of hope, that he
should one day be rid of his bondage. How
long he was in captivity here, I cannot say, but
he at last made his escape in the following
manner.

He was employed one day in threshing corn,
at a farm-house, in a field, about three miles
from the place where his tyrannical master liv-
ed. The master was in the habit, at times, of
visiting the laborers at their work, and at such
times, not unfrequently, treated them with great
cruelty. On this occasion he visited the farm-
house, and having a personal dislike to Smith,
was not satisfied with abusing him, but beat
him and kicked him violently. This was more
than the proud spirit of Smith could endure.
Watching his epportani Geren, when no
one was present, he gave-mm a blow with his
threshing flail, and laid him senseless at his feet
JOHN SMITH. “87

No time was now-to. be lost. He at once dressed
himself in the Bashaw’s clothes, hid his body un-
der the straw, filled a bag with corn, closed the
doors, mounted the Bashaw’s horse, and gallop-
ed off into. the wilderness, He was now free, but
in the midst of a wild desert, ignorant of his way.

In this desert he wandered for two or three
days, not knowing whither he was going, and
fortunately meeting no one who might have
marked his iron collar, known him as a slave,
and possibly recaptured him, or given notice, at
least, of his flight. At length it was his good
fortune to reach a cross-road,- where a signpost
directed him, on the main road to Russia. Keep-
ing this road, at the end of sixteen days, (dur-
ing which time his bag supplied him with’ his
only food,) he reached Ecopolis, upon the river
Don, where there was a garrison of the Russians.
The commander of the garrison, learning he was
a Christian, t:eeted him with great kindness ;
his iron collar was taken off, and letters were
given to him, introducing him very kindly to the
other governors in that region. He now travelled
on through Russia and Poland, meeting every
where with kind ion... It was in some part
of this journey that'ne met with the Jady Calla-
mata, who took a deep interest in him, and of

4
38 JOHN SMITH.

whom Smith ever speaks with the utmost grati-
tude. At length he reached Transylvania. Here
he was welcomed with the greatest enthusiasm.
His fame was well known, and his old comrades
crowded around him, rejoicing once more to see
a friend, whom they supposed lost to them for
ever. At Leipsic he had a joyful meeting with
his old commander, Count Meldritch; and the
Prince of Transylvania, (it is said,) hearing of
his arrival, sent for him, and gave him a present
of fifteen. hundred ducats, to repair his losses.
Smith seems to have been so touched with this
kindness, that he was almost ready to listen to
the entreaties of these friends, and make his
home in their country. One thing alone pre-
vented, and that was the longing desire, which
naturally enough rested in his heart, to visit
once more his native land. Who loves not the
spot where he was born, and where he played in
his boyhood? With a sad heart, therefore, he
tore himself from these friends, and journeyed
on. He passed through France, Germany, and
Spain, observing, as was his custom, every thing
attentively on his way. Now he was turned
aside from going directly halle, by his old passion
for military life. Learning that a civil war had
broken out, in the kingdom of Morocco, he im-
JOHN SMITH. 39

mediately sailed for that country, with the in-
tention of embarking in the struggle. Upon his
arrival, however, not being pleased with either
of the contending parties, he determined to take
no part in it whatever, and ere long set sail for
England. Strange adventures were still in his
way: for in his homeward course, he bore his
part in another naval battle. The ship in which
he sailed was attacked by two Spanish vessels
of war, and, after a desperate and bloody fight,
they were driven off. He soon now made his
landing in England, having (it is reported) in
his possession one thousand ducats, which, in ad-
dition {g some property which he held in Eng-
land, enabled him, for the time, to feel quite in-
dependent.

Great was the joy between Smith and his
friends now, in his native land. While he glad-
ly told the story of his travels, they forgot the
sorrows of his exile in the delight of hearing
him. Their joy, however, was soon again over-
cast, for his untired spirit began to pant for
other adventures, and they knew that it was idle
’ to attempt to restrain him. The circumstances
which now roused gif spirit, are circumstances
in which we, as Americans, are nearly in-
terested
40 JOHN SMITH.

At this time, well nigh all Europe was filled
with a desire for maritime discoveries, and no-
where was this desire more ardent than in Eng-
land. Several voyagers had now crossed the
western waters, and seen portions of that New
World which had been discovered by Columbus.
Returning home, they had marvellous stories to
tell of its richness and beauty. More than this
had been done. Attempts had been made to
colonize a part.of the new continent. The bold
genius of that noble Englishma.:, Sir Walter
Raleigh, had (even during the reign of the pre-
ceding sovereign, Queen Elizabeth) attempted
to plant a group of adventurers upon. Roanoke
Island, off the coast of Carolina; and though
this effort, with others, had failed, the desire for
the same sort of adventure was still strongly felt
in England; and as new tidings came from
time to time of the beauty of the new world, this
desire only increased. It happened about the
time of Smith’s return home, that Bartholomew
Gosnold (who, in 1602, had made a voyage to
New England) was talking largely of the pros-
pects of the new world, and was himself desir-
ous and ready to make another adventure there,
for the purpose of planting a colony and sub-
duing the wilderness. Meeting with Smith, he
JOHN SMITH. Ai

found one ready to listen to his story and plans;
a strong friendship was soon formed between
them, and they determined to link their hopes
together in this new undertaking. They now
set resolutely to work, to secure sufficient patron-
age to carry out their design. Other voyagers
returning home, confirmed from time to time the
statements of Gosnold, and animated them the
more in their efforts. Ere long, they found sev-
eral noblemen and gentlemen, of like feeling
with themselves, (among whom we should espe-
cially remember Edward Maria Wingfield, a
merchant, Robert Hunt, a clergyman, and Rich- -
ard Hackluyt,) and now they asked of King
James a royal patent, for making new dis-
coveries, and planting a colony in Virginia.
The king met these proposals, and on the 10th
of April, 1606, issued his letters patent to Sir
Thomas Gates, Sir George Somers, Richard
Hackluyt and others. By these letters, they
were allowed to possess all the territories in
North America, lying between the thirty-fourth
and forty-fifth degrees of north latitude, and all
islands within the same latitudes, within one hun-
dred miles of the shore. These adventurers, I
believe, had asked the privilege of establishing
two colonies. At all events, they were divided
4*
42 JOHN SÂ¥ ITI.

into two companies—ore known as the London
or South Virginia Company—the other, as the
Plymouth Company. The two companies were
to ymake their settlements within the territory
granted-—one in the southern, the other in the
northern part of it, and their colonies were to be
kept one hundred miles apart These colonies
were to be governed by two councils, as they
were called, both selected by the king—one coun-
cil to reside in England, while the other resided
in the colony, and all laws made by the Colo-
nial Council were to be subject to repeal or al-
teration by the king or Supreme Council at home.
These terms were the best the petitioners could
obtain, and the London Company resolved at
once to act under them.

Some little delay was experienced in making
all ready, so that the 19th of December arrived,
before their ships were ready to sail from Eng-
land. On that day three ships, one of one hun-
dred, another of forty, and another of twenty
tons, under the command of Captain Christopher
Newport, fell down the Thames, bound on a
voyage for Virginia. Of course, they were well
stocked with men and provisions for a colony.
Among the leading men on board, were Barthol
omew Gosnold, Captain Smith, Edward Wing-
JOHN SMITH 43

field the merchant, and Robert Hunt the clergy-
man. They had with them, among other things,
a sealed box, containing “ orders for government
in Virginia,” which box was not to be opened
until their arrival there.

The ships were now detained for more than
six weeks off the coast of England, by head
winds; and murmurings and complaints arose
among the adventurers. These, however, were
allayed, in some degree, by the affection and per-
severance of the good clergyman, Mr. Hunt.
Though a sick man, he forgot his own troubles
to make them happy. There were some on
board who hated (it seems) him, and his profes-
sion, yet “all this” (we are told) “ could never
force from him so much as a seeming desire to
leave the business, but he preferred the service
of God in so good a voyage, before any affection
to contest with his Godless foes, whose disastrous
designs (could they have prevailed) had even
then overthrown the business, so many discon:
tents did then arise, had he not with the water
of patience, and his Godly exhortations, (but
chiefly by his true devoted examples,) quenched
those flames of envy and dissension.’ At

* Smith’s Virginia—Vol. I., page 150.
44 JOHN: SMITH.

length, with a fair wind, they shaped their
course for the new world, by the old route of the
Canaries and West India Islands. They had
scarcely reached the Canaries, when their mur-
murings became louder than ever, and it seems
now that poor Smith was unconsciously the prin-
cipal cause of them. His bold and manly bear-
ing, together with his conversation, had excited
the suspicion and jealousy of some of his com-
panions. They declared that he had the desire
and intention of murdering the council, and
making himself king of Virginia, and that he
had conspirators among the crew for that pur-
pose. Smith was too proud to make any expla-
nation, when he felt perfectly innocent, and the
consequence was, that he was now seized and
confined as a prisoner for the rest of the voyage.
They were also, it is said, outraged. with -Mr.
Hunt as his friend, and I presume his profession
and prudence alone saved him from the same
fate. They now steered from the Canaries, to
the West Indies. Among these islands they
spent three weeks, recruiting for their farther
voyage, and seem to have.been much pleased
with the appearance of this new and strange
region. Thence they moved off for Virginia.
Visited with unsteady weather, for some tinu
JOHN: SMB. 46

they made but little progress—and having at one
time lost their reckoning for three days, many
of them became dissatisfied again, and urged
strongly a return to England. Fortunately, a
fine breeze relieved them in this time of discon-
tent, and on the 26th day of April, 1607, they
saw land, and entered Chesapeake Bay. The
land first seen was on the north side of the en-
trance to the bay. To this they gave the name
of Cape Henry, and to the point on the south side
of the entrance, the name of Cape Charles, both
in honor of the sons of King James. They sailed
into the first broad river which opened before
them, naming it after their king, James River.
For seventeen days now, they busied themselves
in finding a convenient spot for their settlement,
and during this period landed several times, and
met the savages of thecountry. The first land-
ing was at Cape Henry, where thirty of the ad-
venturers went ashore. Here they found on
the flats abundance of oysters “ laying as thick
as stones,” and‘the- land was covered with wild
flowers and fine strawberries. ‘They were at-
tacked by five savages, and two of their number
badly wounded, before they drove them off with
their muskets. Again’ they landed at Point
Comfort, on the north side of the mouth of James
46 JOHN SMITH,

River, (a place so named by themselves because
they found good anchorage there, which gave
them great comfort.) They met now some In-
dians, who at first were frightened, but upon one
of the white men’s laying his hand upon his
neart, the savages felt that their intentions were
peaceable, and came directly to them, inviting
them to visit their town Kecoughtan, the place
where Hampton is now built. The invitation
was accepted, and when they reached the town,
both parties were well pleased. The Indians
feasted the strangers on cakes of Indian corn,
and entertained them with tobacco and a dance,
while the whites, in their turn, presented to them
beads and other trinkets. Then the chief of the
Rappahannas, hearing of them, sent a messenger
to invite them to come and see him, and to guide
them to his home. This invitation was also ac-
cepted, and they were received in great state by
the chief and his people. They stood upon the
banks of the river to meet them as they landed.
As soon as they were ashore, the chief came be-
fore them at the head of his train, “ playing on
aflute made of a reed, with a crown of deer’s
hair colored red, in fashion of a rose, fastened
about his knot of hair, and a great plate of cop-
per on the other side of his head, with two long
JOHN SMITH. 47

feathers in fashion of a pair of horns, placed in
the midst of his crown. His body was painted
all with crimson, with a chain of beads about
his neck ; his face painted blue besprinkled with
silver ore; his ears all behung with bracelets of
pearl, and in either ear a bird’s claw through it,
beset with fine copper or gold.” He now had
his mat spread upon the ground, and while his
people all stood around him, sat down and smok-
ed his pipe of tobacco. This being over, he
made signs to the whites to follow him to his
town. He went first, leading the way, the
Indians and whites all following, and after pass-
ing through beautiful woods and rich fields of
corn, they at length ascended asteep hill, and were
at the palace of the chief of the Rappahannas.
Here they were treated with great hospitality.
Ascending the river, they afterwards saw a body
of Indians, standing on the shore all armed, and
their chief, Apamatica—holding in one hand his
bow and arrow, and in the other his pipe of to-
bacco—boldly demanded what they had come
for. They made signs of peace, and were again
kindly entertained by him. Still passing on, at
the distance of thirty-two miles from the mouth
of the river, they found the shore on the north
side bold, and covered with heavy timber ; and
48 JOHN SMITH.

- the water near by being six fathoms deep, they
were enabled to moor their ships to the trees on
the land. The appearance of this spot pleased
them more than any they had seen; and upon
being visited by the chief of the Pashipays, who
offered them as much land as they needed for
their purpose, and gave them a deer for their en-
tertainment, they determined here to make their
settlement. It was now the 13th of May—they
went ashore, pitched their tents, and gave to the
spot the name of Jamestown. When the sealed
box containing their orders was opened, it was
found that Bartholomew Gosnold, John Smith,
Edward M. Wingfield, Christopher Newport,
John Ratcliff, John Martin, and George Kendall,
were named as the council for the colony. Their
instructions were to choose a president from
among their number, for one year, and he, with
the help of the other counsellors, was to manage
the affairs of the colony. Matters of importance
were to be “ examined by a jury, but determined
by the major part of the council, in which the
president had two voices.” Edward M. Wing-
field was at once chosen president, and with all
the others, except John Smith, sworn into office.
They were still jealous and suspicious of this
man, (from no good cause whatever, as we shall
JOHN ‘SMITH. 49

see,) and thus refused him the place to which’
he had been appointed. In fact, they even

went so far as to set forth a declaration to the

whole colony, shewing why he was not admitted

to his office.

qn
CHAPTER II.

Noble conduct of Smith—Beginning of James-
town—Wingfield’s imprudence in not prepar-
ing @ fort, and having the men drilled to mil-
itary exercises—S mith visits the chief Powha-
tan—Atiack upon Jamestown by the savages—
Smith demands a trial, and is acquitted—New-
port sails for England—Sufferings of the col-
ony—Selfishness of Wingfield—He tries to
escape from the colony, is prevented, and de-
posed from the Presidency—Ratcliff is made
President—Being a weak man, the care of the
colony falls upon Smith—His excursion to
Kecoughtan, to obtain supplies—His adven
tures up the Chickahomony river—Is made
a prisoner by the Indians—His treatment by
the savages—Presents his compass to Opecan-
chanough, and saves his life thereby—Writes to
Jamestown—lIs led about among various tribes,
and at last brought to Werowcomoco, the resi-
dence of Powhatan.

Tue injustice done to Smith formed good
ground for a quarrel, (and he had some friends
among the colonists,) but his own magnanimity
JOHN SMITH. 51

prevented it. They were all in a wilderness,
and much was to be done ere they could call
themselves at home. He forgot his own trouble,
therefore, in thinking of the good of the colony.
All hands now set resolutely to work. Soine
went to clearing the forests, some to digging and
preparing garden-spots, some to making nets,
fixing up their fishing-tackle, &c. The Council
planned a fort, but from some cause, President
Winefield did not desire a regular fortification,
and to please him, the fort was made to consist
only of the boughs of trees, loosely laid together
' in the shape of a half moon. Some of the Coun-
cil, too, were in favor of having the men regular-
ly drilled to military exercises, that they might
be ready at any time to meet an attack from the
savages, which attack they thought not unlikely
to take place ; but this too was thought idle by
President Wingfield, and consequently was neg-
lected.

Desirous of learning something of the coun-
try, Newport and Smith were despatched with
twenty men, to discover the head of the river.
They passed, as they went up, many small
habitations, and on the sixth day reached the
falls of the river, where they erected a cross,
and took possession of the country in the name
52 JOHN SMITH.

of King James. Near by, they visited the famous
Indian town, Powhatan. This consisted only of
twelve houses, pleasantly situated upon a sloping
hill, and was at the time the residence of the cele-
brated chief after whom it was named. Powhatan
(whose name rang through that region as the
greatest of Indian chiefs) received them with
great kindness, and was greatly delighted with
a hatchet, which was presented to him by Cap-
tain Newport. Some of his men seem to have
been suspicious of the English, and murmured
at their coming among them; but Powhatan re-
buked them, saying, “ Why should we be of-
fended ? they hurt us not, nor take any thing
by force: they want only a little ground, which
we can easily spare.” The English now left
him and returned to Jamestown.

Great was their surprise, on reaching home,
to find that the colony had been attacked by the
savages—seventeen of their companions wound-
ed, and one boy killed. It was fortunate too
that they heard nothing worse than this: for the
whole company came near being massacred.
The colonists had not looked for the attack, and
were all unarmed, and the only thing that saved
them was, that “a cross-barre shot from the ships
struck down a bough of a tree in the midst of
JOHN. SMITH. 63

the Indians, and caused them to retire.’ The
president now saw his folly—the fort was at
once palisadoed—five pieces of artillery were
mounted upon it; and it was ordered that, after
this, the men should be armed and drilled
to their exercises. A regular guard was estab-
lished at night, also in the settlement, and the
men were cautioned about straggling into the
forests.

Six weeks had passed away, and the ships
were well nigh laden for a return to Eng-
land. The accusers of Smith now came for-
ward, and, in pretended mercy, offered to send
his case home, to be judged by the Council in
England. They were unwilling to try him them-
selves, (they said,) because they did not wish to
blacken his reputation, and perhaps take away
his life. Conscious. of his innocence, Smith
spurned their proposal. He knew that his whole
conduct had been uniformly for the good of the
colony, and he now demanded that it should be
rigidly looked to—that he should be tried upon
the spot. The witnesses were brought for-
ward. Falsehood after falsehood was soon de-
tected among them. Some of them were convicted
of perjury, and the whole company at once saw
his innocence. His accusers were now con-

5*
64 TOHN SMITH.

founded. It was seen that Wingfield’s jealousy
of Smith had urged false witnesses against him,
and it was decided that the president should pay
him two huncved pounds for the injury he had
done him. His property was at once seized, and
the two hundred pounds raised and paid over to
Smith, who immediately placed it in the public
treasury, for the good of the colony. Thus,
after a patient imprisonment of thirteen weeks,
he triumphed over his enemies; and his generous
and noble conduct had made him the most
popular man in the colony. He was now ad-
mitted to his place in the council, and by his in-
fluence and that of the good preacher, Mr. Hunt,
other little difficulties, which had arisen among
the colonists, were soon settled. The next Sun-
day they all went in harmony to the communion:
the neighboring Indians soon after came in, de-
siring terms of peace, and on the 22d of June,
Captain Newport was enabled to sail home-
ward, bearing good news along with him. He
left behind him, at Jamestown, one hundred and
four souls, and promised to be back among them
in twenty weeks, with fresh supplies.

Thus left, the colonists ere long began to suf-
fer for the want of provisions; indeed, the want
(it is said) was felt at times before, and had been
JOHN SMITH. 55

relieved at such times, by such supplies from the
ships’ stores as the sailors could furnish. Some,
from this circumstance, have supposed that the
company at home was at fault, in not fitting out
the expedition better, and supplying it with ampler
provisions ; but this censure would hardly seem to
be just. The truth is, the colonists, instead of a
voyage of two months, (as was calculated,) had
made one cf five, and consumed during this time
a large part of their stores; and then they had ar-
rived in Virginia too late for the spring plant-
ing, and thus failed in another expectation.
This seems to have caused the difficulty. Be
this as it may, the want occurred, and they were
now reduced to a regular daily allowance of a
half pint of barley, and a half pint of wheat.
To make their fare worse, the grain, from
having been so long in the ship’s hold, was
filled with insects. Yet this diet they gladly
received, adding to it, from time to time, such
fish as they could take from the river. They
still kept on with their labors, however, exposed
as they were to the scorching rays of the sun by
day, and lying upon the ground, with a poor
shelter over them, at night. As might have
been expected, starvation, exposure, and anxiety,
brought on disease before the end of the fall
56 JOHN SMITH.

season. By the end of September, fifty of their
number had died, among whom was Bartholo-
mew Gosnold. The rest were now divided into
three watches, (for they still kept up the pre-
caution of a watch,) and of these not more than
five in each watch were fit for duty at one
time. During this period of sad distress, the presi-
dent (it is said) thought only of himself. He
was well through the whole of it; and is charged
with having seized and secreted provisions for
his own use. His after conduct seems to con-
firm the charge—at least it shews that he had
but little sympathy with the sufferers. He,
with Kendall, was soon detected in a plan which
they had formed for seizing the pinnace, which
belonged to the colony—deserting the settle-
ment, and escaping to the West Indies. The
settlers were now enraged, and at once took
from him the presidency, and banished Kendall
from the council. John Ratcliff was chosen
president in his place, and he, with Martin and
Smith, were now the only members of the coun-
cil left.

Ratcliff and Martin were men of little courage
or resolution, and thus the management of the
colony fell almost altogether upon Smith; nor
could it have fallen upon a better or abler man.
JOHN SMITH. 57

The first thing to be done was to obtain supplies,
and these they soon had without any difficulty.
Fortunately, their Indian neighbors proved friend-
ly, and came in, bringing such quantities of food
as they could spare. Their hearts were new
cheered ; and Smith, knowing that it was neces-
sary to make preparations for the approaching
winter as rapidly as possible, at once set the
men to work, resolutely leading the way himself.
His words and his example encouraged them
They commenced cutting timber for building
houses, and mowing and binding thatch for cov-
ering them; so that in a little time, Jamestown
was a comfortable village, in which every man
had a shelter and home, except Smith himself.
The stock of provisions which the Indians had
brought in being now nearly exhausted, it was
necessary to look out for more. He chose, there-
fore, five or six of the best men as his compan-
ions, and, well armed, they went down the river
in the shallop to Kecoughtan, the place where
Hampton now stands. Here they found but lit-
tle good feeling toward them. The Indians,
knowing their necessity, and the starving state
of the colony, treatel them with great contempt.
When they offered to trade with them, the sava-
ges would give them only an ear of corn for a
58 JOHN SMITH.

sword, a musket, or one of their garments Pro~
voked by such conduct, and finding that they
were not likely to obtain anything by kind and
gentle treatment, Smith now resolved upon a
bold experiment. He ordered the boat to be
drawn ashore, and his men to fire their muskets.
The frightened Indians now fled to the woods for
shelter: and the party immediately went to their
houses, searching for corn. Of this they found
an abundance: but Smith would not allow them
yet to touch it. Fearing the treachery of the In-
dians, he supposed they would soon appear again
and make a general attack upon him. He there-
fore made ready for them: nor was he disap-
pointed. In a little time some sixty or seventy
of them, painted of different colors, were seen
advancing in the form of a hollow square, bring-
ing their idol Okee in the midst of them. This
idol was nothing more than a figure made of
skins, stuffed with moss, and ornamented with
chains of copper. The savages were armed
with clubs, bows and arrows, and approached in
great confidence, singing and dancing. Smith
and his men again discharged their muskets,
bringing many of them*to the ground, and
with them their idol Okee. The battle was at
once over; the rest now fled to the woods, and
JOHN SMITH. 59

soon after sent some of their number to beg for
peace, and to recover their idol. Smith, now tri-
umphant, was in a condition to make his own
terms. He agreed that if six of them, unarmed,
would come and load his boat with corn, he
would return their idol, be their friend, and give
them presents of beads, hatchets, and copper.
The terms were faithfully performed on both
sides ; indeed, the Indians were so much pleased,
that they brqught, besides, venison, turkeys, and
other game, and kept up their singing and danc-
ing until the white men left for Jamestown.
Finding himself so successful in this enterprise,
Smith now, from time to time, as provisions were
needed, continued his excursions—sometimes. on
foot, sometimes in the boat. He discovered most
of the branches of the James river, and explored
the country extensively. In one of his excur-
sions, he was particularly struck with the fertile
banks of the Chickahomony river, and marked
it as a region where, in time of want, he might
probably obtain plentiful supplies from the In-
dians. But his efforts at aiding the colony were
continually thwarted by bad management during
his absence. Ratcliff and Martin were weak
men, and allowed the stores to be wasted, which
he with so much labor procured. . They suffered
60 JOHN SMITH.

too, the natives to come into the settlement from
time to time, trading, and the whites in their bar

gains outbidding one another at times, soon
taught the savages to set a high value upon all
their articles, and to complain if they did not
always receive the highest prices. Thus, a dis-
contented spirit soon prevailed among them.
Troubles, too, were continually fostered by bad
men in the colony. Wingfield and Kendall, dis-
satisfied at their treatment, made loyd complaints,
and at one time, during Smith’s absence, plotted
to steal the shallop, (which had been made
ready for a trading voyage,) and make their
escape to England. Smith returned in time, how-
ever, to prevent this, though it was done with
difficulty. It was necessary to do it forcibly, and
Kendall was killed. Soon after this, Ratcliff,
with a man named Archer, equally dissatisfied,
attempted the same thing, but these also were
prevented from carrying out their plans. Yo.
perceive, therefore, what struggles Captain Smith
had to encounter He had enemies around him
in the savages, and enemies at home in the colo-
ny, while almost from day to day he had to pro-
vide for the wants of his well nigh starving
countrymen. Yet he was resolved to keep pos-
session of the country, and difficulties only roused
JOHN SMITH. 61

nim the more, to carry out this strong resolution

Fortunately, as winter approached, a plentiful.
supply of wild fowl were taken, and making

friends of the Indians from time to time, they

brought him quantities of corn, beans, and pump-

kins. He was in fact now the father of the
colony: the people turned to him in all then

troubles, and by looking closely to their wants,
he managed to secure most of them as warm

friends to himself.

It is well nigh impossible to please all men :
and Smith soon found that some few were com-
plaining of him, that he had not done all that he
could for their relief. He had, as I have told
you, discovered the Chickahomony river—and
the complaint now was, that wanting resolution,
he had not explored it to its source, made friends
of the Indians there, and opened the way for a
continued supply from them. Resolved that such
a complaint, however groundless, should no lon-
ger exist, he now fitted up the boat, and taking
some of the men, started for thatriver. He went
sohigh up the stream this time, that he was forced
to cut the trees that had fallen into the river, that
the boat might pass through. At Jength, having
moved up as high as the boat would float, she
was dragged ashore to a safe place, and the men

6
62 JOHN: SMITH

were ordered to remain there with her, until he
should come back. Taking now two of his
men, with two Indians as guides, he moved up in
an Indian canoe, to the meadows at the head of
the river. Here he left his two men with the
canoe, and with the guides passed on for many
miles over the meadows. Smith's men disobey-
ed his orders, and consequently brought trouble
upon the whole party. Instead of remaining
with the boat, they went straggling into. the
woods, and ere long were discovered by a party
of three hundred Indians. These Indians were
commanded by Opechancanough, the brother of
Powhatan. The crew.all escaped with great
difficulty, except one man, who was made pris-
oner. The Indians now forced him to tell all
that he knew, and particularly where Captain
Smith was, and then put him todeath. Follow-
ing the stream in search of him, they came, be-
fore a great while, to the two men left with the
canoe. These poor fellows were sleeping by a
fire which they had kindled, and were instantly
murdered. Ere long they discovered Smith in
the meadows, and immediately let fly their ar-
rows at him. One of these struck him in the
leg, and wounded him badly. His situation was
perilous enough, but he did not for a moment
JOHN SMITH. 63

lose his presence of mind. He instantly seized
one of his Indian guides, and tied him with lis
garter to his left arm. This man he used as his
shield ; and having his gun with him, he kept up
a fire upon them as fast as he could. Three of
them fell dead, and several were wounded. For-
tunately, his gun carried farther than their bows,
and they kept atsome distance. During all this
time, he was retreating as rapidly as he could to-
ward the canoe; but watching his enemies, and
not marking his footsteps, he with his guide sunk
to the middle in a hole in the meadow, and
stuck fast in the mud. His courage had so
amazed the Indians, that they dared not approach
him, helpless as he was, and incapable now of
doing them any injury. At last, almost dead
with cold, he threw away his arms, and begged
that he might be.taken. They now came up,
dragged him out, and led him to the fire. Here
the saw the dead bodies of his two countrymen,
and knew at once what would probably be his
fate. Still he was calm. The Indians chafed
his cold limbs, and he now called for their chief
Opechancanough. Knowing that to beg for his
life was only to lose it, when the chief came be-
fore him he drew from his pocket his ivory
compass and dial, which he carried to guide him
64 JOHN SMITH.

in his wanderings, and presented it to him. The
chief and his people were greatly pleased. The
motions of the needle, which they could see but
not touch, delighted and astonished them. Smith
had been in the country Jong enough to know
something of their language, and marking their
feelings, he now began to explain to them the
use of the compass—the discoveries that had been
made by means of it—to talk “ of the earth, the
skies, sun, moon, and stars, and how the sun did
chase the night round about the world continually,
the greatness of the land and sea, the diversity of
nations, variety of complexions,”’* &c., while the
savages stood amazed with admiration.

In a little time, however, their astonishment
was over, and they were ready to execute him.
They now tied him to a tree, and prepared with
their bows and arrows to despatch him. Just at
this time, the chief held up the ivory compass,
the savages threw down their arms, and forming
themselves into a military procession, led the
poor captive in triumph toward their village
Orapaxe. They were very particular in arrang-
ing the order of this triumphal march. They
ranged themselves in single file, their chief or
king being in the midst, and before him were

* Smith’s Virginia—Vol. I., page 158.
JOHN SMITH. 65

borne the swords and muskets taken from Smith
and his companions. Next to the chief came
Smith, held by three of the stoutest of their
number, aid on each side a file of six archers.
When they arrived at the village, the old men,
women, and children came out to meet them,
and were greatly amazed and delighted when
they saw the prisoner. Some strange manceu-
vres were now performed by the warriors, and
at length they formed themselves into a circle
around Smith and their chief, and commenced
dancing and singing. Their looks and sounds
were strange enough to Smith. They were all
painted, dressed up in furs and feathers, and be-
sides yelling, made a great noise by brandishing
their rattles, which were made of the tails of rat-
tlesnakes. This circular dance was performed
three times, and Smith was then conducted to a
long hut, and forty men placed there to guard
him. Here he was feasted so bountifully with
Indian bread and venison, that he began to think
they were fattening him only to kill and devour him.

Kindness will win the heart of almost any
man, and Smith now perceived the effect of it
upon the heart of asavage. One of the Indians,
to whom it seems he had formerly given some
green beads, and other trifling trinkets, now came,

6*
66 JOHN SMITH.

presenting to him a garment of furs, to protect
him from the cold. The name of this man was
Maocassater, and it deserves to be remembered,

Very different from this was the conduct of
another Indian, an old man, who tried to kill
him, because his son was dying. Whether it was
that he supposed that Smith, by some enchant-
ment, had made his boy sick, or whether the son
had been wounded in battle, we are not told.
At all events, the old man’s revenge was curbed,
and the prisoner was conducted by his guard to
the dying youth. He now told them that he had
a medicine, at Jamestown, that would cure him,
if they would allow him to go and bring it, but
this they refused to do. They were unwilling
to part with him, for they were all making
ready for an attack upon Jamestown, and cal-
culated upon great assistance from him. They
needed him as a guide, and now they made
large offers to secure his services. They promised
him his life, liberty, and as much Jand as he
should wish for, if he would only aid them. Smith
told them of the great difficulty of the under-
taking, talked to them of the guns, mines, and
other defences of the place. All this terrified
them, but did not dissuade them from their in-
tention. He was now permitted to write a note
JOHN SMITH. 7

‘to Jamestown, asking for the medicine, and
some other things that he desired, and some of
the Indians were to deliver it. Taking advantage
of this, he tore a leaf from his pocket-book, and
wrote the note, asking for what he needed,
telling his countrymen of his situation, of the
designs of the savages, and the best way of
frightening the messengers, when they should
arrive there. Through frost and snow the mes-
sengers made their way, and ere long came near
‘Jamestown. The whites, seeing them, ‘allied
‘out to meet them, and the frightened Indians,
dropping their note, ran away. At night, tak-
ing courage, they returned, and discovered all
the articles which Smith had sent for, on the
very spot where he told them they would find
them. Gathering them up, they now returned
homeward, telling their countrymen of the mar-
‘yellous sights that they had seen; and wonder-
ing, most of all, at thé power of the speaking
leaf, which had secured for Smith the articles
sent for. .

What they had seen, induced the savages to
give up the thought of an attack upon James-
town, and looking upon Smith as a wonderful
man, they now led him about the country, mak-
ing a show of him. They passed with him
68 JOHN SMITH.

through several tribes of Indians, ‘on the Rap-
pahannoc and Potowmac rivers, and at length
brought him to Pamunkee, the home of Ope-
chancanough. Halting here, they performed a
strange ceremony, the design of which (as they
said) was to find out whether Smith’s feelings
toward them were those of a friend or enemy.
The ceremony was as follows :

“ Early in the morning a great fire was made
in a long house, and a mat spread, on the one
side as on the other; on the one they caused
him to sit, and all the guard went out of the
house, and presently came skipping in a great
grim fellow, all painted over with coal, mingled
with oil; and many snakes, and weasels’ skins,
stuffed with moss, and all their tails tied together,
so as they met on the crown of his head ina
tassel; and round about the tassel was a coronet
of feathers, the skins hanging round about his
head, back, and shoulders, and in a manner
covered his face; with a hellish voice, and a
rattle in his hand. With most strange gestures
and passions, he began his invocation, and en-
vironed the fire with a circle of meal: which
done, three men, like devils, came iushing in,
with the like antic tricks, painted half black,
half red ; but all their eyes were painted white
JOHN SMITH. 69

and some red strokes, like mustachios, along
their cheeks: round about him, these fiends
danced a pretty while, and thea came in three
more as ugly as the rest, with red eyes and white
strokes over their black faces; at last they all
sat down right against him; three of them on
the one hand of the chief priest, and three on
the other. Then all, with their rattles, began
a song; which ended, the chief priest laid down
five wheat corns: then straining his arms and
hands with such violence that he sweat, and his
veins swelled, he began a short oration: at the
conclusion, they all gave a short groan, and
then laid down three grains more. After that
began their song again, and then another ora-
tion, ever laying down so many corns as before,
till they had twice encircled the fire; that done,
they took.a bunch of little sticks, prepared for
that purpose, continuing still their devotion, and
at the end of'every song and oration, they laid
down a stick between the divisions of corn. Till
night, neither he nor they did eat or drink, and
then they feasted merrily, with the best pro-
visions they could make. Three days they used
this ceremony: the meaning whereof, they told
him, was to know if he intended them well or
no. Fhe circle of meal signified the country,
70. JOHN: SMPRH,

the circle of corn the bounds of the #ea,std the
sticks his country. They imagined the world to
be flat and round, like a -trencher, and they in
the midst.”* Smith, of course, did. not under-
stand the meaning of all this, nor did-he know,
at the end of it, whether they discovered him to
be a friend or foe. 7
This ceremony being ovér, they brought ‘hita
a bag of gunpowder, telling ‘him that- they
should mingle it. with their corti, and plant it the
next season. He was now irivited by Opitcha-
pan (one. of the brothers of Powhatan) to’ come
and visit him. He went.to his home, and was
welcomed “with platters of bread, fowl, ‘and
wild beasts ;”* but, as usual, not one of the savages
would eat with him. After this they brought
him to Werowocomoco, the residence of their
great Emperor Powhatan a

* Smith’s Vitgiai, vol. i. page 161, :..
CHAPTER IV.

Smith is received by Powhatan in great state—
The savages propose to kill him—His life is
saved by the Princess Pocahontas—He is re-
leased and returns to Jamestown-——Troubles at
Jamestown—He soon restores order—Kindness
of Pocahontas—Arrival of Captain Newport,
in 1607—His visit to Powhatan—Strange
trafficking—Fire at Jamestown—Sufferings
in the colony—Newport sails homeward—
Smith rebuilds the town—Arrival of Captain
Nelson—Disturbance between Smith and Pow-
hatan—Bold conduct of Smith—Peace is re-
stored—Nelson sails for England.

Werowocomoco, the home of Powhatan, is
stated to have been “on the north side of York
River, in Gloucester county, about twenty-five
miles below the fork of the river.” When
Smith arrived in this village, more than two
hundred savages came around him, gazing at
him as “though he had been a monster.” He
was not yet brought into the presence of, theix
72 JOHN SMITH.

chief, until due preparations had been made
for receiving him. All being ready, he at
length came before Powhatan. In a long hut,
in the midst of which there was a large fire, he
found him seated upon a sort of throne, while
his two young daughters sat on either side of
him. He was dressed in a heavy robe of rac-
coon skins. On each side of the hut there were
two rows of men, and behind them as many
women, with their heads and shoulders painted
red. Some had their heads decked off with the
white down of birds, and some had strings of
white beads around their necks. When Smith
came in, they all gave a great shout. The
queen of Apamatox brought him water to wash
his hands—while another damsel brought him a
bunch of feathers, to serve as a towel to dry
them. After this, they feasted him with their
best provisions, and then they consulted among
themselves, as to what should be done with him
Smith soon understood his fate, when, at the
end of this consultation, two large stones were
brought in, placed before Powhatan, and he
seized and dragged toward them. His head
was laid upon them, and now the savages raised
their clubs to beat out his brains. The king’s
daughter, Pocahontas, (it seems,) had entreated
JOHN SMITH, q3-

that his life might be spared, but all her en-
treaties had proved useless. Just at this mo-
ment, she rushed toward the captive, folded his
head in her arms, and laid her own upon it. In
an instant more, poor Smith would have been
despatched. The king’s heart was now soften-
ed: he consented that the prisoner should live,
to make hatchets for him, and bells and beads
for his daughter.

Whether farther entreaties of Pocahontas pre-
vailed or not, we are not told; but certain it is,
that in a little time the king was even more
generous to the prisoner. Two days after this,
he caused Smith to be carried to “a great house
in the woods,” and there to be left, seated alone
apon a mat, before a large fire. “Not long
afte;, from behind a mat that divided the house,
was wade the most doleful noise he ever heard :”
and in rushed Powhatan, painted black, and
disguised “in a fearful manner,” followed by
‘wo hundred other savages, as black as him-
self. The chief now told him that they were
friends, and that he might return to Jamestown.
He had but one favor to ask of him, which was,
that he would send him “two great guns, and
a grindstone,” and he promised, in return, to
“give him the country of Capahowosick, and

7
74 JOHN SMITH.

to esteem him for ever as his son, Vantaquoud.”
So, with twelve guides, Smith was started home-
ward. Night came on, and “ they quartered in
the woods, Smith expecting (as he had done all
this long time of his imprisonment) every hour
to be put to one death or other; but Almighty
God (by his divine providence) had mollified the
hearts of thosestern Barbarians with compassion.”
Early the next morning they reached James-
town, and Smith treated his guides with great
hospitality. He now shewed to Rawhunt, the
trusty servant of Powhatan, (who was one of
the guides,) the two large guns and the grind-
stone for his master. The Indians tried to lift
them, but found they were too heavy. Smith
now had the guns loaded with stones, and dis-
charged at a tree covered with icicles. The
loud report, and the rattling of the icicles, fright-
ened the savages, and they ran away. In a lit-
tle time, however, they came back, and after
being loaded with trinkets and other presents,
for Powhatan and his daughter, they left him.
It was well that Smith came home just at
this time. His presence, of course, had been
missed, and all was now confusion at James-
town. The men had got to quarelling, and a
large party had seized the pinnace determined
JOHN SMITH. %

to leave the country. At the risk of his life once
more, he checked this plot. He brought his
guns to bear, and threatened to sink the pin-
nace, if they attempted to move off. Inflamed
with anger, these discontented men (the presi-
dent among the number) now conspired against
his life. They said he deserved to die, because
he had caused the death of the two poor fellows
who had been murdered at the canoe, in the
meadows. Their design proved idle, for they
‘knew in their hearts that he was an innocent
man, and they soon had the worst of this effort ;
‘for we are told, “he quickly took such order
with such lawyers, that he laid them by the
heels, till he sent some of them prisoners for
England.”

After this a better spirit soon prevailed. Smith
now cheered his countrymen, by telling them of
the rich domains of Powhatan, the plentiful
supplies that might be obtained there, and the
great kindness and liberality of the chief. He
spoke, too, of the generosity of Pocahontas, and
what aid they might expect from her. They
soon learned for themselves to understand her
fidelity. From time to time, she would come,
with her train of female attendants, to James-
town, bringing them stores of provisions to re-
%6 JOHN SMITH.

lieve their wants. Smith had made wartn friends,
also, of other Indians. The savages would now
come in bringing presents to him, and trading
with him at such prices as he fixed. Many of
them had learned (it is said) to look upon him
as a supernatural being.

In the latter part of the year 1607, two ships
sailed from England to the colony—the one
commanded by their old friend Captain New-
port, the other by Captain Nelson. Nelson, (it
appears, ) after coming as far as Cape Henry,
had his ship dismasted, and contrary winds now
drove him in distress to the West Indies. New-
port, more fortunate, arrived in safety. It hap-
pened, that Smith had predicted his arrival about
this time, and while the colonists of course were
happy upon his return, the Indians Jooked upon
Smith as a prophet. They knew that Smith
worshipped the God “ who created all things,”
and now they would talk of the “ God of Captain
Smith.”

Whether it was that some of the council were
foolishly jealous of Smith’s influence over the
Indians, or whether it was only mprudence,
certain it is, that they were in the strange habit
of giving the Indians higher prices for their ar-
ticles than Smith had fixed ; and now, when the
JOHN SMITH. 7

sailors arrived, they were allowed to trade with
the savages just as they pleased. The conse-
quence was, that it was soon found impossible to
obtain as much for a pound of copper, as had
been before procured for an ounce. Newport,
too, in sailor-like style, was very lavish in his
dealings with the natives, and especially in
making rich presents to Powhatan, whom he
desired to impress with an idea of his greatness
The arrival of the ship, therefore, made some
little trouble.

Smith had talked much of Newport, and his
conversations, together with the presents, had
made Powhatan very desirous of seeing him again.
The boat was therefore now made ready, and
Captain Smith, Captain Newport, and a Mr.
Scrivener, (a gentleman who had come out on
the last voyage of Newport, and was now a
member of the council,) together with a guard
of forty chosen men, started on a visit to the
chief. When they arrived at Werowocomoco,
Newport, who was unacquainted with the coun-
try, began to suspect treachery on the part of the
savages. This place, you know, had been the
home of Powhatan, but thinking it too near to
the English, he had removed now to the village
Orapaxe. Smith tried to convince him that his

7
78 JOHN SMITH

fears: were idle, but finding it impossible, under
took with twenty men to goon alone. But he
began ere long to suspect mischief himself. He
had to pass many creeks and streams, and find-
ing the bridges over these to be made only of
poles, with bark thrown over them loosely, sup-
posed that they might be only traps or snares for
the white men. It seems, however, that he had
some Indian guides, and he made them pass over
first, to assure himself of safety. Thus he passed
on, until he was at length met by a party of
three hundred savages, who kindly conducted
bim to the home of the chief. . Entering the
village, he was received with great shouts of joy,
and then a splendid feast was prepared for him.
Powhatan again received him in great state.
Smith found him clothed in.a fine robe of skins,
seated “upon his bed of mats, his pillow of
leather embroidered after their rude manner,
with pearl and white beads,” while “ at his head
and feet sat a handsome young woman.” Other
women stood around, having their heads and
shoulders painted red, and strings of white beads
hanging about their necks. Before these sat
“some of his chiefest men.” He was welcomed
heartily by the chief, as an old friend. A guard
of fivé hundred men was appointed to attend
JOHN SMITH. ‘7B

‘upon him, and the king’s proclamation was is-
sued, that no Indian should do harm to Smith or
‘any of his followers, under penalty of death.
Then the savages commenced anew their feast-
ing, with dancing and singing; and when night
came, the party quartered with Powhatan.

_ The next day Captain Newport. airived, and
was also treated with great. kindness. He had
with him an English boy, named Thomas Sal-
vage, whom he’ gave to Powhatan, calling
him his son. In return, Powhatan gave
him NVamontack, one of his trusty servants.
Now they commenced again their dancing and
feasting. Three or four days were spent in this
way, together with trading, for Newport had
brought along with him many articles of traffic.
‘Powhatan bore himself hke.a chief, and the
whites admired him very much; but before the
visit was over, he proved himself to be a cunning
old man, and would have outwitted them all, but
for the superior cunning of Captain Smith. 1
will tell you of his stratagem.

While Newport was trading with him, the old
chief became greatly dissatisfied, at what he
thought bargaining and trafficking in a small
way. Hesaid therefore to him, “ Captain New-
port, it is not agreeable to my greatness, in this
80 JOHN SMITH.

peddling manner to trade for trifles; and I ex
teem you also a great Werowance. Therefore,
lay me down all your commodities together :
what I like I will take, and in recompense give
you what I think fitting their value.” Captain
Smith was acting as interpreter between them,
and seeing at once the cunning of the chief, ad-
vised Newport not to agree toit. But Newport,
desirous of making a display, and thinking he
could manage the matter himself, immediately
consented, and spread out all his wares. Pow-
hatan instantly selected such articles as pleased
him, but when he came to making payment for
them, set such a high value upon his corn, that
Newport did not receive four bushels “ where he
expected twenty hogsheads.” Smith was natu-
rally enough provoked at Newport’s folly, and
determined that, if possible, the savage should
be no gainer by it. He now took out some
wares of his own: among other things, some
blue glass beads, which, as if accidentally, he
placed where Powhatan might see them. The
king was at once struck with them, and greatly
desired to have them. But Smith could not con.
sent to part with them. They were made (he
said) “of a rare substance of the color of the
skies, and not to be worn but by the greatest
JOHN SMITH. $1

kings in the world.” This only increased the
desire of the chief: but the more he longed for
them, the more unwilling was Smith to let them
go. At last, as a favor, he allowed the king to
trade for some of them, and now, for his glass
beads, he received two or three hundred bushels
of corn. After this, they parted good friends,
and the party went off to see Opechancanough,
king of Pamunke. Here they made another
good bargain with their blue beads. Indeed,
blue beads became now of such high value, that
they were all bought up at almost any price, and
none but the kings, their wives, or their daugh-
ters allowed to wear them.

They now returned to Jamestown, well laden
with provisions. Scarcely, however, had they
stored them away, when unfortunately a fire
broke out in the town, and consumed well
nigh everything. Their houses, made of wood,
and thatched with reeds and straw, were like
tinder for the flames, and quantities of arms,
bedding, clothing, and provisions were alike de-
stroyed. In this fire, their clergyman, Mr. Hunt,
“Jost all his library, and all he had but the
clothes on his back, yet none ever heard him
repine at his loss.” Indeed, most of the colonists
appear to have borne the calamity as well as
82 JOHN SMITH.

could have been expected. They saved what
provisions they could from the flames, and by
prudent management, there might still have been
enough for present wants, but for the delay of the
ship. Instead of returning homeward promptly,
Newport and his crew were seized with a “ gold
fever.’ They were busy every day in digging
the earth, and loading the ship with what they
thought so much treasure. Thus they delayed sail-
ing for fourteen weeks, during all which time there
were of course so many more mouths to be filled
in the colony. Smith and Scrivener were both
sensible men, and looked upon all this search for
gold as idle; but still they could not induce
Newport to leave earlier. At length the ship
was ready to sail, and the poor half-starving set-
tlement had to furnish supplies ere she could
move off. They were furnished cheerfully, for
her departure was regarded as a blessing. Wing-
field and Archer, too, to the great joy of the.de-
cent part of the colony, were sent home in her
Upon reduced allowances, their sufferings now
increased. The winter was a very severe one,
many of the men houseless, and though Smith
did al} that he could for their relief, before the
cold season. was ended, more than half of them
had died.
JOHN SMITH. 83

As the spring approached, Smith and Scriv-
ener set resolutely to the work of rebuilding
Jamestown. A new church was erected, the
storehouse and palisadoes were repaired, and
new dwelling-houses put up. The fields, too,
were prepared under their direction, and corn
was planted. While they were engaged in all
this, to their surprise, Captain Nelson arrived in
the Phenix, from the West Indies. He had
spent his winter there, (after being driven, as
you will remember, from the coast of Virginia,)
and now, to their great joy, came laden with am-
ple provisions for the colony, for six months.

Nelson was a man of good spirit; his heart
was touched with the sorrows of his country-
men, and he kindly served them in any way that
he could. He moved freely among them, en-
couraging them by his words and actions, and
rousing their drooping spirits. In this way he
succeeded in awakening a spirit of enterprise,
even in the inefficient president; for he now
urged Smith “to discover and search the com-
modities of the Monacan’s country, beyond the
falls of James river,” that he might profitably
relade the ship for a return homeward. Sixty
men were allotted to him for this adventure,
and in six days, Smith had so drilled them to
84 JOHN SMITH.

their arms, that they were ready for the enter-
prise. He was for loading the vessel with cedar,
while Martin and some others, were foolishly in-
tent upon filling her also with “golden dirt.”
Just as he was about starting, a difficulty oc-
curred, which kept him at home. The difficulty
was this.

When Newport was on the point of starting,
Powhatan had sent him as a present, twenty
turkeys, and in return, asked that he might re-
ceive twenty swords. Newport had imprudent-
ly given them to him; and now the chief sent a
like present to Smith, making a similar demand.
Smith refused to meet it, and the chief set his
men at once upon various stratagems, to seize
the arms of the colonists. Sometimes they
would enter Jamestown, and take them by force,
or steal them—then they would surprise the
men at their work, and annoy them in every
possible way. Notwithstanding this insolence,
nothing was done in return, until they meddled
with Smith, The colonists had orders from
home, to keep peace with Powhatan and his
people, and they were desirous of obeying. But
their insolence had now touched him, and Smith
at once “took the matter into his own hands.”
He sallied out with a party, seized some of
JOHN SMITH, 85

the Indians.and whipped them, and then re~
turned, bringing with him seven prisoners, as
hostages for their good behavior. But good
behavior was not in them. They, in return,
finding two straggling soldiers, seized them as
prisoners: and now they advanced almost to
the fort, in strong numbers, demanding their
seven countrymen, and threatening immediate
death to the whites, if they were not delivered up.
Smith instantly sallied out amongst them again,
and, in less than an hour, so completely cured
their insolence, that they surrendered the two
white men, and were glad to sue for peace. In
making terms of peace, he forced them to
tell their intentions. They declared, that what
they had done was by order of Powhatan, and
that his design was to get possession of their
weapons, that he might destroy the whites.
Powhatan soon finding his plans discovered, sent
his favorite daughter, Pocahontas, with presents
to Smith, begging that he would excuse all in-
juries that might have been done by any of his
“untoward subjects,” and assuring him of his
love for ever. But Smith was not to be deceived
in this way. He punished the savages, there-
fore, as he thought they deserved; and then
delivered up the prisoners, declaring, that i
8
86 JOHN SMITH.

was merely for the sake of the princess that he
spared their lives.

The Council, fearful that all this might make
an enemy of Powhatan, were dissatisfied with
Smith; but in a little time they perceived their
error. The truth was, it was the only way of
teaching the savages not to molest the settle-
ment; and when they soon after discovered,
that instead of “having peace and war twice
in a day,” (as had been the case for some time, )
they enjoyed uninterrupted quiet, they were per-
fectly contented.

The ship was soon sent home, laden with
cedar, as Smith advised; and Martin, instead of
loading her with “golden dirt,” as he desired,
was himself allowed to return home in her. He
had proved himself to be a weak and almost
useless man in the colony, and they were well
pleased at his departure.
CHAPTER V.

The adventures of Captain Smith during two
voyages made in an open boat, for the purpose
of exploring Chesapeake Bay.

Orver being somewhat restored, Smith now
prepared for further adventures. His design
was to explore the lands on Chesapeake Bay,
and become acquainted with the inhabitants.
As the ship hoisted sail, therefore, on the second
day of June, with fourteen men he embarked in
an open barge, and moved down the river.
Parting with the ship at Cape Henry, they
passed directly across the mouth of the bay,
and discovered, to the east of Cape Charles, a
group of islands, to which they gave the name
of “ Smith’s Isles.” This name, I believe, they
still bear. Soon after, in turning the last men-
tioned cape, they saw two savages, who boldly
demanded who they were, and what they came
for. Presently they seemed more friendly, and
directed them to Accomack, the home of their
88 JOHN SMITH.

chief. Upon reaching him, they were received
with great kindness. Leaving him, they coasted
along the eastern shore of the bay, “ searching
every inlet fit for harbors and habitations.”
Sometimes they landed upon the main land, and
then upon the low islands which skirted the
shores, to one group of which they gave the
name of “ Russel’s Isles? in honor of Doctor
Russel, their surgeon. This group is now known,
I think, by the name of the Tangier Islands.
Suffering now for a supply of. fresh water, they
procured. such as they could, and moving still
farther north, were ere long, as they came near
another group .of islands, visited by a violent
tempest. .Their mast and sail were blown over-
board, and. with great labor they kept. their
barge from sinking.. These islands, now known
as Watt’s Islands, received from them the strange
name of Limbo, on account of their disaster
Here they were forced to remain two days. At
length, the storm abated, and having repair-
ed the sail with their shirts, they passed over
to the eastern shore, and entered the river
Wicomico. The natives, seemg them, “ran
amazed in troops from place to place, and
divers got into the tops of trees.” Regarding
them as enemies, they discharged volleys of ar-
JOHN SMITH. 89

rows at them, but the barge was anchored too
far from them, to suffer any injury. The next
day the party landed, and entering their deserted
huts, left copper trinkets, beads, and looking-
glasses. When the savages found these, they
were greatly pleased, and-soon became friendly.
Here, upon this river, we are told,* lived “ the
people of Sarapinagh, Nause, Arseek, and Nan-
taquak, the best merchants of all other sav-
ages,”

“Finding this eastern shore shallow broken
isles, and. for most part without fresh water,”
they determined to pass over to the western
shore of the bay. Proceeding some distance
further north without discovering any thing
remarkable, they crossed, and came coasting
down the western side, marking all the creeks
and rivers. To the first large river which they
entered on this side, they gave the name of
Bolus, because “ the clay, in many places, did
grow up in red and white knots, as gum out of
trees,” which made them “think it bole am-
moniac.” The river is now known by the Indian
name Patapsco. Here the crew commenced
rourmuring. Their bread had been damaged by
the rain; in an open boat, exposed to all weather

- © Smith’s Virginia, vol.i. page 175.
g*
90 JOHN SMITH.

they had spent twelve or fourteen days toiling
at the oar, and they now urged Smith to return
homeward. But he was for making farther
discoveries, and answered them in the following
words, which at once shew his spirit and reso-
lution :—

“Gentlemen, if you would remember the
memorable history of Sir Ralph Lane, how his
company importuned him to proceed in the dis-
covery of Moratico, alleging they had yet a
dog, that being boiled with sassafras leaves,
would richly feed them in their return: then
what a shame would it be for you, (that have
been so suspicious of my tenderness,) to force
me to return, with so much provision as we
have, and scarce able to say where we have
been, nor yet heard of that we were sent to
seek? You cannot say but I have shared with
you in the worst which is past; and for what
is to come of lodging, diet, or whatsoever, I am
contented you allot the worst part to myself.
And for your fears, that I will lose myself in
these unknown large waters, or be swallowed
up in some stormy gust: abandon these childish
fears, for worse than is past is not likely to happen,
and there is as much danger to return as to pro-
ceed. Regain, therefore, your old spirits, for re-
JOHN SMITH. 9)

turn I will not, (if God please,) til’ \ have seen
the Massawomeks, found Patawomek, or the
head of this water you conceit to be endless.””*
Some of the discontented were now ashamed,
put others who were half sick, still complain-
ed, and to please them, Smith reluctantly
started homeward. Passing southwardly, ere
long they fell in with the mouth of the rive
Potomac. .As the stream came rolling broad
and beautiful into the bay, the spirits of the men
revived, and now they “were all content to
take some pains to know the name of that seven
mile broad stream.” They sailed thirty miles
up the river, without finding any inhabitants. At
length, seeing two savages, they were conducted
by them up a little creek, where they soon dis-
covered multitudes of the natives. The truth was,
it was an ambuscade. Three or four thousand
savages were lying in wait here, ready to in-
snare them; and now they came forward with
hideous yells, making threatening gestures to-
ward them. Smith was not frightened, but pre-
pared very coolly for an encounter. As an an-
swer to their threats, he commanded his men to
discharge their muskets over the water. This
was sufficient. The grazing of the balls upon

* Smith’s Virginia, vol. i. pages 176, 177.
92 JOHN SMITH.

the water, and the loud echo of the report
through the woods, terrified the natives. They
threw down their bows and arrows, sued for
peace, and at once exchanged hostages. James
Watkins (one of Smith’s party) was now sent
six miles higher up, to the residence of their
king. In a little time these Indians became un-
usually friendly, and frankly told Smith their
whole plan. They had for some time been y-
ing in wait for the party, in the hope of cutting
them off. To this deed they had been excited
by Powhatan, who had heard of Smith’s in-
tended expedition up the bay, through some of
the worthless and discontented men at James-
town. These miserable men, because Smith
had prevented them from deserting the colony,
had thus, in revenge, attempted a plot for his
destruction.

They now moved up the river as far as their
boat would float. In their progress they some-
times met Indian canoes, laden with bear’s any
deer’s flesh, and readily obtained supplies; then
again they would fall in with hostile and threat-
ening savages, or others whose character then
doubted ; but Smith’s prudence and courage were
ample always for this kind of difficulty. He
had one regular mode of proceeding. When he
JOHN SMITH. 93.

met the savages, he always put on a bold face: |
if they seemed to desire peace, he would at
once demand their bows and arrows, and one
or two of their children, as pledges for their sin-
cerity. If they complied with the demand, he
regarded them as friends; if they refused, they
were Inoked upon as enemies, and treated ac-
cordingly.

Having frequently heard of a rich mine m
this neighborhood, Smith determined to visit
it. An Indian guide was procured, and in a
little time some of the party reached it. They
commenced digging the earth, and soon filled
several bags with just such stuff as Newport had
taken home for so much silver ore, but which
proved utterly worthless. The Indians thought
much of: this mine. It produced a substance
“like antimony,” which, after washing, they
used as paint, to beautify themselves and their
idols. This paint (we are told) only “ made
them look like blackamoors, dusted over with
silver,” but they thought it very beautiful. The
party, though they discovered no mineral trea-
sures, found some profit in this adventure, for
they returned to the barge well laden with ot-
ter’s, kear’s, and martin’s skins, which they ob-
tained from a straggling party of savages.
94 JOHN SMITH.

They now came down the Potomac, seeing no=
thing farther, worthy of remark, except the great
quantities of fish in the water.

The men being now in better humor, Smith
was in no hurry to return homeward, and
therefore resolved to move up the Rappahan-
nock, and visit his old Indian acquaintances,
where he had once been in captivity. As the
barge came near the mouth of the stream, she
ran aground, and while they were waiting for
the flood tide to take her off, the men amused
themselves by catching fish in a curious way.
Quantities of them had been left by the tide upon
the flats, and sticking them with the points of
their swords, they “took more in an hour than
they could eat in a day.”? Sporting in this way,
Smith met with an accident, which alarmed him
and all his friends, and at once gave a name to
the place, which it still bears. Having stuck
his sword into a stingray, (a curious fish, with
a long tail, having stings at the end of it,) the
fish raised his tail, and struck him on the wrist.
No blood followed the wound, but in a little
time he was seized with the most violent pain,
and in four hours, his hand, arm, and shoulder
were so much swollen, that Smith himself, as
well as his companions, supposed he was dying
JOHN SMITH. 956

With great calmness, he directed where they
should bury his body, and with sorrowful hearts
they “ prepared his grave in an island hard by.”
Their sad labors, however, proved unnecessary.
The surgeon, Dr. Russel, having probed the
wound, by means of a certain oil so far relieved
the pain and swelling, that Smith, as night ap-
proached, was so much better that he was able
to eat a part of the fish for his supper. The
point of land where this occurred, took the name
of Stingray Point.

It was the twenty-first of July when they
reached Jamestown ; having been absent more
than six weeks. As they came near the town,
Smith determined to frighten old President Rat-
cliffe. The old man was known to be weak and
inefficient, and the crew were all ready to enjoy
the frolic. With the colored earth from their
bags, they painted the barge and decked her off
with strange streamers in such a way, that they
succeeded admirably. The terrified old man
roused the colonists, supposing that a party of
Spamards were approaching to attack him.
When they landed and shewed themselves, they
all enjoyed a hearty laugh.

As usual, Smith found that his absence had
produced confusion in the colony. The presi-
96: JOHN SMITH.

dent had been rioting upon the public stores, and:
was now éngaged in building for himself a house
in the woods, where, living alone, he might es-
cape the murmurs of the people. Even the poor
colonists who were sick had been neglected ;
this added to the discontent, and now the gener-
al cry was, that Ratcliffe was not fit for presi-
dent, and ought to be deposed. He was conse-
quently turned out of his office, and Smith chosen
to fill his place. The captain had not yet ex-
plored the bay as thoroughly as he desired, and
his design was to be off again as soon as possible.
He remained therefore but three days at James-
town, cheering the men by the story of his ad-
ventures, dividing provisions amongst them, and:
making other arrangements for their comfort ;
and then appointing Mr. Scrivener to ‘act as his
deputy during his absence, was ready for his
departure.

On the twenty-fourth of July, with twelve
men, he again started. Contrary winds detained
them for two or three days at Kecoughtan, where
the savages treated them with great hospitality.
To amuse them in return, they set off at night a
few rockets, which alarmed the natives, and gave
them a wonderful idea of their greatness, The
wind now changing, they proceeded on their
JOHN SMITH. 97:

voyage, and anchored at night off Stingray Point.
The next day they crossed the mouth of. the Po-
tomac, and reached as far as the river Bolus, or
Patapsco. Hastening onward, they came ere
long to the head of the bay. Here they dis-
covered four streams, all of which they explored
as far as their boat could sail, and found inhabi-
tants on the banks of two of them only. As
they crossed the bay, they spied seven or eight
canoes filled with Indians, who proved to belong
to the tribe of the Massawomeks, a warlike
people of whom Smith had often heard. It
seems that only six men in the barge were now
able to stand ; (the rest being sick ;) yet as these
Indians shewed signs of hostility, Smith prepared
to meet them. The whites dropped their oars,
and under.a press of sail soon came near them.
To give them the appearance of strength in the
eyes of the Indians, they now resorted to a strat-
agem. The hats ef the sick men were hoisted
apon sticks, and between every two sticks, a
man was stationed with two muskets, The
savages, counting the hats, were readily deceived
as to the number of men, quickly paddled fr
the shore, and there stood gazing at the barge.
It was a long time, before any of them could be
induced to come on board. At length they sent
9 .
98 JOHN SMITH.

two of their number unarmed in a canoe, while
the rest all followed, to help them if it became
necessary. Their fears were soon over. When
the two reached the barge, upon bells and other
trinkets being presented to them, they persuaded
their companions 40 come on board. In a little
time they were trading freely, and by means
of signs talking freely with the whites. Veni-
son, bears’ flesh, fish, bows, arrows, clubs, tar-
gets, and bear-skins, were readily exchanged for
such things as the whites could spare. They were
at war with the Tockwoghe Indians, (a people
living upon the Tockwoghe, or what is now
known as the Sassafras River,) and these Mas-
sawomeks were just returning from a battle,
with their wounds still bleeding.

Soon after, upon entering the Tockwoghe
River, they found the barge surrounded by fleets
of canoes “ filled with fierce looking warriors.”
These were Tockwoghes. Fortunately, one of
these Indians could speak the language of Powha-
tan, and he persuaded his companions “to hold a
friendly parley” with the whites. Upon coming
anus, ahd seeing Smith’s party in possession of
some of the weapons of the Massawomeks, they
at once concludea that they had been at war
with that nation; and now they conducted them
JOHN SMITH. 99

in triumph, to their strong pallisadoed town.
Here, mats were spread for them to sit upon,
and they were entertained with songs, dancing,
and feasting. These Indians had hatchets, knives,
and pieces of iron and brass, which they said they
received from the Susquehanocks, a tribe living
on the Susquehanock River, “ two days’ journey
higher than the barge could pass.” This tribe
they reported to be, like themselves, “ mortal
enemies to the Massawomeks.” Smith was de-
sirous of seeing these people, and prevailed upon
the Tockwoghes to send an interpreter, to invite
them to come and visit him. In answer to this
invitation, in three or four days, sixty of them
came down, laden with presents of venison, bask-
ets, targets, bows and arrows. A curious scene
now occurred with these men, which will at once
show the proper habits of Smith, and the light
in which they regarded him.

It was his daily custom to have “ prayers and
a psalm” with his men. The poor savages,
marking his devotions, were struck with wonder,
and soon commenced theirs. ‘They began in
a most passionate manner to hold up their hands
to the sun, with a most fearful song: then em-
bracing the captain, they began to adore him in
like manner : though he rebuked them, yet they
-J00 JOHN SMITH.

proceeded till their song was finished: which
done, with a most strange furious action, and a
hellish voice, began an oration of their loves;
that ended, with a great painted bear’s skin they
covered him ; then one ready with a great chain
of white beads, weighing at least six or seven
pounds, hung it about his neck; the others had
eighteen mantels, made of divers sorts of skins
sewed together ; all these with many other toys
they laid at his feet, stroking their ceremonious
hands about his neck, for his creation to be their
governor and protector, promising their aid,
victuals, or what they had, to be his, if he would
stay with them, to defend and revenge them of
the Massawomeks.” Their promises and en-
treaties did not prevail, and in a little time Smith
.with. his party moved off from the Tockwoghe
River, leaving them “very sorrowful for their
departure.”

-,. Coming. down the bay, they continued ex-
ploring every inlet and headland, and giving
names to them in honor of some of their compa-
ny. To mark their right of possession as dis-
coverers, after moving up the streams as far. as
their barge would float, they would erect crosses,
or boring holes in the trees, would deposite
m them notes or crosses of brass. The Patuxent
JOHN SMITH. “191

River was particularly explored, and they again
visited the Potomac, on both of which streams
they were treated kindly by the inhabitants.
Ere long they entered the Rappahannock.
Here they: met a friendly people known as the
Moraughtacunds, and among them an‘old Indian
acquaintance. This was a man by the name of
Mosco—a curious looking fellow who had served
as their guide to the mine on the Potomac, on
their former visit. Unlike-most of his country-
men, this man had a black bushy beard, of which
he was very proud, and thinking he resembled
the whites, was very happy to call them “ his
countrymen.” His home (I believe) was on the
Potomac, but like most Indians, he was a wan-
derer. Mosco was very kind, and urged Smith
in no case to visit the Rappahannocks, stating
that they were a hostile people, and would pro-
bably kill them for being friends to the Moraugh-
tacunds. These Moraughtacunds, it appeared,
had lately stolen three women from the chief of
the Rappahannocks, and the tribes were on no
friendly terms. Mosco’s words weighed little
with Smith He supposed that his whole state-
ment, was only a cunning story invented to
keep his men trading where they were, and
therefnre passed on up the river. Mosco, ac-
g*
102 JOHN SMITH.

companied him, still repeating what he had said,
and this induced Smith to take one precaution.
The Massawomeks, you will remember, had given
them, among other things, some targets. These
were nothing more than shields “ made of little
small sticks, woven betwixt strings of their
hemp and silk grass, as is our cloth, but so firm-
ly that no arrow can possibly pierce them.” These
targets were now set up as a sort of breast-work
in the bow of the boat, in case ofdanger. Pre-
sently the danger was at hand. Upon coming
near a little creek, they discovered some canoes
at the shore, and upon seeing the savages, offer-
ed tc exchange hostages. The Indians, after
consultation, readily consented. Five of them
now walked out in the stream to the barge,
bringing their man, and proposing to receive one
of the whites in return. They came without
clubs, bows, or arrows, and seemed in every way
friendly. The caution of Smith, however, in

duced him to send one of his men (Anas Tod

kill) ashore, to observe if there were any signs
of an ambuscade. The man performed his part
well, though he came near losing his life. Upon
landing, he said he wished to go over the land
to bring some wood. The Indians refused to
allow him to go, unless the barge would enter the
JOHN SMITH. 103

creek, and come near the shore. This seemed
strange; but Todkill, being a resolute man,
started onward. Now he perceived their cun-
ning. He had not gone far, when he discovered
some two or three hundred Indians lurking
behind the trees. He turned back, calling to
his countrymen that they were betrayed. The
hostage in the barge instantly leaped into the
water, but was instantly killed. The savages
pursued Todkill with clouds of arrows; the party
in the barge discharged their muskets, and pull-
ed for the shore. ‘Todkill fell wounded, but his
countrymen were now on the land and rescued
him. Thus Mosco’s words had proved true;
and to reward him for his fidelity, Smith, after
gathering and breaking all the arrows that could
be found, presented to him the canoes of the
Rappahannocks.

Notwithstanding this unkind reception, Smith
was resolved to proceed up the river. The rest
of the day, therefore, was spent in fixing the
barge in better condition for any farther attack.
Targets were now raised along the sides, making
a thorough breast-work all around the barge.
The next morning they started, and in a little
time felt the benefit of this prudence. As they
reached a narrow pass in the river, they heard
“104 JOHN SMITH.

‘the sudden twang of bowstrings, and: arrows
fell fast around them. Mosco fell flat in the
boat, crying out “the Rappahannocks.” . Upon
looking out they saw no enemy. The banks of
the stream were lined with beautiful green
bushes: all was still, and they were at a loss to
understand where an enemy could be. Ere long
they saw the branches moving, and discovered
the stratagem. It seems that thirty or forty
Rappahannocks had “so accommodated them-
selves with branches as to look like little bushes
growing among the sedge.” The whites in.
stantly discharged their muskets; the savages
fell down in the sedge, and the barge moved on
After passing on about half a mile, upon looking
‘back they saw these enemies, who now showed
themselves openly, “dancing and singing very
merrily.” Thus Mosco’s words were verified a
second time.

In their farther ascent up this river, they
met nothing but kindness. Some of the men
(who from exposure had been sick) now re-
covered, with the exception of one, a worthy
man, whose death was much lamented by his
comrades. This was Richard Fetherstone. On
the shore of a “little bay” his companions dug
his grave, and in honor of his good character
JOHN SMITH. 108.

and. services,.as his body was laid in the ground, .
the. guns: were fired. over -him, and the place
marked as “'etherstone’s Bay.”

. Being now at the falls of the river, they went.
ashore, and some commenced setting up crosses
and marking their names upon trees, while others
wandered about in search of “stones, herbs, and
Springs of water.” They. had taken the precau+
tion to post a sentinel on duty, and as an arrow
fell by him, he gave the: alarm. Scarcely had
they rallied and seized their arms, when they.
were attacked by a hundred savages.. Sheltered
behind the trees, the Indians kept up the fight
for a half hour and then. retreated. Mosco’s
services here, proved very valuable in bringing
about this retreat. He discharged his arrows
among them so rapidly, that the retreating men
imagined that a body of Indians was in league
with the whites, and that their position was des-
perate. After the skirmish was over, upon look-
ing around, they discovered one of the enemy
lying upon the ground, bleeding freely. He
had been badly wounded by a ball, and Mosco,
savage like, would soon have despatched him
by beating out his brains. From this cruelty,
however, he was restrained. The poor fellow’s
wounds were dressed by Dr. Russel the surgeon,
106 JOHN SMITH.

and in an hour or two, he was able to eat and
speak. Mosco now questioned him, to know
who he was. He said he belonged to the tribe
of Hassininga, one of the four composing the
‘nation of the Mannahocks. When asked why
his people had in this manner attacked the whites
who came among them in peace and kindness,
he answered that they had heard the whites
“were a people come from under the world to
take their world from them.” Mosco asked him
how many worlds there were. He replied that
“he knew no more but that which was under
the sky that covered him, which belonged to the
Powhatans, the Monacans, and the Massawo-
meks that were higher up in the mountains.”
When asked what there was beyond the moun-
tains, his answer was, “the sun.” “The Mona-
cans,” he said, “ were their neighbors and friends,
and did dwell as they, in the hilly countries by
small rivers, living upon roots and fruits, but
chiefly by hunting. The Massawomeks did dwell
upon a great water, and had many boats, and so
many men that they made war with all the
world.* For their kings, they were gone every
one a several way with their men on hunting:

Stith, in his history of Virginia, supposes these Massawo-
meks may have been the same as the “ Six Nations.”
JOHN SMITH. 107

but those with him came thither a fishing till
they saw us, notwithstanding they would be all
together at night at Mahaskahod.”* After this,
the whites presented him with many toys, and
persuaded him to go along with them. Mosco
now urged that they should immediately leave
this region, for he suspected treachery. But
the captive begged that they would stay till night,
and see the kings of the Mannahocks, who would
befriend them for their kind usage of him. In
spite of the remonstrances of Mosco, they de-
termined to remain, and he, shewing that he still
had his own thoughts, busied himself all day in
preparing his arrows.

All this time the chief of Hassininga was moy-
ing among his countrymen, and consulting as to
what should be done. At night the English de-
parted, and ere long they were attacked from the
banks’ by the Mannahocks. They followed them
all night, yelling, and hallooing, and shooting their
arrows. They could be brought to no terms of
peace, for their noise was so loud that the voice
of their countryman in the barge could not be
heard. When morning dawned, the barge an-
chored, and Amoroleck, (this was the name of
their captive countryman, ) shewing himself, was

*Smith’s Virginia—Vol. I., page 187
108 JOHN SMITH.

able to speak to them. He told them that he
had been used very kindly ; that there was one
of the Potomacs along who would have killed
him, but the whites had saved him; that he
could have his liberty if they would be friends
to the whites, and even if they chose rather to
be enemies, they could do them no possible harm.
Upon this, they all hung their bows and quivers
upon the trees, and two now came swimming to
che barge, the one bringing upon his head:a bow,
the other a quiver of arrows. These were pre-
sented to Captain Smith in token of. submission.
He treated them very kindly, and told them that
if the other three kings would do the same thing,
he would be a friend to their nation. This was
hardly demanded, before it was assented to. The
parties now went ashore upon a low point of
land near by, the acts of submission were per-
formed, and Amoroleck was delivered up to his
countrymen. The whites were soon again on
their way, leaving upon the shore four or five
hundred Indians, singing, dancing, and making
loud rejoicings.

As they came down the river, they found
all the friendly Indians greatly rejoiced to hear
of their success over the Mannahocks, for these
people were not looked upon as friends by
JOHN SMITH. 109

any of the tribes on the river. When they
ceached the Moraughtacunds, they began strange-
ly to urge Captain Smith to make peace with
the Rappahannocks. This was probably done
in the hope, that they (who, you will remem-
ber, were not on good terms with the Rap-
pahannocks) might profit by whatever Smith
should do. After much entreaty, Smith agreed
to make peace with them upon certain condi-
tions. They had twice attacked him without
any cause, (he said,) yet he would forgive these
injuries, and be to them a friend, if the chief of
the Rappahannocks would deliver to him his bow
and quiver in token of submission; agree never
to come armed into his presence, to live in friend-
ship with the Moraughtacunds, and, last of all.
to give up his son asa pledge for the faithful
performance of these terms. A message was
immediately sent to the chief, and he came, readi-
ly assenting to all the terms but the last. He
had but one son, and his heart (he said) would
break at parting with him. Instead of the boy,
he was willing to deliver up the three women
whom the Moraughtacunds had stolen. Smith
assented to this, and now the chief, in the pre-
sence of many, laid down his bow and arrows,
and then the three women were brought forward
10
110 JOHN SMITH.

To the chief of the Rappahannocks Smith gave
the first choice, that he might select her he loved
best ; to the chief of the Moraughtacunds the se-
cond, and the faithful Mosco took the remaining
one. Thus the treaty was ended, and all parties
were pleased. The men, women, and children
ali joined in feasting, dancing, and singing.
Mosco was so much pleased with this new ar-
rangement made by the captain, that, to shew
his love for the whites, he changed his name.
They were usually known as “the strangers,”
and he took, therefore, the name Uttasantasough,
meaning the stranger. The savages, in their joy,
promised also to plant corn purposely for their
benefit, and the English, in return, agreed to pro-
vide hatchets, beads, and copper for them. Then
discharging their fire-arms, the barge pushed off
. amid the loud shouts and cries of the Indians.

Next, they entered the Piankatank River, and
explored that as far as the barge would float.
They found on the banks of this stream only
some old men, women, and children, the younger
men being all out upon hunting excursions.
They were treated with kindness, and soon left
them.

In passing down the bay, a little to the south
of York River, they were struck by a squall in
JOHN SMITH. 111

the night, and with great difficulty escaped ship-
wreck. The wind blew violently toward the
shore, and, in the darkness, their little barge
more than once nearly stranded, but a flash of
lightning would from time to time disclose their
perilous position, and keeping clear of the land
as well as they could, they were at length ena-
bled, by God’s mercy, to reach Point Comfort,
where they anchored.

The next morning Smith determined, before
he returned home, to visit certain neighbors of
whom he had often heard. These were the
Chesapeakes and Nandsamonds. Setting sail
therefore for the southern shore, he soon entered
the narrow river, known then as the Chesapeake.
This is now the Elizabeth River, upon which
Norfolk is situated. The mver “had a good
channel, but some shoals about the entrance.”
They sailed up six or seven miles, and saw
two or three little garden plots, with houses, and
the shores overgrown with the largest pines
they had ever seen in the country; but neither
seeing or hearing any people, and the river be-
ing very narrow, they returned back, and coast-
ed the shore towards Nandsamond. “At the
mouth of the Nandsamond,” they spied some six or
seven Indians making weirs for fishing, who fled
412 JOHN SMITH.

as soon as they were discovered. The party went
ashore, and leaving many toys and trinkets
where the Indians had been working, returned
to the barge. In a little time the Indians re-
turned, and began to dance and sing, and call
them back. One of them, without fear, came
out to the barge, and invited them to come up
the river, and visit him at his house. The in-
vitation was accepted, and they moved onward.
They observed the banks of the stream lined with
fine fields of corn, and ere long approached an
island, which seemed to be richly cultivated.
This island was the home of their host. Here
they went ashore, and were treated by him with
great kindness, and in return gave many toys to
his wife and children. Other Indians now came,
inviting them higher up the river to their houses.
The party, accepting their invitation also, were
moving on in good faith, when suddenly their
suspicions were aroused. Some six or eight
canoes were seen behind them, filled with armed
men. The stratagem was soon at work. They
had reached a narrow pass in the river, and now
the attack commenced. An ambuscade of three
or four hundred Chesapeakes and Nandsamonds
poured their arrows from the land, while clouds
of arrows came from the canoes in the rear
JOHN SMITH. 118

The Massawomek targets covered the men in the
barge, while with their muskets they answered
this assault. The savages leaped from the ca-
noes and swam for the shore, while the barge
dropped down into a broader part of the stream,
the men on board keeping up a perpetual fire.
Now beyond the reach of their arrows, they con-
tinued the war upon their enemies on the land,
until they were all glad to disperse. Fortu-
nately, not one of the party in the barge was
hurt.

Smith resolved upon vengeance. He seized
all their deserted boats, and determined at
night to burn every thing upon the island. In
the mean time, his men commenced breaking the
canoes. The poor Indians, seeing this, threw
down their arms, and sued for peace. Smith
made his own terms. He commanded them
to bring the chief’s bow and arrows, a chain of
pearl, and four hundred baskets of corn, other-
wise he would destroy all that they had. The
Indians “most joyfully” agreed to the con-
ditions, and “ flocking down in great numbers,
with their baskets, soon loaded the boat with
corn.”

The party now started homeward. They
met with no farther adventures by the way,

10*
114 JOHN SMITH.

and at length, on the seventh of September, ar-
rived at Jamestown in great “joy and triumph.”
In the two voyages together, Smith had been ab-
sent from the colony a little more than three
months, with the exception of the three days
which you will recollect he spent at James-
town.*

* Captain Smith made a map of Chesapeake Bay and the
countries which he explored upon its banks or tributary
streams. This mup will be found published in his History of
Virgini
CHAPTER VI.

Smith enters upon his new duties as President
—Arrival of Captain Newport—His plan for
finding the South Sea—Brings presents to
Powhatan—Smith opposes the project—The
project goes on—Smith’s visit to Powhatan—
Tells him of the presents—His haughty reply—
The presents are brought to the chief—He is
crowned—Newport attempts to find the South
Sea and fails—Employment of the men—
Smith's mode of breaking up the bad habit of
swearing among his men—Bad conduct of the
sailors—Departure of the ship—Letter of the
Council in England to Smith—His reply—
Smith goes to Nandsamond and obtains supplies
—He afterwards attempts to seize Powhatan
and his stores—Is betrayed—The friendship
of Pocahontas prevents his being captured.

Smiru was grieved to find, upon his return,
that many of the poor colonists had died, but
delighted to discover that Mr. Scrivener had
proved faithful, and administered all affairs well.
116 JOHN SMITH.

Ratcliff, the old president, had again made trou-
ble, and was now a prisoner, under the charge
of mutiny. In three days Smith was regularly
invested with the office of president, and set to
work with his usual energy. “The church was
repaired, the store-house new covered, and a
place made ready for the reception of the sup-
plies they daily expected from England. The
fort was reduced into form, the order of the
watch was renewed, the troops trained at each
setting of the watch, and the whole company
every Saturday exercised in the plain toward
the west, which was prepared for that purpose,
and called Smithfield ; where sometimes above
an hundred Indians would stand in amazement,
to behold how a file would batter a tree, when
the president had made them a mark to shoot
al.”* As it was the time of gathering corn
with the Indians, the boats also were made
ready for a trading voyage, and sent off under
the command of Lieutenant Percy. On their
way, to their great joy, they met Captain Newport
returning with the second supply, and they all
came back with him to Jamestown.

Newport had brought out with him this time
many people of consequence, among whom were

* Stith’s Virginia, page 76.
JOHN SMITH. 117

Captains Peter Wynne and Richard Waldo, (two
old soldiers,) as new members of the council
Aboard the ship also were Mrs. Forest and her
maid Ann Burras, the first English women ever
seen in Virginia. Some Poles and Germans had
likewise been sent aiong, “to make pitch, tar,
glass, mills, and soap ashes.” He had received
from the company at home the strange and
foolish instruction, “not to return without a
lump of gold, or finding the South Sea, or dis-
covering one of the lost company sent out in
former years by Sir Walter Raleigh.” For the
purpose of aiding him in this South Sea scheme,
he had with him a barge, made to be taken in
pieces, carried beyond the falls of the river, re-
constructed, and there launched for the adven-
ture. To secure the friendship of Powhatan in
his great enterprise, he had brought rich pre-
sents for him. These consisted of a basin and
ewer, bed and bedstead, a chair of state, a suit
of rich clothing, and a crown.
When Newport talked of his plans, Smith op-
posed him strongly. He was a man of too much
good sense to give in to any such scheme of folly.
He said plainly, that instead of sending the men
off upon any such expedition, they should be em-
ployed in procuring provisions for the coming
118 JOHN SMITH.

winter. But Newport at once promised to make
this a part of the enterprise, stating that he
would bring supplies of corn back with him.
In addition, too, he promised large supplies from
the ship—a promise which was so little veri-
fied, that before the ship sailed, the poor colo-
nists had to spare three hogsheads of corn to
victual her homeward. Smith objected, too, to
making such rich presents to Powhatan. It
was now easy (he said) to satisfy him at any
time with a present of beads and other trinkets ;
but after receiving such gifts as these, Powhatan
would ever be proud and insolent. Newport
was before this jealous of Smith, and this oppo-
sition made him the more so. He declared that
the council were all ready for the enterprise,
and that Smith alone prevented it; that the
cause of this opposition arose from two cir-
cumstances: first, that he was desirous of
making the discovery himself for his own glory ;
and next, that he knew his former cruelty to the
Indians, by provoking their hostility to the ex-
ploring party, would be the only cause pre-
venting success. Far from being angry, Smith
determined at once to prove the utter falsehood
of such statements, by aiding the mad scheme,
as far as he could. Accordingly, he resolved
JOHN SMITH. ‘ty

to visit Powhatan, and invite him to come to
Jamestown and receive the presents.

With Captain Waldo, and three more as his
companions, he walked twelve miles, and then
passed over the river in an Indian canoe to
Werowocomoco, where he hoped to find the
chief. Powhatan, however, was thirty miles
farther in the country, and messengers were im-
mediately sent for him. The princess Pocahon-
tas was here, and while they waited for her father,
she, with her women, entertained them with
dancing and feasting, “after a curious manner.”

A large fire was made in the open plain, and
the party seated before it. Suddenly, such a
noise was heard in the woods, that they supposed
they were betrayed. Instantly they sprang to
their arms, and seized three old men as hostages
for their security. Upon this, Pocahontas came
running to Smith, and offered to be killed her-
self, if any harm should happen to him or his
companions. Pacified by this, they seated them-
selves quietly again In a little time thirty girls
came forward, richly painted of different colors,
and each one wearing a girdle of green leaves.
“ Their leader had a pair of buck’s horns on her
head, an otter’s skin as her girdle, and anothér
on one arm: a bow and arrow in the other‘hand,
120 JOHN SMITH

and a quiver at her back.” Some carried wood

en staffs in their hands. Forming themselves in
a ring, for an hour they kept up their dancing,
singing, and shouting. After this the feast com-
menced, and the Indian girls waited upon them
as they ate. At night, they were conducted to
their lodgings by the light of fire-brands.

The next morning Powhatan arrived, and
Smith came before him with his message. After
telling him of Newport’s arrival and plans, and
that he had brought for him rich presents from the
king of the English, who was ready to assist him
in his war against the Monacans, he invited him
to come at once to Jamestown and receivé the
gifts. To this invitation, the chief gave him this
proud answer: “If your king has sent me a
present, I also am a king, and am on my own
laud. I will stay here eight days. Your father
must come to me; I will not go to him, nor to
your fort. As for the Monacans, I am able to
revenge myself. If you have heard of salt water
beyond the mountains from any of my people,
they have deceived you.” Then with a stick,
he drew upon the ground plots of that region of
country, and Smith started homeward with his
answer.

The answer being delivered, the presents were
JOHN SMITH. 121

now sent around by water, while Smith and
Newport went across by land with a guard of
fifty men. All having met at Werowocomoco,
the next day wa appointed for crowning the
chief. Inthe morning the presents were brought
forward—the basin and ewer were placed before
him, and the bed and furniture set up. His
scarlet clothes were brought in, but there was
some difficulty in inducing the old man to put
them on, nor would he do it until the Indian boy
Namontack (who, you will remember, had been
given to Newport, and had been in England
with him) assured him that they could not hurt
him. The hardest part was yet to come, for it
was impossible to make him kneel, that the crown
might be placed upon his head. “He neither
knew the majesty of a crown, nor the meaning
of bending the knee, which obliged them to use
so many persuasions, examples, and instructions,
as tired them all.” At last, by leaning hard on
his shoulders, he stooped a little, and then being
ready with the crown, they put it on his head. A
pistol was now fired as a signal to the boats, and
instantly a volley of musketry was heard, in
honor of the crowned chief. The man most
honored, least understood it. He started alarmed,

supposing that there was a plot to destroy him.
11
122 JUHN SMITH,

in “ the midst of his glory.” Being assured that
no harm was intended, he became satisfied, and
began to return what he thought suitable kind-
nesses. His old fur mantle and deer skin shoes
were delivered to Newport for his king, and to
“his father Newport” was given for himself “ an
heap of ears of corn, containing perhaps some
seven or eight bushels.” Newport having talked
largely of going to the salt water, and visiting
the region of the Monacans, the last counsel of
the old man at parting was, that he should not
attempt it; but if he was determined to try it,
he would allow him no guides but the Indian boy
Namontack.

Thus the ceremony with Powhatan had end-
ed, and now they were again in Jamestown, with
little hope of any help from him in finding the
South Sea, after all their trouble. Still, New-
port was resolved upon the effort. Accordingly,
with one hundred and twenty chosen men, led
by Captain Waldo, Lieutenant Percy, Captain
Wynne, Mr. West, and Mr. Scrivener, he set
forward. Smith remained behind with eighty
or ninety feeble men, to prepare for relading the
ship. Ascending the James River as far as the
falls, they passed on thirty or forty miles over
land, through “a fair, fertile, and well-watered
JOHN SMITH. 123

country.” Two towns of the Monacans were
discovered on the south side of the river, where
the people took little notice of them; yet they
seized one of the petty kings, and took him
along as a guide on their way. In a little time
they became wearied, and sickening over the
adventure, started homeward. They had taken
with them “certain refiners,” to seek mineral
treasures, and after visiting, therefore, what
they thought gold mines, and gathering some
shining dirt, they at length reached James-
town, “half sick, and all complaining, being
sadly harassed with toil, famine, and discon-
tent.”

The expedition had ended precisely as Smith
expected. He well understood, however, that
the best mode of quieting their complaints,
was to give them some useful employment.
Some of the mechanics were set to making
glass, while others were employed in making
tar, pitch, and potash. Leaving these under the
direction of the council at Jamestown, he started
with thirty others down the river, to teach them
“to cut down trees, make clapboards, and lie in
the woods.” Some of these were gentlenien,
unaccustomed to such work, and found it, of
course, hard; but ‘he was determined to make
124 JOHN SMITH.

them independent in a new country, oy teach-
ing them how to labor. He led the way in
the work, and in a little time they were like
“ old wood-choppers.” But he not only cured
their habits of idleness. The bad habit of
swearing prevailed among them at times, and
this did not please the captain. A remedy for
this was, therefore, applied. He caused every
man’s oaths to be noticed during the day, and
when night came the whole were assembled,
and for every oath a man had used, a can of
vater was poured down his sleeve. This was a
strange punishment, but it seems to have pro-
duced the desired effect. In a short time the
bad practice was discontinued. Having drilled
them sufficiently in the woods, he returned with
them to Jamestown.

He found that business had been neglected
again, that provisions were running low, and
that it was necessary to undertake an expe-
dition in search of corn. With eighteen men
he at once embarked in the barge, and leaving
orders that Lieutenant Percy should follow him
in a boat, went up the Chickahomony river.
The Indians learning his wants were surly
and out of humor, and insolently refused to
trade on any terms. Smith was not to be driven
JOHN SMITH. 125

off in this way. He told them that he had not .
come among them so much for corn, as for the
purpose of revenging his own captivity, and the
death of some of his countrymen. Then prompt-
ly landing his men, he prepared for battle. The
savages instantly fled. Presently some of them
returned, bringing presents of corn, fish, and fowl],
sueing earnestly for peace. They stated that
their corn that year was not abundant, and their
own wants great; yet they loaded the barge
with one hundred bushels; and when Lieutenant
Percy soon after arrived, he received as much
more. Returning home, they were received with
great joy at Jamestown, for the supply was much
needed. Yet, while he was thus laboring abroad
for the good of the colony, some enemy was al-
ways busy at home trying to injure him. “ Such
was the malice and envy of some, (as it is writ-
ten,) that they had rather hazard a starving,
than that Smith’s endeavors should prove so
much more effectual than theirs.” Newport and
Ratcliffe had been planning, not only to depose
him from the presidency, but even to keep him
from entering the fort, under the pretence that
he had left the place without their permission.
Their efforts, however, were so ridiculous and
wicked, that the people revolted, and they them-
11*
16 JOHN SMITH.

selves very narrowly escaped “a greater mus-
chief.”

The delay of the ship too, as on a former oc-
casion, produced trouble. A constant traffick-
ing was all the while going on between the
sailors and the Indians, in which, of course, the
former took care of their own private interests,
rather than those of the colony. Indeed, (it is
said,) they would sometimes steal articles from the
public stores, to trade with the Indians for their
furs and baskets. Certain it is, that of two or
three hundred axes, hoes, pickaxes, and other
instruments brought out for the use of the colony,
twenty only could be found at the end of six or
seven weeks. Thus these poor vagabonds preyed
upon the colony, and yet these were the men
who were soon to return to England to tell
what stories they pleased of Virginia—to talk
of the abundance there, and prevent supplies
from being sent out by the council. It was
Newport’s business to check-all this, yet it was
not done. Smith was greatly indignant, and
the ship being nearly ready to sail, he threatened
to send her home, and detain Newport a year in
the colony, that he might learn from experi-
ence what their real sufferings were. But
Newport became alarmed, acknowledged his
JOHN SMITH. 127

fault, and was pardoned. At length, to the great
joy of the colony, the ship sailed homeward,
laden with “ specimens of tar, pitch, turpentine,
potash, clapboards, and wainscot.” On her
way out, she met at Point Comfort with Mr.
Scrivener, who had been up the Pamunkey
river in search of corn. He had with him a
quantity of pocones, (a red root used in dying,)
and these were given to Newport, as farther spe-
cimens of the products of the country.

_ Among other strange things taken to Eng-
land by this ship, was a letter from Captain
Smith to the Council at home. It seems that
the Council in England had strange ideas of the
New World, and supposed that every adventure
would return them ample supplies of gold and
silver. In this thought they had of course been
disappointed, and therefore had readily listened
from time to time, to the enemies who murmured
against the colonial settlements. Under the in-
fluence of this feeling, they had sent by New-
port a letter to Captain Smith, making com-
plaints against the colony in Virginia. The
principal complaints were, of the hopes that had
been fed, only to be disappointed ; of the quar-
rels and divisions among the colonists, and a
foolish project about dividing the country, of
128 JOHN SMITH. .

which the late president had written to the Ear]
of Salisbury; and the whole concluded with a
threat, that “unless the charge of this voyage,
amounting to about two thousand pounds, was
defrayed by the ship’s return, they should be de-
serted, and left to remain there as banished
men.” It was in reply to this that Smith now
returned them a bold letter containing a fair
statement of facts.

As to their complaints, he denies that he had
ever fed them with vain hopes, or that he knew
or had ever heard before, any thing about the
project for dividing the country. As for quar-
rels among the colonists, they were caused (in
spite of his efforts at peace) by bad and dis-
orderly men, of whom Ratcliffe and Archer were
the chief, and that he now sent them home to get
rid of them. In fact, the people were so pro-
voked against Ratcliffe that it was necessary to
send him home to save his life, for many of them
were ready to cut his throat.

Next he brings his complaints against them ;
that they had listened to idle complaints from
enemies of the colony, (of whom he suspected
Newport to be the greatest,) and had not at-
tempted properly to aid them; that they had
sent out a parcel of idlers or useless manufac-
JOHN SMITH. 129

turers into the settlement, from time to time, in-
stead of sending such men as were needed. He
begged them, like sensible men, to dismiss all
thoughts of getting rich immediately through
the colony, and to send to him carpenters, gar-
deners, fishermen, blacksmiths, and masons.
Thirty of these (he stated) would be worth more
in Virginia than all their fine gentlemen.

He then complains of the last adventure of
Newport ; that they had sent him to the country
with a foolish project in his head for finding the
South Sea, and laden him with rich presents for
Powhatan; that he himself had opposed this
plan, because he thought it idle, but when the
Council approved it, he had joined them heart
and hand; that every facility had been offered
to Newport for the effort, and he had completely
failed, as he knew he would; that Powhatan had
been crowned, and the presents delivered to him,
from which he expected nothing but trouble for
the colony. As for the two thousand pounds
which the voyage had cost, the colony had not
received the benefit of one hundred; that New-
port and his sailors were only a tax to them, for
they had to furnish them with supplies homeward.
These, with many other direct charges, were in
the letter; and in conclusion, (that they might
130 JOHN SMITH.

see he had not been idle,) he stated that he sent
them by the ship some stones, which he sup-
posed might contain iron ore, with the places
marked where they were found, together with his
map of Chesapeake Bay, and his description of
the countries he had discovered.

The ship having departed, he commenced
again gathering supplies. With Captain Wynne
and Mr. Scrivener as his companions, he set out
immediately for the Nandsamond river. It seems
the Indians on that river had promised to give
him four hundred baskets of corn. This they
were now unwilling to do, and even refused to
trade with him in any way. They tried to ex-
cuse themselves, by saying, that “their corn
was almost all spent,” and that Powhatan had
commanded them not to part with what they
had, nor to allow the English to enter the river.
Smith at once resolved to use force. He com-
manded his party to discharge the muskets, and
the Indians fled without shooting an arrow.
Then marching up to their houses, they set fire
to the first they came to. The savages, see-
ing this, came to terms. They proposed to
give them half the corn they had, and to plant
corn purposely for them the next year, if they
would spare their houses. Before night the boats
JOHN SMITH. -731

were loaded, and ere Jong they were again in
Jamestown with provisions. They reached home
in time to attend the first wedding in Virginia,
when John Laydon was married to Anne Burras.

In a little time, he was off again in company
with Captain Waldo, with two barges in Chesa-
peake Bay. Corn was again his object, but the
Indians all fled at the sight of him. At length
he found friends upon the Appamatox river,
among that tribe of Indians. They had but lit-
tle corn, yet they divided it cheerfully: with him,
and in return he gave them “copper, and such
other toys as fully satisfied them.”

All this, however, was but a present supply,
and some of the men were soon out upon like
excursions ; sometimes with and often without
success. They had some hardships, which were
accounted light, because they had before them a
heavier one in the fear of starvation. pe sea-
son was a severe one, but in their long excur-
sions they “camped out cheerfully at night.”
The ground was covered with snow, yet they
would dig it away, make a fire upon the earth
to warm it, clear away the ashes, and then
spread their mats for sleeping. When the ground
became cold again,:they would at once, without
& murmur, prepare another spot in the same
132 JOHN SMITH.

way. It is said that these hardy adventurers
were the healthiest men in the colony.

To make an end of this perpetual anxiety
about food, Smith resolved upon the bold ex-
periment of seizing Powhatan and all his stores.
He called together some members of the council,
and confidentially told them of his intention.
Waldo was greatly in favor of the attempt,
but Wynne and Scrivener warmly opposed it.
Nevertheless, his mind was bent upon it. It
seems that Powhatan had some stratagem at
work in his own mind at this time; for now,
strangely enough, he sent inviting Smith to
come and see him, and promising to load his
barge with corn upon certain conditions. These
were, that “he would send some workmen to
build him a house, and would give him a grind-
stone, fifty swords, some muskets, a cock and a
hen, @Mh much copper and beads.” Instantly
taking advantage of this message, Smith sent off
two Englishmen and four Germans, to build his
house. Unfortunately, however, as it turned out
for his enterprise, he gave these men certain in-
structions as to their behavior, and told them of
his whole plan. He at once commenced mak-
ing preparations to follow them. As the enter-
prise was perilous, he urged no man to go, but
JOHN SMITH. 133

left all to volunteer for themselves, if they pleas-
ed. His crew, gathered in this way, consisted
of forty-six persons, besides Captain Waldo.
Leaving Mr. Scrivener to manage during his
absence, and taking with him the necessary pro-
visions for a few days, on the twenty-ninth of
December he departed with the bark and two
barges.

The first night they stopped at the Indian vil-
lage, Warraskoyack, not far from Jamestown.
Here they were treated with great kindness by
the chief of the settlement, and received ad-
ditions to their supplies. Upon learning that
Smith was going on a visit to Powhatan, he
tried to dissuade him from it; finding him re-
solute in his intention, he at last said to him,
“Captain Smith, you shall find Powhatan to use
you kindly, but trust him not; and be sure he
have no opportunity to seize on your , for
ne has sent for you only to cut your tMfeats.”
Thanking him for his advice, Smith asked to be
furnished with a guide to the Chawonocks, a na-
tion dwelling between the Nottaway and Me-
hernin rivers, in Carolina, as he desired to make
a friend of the king of that people. The guide
was found, and one of the company (Michael
Sicklemore, an honest and faithful man) was

12
134: JOHN SMITH.

sent with him, bearing presents, and instructions
to search for silk-grass, and some one of the
.ost colony of Sir Walter Raleigh.

The next night they lodged at Kecoughtan.
Here they were detained six or seven days by
the wind and rain. During this time they were
entertained merrily by the natives, and feasted
with them upon their oysters, fish, and wild-fowl.
At length, after several accidents, they arrived
on the twelfth of January at Werowocomoco
They found the river frozen nearly half a mile
from the shore ; but Smith, breaking the ice, ran
one of his barges up as far as he could, until he
was “ left by the ebb upon the oozy shoals.” Di-
recting two men to remain with the barge, and
when she should float to put her aboard the
bark, cold as it was, he leaped into the water.
His men followed his example, and through the
mud @@@ice they waded to the shore. They
quaxt@â„¢@a in the first cabin which they found,
and at once sent to Powhatan for provisions.
He immediately supplied them with “ plenty of
bread, turkeys, aud venison,” and they spent the
night in tolerable comfort,

The day following, Powhatan feasted them
in fine style, and after this asked them “ when
they were going away.” Neither he nor his
JOHN SMITH. 138

people (he said) had expected them, and if
it was corn they were in search of, they had
none to spare. Smith replied, that this was very
strange, and instantly produced the messengers
who had brought to him Powhatan’s invitation
and offer. The wily chief, thus confronted,
endeavored to turn off his falsehood with a
laugh, and asked the Captain to “shew him his
commodities.” After looking at many things,
he seemed to value nothing but the guns and
swords. As for the copper which was shewn to
him, he told Smith plainly that he “ valued a
basket of corn higher than a basket of copper.”
The Captain was of course indignant at such
behavior, and spoke to the chief quite as plain-
ly in return. He told him that he might have
procured provisions, in many places, but relying
’ on his promises, had neglected to do sogand that

at his request he had at once sent Qe

his houses, while his own were unfinished.” He
then charged him boldly with keeping back his
people’s corn and forbidding them to trade,
“ thinking by consuming time to consume them ;”
that as for swords and guns, he had none to
spare, and that he must be aware that those he
had could keep him from starving. Yet, he de-
tlared, he would neither rob nor wrong him, nor
136 JOHN SMITH.

in any way break the friendship between them
unless he was compelled to do so by unkind
treatment. The king listened attentively to all
he said, and promised that he and his people
should spare him all the corn they could part with,
and that he should receive it in two days. “ But
I have some doubt (said he) about the reason of
your coming hither. I am informed from many
hands, that you come, not to trade, but to invade
my people, and to possess my country. This
makes me less ready to relieve you, and frightens
my people from bringing in their corn. And
therefore, to ease them of that fear, leave your
arms aboard, since they are needless here, where
we are all friends, and for ever Powhatans.”
Smith was not aware that Powhatan knew
his intentions, nor did he, until six months after-
wards, learn that at that very instant the chief
ofl whole design. The truth was,
the ans had betrayed him. These men,
perceiving the abundance of Powhatan, had con-
cluded that it was better to have the friendship
of such a chief, than to hang on to a half starv-
ing colony, and had therefore opened the whole
design of the English. This baseness was not
at all suspected, for Smith had great confidence
in these Germans, and had especially charged
JOHN SMITH. 137

one of them, before leaving Jamestown, to act
as a spy upon Powhatan.

. After this, while waiting for the people to
come in, he managed to purchase of the chief
about eighty bushels of corn, with an old copper
kettle. Smith declared that the kettle was
worth far more, but, considering the scarcity,
agreed to part with it, provided that Powhatan
would promise to give him as much more corn
the next year. This promise he readily gave,
and the trade was made.

But Powhatan still continued to urge him to
lay aside his arms. “Captain Smith, (said he,)
J am a very old man, having seen the death of
three of the generations of my people. None of
these is now living except myself, and I know
the difference between peace and war better
than any in my country. But now old,
and ere long must die, and my br it-
chapan, Opechancanough, and Kekati@
my two sisters, and their daughters, must sud®
ceed me. I wish their experience no less than
mine, and your love to them no Jess than mine
to you. But the rumor that has reached us,
that you are come to destroy my country, has
frightened my people, and they dare not visit
you. What will it profit you to take by force

, 12*




138 JOHN SMITH.

what you may quickly have by love, or to. de-
stroy them that provide you food? What can
you get by war, when we can hide our pro-
visions and fly to the woods? whereby you
must famish by wronging us your friends. And
why are you so suspicious of our loves? seeing
that we are unarmed, and ready to feed you with
that you cannot get but by our labors. Do
you think I am so‘simple as not to know it is
better to eat good meat, lie well, and sleep
quietly with my women and children, laugh and
be merry with you, have copper, hatchets, or
what I want, being your friend, than to be forced
as your enemy to fly from all; to lie cold in the
woods, to feed upon acorns, roots, and such trash,
and be so hunted by you, that I can neither rest,
eat, nor sleep, but mf tired men must watch,
and, ifpatwig but break, every one cries out,
Captain Smith ;? then I must fly
whither, and thus with miserable
Bar end’ my miserable life. Be assured then, of
our loves. Every year we can supply you with
corn, and now too we are ready to give it, if
you would only come into our country in a peace+
ful way. We are not your enemies, therefore
lay aside your arms.”

To this speech Captain Smith answered in the





JOHN ‘SMITH. 139

following words: “ Since you will not rightly
understand our words, we must strive to make
you know our thoughts by our deeds. The vow
I made you of my love, both myself and my
men have kept; as for your promise, I find it
every day violated by some of your subjects.
Yet we have never been ungrateful for your
kindness, and for your sake only have we curbed
our revenge; else they had known as well the
cruelty we use to our enemies, as our true love
and courtesy to our friends. You must under-
stand, as well by the adventures we have un-
dertaken, as by the advantage we have by our
arms, that had we intended you any injury, we
could long since have effected it. Your people
coming to Jamestown bring their bows and ar-
rows, and no complaint fs made. It is our cus-
tom to wear our arms as our apparel. As for
the danger of our enemies, in such nsist
our chiefest pleasure; and for you: we
have no use. As to your flying to the woods
and hiding your provisions, that would not hurt
us, for we have a way of finding hidden things
which you do not upderstand.”

They soon now. began to trade; but Powhatan
finding that he éould not have his own way—
that Smith was still obstinate, and would not al-
140 JOHN SMITH.

low his men to put away their arms, broke out
again. “Captain Smith, I never used any chief
so kindly as yourself; yet, from you, I receive
the least kindness of any. Captain Newport
gave me swords, copper, clothes, or whatever
else I desired, ever accepting what I offered
him, and would send away his guns when re-
quested. No one refuses to lie at my feet, or to
do what I demand, but you only. Of you I can
have nothing, but what you value not, and yet
you have whatever you please. Captain New-
port you call father, and so you call me; but I
can see, in spite of us both, you will do what you
will, and we must both study to humor and
please you. If you intend so friendly as you say,
send away your arms.”

Smith now perceivetl that Powhatan was only
trifling, that he might gain time to get him in
his p n. He therefore procured some In-
di ak the ice, that his boat might come
in to take away his corn, and at the same time
gave secret orders for more men to come ashore
to surprise the king. In the mean time, to allay
all suspicion, he entertained the chief with much
good humored talk, promising the next day to
lay aside his arms, and to shew, by trusting in
his word, that he loved him, and confided in him
JOHN SMITH. 141

as a father. But hearing that they were break-
ing the ice, Powhatan became alarmed, and
hurried away with his women, children, and
luggage. Yet, to avoid suspicion, he left two
or three of his women talking with the Captain,
while he secretly ran off, and in a little time his
warriors as secretly surrounded the house where
they were talking. As soon as Smith discovered
this, he sallied out with his pistol, sword, and
shield. “At his first shot, those next him tum-
bled one over another, and the rest fled nimbly
off, some one way, some another.” Thus, with-
out any injury, he fought his way to the main
body of his men.

Finding that he had escaped in spite of their
efforts, an attempt was now made on the part
of the savages to excuse this strange treatment.
An old warrior was sent to him by Powhatan,
bearing a large bracelet and chai ar],
who delivered to him the following e:
“Captain Smith, our king has fled for fear of
your guns. Knowing, when the ice was open,
there would come more men ashore, he sent the
warriors, whom you assaulted, to guard your corn
from being stolen, which thing might happen
without your knowledge. Some of our men
have been hurt by your mistake, yet Powhatan
142 JOHN: SMITH.

is still your friend, and wi.t for. ever continue so.
He now desires that (since the ice is open) you will
send away your corn; and if you expect his
company, that you will also send away your
guns, which so frighten his people, that they
are afraid to bring in their corn as he promised
they should.”

Baskets were now cheerfully provided for the
English to carry the corn tothe boat. The savages
kindly offered to guard their arms while they
were thus employed, but this of course was not
allowed. Smith had other business for them.
They were a cowardly set, easily frightened “ at
the sight of the English cocking their matches,”
and in a little time were all at work, with the
baskets on their shoulders, cheerfully and rapidly
loading the boats themselves. This being finish-
ed, Smith found that he must wait till late in the
eveninfZâ„¢ the next tide, before his boat could
move Of, and in the meantime he, with his men,
repaired to their old quarters at the cabin.

Powhatan was still eager to have him in his
possession ; he thought, if he could seize him, the
colony was at once destroyed, and was prepar-
ing that night to surprise and take him. The
treacherous Germans also desired it, and: were
ready to assist him-in any plot. The plan was
JOHN SMITH. 2B

to send at night some strong men with the pre-
sent of a rich supper from the chief to Smith ;
while he was eating, these men were to seize
him. If they failed in doing this, Powhatan,
with his forces, was to come down and take
him. The night proved dark and dismal, as. if
to aid this stratagem. But the providence of
God had raised for Smith a: friend, who would
not willingly see him destroyed. The friend-
ship of Pocahontas again servedhim. Inthe midst
-of the darkness she came alone through: the
woods, and told Smith of the whole plan. “Good
cheer (she said) would -be'-serit: to them soon;
-but that Powhatan, with all the forees he could
raise, would soon come to kill theni all, if::thase
‘who brought the victuals could not effect it-with
their own arms while they were at supper.” As
they valued their lives, therefore, she.“ begged
them to be gone.” Grateful for her ted
generosity, Smith offered her many prestms, but
she refused them all. With tears running down
her cheeks, she declared that she could not re-
ceive them; that she dared not be seen with
them, for if her father should in any way dis-
cover that she had opened his plot, he would in-
stantly kill her—* and so she ran away by her-
self as she came.”
144 JOHN SMITH.

Within less than an hour, ten strong men
came down, bringing large platters of venison
and other victuals. Spreading them before Smith,
they invited him and his companions to sit down
and eat; begging them at the same time to put
out their matches, the smoke of which (they said)
made them sick. But Smith made them taste
of every dish, to see if it was poisoned, and then
sent some of them back to Powhatan, telling
him “to make haste, for he was ready for his
coming.” Soon after more messengers came
down to learn the news, and not Jong after others ;
but the English kept up a steady watch through
the night, and Powhatan’s plan was defeated.
Not one of his men dared strike a blow.

At high water the boat departed, leaving the
vagabond Germans still behind, ( whose treachery
was not yet suspected,) to complete the house of

the cy chief.
CHAPTER VIL.

Powhatan by stratagem obtains arms at Jamea-
town—Smith visits Opechancanough—Treach-
ery of the chief—Fearless behavior of Smith—
Accident at Jamestown—R-turns home—Re-
bukes the colonists for idleness, and sets them
to work—Treachery of four Germans—Smith
attempts to seize one of them—Is attacked by
the chief of the Pashiphays—After a hard
struggle captures the chief, and puts him in
chains—The chief escapes—Meets the Paship-
hays—Speech of Okaning—Incidents at James-

_ town—Industry: of the colonists—Want of
food—Kindness of Powtoran Mille con-
duct of some of the colonists—Smith checks té
—Plot to. destroy Jamestown—Is discovered
and stopped—Arrival of Captain Argall.

Tuey had scarcely set sail when Powhatan
despatched two of the Germans to Jamestown.
These. played their parts well for him. They
pretended to Captain Wynne that all things

13
146 JOHN SMITH.

were well, but that Captain Smith had need for
more arms, and therefore desired he would send
them, together with some spare tools and changes
of clothing. As their treachery was not sus-
pected, the articles were of course delivered to
them. Then they set to work privately to beat
up recruits among the colonists, and by talking
of the greatness of Powhatan, and the poor pros-
pects of the colony, managed to draw off some
six or seven. These, however, were worthless
men, and no loss to the colony. Yet they were
of great service to Powhatan, for being expert
thieves, they managed to steal for him fifty
‘swords, eight muskets, eight pikes, and a quan-
tity of powder and shot. Indians were always
lurking around the settlement, and the articles
being delivered to them, were readily carried
off. At the same time Powhatan kept one of
the Germans (who was a blacksmith) very busy
at Werowocomoco, working at his trade. Three
hundred tomahawks were made by him, and
these, together with the weapons that had
been stolen, gave to the king quite a supply of
arms.

In the mean time Captain Smith had gone with
his party to Pamunkey, the home of Opechanca- ~
nough. He was received kindly by this chief,
JOHN SMITH. ‘7

and entertained with hospitality. A day was
soon set apart for their trading. At the ap-
pointed time, Smith, with fifteen others, went up
to the house of Opechancanough, in the village,
which was a quarter of a mile from the river.
They found here “ nothing but a lame man and
a boy ;” all the houses having been stripped of
every thing and deserted. Presently the chief
came, and after him several of his people, laden
principally with bows and arrows. They had
with ‘them some articles of traffic, but these
were so trifling, and offered at such high prices,
that Smith at once told Opechancanough, that
the professions of his tongue were proved by
his actions to. be mere deceit. “Last year
(said he) you kindly freighted my vessel, but
have now treacherously invited me here to
famish and destroy me. You are not ignorant
of my wants, neither am I ignorant of your
plenty, of which, by some means, I will have a
part. You should remember, that it is proper for
kings, above all others, to keep their promises.
I offer you all my commodities—you may take
your choice—the rest I will divide fairly among
your people.” Opechancanough seemed kindly
to accept his offer, and, to cover his designs, at
once sold Smith all that he then had at his own
148 JOHN SMITH.

prices, and promised to meet him the next day
with more people and more articles

At the appointed time Smith, with the same fif-
teen men, marched up to the king’s house, where
he feund four or five Indians just arrived, each
with a large basket. Soon after the king came in,
and began, with apparent cheerfulness, to tell
what great trouble he had taken to keep his
promise. This talk was suddenly cut short,
when Mr. Russel, one of the party, came run-
ning in, telling Smith that the house was
surrounded by seven hundred armed savages.
Some of his men were alarmed and began to
look pale, but Smith was undaunted. Rally-
ing them, he addressed them in the following
words :

© Worthy countrymen, I feel far less concern |

at the number and danger of the enemy, than at
the malicious representations which the Council
and their open mouthed minions will make in
England, about my breaking the peace. I,
alone, was once assaulted by three hundred sav-
ages, and, had it not been for an accident, would
have made my way good among them all. We
are now sixteen, and the enemy but seven hun-
dred at the most. I desire, therefore, that you
will fight like men, and not die like sheep. If
JOHN SMITH. 149

you dare follow my example, and do as I do, I
doubt not, by God’s assistance, to extricate you
out of the present difficulty and danger.”’

The men were instantly roused and ready to
brave any danger. They all vowed “to do
whatever he attempted or die.” Then turning
to the chief, he said, “I see, Opechancanough,
your plot to murder me, but I am not afraid. As
yet your men and mine have done no harm, but
by our direction. Let us decide this matter by
single combat. Take, therefore, your arms—
you see mine—my body shall be as naked as
yours—you may choose your weapons. The
isle in your river is a fit place for the fight, if
you plesse. Let your men bring baskets of
com. I will stake their value in copper, and
the conqueror shall be lord and master of all the
men and all the commodities.”

This bold challenge was declined by Opechan-
canough. He had no idea of losing the ad-
vantage that he had. Still pretending friend-
ship, he urged Smith to go with him outside of
the door, and there receive a-present which his
people had brought for him. This was done
only to draw him out, where two hundred men
stood, with their arrows resting in their bows,
ready to despatch him. Smith, perceiving the

13*
150 JOHN SMITH.

treachery, instantly seized the king by his scalp-
lock, and presenting his pistol, ready cocked, to
his breast, dragged “him trembling and half
dead with fear,” into the midst of his people.
Startled that any one should be bold enough to
use their king in this manner, the savages at
once threw down their bows and arrows, and
Opechancanough was glad to save himself by de-
livering al .his armor in token of submission.
Still holding the trembling chief by the hair,
Smith thus addressed his people: “I see ye,
Pamunkeys, the. great desire you have to kill
me, and that my long suffering hath emboldened
you to this insolence. ‘The reason I have for-
borne to punish you, is the promise I made you,
(before the God I serve,) that I would be your
friend, till you gave me just cause to be your
enemy. If I keep this vow, my God will keep
me—you cannot hurt me; but if I break it, he
will destroy me. But if you shoot one arrow, to
shed one drop of blood of any of my men, or steal
the least of these beads, or this copper, I will take
such revenge (if I once begin) that you shall not
hear the last of me while there is a Pamunkey
alive. I am not now half drowned in the mire, as
when you took me prisoner. If I be the mark you
aim at, here I stand—shoot he that dares. You
JOBN -SMITH. . ‘Tal

promised to load. my.-bark with corn; and
so you shall, or I will load. her with your dead
carcasses. Yet, if as friends you will trade, I
once more promise that I will’ not trouble you,
unless you give me good cause ; and your king
shall be free and be: my. friend, for I am not
come to hurt him or any of you.”

This speech made a wonderful impression.
The Indians wet Suddenly disposed to be great
friends. Men, women, and even children brought
to him their articles of traffic, and “ for three
hours so thronged around him and wearied him,”
that at last he was forced, in self-defence, to re-
tire into the house, that he might rest, leaving
others to. trade and receive their presents. He
soon now fell asleep. While sleeping, some
fifty Indians, armed with clubs and swords, man-
aged to get into the house, evidently with the
design of murdering him. . Roused by the noise,
he sprang up, seized. his sword and target, and
soon drove them out faster than. they came in.
Opechanranough, with. some of the old warriors,
endeavored, in a long talk, to excuse this con-
duct. “The rest of the day was spent with
much kindness, the Indians renewing their pre-
sents, and feasting: the English with their best
provisions.”
152 JOHN SMITH.

While these things were going on, a sad ac-
cident had happened at the fort, of which Smith
now heard. It seems that Mr. Scrivener had
received letters from England by the last ship,
which gave him a great idea of his own import-
ance; and though Smith loved him as a brother,
Scrivener had learned to dislike him. These
letters (it is said) “made him conceited and
-headstrong.” On a cold and boisterous day, he
determined to visit Hog Island, not far from
Jamestown, and in spite of all remonstrance,
persuaded Captain Waldo and nine others to
accompany him in the skiff. She was so
overloaded that she could scarcely have lived
in calm weather; as it was, she sunk, and all
on board were drowned. It was difficult to
find any one to carry the sorrowful news to
the President, until at last Mr: Richard Wiffin
undertook to do it. . He encountered many
difficulties and dangers as he passed toward
Werowocomoco, where he expected to find
him. Here his danger was greater, for he
found the people engaged in preparation for
war, and escaped being seized only by the kind-
ness of Pocahontas. She managed to hide him,
at the same time “sending those who were in
search of him a contrary way.” After three
JOHN SMITH. 153

day’s travel he now reached Smith at Pamun-
key, and gave him the melancholy tidings. He
was very sad, but prudently took from Wiffin a
promise that he would not tell his men. Hid-
ing his grief as well as he could through the
day, when night came he set Opechancanough
at liberty, as he had promised, and went with
his men on board the bark.

Smith’s heart was still bent on seizing Pow-
hatan, and he watched for his opportunity as be
now returned down the river. It seems that
Powhatan was equally anxious to secure him,
and had threatened some of his men with death,
if they did not kill him. Both parties conse-
quently being on the look out, no harm was done
on either side. The Indians (it is said) so
dreaded Captain Smith that they were afraid to
attack him, even at the command of Powhatan,
and were loading him with presents if he seemed
the least angry.. Some of them, however, made
an effort to despatch him in a quiet way by
poisoning him. Fortunately he was only made
sick, and threw the poison from his stomach.
In a little time he caught Wecuttanow, (the In-
dian who had brought him the poisoned food as
a present,) and. whipped him severely.

On the way between Werowocomoco and
154 JOHN SMITH.

*

Jamestown they met four or five of the colonists,
who were in league with the treacherous Ger-
mans, then on their way to Powhatan. The traitors,
to avoid suspicion, at once agreed to return with
them to the fort. They were soon quietly
moored at Jamestown, where, to the great joy
of the colony, they delivered over to the keeper of
the public stores two hundred pounds of deer’s
suet, and four hundred and seventy-nine bushels
of corn. They had gained so much by their
perilous ‘adventures.

Asusual, Smith’s presence was needed at James-
town. The provisions there had’been much in-
jured by the rain, rats, and worms, and many of
their tools had been stolen and carried off by the
Indians. These things, together with the loss
of Scrivener and his party, had much discouraged
the people. The supplies which Smith had
brought home, together with the damaged pro-
visions, (which were not to be thrown away,)
were found ample to sustain them for one year
All fears of starving, therefore, for the present
being dismissed, he at once commenced vigor-
ously attending to other matters. °

As he looked upon idleness as-one great cause
of their trouble, he: now called them all before
him, and told them; “that their ‘late exnerience
JOHN SMITH. 155

and misery were sufficient to persuade every one
to mend his ways; that they must not think
that either his pains or the purses of the adven-
turers at home would for ever maintain them in
sloth and idleness; that he knew that many de-
served more honor and a better reward than was
yet to be had, but that far the greatest part of
them must be more industrious or starve; that it
was not reasonable that the labors of thirty or forty
honest and industrious men should be consumed,
to maintain one hundred and fifty loiterers; and
that, therefore, every one that would not work
should not eat; that they had often been screen-
ed and protected in their disobedience to his just
and necessary commands by the authority of the
council, but that now all being either dead or
gone, except Captain Wynne and himself, that
whole power rested, in effect, solely in him. He
therefore advised them not to feed theniselves up
with the vain presumption that his authority was
but a‘shadow, and that his life must answer for
theirs; for the letters patent and other powers
would prove the contrary, and should every
week be read to them; and every one that of-
fended might assuredly expect his due punish-
went.”

He then divided them all into companies.
156 JOHN SMITH.

Six hours of each day were to be spent in labor,
the rest in pastime and amusement. To encour-
age them the more, he kept a book, in which he
registered every man’s daily conduct, that he
might animate the good, and spur on the rest by
shame. Most of them, after this, became very
industrious.

They still, however, missed arms and tools
from time to time, and at length discovered that
they were continually stolen by some of the
friends of the Germans, and carried to Pow-
hatan. You will remember that Smith and his
party had brought back, on their return, some
men, then on their way to Werowocomoco.
These had been expected by the Germans there,
and wondering what had become of them, one
of the Germans (by the advice of Powhatan) had
disguised himself as an Indian, and come down
as far as the glass-house, to learn, if possible,
what had delayed them. This glass-house was
about a mile from Jamestown, and was the
common place of meeting for these villains.
Smith, hearing of this, started with twenty
chosen men to arrest him, while some forty In-
dians, in some way learning that he was com-
ing, lay in ambush to seize him. Arriving at
the glass-house, he found that the German had
JOHN SMITH. 157

escaped, and sent his men after him to take nim
before he should reach Powhatan. In the mean
time, armed only with hissword, he started alone
toward Jamestown. In his way he ‘met the
chief of the Pashiphays, a man of great size and
strength. At first he endeavored to draw the
captain into the ambush, but failing in that,
tried to shoot him. Seeing this, Smith instantly
closed in and grappled with him. It was im-
possible for either of them to use weapons. It
was a bare contest of strength, and the Indian
being the strongest, dragged him into the river,
hoping to drown him. They had now a fierce
struggle in the water, until at last Smith got
hold of the savage’s throat, and almost strangled
him. Then “disengaging himself, he drew his
sword,” and would have killed him, but the poor
chief begged piteously for his life, and he con-
sented to spare him. He led him, however, as
a prisoner to Jamestown, and put him in chains.
In the mean time his men had taken the Ger-
man, and brought him in also as a prisoner, and
his treachery was at once made known by the’
confession of the captive chief. Upon this,
Smith sent a message to Powhatan, offering im-
mediately to release the chief, if he would sur-
render the treacherous Germans. But this he
14
168 JOHN SMITH.

“was as unwilling to do, as the Germans were t
come to Jamestown. While this was going on,
the chief of the Pashiphays managed to make
his escape. Efforts were made to recapture
him, but to no purpose. Captain Wynne and
Lieutenant Percy, however, to punish him and
his tribe for his insolence, marched with a body
of fifty men into their country, slew many of the
people, burnt their houses, and tools their canoes
and fishing weirs. Returning to Jamestown, they
set up these weirs for their own benefit.

Not long after this, as Smith was passing on
his way to the Chickahominy River, he was
assaulted by the Pashiphays; but as soon as
they knew him, they threw down their bows
and arrows, and sued for peace. One of
them (a young fellow named Okaning) came
forward and thus addressed him :—“ Captain
Smith, the chief, my master, is here among us.
He attacked you, mistaking you for Captain
Wynne, who has pursued us in war and injured
us. If he has offended you by escaping from

~prison, I beg you will consider that the fish swim,
the fowls fly, and the very beasts strive to escape
the snare and live; then blame not him, being
aman. Remember what pains he took to save
your life, when you were a prisoner. If he has
JOHN. SMITH. 169

injured you since, you have been amply revenged,
to our great loss. We know that you are de-
termined to destroy us, but we are here to entreat
your friendship, and beg that we may > our
houses and plant our fields. You sh are the
fruits; but if you drive us off, you will be the
worse for our absence. Though it may cost us
more labor, we can plant anywhere; but we
know you cannot live unless you have our har-
vests to supply your wants. If you promise us
peace we will believe you: if you proceed in
revenge, we will quit the country.” Smith at
once promised peace if they would do no farther
injury, and bring in provisions to the fort. To
this they gladly agreed, and then parted good
friends. This friendship continued (it is said)
till Smith left the country.

Upon his return to Jamestown, an incident
occurred, which served to make him a still greater
man among the Indians. A pistol, it seems, had
been stolen by one of the Chickahominy tribe,
and the thief had,escaped, while his two bro-
thers, who were known to be his companions,
were seized. Retaining one as a_ hostage,
Smith sent the other in search of the pistol,
telling him if he did not return with it in
twelve hours, his brother should be hanged
160 JOHN SMITH.

As the weather was cold, a charcoal fire was
made in the dungeon where the prisoner was
confined. The gas from the coal caused him to
faint away, and when his brother in a little time
returned with the pistol, he was in great agony,
supposing him to be dead. To comfort him,
Captain Smith told him, that if he would steal
no more, he would recover his brother. By the
use of brandy and vinegar, he soon began to
shew signs of life: but then he seemed crazy,
and this distressed his brother even more than
his death. The captain agreed to cure him of
this also. He knew that his delirium was caused
only by the liquor he had swallowed: and di-
recting that he should not be disturbed, a sound
sleep soon brought him to his senses. After
this, Smith gave presents to each of them, and
they returned homeward, telling everywhere, by
the way, that “Captain Smith could bring the
dead to life,’ and his fame rang the louder
throughout all that region.

About the same time, ancther Indian at Wero-
wocomoco had managed to get a large bag of
gunpowder, and the back-piece of a suit of ar-
mor. He had sometimes seen the soldiers at
Jamestown drying their powder over the. fire,
and he now undertook to do the same thing by
JOHN SMITH. 161

spreading it out upon this piece of armor. H's
companions stood anxiously peeping over him to
see his skill, when suddenly the powder explod-
ed, killed three upon the spot, and inju el
several others. The Indians learned now more
than ever to fear “the white men’s gunpow-
der.” ‘These, with some other accidents, so
frightened and amazed Powhatan and his people,
that they flocked from all parts, and with pr@-
sents desired peace—returning many stolen
things, which had never been demanded or
thought of by the English. And ever after,
during the remainder of Captain Smith’s admin-
istration, both Powhatan and his people would
send back to Jamestown such as had been taken
stealing, to receive their punishment; and the
whole country became as absolutely free and
' safe to the English as to themselves.’”*

Now the colonists pursued their business with
industry and success. They made quantities of
tar, pitch, and potash, succeeded in making a
fair sample of glass, dug a well of excellent
water in the fort, which, till then, was wanting,
built about twenty houses, put a new roof on
the church, provided nets and weirs for fishing,

* 8tith’s History of Virginia, page 97.
14* |
162 JOHN SMITH.

and to stop the disorders of the thieves and In-
dians, erected a block house on the “ neck of the
island.” Here the trade of the Indians was to
be received, and soldiers were stationed, so that
no man (either Indian or colonist) should pass
and repass without an order from the president.
“Thirty or forty acres of ground were broken up
and planted.” Another block house was built
upon Hog Island, and a garrison stationed there
to give prompt notice of the arrival of any ships.
For their exercise, at leisure times, “they made
clapboard and wainscot.” In the midst of all
this industry and good order, Captain Wynne
died. He was the only remaining member of
the council, and now the whole government de-
volved upon Captain Smith.

This happy state of things was soon ' interrupt-
ed again by a general fear of starvation. Upon
an examination of their supplies, they found half
their corn rotten, and the rest badly damaged
by the rats. All ordinary, work was stopped,
and the people employed themselves diligent-
ly to procure provisions. The Indians were
very kind, bringing in from day to day, squir-
rels, turkeys, and deer, and Powhatan even di-
vided his stock of corn with them. Notwith-
standing this friendship, Smith found it necessary
JOHN SMITH. 163

to send sixty of his men down the river to live
upon oysters. Twenty were sent to the falls
with Mr. West, and as many more to Point
Comfort with Lieutenant Percy, that they might
catch fish. Many were billeted among the In-
dians, who proved in every way friendly. Quan-
tities of sturgeon were taken, which “ being dried
and pounded, and then mingled with sorrel and
wholesome herbs,” made good food. Some
gathered (we are told) as much Tuckahoe root
in a day as would make them bread for a week.

Notwithstanding their pinching wants, some
of the men (about 150) were worthless vaga-
bonds, unwilling to make any effort whatever
These fellows tormented Smith continually, bég-
ging him that he would sell their tools, iron,
swords, guns, and even their houses and ordnance
to the savages, for such food as they would give.
They went farther than this—even demanding
clamorously that he would desert the country.
This was more than the captain could endure.
Seizing one of the worst of these lazy grumblers,
he caused him to be severely punished, and then
spoke to the rest as follows: “ Fellow soldiers,
I little thought any so false as to report, or so
many so simple as to be persuaded, that I either
intend to starve you, or that Powhatan at this
264 JOHN SMITH

time hath corn for himself, much less for you, or
that I would not have it if I knew where it were
to be had. Neither did I think any so malicious
as I now see many are; yet it shall not provoke
me even from doing my best for the very worst
among you. But dream no longer of any help
from Powhatan : nor that I wil] any longer for-
bear to force the idle to work, and punish them
if they complain. If I find any one of you try-
ing to escape to Newfoundland in the pinnace, I
will certainly hang him at the gallows. You
cannot deny but that many a time I have saved
your lives at the hazard of my own; when (if
your counsels had prevailed) you would all have
starved. J protest by the God that made me,
that since necessity will not force you to gather
the fruits of the earth for yourselves—you shal]
not only gather for yourselves, but for those alse
that are sick. You know I have fared with the
worst of you, and that my extra allowance has
always been divided amongst the sick. The sick
shall not starve, but share all our labors. He
that does not gather every day as much as I do,
the next day shall be put over the river, and be
banished from the fort as a drone, until he shall
mend his ways or starve.” This speech caused
at first a great clamor and outcry. Every one,
JOHN SMITH. 166

however, knew that Smith would do as he
threatened, and no man was bold enough open-
ly to disobey him. Most of them now set dili-
gently to work to help themselves. Some few,
still anxious to do nothing, and hearing that
those who had been billeted among the Indians
had been kindly treated, stole away from James-
town to make their homes with the savages.
But the Indians were so friendly to Smith, that
they at once caught them and brought them
back, where the poor wretches were properly
punished for playing runaways.

You will remember that Sicklemore had beer
sent off to look for silk grass, and to find some
one of Sir Walter Raleigh’s lost colony. He .
now returned unsuccessful. As the council in
England, however, were particularly anxious
about this lost colony, Smith again sent two of
his men (Nathaniel Powel and Anas Todkill) tc
inquire about them of the Mangoags, a tribe of
Indians dwelling upon some of the upper branches
of the Roanoake River in Carolina. Furnished
with suitable guides, they departed, but ere long
came back to Jamestown equally unsuccessful.

The treacherous Germans beginning again to
make trouble, Smith sent one of the colonists (a
Swiss named Volday) to try to persuade them to
166 JOHN SMITH.

come home. But this fellow, while pretending
to hate the villany of these deserters, was in
fact as great a traitor as any one of them He
had scarcely reached them when he began to
conspire with them to destroy the colony. Know-
ing the distress at Jamestown ; that the colonists
were mostly wandering about in search of food,
and the fort consequently but slightly guarded,
he went to Powhatan and offered, if he would
lend him forces, not only to burn the town
and seize the bark, but to make most of the
colonists his slaves. This plot was made known
to certain discontented fellows at the fort, in the
hope of receiving their aid; but two of them
were so smitten with horror at the thought of it,
that they instantly revealed it to Smith. Such
was the rage and indignation now towards these
conspirators, that several volunteered to go to
Werowocomoco immediately and kill them in
the very presence of the king. Two of them
(Mr. Wiffin and Jeffery Abbot) were at length.
despatched expressly for the purpose. But the
Germans, upon their arrival, deceived Abbot with
a fair story, and Wiffin was not willing to at-
tempt the business alone ; so the villains escaped.
Powhatan acted very properly in this matter.
As soon as he heard of the business upon which
JOHN SMITH 167

Wiffin and Abbot had come, he sent word-to.
Smith that he would neither protect the Ger-
mans, nor prevent his men from executing his
design upon them, for he would entertain no
man who was his enemy. One of these Germans
afterwards returned to Jamestown on a promise
of pardon. The others who remained at Wero-
wocomoco could make no farther mischief, so far
as Smith was concerned, for he was rever-
enced by Powhatan and the surrounding tribes
to such an extent, that they instantly informed
him of any intended plot.

Heavier troubles, however, were soon to fall
upon Smith, and all the colony. Captain Samuel
Argall now arrived from England, with the pur-
pose of trading with the colony and fishing for stur-
geon. His ship was well laden with wine and pro-
visions. ‘“ This was a prohibited trade, but Argall
being a kinsman to Sir Thomas Smith, the trea-
surer, it was overlooked. The necessities of the
colony obliged them to take his provisions, by
which his voyage was lost ; but they revictual-
led him when their next supply arrived, and
sent him to England with a full account of the
state of their affairs. By this ship they received
letters, which taxed the president for his hard
usage of the natives, and for not returning the
168 JOHN SMITH.

ships freighted. And now also they first had an
account of the alterations in England, and of the
great preparations and large supply to be sent
by the Lord Delaware, appointed Captain Gen-
eral and Governor in chief of Virginia ’*

* Stith’s Virginia, page 100.
CHAPTER VI.

New charter granted by the king to the Virginia
Company—Smith is deposed, and Lord Dela-
ware made governor of Virginia—Seven ships
arrive at Jamestown—Confusion in the colony
—Courage and services of Smith—Friendship
of the Indians toward him—lIs seriously in-
jured by an accident—Conspiracy to murder
him—Friendship of his old soldiers—Returns
to England-—State of the colony at his depar-
ture—His loss is felt severely in the colony.

Ir seems strange that after all the struggles
of Smith, the council in England should have
been dissatisfied with him. Their conduct, how-
ever, is explained when you remember that they
were continually looking for returns of gold and
silver from Virginia, and were continually dis-
appointed. Newport’s last arrival from the colo-
ny had disappointed them more than ever;
Smith’s letter had provoked them, and Newport,
acting a miserable part, had wilfully misrepre-
sented the condition of the colony. He seems

15
170 JOHN SMITA

to have been a weak but ambitious man, willing
to elevate himself in any way, however mean.
The council, therefore, asked the king for a new
charter for the colony, which was readily grant-
ed. This charter is dated the 23d of May, 1609.
By it, Lord Delaware was made Captain General
of Virginia; Sir Thomas Gates his Lieutenant
General ; Sir George Somers, Admiral ; Captain
Newport, Vice Admiral; Sir Thomas Dale,
High Marshal, and Sir Ferdinando Wainman,
General of the Horse. The powers of the old
President and Council in Virginia were set aside,
and the colonists were commanded at once to
render obedience to these new officers.

The council at once commenced making pre-
parations for an enterprise toward the new world,
and in a little time Sir Thomas Gates, Sir George
Somers, and Captain Newport, were ready with
nine ships and five hundred people. It was
agreed in the council that whichever of these
three officers should reach Virginia first, he was
to govern the colony, until the arrival of Lord
Delaware. Jealous of the possible authority of
each other, to settle this matter, they agreed to
embark in the same ship. On the last of May,
the whole fleet sailed from England. On the
25th of July they were visited by a hurricane,
JOHN SMITH. 17]

which separated the ship, bearing the officers
from the fleet, and drove her almost a wreck
among the Bermuda Islands. Unfortunately,
there were on board this vessel, besides one hun-
dred and fifty of the emigrants, “all the bills of
lading, all the instructions and directions, and.
the best part of their provisions.” Another
smaller ship was wrecked in the same tempest,
while the other seven, riding out the storm, ar-
rived safely at Jamestown.

The guard on duty at the block house, mark-
ing their approach, gave notice, and immediately
the whole colony was under arms. Smith, sup-
posing that it was a fleet of Spaniards coming
to invade them, called the men to their duty, and
the Indians, in their love for him, volunteered to
assist in fighting the expected battle. Their
fears, however, were soon over, when they dis-
covered that the fleet was manned by their coun-
trymen.

A battle with Spaniards, however, was pre-
ferable to what soon occurred. In the ships
that arrived were three worthless men, well
known in the colony. These were Ratcliffe,
Archer, and Martin. Hating Smith as they did,
they had busied themselves during the whole
voyage, in telling falsehoods, and endeavoring
172 JOHN SMITH

to make enemies for him. They had, in a good
degree, succeeded: and now the new comers
were scarcely ashore, before their temper and
bearing toward him began to be seen. No new
commission had as yet arrived to set aside his
_authority, yet they refused to obey him, and pre-
tended first to set up one governor and then an-
other, until the whole colony was one scene of
confusion. The old settlers, who knew their
captain’s worth, stood by him firmly, but he,
disgusted with the madness of these new comers,
allowed them for a time to have their own way
and do as they pleased.

The German too, who had returned under
promise of pardon, proved traitor again. Seeing
the distraction of the colony, and hearing the
loud talk of the new adventurers, he again went
over to Powhatan, promising to do “ wonders for
him upon the arrival of Lord Delaware.” The
Germans still at Werowocomoco joined the fel-
low in his promises, but Powhatan understood
too well the value of such friends. Knowing
that treason is base, and that the men who would
betray Smith, might one day be as ready to be-
tray him, he ordered his men to seize them and
beat out their brains. Volday was the only
traitor of the old gang left, and that you may
JOHN SMITH. 173

see the full reward of iniquity, I may as well tell
you at once, that he managed to escape to Eng-
land before this, made great promises of what
he would do for the council, and was sent back
with Lord Delaware to carry out his fine pur-
poses, In a little time he was found to be a
mere impostor, and died in misery and disgrace.

Wearied and disgusted with the confusion at
Jamestown, Smith began now to think of return-
ing to England. But the madness cf the new
comers had reached such a pitch, that the sober
men among them saw that their only safety
was to be found in securing his protection. They
therefore went to him, begging that he would
remember that no new governor had arrived, that
his commission had not yet expired, and entreat-
ing him to abandon the thought of leaving them,
and to restore order in the colony. Ever rea-
dy to sacrifice his own feelings for the pub-
lic good, Smith consented to remain, and set
himself courageously to the task of reforming
abuses, even at the point of his life. . He seized
Ratcliffe, Archer, and other leaders of the riot,
and cast them into prison, until a leisure time
should come for their fair trial. Thoroughly to
break up the plots of the conspirators, he thought
it best to divide them. Martin was sent with

15*
174 JOHN SMITH.

one hundred and twenty men to make a set-
tlement at Nansamond, while Mr. West was
despatched with the same number to make a
settlement at the falls. Each wassupplied with
a good stock of provisions. Before Martin left,
Smith, by one act, gained still greater populanity.
He offered to resign in his favor, and allow him
to act as governor. But Martin, though a weak
man, knew he was not fit for the place, and de-
clined it—preferring to take his men to Nansa-
mond.

His settlement at Nansamond, however, preved
a perfect failure. The Indians were very kind,
but such was “ his jealousy of them, that he sur-
prised the poor naked king, and his monuments
and his houses, with the island wherein he lived,
and there fortified himself.” This outraged the
savages. Gathering in numbers, they attacked
him, killed several of his men, released thei
king, and carried off a thousand bushels of corn.
He was so frightened that he made but little
effort to oppose them; but sent off to James-
town for thirty soldiers. These were immedi-
ately sent, but seeing Martin’s cowardice, came
back, refusing to serve under such a leader. He
soon followed them, leaving his poor company
to shift for themselves,
JOHN SMITH. 175

West was equally imprudent at the falls, and
his settlement did not fare much better. It was
made upon a point of land which was frequently
inundated by the river. Smith, feeling much
anxiety about this settlement, had taken a leisure
moment to visit it. On his way he met Mr. West
returning to Jamestown to seek his advice.
Learning the state of things, he at once pur-
chased of Powhatan the place on the river
called by his name, and went up to remove the
settlement there. The men at the falls proving
insolent and resisting his authority, he (with the
‘five men who were with him) seized some of the
ringleaders and cast them into prison. But the
riot only increased—their numbers proved too
strong for him, and he was glad to escape in a
boat with his life. The Indians now came to
him complaining that these men at the falls
“ were worse than the Monacans themselves” —
that they stole their corn, robbed their gardens,
beat them, and put them in prison; but that
they would endure these things no longer. They
had borne with them “out of love for him, but
hereafter they desired pardon if they defended
themselves.” As he himself bad been injured
by these men, they offered at once to fight for
him if he would lead them on. After spending
176 JOHN SMITH.

nine days in the neighborhood, hoping in vain
that these rioters would come to their senses, he
started for Jamestown. His barge had moved
off only about half a league, when she grounded.
This was a fortunate circumstance for the men
at the falls, for Smith had scarcely left them,
when twelve Indians, finding some of them strag-
gling in the woods, murdered them, and then
violently assaulted the settlement. ‘The fright-
ened men (too cowardly to protect themselves)
now sent for Smith, offering to do as he desired
if he would come back. He immediately return-
ed, and after punishing six or seven as examples
to their companions, removed them all to Pow-
hatan. There was no reason in their not going
there before. Here they had dry houses and
lodgings, near two hundred acres of land cleared
and ready for planting, besides a fort which had
formerly been erected by the savages. The
place, too, was strong by nature, having been
once selected as his home by the skilful eye of
Powhatan, and now they were so much pleased
with it, that they gave it the name of Nonesuch

Yet, before Smith had fairly settled them,
West, who was dissatisfied with this movement,
began to make discord among them, and some
of them were soon again discontented. They be-
JOHN SMITH. 17?

gan to complain, and as Smith had no disposition
to quarrel with West, and no means of stopping
their insolence, he at once started for Jamestown,
leaving them to do as they pleased. In a little
time, under the persuasions of West, they de-

serted this place with all its advantages and went
back to the falls.

Passing down the river, Smith met with a very
serious accident. Being asleep in the boat, a
bag of powder exploded near him, tearing his
flesh and burning him dreadfully. To quench
the fire (his clothes were all in a blaze) he leap-
ed into the water, and with great difficulty was
rescued by his men from drowning. In “ this
piteous state” he arrived at Jamestown. Ratcliffe
and Archer with the other prisoners were soon
now to be brought to trial. Dreading the result,
(for they knew their guilt,) they basely conspired
to take advantage of his condition, and murder
him in his bed. But the wretch who was en-
gaged to despatch him, was not equal to this
deed of cruelty. His heart failed him, even with
the pistol in his hand. Disappointed in this,
these villains then endeavored to usurp the go-
vernment, thereby to escape their punishment.
The old soldiers of the captain were now enrag-
ed almost to desperation. Flocking around him,
178 JOHN SMITH.

they declared that if he would only say the word,
they would fetch him the heads of the boldest
villains thus trying to injure him. But he, de-
sirous of having no farther disturbance in the
colony, persuaded them to be quiet. Suffermg
from his wounds, and sick at heart, he resolv-
ed to return to England. His old friends
crowded around him, entreating him to stay, even
with tears in their eyes; but he could not be
persuaded. He fancied that he should never re-
cover except in England, and he mourned “ to
see his authority suppressed, he knew not why ;
himself and his soldiers to be rewarded for their
past labors and dangers, he knew not how; and
a new commission granted to, he knew not
whom.” Moreover, he thought himself useless
in his present condition, and this was reason
enough with him for his departure. It was ear-
ly in the autumn of 1609, that he was carried
aboard ship, and departed from Virginia never
again to see it.

In spite of all difficulties, the colony was in a
tolerably prosperous condition. He left behind
him near five hundred colonists, one hundred of
whom were well trained soldiers of his own,
three ships, seven boats, twenty-four pieces of
ordnance, three hundred muskets, with other
JOHN SMITH. 179

arms and ammunition for the men, nets for fish-
ing, tools for working, a good supply of clothing,
large stores of provisions, and an abundant stock
of domestic animals.

It may serve to shew the hitleness of some
enemies left behind, when we are told that, “ at
one time the ships were delayed from sailing
for three weeks, that complaints might be looked
up against him and sent to England ;” and the
real excellence of his character is well seen,
when it is known how, in Jess than six months
after his departure, friends and enemies sighed
for his presence in Virginia. When the famine,
known as “the starving time,” swept over the
colony, and after eating roots, the skins of their
horses, and at last the dead bodies of their com-
panions, the five hundred left by the captain was
reduced to the little band of sixty, men, women,
and children; at that time they knew how to
value him. It was then that they sighed for
their old leader and fellow-sufferer in every diffi-

culty, Captain Smith.
CHAPTER IX.

Smith s first voyage to New England in 1614—
Treachery of Captain Hunt—Smith makes a
map of the coast, and upon his return presents
it to Prince Charles—Sails a second time for
New England—Is taken by French pirates
and carried a prisoner to Rochelle—Makes his
escape during a storm—At length arrives in
his own country—Publishes his description of
New England—Goes through the western part
of England distributing copies of his book—
Circumstances which brought the Princess

. Pocahontas to England in 1616—She meets
with Smith—Touching interview—Embassy of
Uttamatomakkin—Pocahontas dies in Eng-
land, leaving an infant son—News of Ope-
chancanough’s massacre at Jamestown in 1622
—Smith proposes to revenge the death of his
countrymen—In 1623, appears before King
James's commission for reforming abuses in
Virginia—In 1631, dies at London, in the
fifty-second year of his age.

Five years now pass away before we hear
again of Captain Smith and of course I can tell
JOHN SMITH. 181

you nothing of his employments during that time.
At length, in the year 1614, we find him busy
in London, making arrangements with some
merchants there for an expedition to New Eng-
land. Attempts had before this been made to
plant colonies in that region, but they had failed,
and greatly discouraged the people of England;
but Smith’s energy now roused these merchants
to a new adventure. Two ships were made
ready, and to save the expenses of the voyage,
he was to employ himself and crew in searching
for mines and capturing whales. If he failed
in these two purposes, he was to bring home a
cargo of such fish and furs as he could procure.
In the month of March the ships departed—
one commanded by Smith, the other by Captain
Thomas Hunt. They arrived, on the last day of
April, at the Island of Monahigon, off the coast
of Maine. Here, after building seven boats,
some went inland to look for the mines, while
others set to work to capture the whales. They
were busy in these efforts without success for two
months,when Smith, thinking it was idle to waste
any farther time, set them to taking and curing
cod fish, of which there was an abundance on the
coast. While they were thus employed, taking
with him eight men in a small boat, he ranged
16
182 JOHN SMITH.

the coast from Penobscot to Cape Cod, gathering
furs from the Indians. During this time, as usual,
he observed everything closely, gave names to
many of the places that he passed, and made a
map of the whole coast. The month of August
having now arrived, and his ship being laden,
he sailed for England, leaving Hunt behind him,
(whose ship was not yet laden,) with directions
to complete his cargo of fish as rapidly as he
could, and sail for Spain, where he would find a
good market.

This Hunt proved to be an unprincipled man,
Smith had scarcely left, when he managed to
get twenty-four Indians on board his ship,
seized them, and sailing directly to Malaga
in Spain, sold them as slaves. It is said
that this act of wickedness was prompted by
the desire to make the savages on the coast,
enemies to his countrymen; hoping thereby to
prevent the planting of a colony, that his own
private gains might be the greater. Be this as
it may, certain it is that he succeeded in making
them enemies; for long after this, the whites
were made to suffer for his iniquity.

Upon his return to England, Smith put in at
the port of Plymouth. Here he commenced
telling of his adventures, and meeting with Sir
JOHN SMITH. 183

Ferdinando Gorges, was at once introduced by
him to the Plymouth Company of Adventurers.
This was the company making efforts (as you
will remember) to settle New England or North
Virginia, as it was then called, and they imme-
diately engaged his services. Passing over to
London now, he found the London Company
(which he had formerly served) anxious to em-
ploy him, but could not meet their wishes, ow-
ing to his engagement at Plymouth. Their
wish, however, serves to shew how much the
man was valued, after all the complaints and
murmurs that had been made against him.
While in London, he presented to Prince
Charles (afterwards King Charles the First) his
map of the new region—with a request (as some
say) that he would give a name to the country
—and the king called it New England. Others
assert that Smith gave it this name himself. It is
certain, however, that the prince altered various
names upon the map. Cape Tragabigzanda (call-
ed by Smith after his Turkish mistress) was chang
ed to Cape Ann, and the islands near the cape.
which Smith called the “ Turks’ Heads,” in honor
of his victory over the three Turks, lost also
their name. Cape Cod was called by the prince
Cape James, in honor of his father, though we
134 JOHN SMITH.

still retain the first name—and thus the cod-fish
on the coast have succeeded better than a prince
in giving a name to that point. What are now
known, too, as the Isles of Shoals, were upon
Smith’s map marked as “ Smith’s Isles.” I do not
know, however, that we are indebted to the
prince for this last change.

Tt was in the month of January, 1615, when
Smith left London to keep his engagement with
the Plymouth Company. They had promised
to provide him with four ships for an adventure;
but upon his arrival, he was greatly disappointed
to find they were not ready. The truth is, the
company was again discouraged. In June (it
seems) a ship had sailed for New England, and
owing to the wickedness of Hunt, had met with
a very unkind reception upon the coast, from
the savages. She had now returned, and the
crew of course had sad stories to tell of their
trials. Smith was determined that his enter-
prise should not fail. By the help of Sir Fer-
dinando Gorges and other friends, after an en-
ergetic and untiring struggle, he managed to
have two ships equipped and ready for his
voyage. The one (of one hundred tons) was to
be commanded by himself: the other (of fifty
tons) was to be commanded by Captain Thomas
JOHN SMITH. 186

Dermer. Sixteen emigrants were to embark for
the purpose of making a permanent settlement.

In the month of March they set sail. The
ships kept together for about one hundred and
twenty leagues, when a storm separated them.
Dermer pursued his voyage, but Smith, after
losing both his masts, was forced to put back
under a jury-mast to Plymouth. He was de-
tained some little time in making new arrange-
ments. Having at length put his stores on board
a small bark of sixty tons, manned by thirty men,
he again set sail.

His voyage now was only a voyage of mis-
fortunes. In a little time he fell in with an
English pirate. His frightened crew begged
that he would surrender ; but this he refused to
do, though he carried but four guns, and the
pirate thirty-six. There was no fight, however,
for upon hailing her, Smith found that the cap-
tain and some of the crew were his old friends
and comrades; that they had run away with the
ship from Tunis, and were now in great want of
provisions. In their distress they begged to put
themselves under his command, but this Smith
refused, and kept on his voyage. Ere long, he
came in sight of two French pirates. His cow-
ardly crew again begged that he would at once

16*
186 JOHN SMITR.

surrender. Smith was now angry. He threat-
ened to blow up the ship sooner than do this.
The pirates chased him, but keeping up a brisk
running fight, he made his escape. Soon after
he met four French men-of-war, that were out
upon a cruise, having orders from the French
king to seize any pirates they might find. Smith
went aboard one of the ships and shewed his
commission, to prove that he was no pirate. But
the French commander was unwilling to believe
him. The truth was, that the French had set-
tlements in North America, and were jealous of
all efforts of the English toward the same pur-
pose. Smith’s ship was therefore plundered,
manned with Frenchmen, and his crew taken
aboard the French ships. Strangely enough,
however, in a little time they delivered his vessel
to him, and he prepared to continue his voyage
for New England, amid the loud murmurs of his
men, who now begged that they might return to
Plymouth. The poor cowards had been so often
frightened, that they were unwilling to be longer
at sea. Smith refused to hearken to their com-
plaints, yet they managed to carry out their wish.
I will tell you how it was brought about.

The admiral of the French fleet pretended
(before the ships parted) that he was desirous of
JOHN SMITH. 187

seeing Smith, and sent for him to come on board
his ship. The captain accepted the invitation
and went. Whether Smith's own crew had
engaged the admiral in a stratagem, or whether
it was a natural accident, it so happened that
while he was aboard, a strange sail was seen
and the admiral gave chase. Thus Smith was
separated from his men: the next night, they
turned the ship’s head homeward, and after some
difficulty reached Plymouth. Some have said
that these Frenchmen, knowing the character of
Smith, and that he was the very life and soul
of the English colonies in the new world, were
especially jealous of him, and therefore thus
kidnapped him.

The admiral’s ship (separated from the rest)
kept on her way, and Smith found that he was
in the midst of a lawless set of fellows. The
Frenchmen now pretended to keep him as a
prisoner, declaring that he was the man who
had broken up the French settlements at Port
Royal the year before, (which thing in fact had

een done by Captain Argall.) The ship had
a prosperous cruise, so far as plunder was con-
cerned. Sometimes she would meet and plunder
English ships, upon which occasions Smith was
always kept below; but when the ships of other
188 JOHN SMITH.

nations were encountered, he was always made
to do his part of the fighting. At length, the
cruise being over, she sailed for the port of
Rochelle. The Frenchmen seem to have been
conscious that they were guilty men for thus
treating him, for before reaching port they pro-
mised to repay him for all his sufferings and
losses, by giving him his part of the plunder.
Having arrived in port, however, they broke
their promise and kept him as a prisoner in the
ship in the harbor. Here they tried to force from
him a written discharge of all demands against
them. This he refused to give, and a kind Pro-
vidence soon released hixa from his captivity.
A sudden storm arose, and drove the crew of the
ship below. Smith waited until night came on,
and then taking the boat, with a half pike which
served as an oar, pushed off for the shore. The
current being strong, his little boat drifted to sea,
and for twelve hours he was tossed about upon
the ocean, expecting every moment to perish.
Fortunately,“ the turn of the tide” at length
threw him upon a low marshy island, where he
was found in the morning by some fowlers, al-
most dead from cold and hunger. He agreed
to give them his boat if they would take him to
Rochelle. Upon his arrival there he learned
JOHN SMITH. 189

that the effects of the storm had been tremen-
dous. The ship in which he had been confined,
with one of her prizes, had been wrecked upon
the shore, and the captain with half the crew
had perished.

He now made complaint to the judge of the
admiralty of the cruel treatment he had received, °
and brought forward many of the sailors to prove
the truth of his statements. It seems he found
no remedy ; but the judge, having some idea of
justice, gave him a certificate, stating that he
believed his story to be true. In his misfortune,
he met with many friends at Rochelle, and after-
wards at Bourdeaux, upon presenting the letter
of the judge to the English ambassador, found
many more. After some hardships, he once
more returned to England.

It seems he had not been idle while he was
a captive on board the French ship. During
this time he had written an account of his two
last voyages, with descriptions of the country of
New England, “ with its many advantages, and
the proper methods of rendering it a valuable
acquisition to the English dominions.” Return-
ing home, he published this, together with his
map of New England, and in his ardent de-
sire to rouse the energies of his countrymen to-.
190 JOHN SMITH.

wards colonizing that country, wandered over
all the western parts of England, giving away
copies of his book. In this way (it is said) he
distributed seven thousand copies. He found the
people greatly discouraged by the different fail-
ures that had occurred already, though some of
them “made many fair promises” about a new
effort. The Plymouth Company, as some reward
for his services, now honored him with the title
of Admiral of New England.

In the spring of the next year, (1616,) to his
great surprise and joy, he met with his former
friend, the princess Pocahontas. As everything
connected with this noble-hearted woman has
an interest for my countrymen, I must tell you
the circumstances which brought about the
meeting.

After Smith left Virginia, the friendship of
Pocahontas for the whites still continued. It
was not so with her father Powhatan. From
time to time, he was busy in stratagems against
them. In 1610, the friendship and animosity of
both parties were well proved, when Powhatan
cut off Ratcliffe and a party of thirty men, while
Pocahontas managed to savea boy named Henry
Spilman. From some cause or other, (possibly
the cruelty of Powhatan towards the whites,)
JOHN SMITH. 191

Pocahontas at length left her father’s house, and
made her home among the Potomacs. In one
of his trading voyages in 1612, Captain Argall
learned from the chief of the Potomacs that
she was there, and determined to make her a
prisoner. He thought that if he could get pos-
session of the daughter, Powhatan, in his love
for her and his desire to release her, would make
peace on any terms. Accordingly he bribed the
old chief (Japazaws) with the promise of a cop-
per kettle, to aid him in carrying out his plan.
The design was to get the princess on board
Argall’s ship, and a curious stratagem was re-
sorted to. Old Japazaws and his wife made a
visit to Pocahontas, and the wife (as she had
been instructed to do) expressed a great desire
to visit “the Englishman’s ship.” The chief re-
fused to allow her to go, and threatened to beat
her for having such a wish. She (still act-
ing her part) began to weep and howl, and then
the old hypocrite Japazaws, pretending to re-
lent, consented that she might go if Pocahontas
would accompany her. The amiable princess
at once assented, and they went on board.
The captain received them very kindly, and en-
tertained them in the cabin, where the old chief
kept from time to time, treading on his toe to
192 JOHN SMITH.

>

remind tim that he had done his part. After
this Pocahontas “was decoyed into the gun
room’ for a time, that Japazaws might receive
his reward without her knowing anything of his
treachery. The kettle and many toys being
given to him and his wife, Pocahontas at length
was called by the captain, and told she was
a prisoner—that she should not be harmed in
any way, but was to be the means of peace be-
tween her father and the English. The princess
was greatly overcome, and wept bitterly, while
the old hypocrites Japazaws and his wife set up
a most hideous howling. She was at length
pacified and consented to go to Jamestown,
(where it seems she had not been since Smith
left the country,) and the old chief and his wife
were sent ashore, greatly pleased, yet bitterly
wailing.

Upon the arrival of the ship at Jamestown, a
message was immediately sent to Powhatan,
telling him of the captivity of his daughter, and
offering to deliver her up to him if he would sur
render all the prisoners whom he had taken, and
all the guns and tools of the English that he had
stolen.. The news made the old man very sad,
for he loved his daughter, and he liked:the guns.
He seems not to have known what to do, and
JOHN SMITH. 198

consecuently, for three months, returned no an-
swer. At the end of this time, he sent back
seven English prisoners, each bringing a worm
out musket, with a message that “when they
shouid deliver his daughter, he would make fuli
satisfaction for al} injuries, give them four hun-
dred bushels of corn, and be their friend for ever.”
The English answered “ that his daughter should
be well used; but as they could not believe that
the rest of their arms were either lost or stolen
from him, they would keep her till he had sent
them all back.” This vexed him so much that
for a long time they heard no more from him.
At length Sir Thomas Dale, taking with him
Pocahontas, and one hundred and fifty men,
sailed up the river in one of the ships to Wero-
wocomoco. Upon his arrival, Powhatan would
not see him. Dale spoke, however, to some of
his men, telling them that he had come for the
purpose of delivering up the king’s daughter if
he would surrender the men and arms belonging
to the colony. The savages received this only
with threats, telling him if he and his men came
to fight they were welcome. Then, with cool
impudence, they advised him to be off if he valued
the lives of his men, otherwise they would all
meet with the fate of Ratcliffe’s party. This
17
194 JOHN SMITH.

was more than could well be borne. The whites
at once commenced burning their houses, and
destroying everything they could find, until at
length, after an idle resistance, the savages seem~
ed disposed to come to terms. They said that
their prisoners had run away, fearing that they
. would be hanged, but that some of Powhatan’s
men had gone to bring them back. ‘This was
only a stratagem to gain time, which Dale very
well understood, and therefore told them that
he would remain quiet until the next day at
noon, when, if they were not ready to meet his
demands, and were willing to fight, they might
know when to begin by the sound of his drums
and trumpets. In other words, a truce was
agreed upon until noon of the next day. In the
mean time two brothers of Pocahontas came on
board the ship to see her, and were greatly pleas-
ed to find her (contrary to their expectations)
well and happy. They now promised to use
their efforts to persuade their father to ransom
her, and to be for ever friends to the English.
At the same time, Mr. John Rolfe and Mr. Sparks
had been. sent ashore to Powhatan, to inform
him (if he could be found) of the business upon
which they had come. But the old chief would
not adinit them to his presence. They could only
JOHN SMITH. 195

speak with Opechancanough, (his brother, ; who
promised to do his utmost with Powhatan, “to
incline him to peace and friendship with the
colony.” The trtice ended, and nothing was
done; yet the whites were disposed to do nothing
more at present, (owing, perhaps, to the fair
promises of the kinsmen of Powhatan.) Another °
reason prompting them to waste no more time
in the matter was, the desire te pe at home to
plant their Jands; so the whole party returned
to Jamestown.

In a little time, Powhatan became a warm
friend to the whites, but it was hardly owing to
the efforts of Opechancanough or his sons. It
seems that Mr. Rolfe had formed an attachment
for Pocahontas, while she had returned his love
as warmly, and had spoken to one of her brothers
of her feelings. When Powhatan heard of this ”
he was greatly pleased, and instantly consented
to their marriage. Within ten days he sent his
brother Opachisco and two of his sons to attend
the wedding, acting as his deputies in all that
might be necessary. The parties were duly
married in April, 1613, and ever after this, there
was a strong and lasting friendship between
Powhatan and the colony.

It was in the spring of 1616, that she arrived
196 JOHN SMITH.

in England with her husband. She was then
about twenty-two years of age, and is said to
have been “ very graceful, and her manners gen-
tle and pleasing.” Living at Jamestown, she
had learned to speak the English language, and
embracing the Christian religion, had been bap-
tized by the name of Rebecca.* She had heard
in some way that her old friend Captain Smith
was dead, and Zid not learn that he was living
until she arrived i England.
As soon as Smith heard of her arrival, he sent
a letter to the queen, setting forth the character
of Pocahontas, and her great kindness to himself
and the colony in Virginia. This was done in
gratitude by the captain, but it was well mgh
useless, for her fame had reached England long
before this. She was introduced to the queen
by the Lady Delaware, and received with great
courtesy and kindness by all the royal family.
In a little time Smith came to see her, and the

® The author was ignorant of the real name of Pocahontas,
until he accidentally discovered in Stith’s Virginia the follow-
ing; ‘‘ Her rea] name, it seems, was originally Mafoaz, which
the Indians carefully concealed from the English. and chang-
ed it to Pocahontas, out of a superstitious fear, lest they, by
the knowledge of her true name, should be enabled to do hea
some hurt. She was the first Christian Indian in these parts
and perhaps the sincerest and most worthy that has ever
been since.”’—Stith’s Virginia, page 186.
JOHN SMITH. 197

interview between them was very touching At
the first sight of him, after a modest salutation,
she turned away, hid her face, and for two hours
did not utter a word. After this she spoke to
him, and called him father, and because Smith
did not at once salute her as his child, she hid
her face again and wept bitterly. She did not
remember that she was the daughter of a king,
and now in a land where kings were honored,
and that Smith, perhaps, felt some delicacy for
that reason in calling her his child. When re-
minded of this, (it is said,) “she despised such
affectation.” She declared that she loved him
as a father, that she had treated him as a father
in her own country, and would be his child for
ever. Then looking upon him again, she -cried,
“‘ They did tell us always you were dead, and I
knew no other till I came to Plymouth: yet
Powhatan did command Uttamatomakkin to seek
you and know the truth.”

This savage (one of the trusty friends of Pow-
hatan) had been sent out by the chief for three
purposes—he was to learn if Smith was alive,
and if alive to see him—to see the Englishman’s
God, and their king and queen—and to count the
people of England. Upon meeting Smith, he
desired, in his ignorance, to see his God. Then

17*
198 JOHN SMITH.

he asked to see the king and queen. It seems
he had seen the king, and Smith told him so,
promising that in due time he would shew him
the queen. The poor savage could hardly be
persuaded that he had seen the king, because
the person whom they called king had given
him nothing. Turning to Smith, he said, “ You
gave Powhatan a white dog, but your king has
given me nothing, and I am better than your
white dog.” As to numbering the people, he
had managed that in a curious way. Upon his
arrival at Plymouth, being unable to count the
multitudes, he procured a long stick, and made
a notch for every person that he met. It is said
that upon his return home, when Powhatan ask-
ed him how many people there were in England,
his answer was, “ Count the stars in the sky, the
leaves on the trees, and the sands upon the sea
shore: for such is the number of the people in
England.”

It was the fate of the princess Pocahontas
never to return to Virginia. In the early part
of 1617, as she was preparing to embark with
her husband, she was at Gravesend suddenly
taken sick, and died leaving one son, her infant
voy, Thomas Rolfe. Her character proved good
JOHN SMITH. 199

to the last, for we are told that “she died calm-
ly like a Christian.””*

We hear no more of Captain Smith now, un-
til the year 1622, when news reached England
of Opechancanovgh’s dreadful massacre of the
colonists at Jamestown. The tidings were sad
to all, but sadder to none than Smith. In his
indignation at this savage butchery of his coun-
trymen, he proposed at once to the company, that
if they would give him one hundred soldiers and
thirty sailors, with the necessary provisions and
arms, he would go to Virginia, “range the
country, keep the natives in awe, and protect
the planters.” The company was divided. Some
were for hearkening to, others for opposing his
project. At length, after consultation, they gave
him this pitiful answer: © that the charges would
be too great; that their stock was reduced ; that
the planters ought to defend themselves ; but
that if he. ..u go at his own expense, they
would give him Jeave, provided he would give
them one half of the pillage.” He rejected their
proposal with scorn.

* Her son, Thomas Rolfe, after being for some time intrust-
ed to his uncle in London, at length came to Virginia, and
became sumewhat distinguished. He married and lett an only
daughter, and now some of the most reputable families in Vir-
ginia are her descendants, and, through her, the descendants
of ner vrand-mother, the princess Pocahontas.
200 JOHN SMITH.

The sad state of affairs in Virginia at length
induced King James (in 1623) to issue a com-
mission, appointing certain persons to examine
into the causes of the difficulties, and report a
plan for the better management of the colony.
This commission, aware of the knowledge of
Smith, was wise enough to send for him. He
told them all that he knew of the colony, and
gave them his advice as to the best way of
proceeding to remedy matters, and make the
colony happy and profitable.

For some years now his life was more quiet.
He busied himself from time to time in writing
accounts of his travels, and struggling to call up
in his countrymen a spirit for colonizing America.
It was not his privilege, however, to see the
country for which he had struggled, and where
he had endured so many hardships, all that he
desired. He only in a measure foresaw, what
the American plantations might become under
proper management. Could he now look upon
this beautiful land of ours, and see what his little
colony has grown to, how would he be startled
to find the richest calculations of his bold spirit
more than realized ?

Ihave no more to say, except that this won-
derful man died at London in the year 1631, in
JOHN SMITH. 201

the fifty-second year of his age, and to add his
own melancholy story after all his struggles.
“T have” (says he) “spent five years and more
than five hundred pounds in the service of Vir-
ginia and New England, and in neither of them
have I one foot of land, nor the very house I
built, nor the ground I digged with my own
hands; but J see those countries shared before
me, by those who know them only by my de-
scriptions.”




Piven.
iv? by E, Pinde
PHILIP RANDOLPH.



CHAPTER I.

Tae discoveries of Christopher Columbus filled
the greater part of Europe with astonishment, and
roused a spirit of curiosity and adventurous heroism
in almost every nation at all capable of appreciating
the difficulties of his undertakings. In his day, mari-
time affairs were not conducted with the skill of mod-
ern times, and.it was a perilous attempt to put to sea
in a small vessel, with an ignorant and timid crew, to
cross oceans hitherto considered boundless and unex-
plored. The great object in view in all the voyages
of Columbus and his immediate successors, was the
discovery of a northwest passage to India ; nor does it
appear that any of the navigators of the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries were aware of the impracticability
of such an enterprise. The Spaniards gained so muc
by the discoveries of the great Genoese, and so large
an acquisition was made both of dominion and terri-
tory to their sovereign, that a spirit of emulation and
jealousy arose among their neighbors, and others fol-
lowed in the track they had pursued, so that Spain
soon found that she was not to huve all the good
things of the New World to herself. The Portu
8 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

guese had long been a seafaring people, and had made
many successful voyages to Africa, India, and the
Western isles. Some of the Italian states also had a
share in the glory that attached to maritime discovery.
Henry VII. of England, a wise prince, made some
efforts to extend the commerce of the nation, and sent
out Cabot in quest of the supposed nearer communi-
cation With the East. Two years after the return of
Columbus from his first voyage, Cabot, set sail froia
Bristol and reached the east coast of America. He
sailed from Labrador to Virginia, but the expedition
was fruitless, and till the reign of Elizabeth the dis-
covery was never followed up. That sagacious queen
wisely improved her navy, and rightly judged it the
most proper means of defence to her sea-girt realm.
The enthusiasm for maritime adventure was so great
in her reign, that private individuals fitted out ships at
their own expense, and whole towns furnished arma-
ments for research and conquest.

It was thought advisable to plant colonies in such
parts of America as had been discovered by the Eng-
lish, and a charter was granted, empowering the li-
censed to make settlements on whatever lands they
chose to select, and that all who thus settled them-
selves should hold their property from the sovereigns
of England. All these privileges were conferred by
Queen Elizabeth, without reference to the people or
natives her subjects would probably find on these
strangely-acquired territories. Sir Walter Raleigh
had the honor of giving a name to a beautiful tract of
country lying on the eastern shores of North America,
between the latitudes of 31° and 42°, calling it Vin-
ainta, in honor of his queen; but James I. divided
the country into two parts, one of which received the
name of New England, and the other retained that of
Virginia, which was “ the most ancient and most val-
uable of the British colonies in North America.”

English colonists founded Jamestown, on the James
river, with various settlements either in its immediate
vieinity or higher up the same stream. Friendly re-
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 9

lations were maintained with the natives, and a short
time before our story begins, a young Englishman had
married the daughter of the Indian king Powhatan.
The settlement was rather populous, and the life of a
settler endurable, though it had its hardships, and to
the indolent or fickle offered nothing attractive ; but
many of those who had perseverance and fortitude
sufficient for the trial soon had the satisfaction of find-
ing their situation comfortable, and every difficulty
fast vanishing before them. Invincible patience and
good humor smoothed the way to contentment and
ease. When their families grew up around them,
and their plantations prospered, the colonists felt
cheered, and looked forward with cheerful hearts to
extended improvements and success. Many of them
were blessed with the light of religion in their dwel-
lings.

As long as Powhatan lived, the English were in
perfect peace with theirsavage neighbors, and though
a garrison was maintained, no one seemed to think it
would ever be required for the safety of the colony.
Jamestown extended itself along the low bank of the
river. It can not be considered as the most favorable
site for the first English town of America, but one of
the highest spots within it had been appropriated for
achurch. That church is now a ruin ; but pleasant-
ly do those vestiges recall the days when the inhabit-
ants of Jamestown resorted to the shelter of its rude
but hallowed walls.

The services never sounded more touchingly than
on the morning of the — of March, 16—. The cler-
gyman of the settlement and an assistant priest entered
the church together. Many an eye glanced toward
the countenance of Doctor Haverdean, and all seemed
to love its kindly and holy expression. His long gray
hair fell over his snowy surplice, waving in shining
locks upon his venerable shoulders, and the manner in
which he read the offices was both fervent and im-
pressive. How did those slightly-tremulous tones
sink down into the hearts of the assembled congrega-
10 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

tion, arresting their attention, and gradually leading
them to a forgetfulness of all outward things, till ev-
ery devout hearer became a spiritual worshipper!
There was no clerk in Jamestown church, nor lead-
ing in response or psalm, nor pews, nor organ. ‘The
congregation, old and young, joined heartily in the
service, the sweet voices of children now and then
rising cfear and shrill above the deep-toned murmurs
of their elders. All were provided with benches, ex-
cept the governor’s family, who sat in a more elevated
position than the rest, and around whom the official
personages of the colony had peculiar sittings ap-
pointed them. It did not escape the observation of
some inquiring eyes, that might have been better em-
ployed, that the governor’s face wore an unusually
anxious expression. Instead of the open and agree-
able aspect remarked at all times upon the manly
countenance of Sir James Yeardly, was now ob-
served one of care and ill-concealed disquietude.
Deep were the responses of his agitated voice, and
after the collect for peace, no amen was louder or
more fervent than his own.

The greater part of the congregation left the church
with an air of thoughtfulness most gratifying to their
pastor, and they passed on to their respective destina-
tions. Among the numerous parties was a group
combining all that was most attractive in age, man-
hood, and youth. The foremost of the party was a
woman whose rosy complexion and rustic dress be-
tokened a recent introduction into the colony. She
carried an infant in her arms, and had two other young
children in charge, who tripped hand-in-hand by her
side. On her arm was leaning an aged man, whom
from time to time she fondly regarded, and to whose
slow pace she carefully regulated her own. On the
other side, likewise supporting his grandfather, walked
a youth, whose resemblance to his mother was re-
markable, even in the amiable expression of her coun-
tenance. They were followed by the father of the
family, a fine-looking Finglishman; but a hand was
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 11

suddenly laid upon his arm, and on turning he recog-
nised Mr. Rolfe, a young man of rank in the colony.

* How now, Master Rolfe?” said he, returning the
salutation of the other, but continuing his walk. “TI
thought you at Roanoke.”

“True, I was there this morning, but ill tidings
travel fast, and I came hither to inquire into those
which reached me last night.”

‘Til tidings 7” said Henry Randolph, in a low and
alarmed tone, “ what news is this?—From the old
country?”

‘No, no, far worse, I fear,” replied Rolfe, speaking
in a still lower tone; ‘the governor would have you
come up to him as soon as possible: as soon as you
have placed your family in the boat, he would speak
a word with you.”

‘«‘T am grieved to displeasure his excellency, but it
may not be,” replied Henry Randolph, gravely, “ for
this is not a day whereon to prosecute business, and I
must accompany my wife and children home.”

“But, Master Randolph, half the colony will be at
council to-day.”

“The less need then of my presence, but I will be
with his excellency to-morrow, please God ; and now,
Master Rolfe, excuse me, but I can not depart with-
out reminding you that business transacted on the
Lord’s day is not likely to prosper. My duty to the
governor he will not miss me among so many.”

“Nay, nay, my friend,” said Rolfe, “these are
mere scruples; the safety of those most dear to you
may depend upon your reply: come with me.”

A slight sigh escaped Henry Randolph, but he
turned to his companion with a firm countenance, and
said, ‘« Well, Master Rolfe, it may indeed be as you
say; but I am very sure that He whose sabbaths we
honor will care for us. Farewell.”
12 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

CHAPTER II.

In consequence of the frequent occasion they had
to come to Jamestown, the residents on the distant
settlements had built a tolerably commodious landing-

lace, to which many little boats were now attached.

n some of these were seated negroes, already trained
to service by the rigorous rule of their masters; but
when the Randolphs hailed their boat, they were an-
swered by the hearty tones of a man who occupied
the place of their farm-servant. The children and
their attendant were first seated; then Henry with
great care handed in his father and his wife; Philip
took the helm, and Ralph Giles plied a vigorous oar,
and the little boat made way in the water.

The children were gazing into the water, wonder-
ing how deep it was, and what made the banks fly
away so fast from them. Philip sat intent upon the
direction in which the boat was to be steered: the
eyes of the old man were closed, and his hands clasped
upon the top of his staff, on which his chin rested ; the
little Alice loved to look at his long silver locks blown
about by the breeze, and admired, though she knew
not why, the placid expression of his countenance.
The eyes of the wife were fixed upon her husband’s
face with interest and inquiry. He was looking back
toward Jamestown, and she observed that he appeared
anxious and restless, as if his mind were more than
commonly occupied with careful thoughts. He was,
indeed, considering the words of Rolfe, and could not
refrain from watching the various groups of persons
who were to be seen hurrying in the direction of the
governor’s dwelling: then he glanced anxiously at
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 13

his children, and, connecting the sense of danger with
the mysterious communication he had so lately re-
ceived, his disturbed imagination presented the most
serious grounds of apprehension for those most dear
to him, over whom some unseen calamity was im-
pending. The rising trouble of the father's heart
formed a sad contrast to their happy unconsciousness
of its cause. He turned from them again to resume
his observations upon the scene they were leaving,
when a bend in the river caused their little boat to
take another course, and Jamestown was lost to view.
He was roused from his silence by his wife’s voice :
she leaned forward and whispered—

“Something has troubled thee, Henry, since the
morning ; thou hast learned unpleasant tidings.”

*T ought not to look sad,” replied her husband, en-
deavoring to smile; ‘the day is gay enough, and we
have heard precious words this morning: truly, |
never valued the worthy Doctor Haverdean more. Al-
ice, my child, dost thou remember the text ”

The little girl blushed, but rose reverently and an
swered : “* From the fortieth of lsaiah— And all flesh
is grass.’

“Remember it, my child,” said the old man, open-
ing his eyes, and laying his hand upon her fair ring-
lets ; “ this world is very beautiful, but the fashion of
it passeth away.”

Alice looked almost doubtingly around upon the
bright sky and the sunshine, and even the low flat
shore and dusky woods were pleasant things to her;
she thought it could not be.

“My Alice, what grandfather says is true; it is
written in the Scripture, and thou hnowest we must
believe what is written there,” said ber father.

The man plied the oars, and after a sail of an hour
or two, the settlement of the Fair Meadows became
visible in the distance, and all turned to look at their
home. The scene was tame but not unpleasing: a
large green meadow sloped to the river-side, and one
or two wooden dwellings were seen here and there

2 -
14 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

peeping from out the trees, which were already bud-
ding ; low thick woods stretched far on every side ;
the windings of the river formed the only picturesque
feature in the landscape, but the children knew no
other, and they thought their Virginian home the
sweetest spot upon earth. On a few places upon its
banks were pleasant dwellings, where but twenty
years before had been an untracked woodland. The
deer were seen in large herds coming down to drink,
and as the several boats neared the shore, they would
start, and tossing up their heads in alarm, flee to the
shelter of the woods beyond. No human being was
in sight, not even an Indian; and Philip, with acute
observation, remarked this to his father, who did not
appear to hear him.

* Why, Master Philip,” said Ralph Giles, the serv-
ing-man, ‘‘it is, to be sure, uncommon strange; there’s
no live things on the banks at all; I’se wonder where
them Indian folk ha’ put themselves. May be they’re
gone for good; ay, and a good riddance, say I, for
they're not like Christians seemingly; I’se sure I never
see such down in Oak Hollow.”

“ Because thou knowest they belong to America,”
said the youth, laughing, “so it is not likely that
thou shouldst have seen them in the old country.
Who knows but that they shall become a civilized
people like ourselves ?”

‘‘ Civil people, Master Philip! sure you be dream-
ing ; they’ll always be a rude, ill-mannered set, or I'm
mistaken. I don’t think much o’ their feathers and
paint, not I; they look sharp, I’se warrant, when no-
body’s by.”

“Thou hadst better move quickly, Ralph Giles,”
said his master, “or we shall arrive later than our
neighbors.”

Upon this seasonable hint, Ralph ceased his obser-
vations on Indian character, and used his oar so much
to the purpose, that they were soon at the landing-
place of the Fair Meadows. The settlers had wisely
chosen the highest position they could find upon the
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 15

bank, and had raised their simple dwellings under
shelter of the wooded rising ground, so as to be far
from the damp of the river, which would have proved
particularly noxious in such a climate. A well-beaten
path had been made from the river to their habitations,
and the Randolphs were very glad to tread it once
more. A clearing had been made above, and a num-
ber of dwellings were built on an open space in the
centre. They were of simple construction, but sub-
stantial, and the soil, susceptible of the slighest culti-
vation, yielded sufficient crops to the settlers. Alto-
gether, the settlement of the Fair Meadows wore a
very comfortable and neighborly aspect.

As Philip Randolph opened the gate of their little
garden for his mother, he looked around him with
an air of happy satisfaction. and said, “ Oh, moth-
er, is it not pleasant to be at home again? I don’t
think any place looks better than the Fair Meadows.”

Margaret Randolph smiled sweetly upon her son,
and assented cheerfully to his remark, though she
had known the comforts of a far more luxurious dwel-
ling.

Sunday with the Randolphs was indeed a happy
day ; not that they spent it idly or in amusements, but
they spent it so well, that it was felt to be the most
pleasant of all days in the week. It was a day of rest
from the business apd conversation of other days, and
was so well occupied, that it did not pass gloomily ;
and though books were not plentiful, the children
were carefully instructed to value those they pos-
sessed. The family Bible, with its large silver clasps,
the book of Common Prayer, with Sternhold’s Psalms,
were the best known in the house, and these, with a
few others, formed all their Sunday library. Heury
Randolph, having received a good education in his
youth, was anxious to impart the love of study to his
son, though he had but little leisure to teach him.
Philip, however, took such pains, and was so desirous
to learn, and thought it so kind in his father to attend
to his lessons when he came home tired with his daily
16 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

labors, that he made progress, and though scarcely
sixteen, could read a few chapters in the Greek Tes-
tament, with a good understanding of the text. His
duty on the Sunday afternoon was to instruct his sis-
ter Alice, and to study the Scriptures. ‘The father
and mother taught and amused the younger children,
and at five o’clock the neighbors of the settlement as-
sembled at one another's houses in turn, for the pur-
pose of reading the evening service. A homily was
read, and a psalm sung, the young people and ser-
vants catechised, and then the different families re-
turned to their homes, and took their early and sub-
stantial suppers.

The supper was ample, and of such as the farm sup-
plied: a good ham, poultry, with dried venison, and
the potato, best liked as the greatest novelty, already
regarded as one of the many good things found in the
New World. After the little ones and their grand-
father had retired, Henry and Margaret Randolph
drew near the fire, and Philip took his station be-
tween them. His father dismissed him earlier than
usual, saying that they must all be up in good time in
the morning, as he must go to Jamestown as soon as
the day broke. The boy rose without a word of re-
monstrance or entreaty to stay longer; he kissed his
mother, received his father’s blessing, and ascended
the ladder that communicated with his sleeping-
room.

His shutter was not closed, and the cool air came
in with the moonlight, which illumined every object.
The river was calm and glistening, though the woods
of the opposite shore flung their broad shadows over
the waters, making the soft reflection of the moon
more distinct and silvery, while those around the Fair
Meadows were tipped with light, which floated, as it
were, over the masses of impenetrable shade beneath.
Philip at all times loved to gaze upon nature, and
could scarcely tear himself from the delightful scene ;
everything seemed so peaceful and reposing, that he
thought he could never feel unhappy, or dull, or
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 17

vexed again, his feelings were so soothed and subdued
by the tranquillity without; and his heart rose. in
spontaneous adoration to his Maker. -

He was turning away, at length, to throw himself
upon his knees, when his attention was suddenly ar-
rested by a new object upon the scene. He saw-a
canoe emerge from the obscurity of the opposite
shore, and enter the broad reflection of the moon in
the water. The figures of two men, whom he con-
jectured to be natives, were discernible, and they ap-
peared to be industriously using the paddle ; for their
little boat darted with great rapidity across the river,
in the direction of the Fair Meadows, and was soon
lost to sight in the shelter of its wooded banks. Philip
still kept watch, and shortly after saw the same fig-
ures standing upon the top of the green hill which
overlooked the settlement, and screened it on the west
side from the stream. It was so common a circum-
stance for the Indians to roam hither and thither when
they pleased, that it occasioned little surprise to Philip,
though he felt a slight curiosity to know what they
could be doing at so late an hour, in the vicinity of
the Meadows.

CHAPTER III.

Ow the following morning, soon after breakfast,
Henry Randolph was again seated in his boat; but
before starting, he whispered to Ralph Giles to be
watchful, and not leave the premises during his ab-
sence. The faithful servant seemed surprised, but
answered with emotion, ‘Sure, master, I’se care for
every one o’ them.”

Upon reaching Jamestown, Henry found the little
place in much commotion, and the inhabitants ma-

QF
18 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

king their way to the government house. The green
court was filled with people hurrying to and fro, and
among them were seen a few stately Indians moving
slowly and loftily in the crowd, as if they disdained its
eager and bustlng activity. Randolph made his way,
and requested an audience with the governor. He
was instantly conducted to the large hall where the
councils were held, and in which the newly-formed
house of representatives met. It was spacious and
lofty, lighted by several long diamond-paned win-
dows. A large fire was burning on the ample hearth ;
large high-backed chairs, richly carved, were ranged
round the room; and a large table stood at the upper
end of the apartment, covered with a crimson cloth.
Above the head of this table was placed a canopied
chair, on which the arms of England were embroid-
ered; and here usually sat the governor, when busi-
ness was to be transacted, or audience granted. Por-
traits of James I. and of his queen adorned the walls,
and full-length pictures of the princes Henry and
Charles hung on each side of the fireplace.

Sir George Yeardley was standing in one of the
deep window-recesses, in earnest conversation with
a gentleman of the colony, in military attire. His re-
ception of the new comer was cordial, and he said,
turning to his companion with a smile, “ Here comes
our delinquent! Captain Preston must chide you,
Master Randolph, for not joining our council yester-
day. Nay, I have your excuse already, and it is a
much better one than we have to offer for ourselves ;
for we did naught but quarrel, and that to no purpose.
But we have other matters to speak of just now, and
will draw toward the fire. You have had a chilling
sail and a long one.” And he rang a little silver bell
that lay upon the table.

“A cup of warm canary for our guest,” said the
governor to a servant who entered; “and tell those
fellows to be sharp with the victuals for the Indians.”

The servant soon returned with a silver tray, bear-
ing a massive silver tankard, which was proffered to
PHILIP RANDOLPH. t9

Henry Randolph, who merely tasted the beverage, ‘and
sat it down again.

‘You pay a poor compliment to our wine,” said
the good-natured governor. ‘Come, pray refresh
yourself, Master Randolph, after your long sail, and
tell me if English comforts are quite banished from
this barbarous clime.’*

“Nay, nay, Sir George, say not so; the climate
is good enough for men who must earn their bread ;
and when the mind is made to bear, one place is as
good as another,” said Captain Preston, who took up
the rejected tankard, and swallowed the contents ata
draught.

“T have more appetite for news than for canary,”
replied Henry Randolph to the repeated invitation of
the governor. ‘Your excellency is hospitable, but
must excuse me.”

‘“ Well, well, as you will; and now to business.”

Sir George then proceeded to inform him of certain
reports which had reached them from all quarters, of
the hostile dispositions of the chief Opecanoff, who
‘was considered to be the king or head of all the tribes
from the southern border of Virgivia to the river Del-
aware—a wide tract of country, and, under the power

. of one chief, might constitute a formidable neighbor-
hood to the English. The late king, Powhatan, had
heen very friendly toward them, and lived in amity
with the intruders—pale-faces, as they were called by
his successor—but the policy of the new chief had
differed from the first, from the peaceful character so
long maintained ; he had attacked the tribes supposed
to be most intimately bound to the English, and never
appeared at Jamestown to share the bounties of the
governor, or partake of his hospitality. The late re-
ports had much alarmed them, and Sir George Yeard-
ley had convened a council as soon as he heard of
them, but was really perplexed by the matter. ‘They
had so long enjeyed peace, that none appeared pre-
pared or willing to court hostility, by making public
their suspicions. A few tribes, to the south of James
20 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

river, had come to ask protection from the grasping
ambition of the new sachem, and their dread of his
power infused an infectious fear into the minds of the
colonists, which they had long been strangers to.

On the Sunday morning, the council had been di-
vided, and no conclusion was arrived at; but, on the
morning which we are speaking of, at a very early
hour for such meetings, the whole congress were as-
sembled, and soon engaged in close confabulation, at
the long table before mentioned. In the midst of the
conference, a servant entered to announce the arrival
of six Indian messengers, who brought presents with
them from the Indian king to the governor. The
countenance of Sir George brightened at this intelli-
gence, and he looked cheerfully upon his friends, say-
ing, in an animated tone, ** Admit them instantly, and
let us assume all our dignity, gentlemen, for these
savages have it to perfection, and will look sharply at
us, depend on't.”

The party of Indians were shortly announced, and
the representatives were sitting with an air of dignified
composure at the table. The embassy was received
with suitable condescension by the governor, whose
handsome attire and brave countenance seemed to im-
press the savages with a momentary awe. They were
headed by a man of majestic deportment, whose fea-
tures were calm to rigidity, and whose dark eyes alone
expressed the character of his soul. His piercing
glance flitted from object to objéct with the rapidity
of lightning, and then subsided into a cold and indif-
ferent stare, as he fixed his eyes upon the governor,
standing in silence, with his arms folded and his head
erect. Their interpreter, who had been in the service
of a former governor, gave the message of the Indian
king, and described the presents in exaggerated terms,
though they had been left in the courtyard. Sir
George returned an appropriate reply, and requested
them to take some refreshment with their countrymen
without, but the offer was declined. Mr. Rolfe, who
sat next the governor, and had attentively observed
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 21

the scene, now whispered, * Do not trust them ; the
refuse to eat with us : they are spies, I am convinced.
Let them not depart without examination.”

“Nay, you had better seek into this matter your-
self, Master Rolfe, for you are a scholar in their lan-
guage, and I care not to question such subtle knaves ;”
and Sir George leaned back in his chair of state, care-
lessly playing with the hilt of his sword, but keenly
watching the group from beneath his dark and bushy
eyebrows. Rolfe, thus sanctioned, without preface
spoke in their figurative language, and interpreted
their replies :-—

“ Will not my brothers taste our bread and water ?
They must not return to their village hungry and
thirsty. The Dahwyotts are at the feast : will not my
brothers join them?”

The tall Indian raised his eyes to the speaker's face,
and paused ere he replied in a low guttural tone, We
do not eat corn with the Dahwyotts”—-accompanying
his remark with a contemptuous expression of coun-
tenance and gesture.

Rolfe changed his mode of address, and said, haugh-
tily, “The great king of the Yengees does not offer
his food twice to the stranger: go back to your chief,
and tell him to send those who will eat with us. Has
Opecanoff burnt the wampum ?”

A glance of intelligence was exchanged between
the savage and his party at this name; and then the
first speaker replied, as calmly as before: “* Who
knows where the dwelling of the eagle is? Go ask
for Opecanoff, and the forest will be silent ; the white
man may never see his track !” .

“ The great king of the Yengees was the friend of
Powhatan, and called him brother. He will call
Opecanoff his son, if he is wise toward his great white
father; but let not your chief deceive us. We are
watchful.”

“The great king knows well that we have buried
the hatchet,” replied the Indian; “ the serpent of his
tribe is wise ; he will not use them more.”
22 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

« But the serpent has not kept his secret : he is ly
ing in the grass now, but he will rise to destroy. Go
tell your chief that we will crush him if he dare to
cross the boundary !”

The Indian made no reply, and his calm demeanor
appeared in direct contrast to the inflamed and excited
countenance of Rolfe. His face betrayed no angry
feeling, and he turned Joftily away without acknowl-
edging the salutations of the council. No one thought
of following them, and they quitted the hall and court-
yard without molestation ; not deigning to notice their
countrymen, who were feasting upon the green, appa-
rently enjoying the governor’s good cheer.

After the departure of the deputies, much debate
ensued in council, and none seemed disposed to take
the lead or give an opinion except Preston, who urged
caution, and reproached Rolfe in no measured terms
for his imprudent expressions, which would, without
fail, stir up strife. ‘The governor entreated their ad-
vice, and invited them all to meet him in the morning
of the following day ; deciding for the present to put
the garrison in better defence, and to send messages ta
the neighboring settlements, to summon them on the
very first intimation of danger to come up to James-
town for shelter.

Henry Randolph returned to his boat with a quick
step but heavy heart, and sailed homeward ill at ease,
though on the whole considerably relieved of the bur-
den which had weighed on his mind in the morning.
He did not apprehend any danger to his own family
from Indian hostility, for he had ever shown the great-
est kindness and hospitality toward those natives
whose wanderings had brought them hingry or weary
to his dwelling, and he did not fear their enmity, as
he knew them to be particularly grateful for favors of
this kind. His wife’s skill as a doctress had gained
her some repute among the wounded or sick of the
tribes who lived near them; and perhaps there was
no English family throughout the whole of the colony
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 23

so truly respected or so popular with the natives as
the Randolphs.

While Henry was considering these advantages,
and deriving comfort from them, although he could
not but feel apprehension for others, he was not aware
of the vicinity of a little bark which was following in
the wake of his own boat, and the occupant, a solitary
Indian, was making great efforts to overtake him, by
paddling with both arms; and as the canoe was much
the smaller and lighter of the two boats, he at length
gained his purpose, and, shooting ahead of Henry
Randolph’s, intimated his wish to converse, by resting
upon his paddles, and turning his head round so as to
address himself more readily to his companion. Hen-
ry accosted him in a friendly manner, and laid by his
oar for a while, so that both boats came to a stand in
the stream, and the Indian rapidly communicated his
errand, informing his astonished auditor that he was
one whom he had befriended in times past, and that
he now came to tell him of a plot that had been
formed to fall upon the English and destroy them.
No sooner had the savage delivered his conscience of
this burdensome secret, than he darted away, and in
vain did Henry attempt to pursue him. He paddled
to such purpose, that he soon attained the shelter of
the bank, and, entering one of the numerous little
bays thrown out by the woodland from the shore, was
effectually hidden from his pursuer. :

Henry promptly decided to return to Jamestown,
but it occurred to him that the better plan would be
to come in the morning, for the day was still short,
and the darkness always came on suddenly : he should
not have time to communicate his intelligence to the
governor so as to reach home by daylight. It was
better, therefore, to defer it till the morrow; and he
rapidly pursued his course, considering, as he went,
this strange incident, in which so much of mystery
and of danger mingied.

Philip was absent when his father reached the Fair
Meadows and it was almost dark when he made his
24 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

appearance. The moon, which on the preceding
night had shone so brightly, was clouded ; masses of
darkness seemed gathering over the sky, and the rain
began to descend in torrents. Henry went forth to
look for his son, and was much surprised to meet him
just emerging from the wood which skirted the for-
est, accompanied by an Indian. The mystery was
soon explained. Philip had gone in quest of some
stray pigs, and, returning with them through the wood,
had encountered the Indian, who was lying upon the
ground at the foot of a tree, much exhausted, with a
broken arrow sticking in his leg, and apparently suf-
fering great pain. Philip had assisted him to extract
the weapon, and persuaded him to accompany him
home to his mother, who, he felt sure, would soon
cure the wound.

‘« Heaven be praised, thou art safe, my son!” cried
his father, who, for the moment, could not help sus-
pecting that the stranger was a spy; yet, upon after-
thought, it seemed improbable that he could be such,
as he would surely be better skilled in the arts of de-
ception than to turn his weapons against himself.
Whatever were the character and intentions of the
savage, humanity required that he should be well
treated, and his wants attended to. Margaret Ran-
do!ph received him kindly, and was soon ready with
water, salve, and linen, to dress the wound, while
Bridget prepared him some food, which he eagerly
demanded. The Indian was exercising the stoical
principle of his race, and betrayed by no expression
of words or actions the exhaustion and pain he felt :
his countenance and demeanor rather indicated the
condescension of some haughty potentate who hum-
bled himself to receive kindness at the hands of his
slaves. Inthe midst of his native forests, he would
not have appeared out of keeping; but in the large
room of the Randolphs’ dwelling, with its accompani-
ments of civilization, surrounded by a hospitable fam-
ily intent upon the charities of life, and in performance
of the first of moral duties, he looked indeed a savage
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 25

And as Margaret proceeded with accustomed gentle-
ness to cleanse and dress the wound, his countenance
lost much of its rigidity, and exhaustion elicited what
native pride would have scorned to yield—a growing
wonder at all he saw and heard; and by the time the
kind office was fully performed, he was so faint, as to
grasp Philip’s arm and support himself to a seat.
Without ceremony, he thtew himself upon a long
wooden settle by the fire, and for a time seemed inca-
pable of motion; but this apathy gave way when
Bridget appeared with a well-broiled fowl upon a
trencher, and some smoking potatoes, which he ea-
gerly seized, starting up from his hard couch, and
carelessly throwing down the bones as he picked
them upon the well-scoured floor. All this was done
witha lightning rapidity, and the bystanders marvelled
at such sudden alacrity, and, above all, at his powers
of swallowing large mouthfuls of the hot potatoes,
which would have given them burnt palates for a
week had they been so adventurous. Bridget, too,
was especially shocked at his disregard of her clean
Joor, and heartily wished him away; but having
scrambled through his meal, he had the audacity to
ask for more, in very good English, which she could
not mistake, and she held up her hands in amazement.

“ Bring him more, good Bridget,” said her master ;
‘these people have large appetites, and he has fasted
for days, I doubt not.”

Thus ordered, Bridget tripped away, and could not
forbear saying to ber mistress as she returned with a
further supply, ‘« Why, he will eat us out of larder at
that rate !”

When the hunger of the famished Indian was ap-

eased, he again threw himself upon the settle, and
closed his eyes, as if intending to sleep. Margaret
retired with her children to the kitchen, and Henry
followed her, saying to his son, ‘ Thou mayest keep
company with thy guest, Philip, and we will take up
with Bridget this evening. Detain hin till morning,
if he seem willing, and let the barn be his quarters to-
26 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

night: this is an adventure to thy taste, so I leave him
to thee.”

It was, indeed, an adventure quite to Philip’s taste,
to have brought home a wounded and starving native
to enjoy the comforts of an English hearth—to show
kindness to one of the dreaded but frequently despised
sons of the soil. He could not forbear indulging in a
few suppositions about this stranger, and anticipated
most happy consequences from the meeting. He
thought there was something mysterious and almost
sublime in his manner from the first moment of their
meeting till that of his exhaustion during the process
of his mother’s doctoring, when the Indian had looked
so much less of a savage than a human being—as ca-
pable of feeling as others of his species; but there
was a sort of romance in the whole affair that pleased
Philip more than anything else, and he longed to
know the history and circumstances of his guest,
whom from time to time he regarded with a curious
eye.

"The Indian was restless, and had turned from the
fire, displaying more fully the contour of his swarthy
figure, the outline of which his scanty robe of richly-
dressed skins did not conceal. His limbs were strong
and sinewy, his chest broad, and shoulders muscular ;
his head was bald, with the exception of one little
tuft of hair, which seemed to have been carefully
trained to stand upright on the top of his narrow but
lofty forehead; his features were remarkably hand-
some, though with closed eyes his countenance want-
ed expression to be agreeable or interesting. Upon
his bare and ample chest was delineated, by a process
peculiar to his race, a flying eagle, the symbol of the
tribe to which he belonged, and the same device also
adorned his arms and hands. The tops of his mocca-
sins were marked in porcupines’ quills, and he worea
belt of the same round his hunting-shirt of the bright
colors dyed by native art, at this day wrought among
the Indians, and probably only known to them: to
this belt was attached a large pouch of otter-skin,
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 27

out of which protruded the head of a hatchet ; and, as
if by accident, a coronet of eagles’ feathers hung care-
lessly from the girdle, betokening the high rank of the
wearer.

‘The more attentively Philip examined the figure
and dress of this Indian, the less he felt attracted to
him ; and his first impressions gave place to a thrill
of awe almost amounting to terror when the savage
opened his eyes and fixed them steadily upon him.
The gaze was so coldly searching, and yet so fierce,
that the youth started to his feet and hastily quittéd
the apartment, but soon returned with a trencher of
provisions for his supper; and chiding himself for his
foolish fears, he sat down again, resolving to confront
the stranger with an aspect as bold as his own. He
scanned him once more, and again felt a thrill of ap-
prehension at his gaunt and ferocious ‘appearance,
How dreadful, he thought, to lead such a life as this
man’s—never to know the blessings of civilization or
religion—the delights of a peaceful life! For some
time he indulged in reflection, and was concluding
with a rather proud self-congratulation that he was
not born an Indian, when his companion abruptly
arose, and. totally disregarding the state of his wound-
ed limb, took a hasty stride across the room and ap-
proached the clock, which he examined and listened
to with an expression of great surprise depicted upon

his face. “ Hugh!” he exclaimed, “ ugh! ugh!” and
then strode back to Philip’s side. He addressed him
in the rapid and musical language of the Indians of
the west, and on finding that his words were not un-
derstood, returned to the settle and again reclined.
Once more Philip presented the trencher, but that
was declined ; he then opened the clock-case, and en-
deavored to explain its use, but this politeness was >
thrown away upon his guest, who deigned no reply,
but sat with folded arms, evidently musing deeply.
Philip resumed his chair by the fireplace, and was
silent. Some time passed in this manner, and the boy
thought it dull, and was beginning to regret his charge,
28 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

when the Indian suddenly approached him. As ne
moved, his tall figure seemed to dilate and acquire
grandeur and majesty of proportions and carriage.
With a graceful gesture he pointed to the doorway,
and said slowly, but in tolerable English, “ The red
man makes night in the wigwam of the pale face: he
will go and sleep under the dark trees.” .

“No, no,” said Philip, eagerly; “stay! you shall
have food and shelter ; you shall sleep in our dwelling
to-night.”

The dark eye of the savage kindled as he gazed on
the boy, whose manly demeanor he had doubtless re-
marked and admired: he hesitated, and Philip placed
himself between him and the door, ready to open it if
he persisted.

‘‘ The red man is alone ; will the pale face give him
@ mat in his wigwam ?”

“Yes, yes,” said Philip; “come, I will take you
to your quarters.”

The Indian looked keenly at him. “The pale
faces lie: what are their children?” And he laid
his powerful hand on Philip’s.arm. The boy’s face
flushed, and he shook off the hand that grasped him
so tightly.

“ My father is no liar; if he wished to hurt you, he
would not have brought you into his dwelling.”

The Indian slowly withdrew his eyes from Phiilp’s
open countenance, and glanced at his wounded limb.
After a pause, he said, ‘ The pale face will laugh at
the red man; they will call him dog! they will say
he makes the wigwam very dark. He will stay, but
he will not sleep with the pale face;” and again he
pointed to the door, which Philipimmediately opened
and led him to the barn, where, after shaking down
some hay, he made his guest understand that these
were his quarters for the night, and then re-entered
the dwelling.
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 29

CHAPTER IV.

On the following morning, the family assembled
early, and aftey exchanging their accustomed affec-
tionate greetings, took their places round the room,
and prepared for their usual religious service. While
the old man opened the Bible, and his mother selected
a psalm, Philp stole out and quickly returned with the
Indian, who, whatever surprise the novel scene might
occasion in his mind, did not betray any ; and without
regarding the salutations offered him, he took up his
post in a corner, leaning against the wooden wall in
an attitude of indifference, his eyes downcast, and his
whole figure motionless.

The attention of the little Alice was much dis-
turbed, and even her graver brother could scarcely re-
press the frequent inclination to look at their guest,
and he was soon aware that from the moment the
reading began, and when he supposed none of the
family were regarding him, the Indian had never
ceased te remark with rapid glances the furniture of
the apartment and every human being within it. The
old man’s voice was next heard in the beautiful lan-
guage of the morning service, and could those who
were then kneeling so devoutly have been conscious
of the actions of another, they would have seen the
look of wonder and of irrepressible awe which over-
spread the countenance of their guest. After the
prayers were ended, they all rose and sang a moming
hymn. Margaret Randolph had a sweet voice, and
her husband and children followed her in a pleasing
strain. Ralph Giles and Bridget did not hesitate to
join in the harmony.

ge
30 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

The breast of the Indian heaved, as it appeared,
with a new emotion, which he was unable to control :
his rigidly-folded arms fell to his sides, and he ad-
vanced some steps; then, ashamed of his want of self-
control, retreated. It was impossible for him to re-
main unaffected by the melody, and as this was prob-
ably the first time his ears had ever been greeted with
any so sweet, it is not to be wondered at that his fierce
restless glance should subside, his dark eyes gleam
with a softened expression, and his stern mouth relax ;
indeed, his whole countenance lost its habitual rigidi-
ty. When the service was concluded, Henry Ran-
dolph endeavored to explain to him the nature of it;
and the Indian listened with attention, afterward re-
plying with grave dignity, and in his imperfect Eng-
lish idiom, ‘* The white man has his Great Father,
and the red man tells the Great Spirit what he wants.
The pale faces are birds—they sing more sweetly than
the night-bird; the sons of the eagle will not harm
them.” ay

“No, your young men must not harm us,” said
Henry, mildly ; “ we will ‘always care for them, and
treat them well.” .

“Good, good,” replied the Indian, turning an ad-
miring gaze at Philip, who was approaching with the
breakfast of their guest, The food was scarcely
touched, and more declined, for an Indian’s meal lasts
him many hours, and appetite had not yet returned.
In the meantime, Alice. had become accustomed to
the straige attire of the.gavage, and seemed disposed
to make, his acquaintance, for she stole nearer and
nearer, and by degrees gained his side, where she
looked up into his face, regarding him with all the cu-
riosity and interest her blue eyes could express. The
Indian stroked her hair, and gave her a piece of meat
from his trencher, on which she offered him some of
her hommony and milk, which he liked so much that
the little girl saw it fast disappearing, and her looks
of undiaguised dismay amused her associate, for he re-
turned the empty bowl to her with a bow, accompa-
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 31

nied by a laugh so soft and musical, that Philip was
more than ever interested, and thought him now posi-
tively handsome. At length, however, he rose and
pointed to the door, which his young friend immedi-
ately opened, and followed him into the garden.

“The red man remembers the white man’s kind-
ness; his shadow has not made night in his enemy’s
wigwam.”

“ We are not your enemies,” said Philip, earnestly.

The Indian drew himself up loftily. ‘Are you my
friends? Liqok at the dark forest, and say, ‘ When
all is sky—when there is no forest there—then will
the red man cail the pale face friend.’ He remembers
kind words : he says peace to my brothers of this wig-
wam”’—and he drew a curiously-wrought belt of
wampum from his pouch and presented it to Philip.
“We are friends.”

“ May we not know the name of our friend?” said
Henry Randolph, joining them at this moment.

A flash of pride and exultation gleamed in the dark
eye of the stranger, as the lightning illumines the
clouds of a stormy sky, appearing and instantly van-
ishing. He answered ina tone of forced coldness,
though his words betrayed the proud scorn he felt
through his assumed humility, pointing at the same
time to the symbol upon his chest and arms.

“The son of the eagle is not known to the white
man. Why should they ask his name? A great
chief among his people is a woman, a little child, in
the council of your wise men. Go, go !—a pale face
hears my name to-day: he will not remember it to-
morrow.”

“ Nay.” said Philip, imploringly, ‘ tell us the name
of our friend ;” and he twisted the wampum round his
waist with such evident satisfaction, that it won him
a reply.

“When the white boy is in the forest, Jet him call
for Oneyda.” These words were said with some hes
itation; and the Indian hastily turned to depart. He
walked slowly toward the river, and they watched
32 PHILIP RANDOLPR.-

him till he disappeared behind the green hillock which
intervened between their dweliing and the stream.

‘6 Where have ] seen him before 1” said Henry, mu-
singly, as he re-entered the dwelling. ‘“ And now get
thee to Ralph Giles, my son, and be busy till noon,
when I hope to return.”

Philip obeyed with alacrity, and soon reached the
spot where Ralph was clearing or cutting down trees,
and it was his part to remove them to an open space
for barking.

“Ye be long o’ coming, Master Philip, and we’ve
all this row to bring down afore nightfall.”

‘“ Well, see if I don't work as hard as thee, Ralph ;
give me my knife, and I'll be busy as thou art.”

The work was hard enough, and both frequently
stopped to wipe the perspiration from their heated
brows, but Philip persevered. His companion was
not disposed to quiet reflection over his work, and
chatted from time to time with his young master, for
whose sagacity he had great reverence, nor had he at
any time a more agreeable companion.

“‘T’se been thinking, Master Philip, how different
things be since we stepped ashore on the place: then
trees were thick enough, and there was neither sky
nor ground for ’em; ye couldn’t ha’ walked this far
then. There must be a deal of forest to come at yet.
Dear-a-me, how the buds be come out—they’re leaves
pretty near: no sooner is winter done wi’, than oul
pops summer.”

The spring is early,” replied Philip. ‘Thou hast
seen many changes since we came.”

“Like enough, Master Philip, for we were first
here; ay, and a toilsome time had we. I was a rosy-
cheeked lad o° seventeen when I followed Master
Henry, and now | be as brown as one o’ them Indians.
Ah, this sun’s not like a good old English sun: why,
you, that was such a bonny baby, is near to be as red
as an savage.”

ather does not like us to talk of the Indians just
now ; we might be heard.”
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 33

“ Well, now, if one be not to speak, ’tis a hard
matter; who’ll hear us but the birds? and they’re too
busy with their chattering to hearken unto us. Ah,
if you could but hear the birds sing in England! Ise
rather hear a nice piping blackbird than any of their
popinjays.”

“ Yet these birds are beautiful to look at, and many
have a sweet song,” said Philip. “I like much to
hear their melody of a summer afternoon.”

Ralph shook his head. ‘ That’s just because you
never lived in Old England. I'd like to see you, Mas-
ter Philip, of a fine June evening, before sundown, in
hay-making time, lying o’ the bank at the end of our
meadow under the bannat-tree, and just when you're
tired, cast up your eyes to the sky, and hearken to the
throstles and blackbirds singing their very hearts out ;
and in the morning when the sun’s up, to go out to
the cornfields and see the fine twinkling water-drops
upon the flowers, and the mists rolling themselves up
on the hills, and ye’ll hear such a twitter-twitter over
your head, and there for sure you'll see a cloud of
wee tiny black things up in the sky, and what should
it be but the larks that sing so sweet and so high ?—
and there they’re at it all day, flying up so fast, and
then falling down all of a sudden into the furzy bushes.
Oh ! but it gladdens my heart to think of the fine fresh
air, and the meadows, and the birds, that were all so
plenty down in Oak Hollow.” And Ralph bent down
to his work with redoubled zeal, but Philip saw that
his hardy hand dashed off the big tears that were rolling
down his bronzed cheek. for Ralph had a tender heart,
and loved his native land.

“Tt was kind in thee to follow my father, Ralph
We all think so, and we all wish you to be happy and
comfortable with us in this strange land,” said Philip,
with a smile of cordial affection.

“1 would not ha’ stayed behind, I can tell you,
Master Philip: for we were all brought up wY you
and vours and may be master cont] not ha’ managed
su well without me.” sapked Ralph, with a smile of
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PHILIP RANDOLPH. 39

sight before pursued; but their purpose was baffled.
The sturdy Giles had to place his little charge upon the
ground, and bade her fly the other way ; but the poor
child, bewildered and terrified, clang to Rachel, for
she thought she should then be safe. ‘Pwo gaunt and
ferocious savages approached, their weapons smeared,
just as the little party were crossing the doorway of
the kitchen, and Ralph alone was armed to defend
them. A desperate struggle ensued, and the fore-
most was overcome and lay at the feet of his sturdy
antagonist.

“« Now,” cried Ralph Giles, “ fly, all of ye: this is
the time.” But Philip still lingered. Rachel had
fainted, and he could not leave her. The valiant yeo-
man drove back his second assailant, who retreated,
probably going for more aid ; and then they made an-
other attempt to escape the dangerous spot.

* Here, Ralph, do you take Rachel in your arms;
I can carry Alice. We shall escape: go forward.”

Ralph took up the insensible Rachel as if she had
been a baby, and proceeded ; but again they were as-
sailed, and an Indian laid his powerful hand upon
Philip, and bound him in an instant with withes. Al-
ice was next made prisoner, and again was the worthy
Giles compelled to relinquish his charge. As the
shouts grew louder, and the confusion increased, they
were separated, and a band of savages intervened be-
tween the captives and the faithful friend who would
have defended them with his life. Philip shuddered
as he was horne along with the struggling crowd, and
acry of horror escaped him as he beheld the prostrate
body of Rachel More. He saw her suffering counte-
nance paler.than ever: the ashy hue of death was on
it, and her dying glance rested on him as he passed,
with an expression of fond solicitude; a stream of
crimson was flowing from her sige, and he knew that
the fatal knife had been there.

The quiet and peaceful settlement had suddenly be-
come the abode of demoniac rage and cruelty: dwel-
lings were already smoking from the fire just applied,
40 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

and the groans of the dying were yet mingling with
the cries of those still fighting or in captivity. Many
were defending themselves with desperate bravery,
and fighting their way toward the river-side. Among
them Philip thought he saw his father and Raiph
Giles, and would have raised his voice to call them,
but his tongue was parched and tied with horror—he
could not utter a word. In his hurried progress, he
stumbled over a body that lay in the path : it was that
of his aged grandfather! His face was still calm, but
his white hair was discolored ; the fatal scalping-knife
had been there also, and that hoary head shorn of its
crown. His hands were still clasped, and from the
position in which he lay, it was evident that he had
been struck down at a blow.

We know not, truly, what an hour may bring forth.
But half an hour previously, they had been a happy
and united family. The Fair Meadows had become
the scene of a dreadful massacre. On that day the
savages of the west had fallen upon every defenceless
settlement in Virginia, and numberless were the vic-
tims of their cruelty : a day memorable in the annals
of Virginia, a lasting memorial of the natural ferocity
of the Indian tribes, and a sad lesson to a careless gov-
ernment; but, as far as the Randolphs were concerned,
the hand of God may, be traced, and his providence
acknowledged, who, though he permits evil for a time,
alone knows how to bring good out of evil.

CHAPTER VI.

Wuen Philip awoke to consciousness and misery,
he felt that his arms were unbound, and that he was
lying upon grass under trees. He soon recognised
his position as a captive. Dark figures were moving
round him, and at a little distance sat a group con-
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 41

versing in low tones; and from their frequent glances
toward the spot where he lay, he conjectured that he
himself was the subject of their conversation. He
could not banish the image of the murdered Rachel—
her countenance of agony, or the solicitude of her last
fond gaze, which spoke the prayer she could not ut-
ter—and the ghastly spectacle of his aged grandfather
stretched lifeless on the ground. Where, too, were
his father and mother, his little sisters, and the faithful
Giles ? and at the thought of their fate, Philip became
almost frantic.

But he was recalled from the absorbing influence of
his grief by the plaintive weeping of his little sister,
who had been placed at the foot of a tree not far from
the spot where he was lying. Philip started up, and
his heart smote him for having forgotten the weaker
companion of his misery. The Indians watched him
narrowly, but did not intercept his approach to her.
The little girl’s hands were unbound, and she was
wringing them in a piteous manner; but when her
brother spoke, and laid his finger upon her arm, en-
treating her to look up, she turned, and, with a scream
of joy, threw herself into his arms, exclaiming-—

“Oh, Philip, you are alive! I thought you were
dead. I thought you would never speak to me any
more! Take me home, Philip: let us go—ask them
to let us go.”

“« My precious Alice, they will not let us go, but
thou wilt be with me. See, Alice, we are prisoners ;
but I think they will not harm thee. Thou art not
afraid with me!”

‘Oh no, no,” said the poor child, ‘I am not afraid
with thee, Philip; but they look so bad! Oh, if
these red men take us, they will kill us too, Philip.
See, they are coming, they are coming—save me, Phil-
ip!” and she clung in terror to him, trembling violently.

“ They will not harm thee, my sweet Alice; but
we must go with them, and I shall be very near thee.
Thou must pray, Alice, and ask God to take care of us.
We can not help ourselves.”
42 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

Alice trembled, but her feelings were soothed.
There was protection in the voice of Philip, and she
submitted patiently to be taken from him when one
of their captors approached and lifted her in his arms
to resume theirtoilsome journey. The party marched
in file, one leading and the others carefully following
in his footsteps. Philip felt scarcely able to move, but
was compelled to go alone, without even the satisfac-
tion of being near his sister; but occasionally he
caught sight of her long hair streaming over the shoul-
der of her bearer, and though but a poor consolation,
he derived a slight satisfaction from it, and did not feel
so desolate.

At length, after a fatiguing progress of two or three
hours, they gradually emerged from the tangled path,
and entered a more open track, taking the direction
of the river, the brink of which they soon reached,
and unmoored several canoes. How did Philip’s
heart ache as he stood upon the bank, and turned to
take a farewell glance of the green hillock which he
thought he perceived to the eastward, and recognised
the tall trees crowning its top, under whose shade he
had spent so many happy hours, and from which he
had so often surveyed the distant hills and forests
where he was probably going to linger out his days!
He saw, too, a cloud of smoke hovering over that quar-
ter, occasioned doubtless by the burning ruins of his
home! Alice, who had fallen asleep in the arms of
her bearer, was laid in the bottom of the first canoe:
three Indians entered it, and Philip was rudely pushed
into another. He sank down exhausted, and more
miserable than ever. It was now that the Indians
seemed to fear pursuit, for they rowed with all their
might, and soon left the green hill far behind them:
one bend after another in the winding river was passed,
and still their exertions relaxed not. When the shades
of evening rendered the objects on the shore increas-
ingly obscure, they slackened speed, and drew up to
consult. Philip heard the voice of his sister; she
called for him, and he hastened to.assure her that he

\
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 43

was near, and hoped they should soon land. Indeed,
his fears for her were not groundless, as she was both
cold and hungry, and found her position at the bottom
of the canoe very uncomfortable.

The spot chosen by the Indians for their night's
encampment was evidently one well known to them.
for there were traces of its having been visited before,
and the ashes of a recent fire yet remained upon the
sylvan hearth. They brought out from some place
of concealment the remains of a deer which had been
left from a previous meal, with a quantity of maize
already prepared after their fashion. Soon was a fire
lighted, diffusing a heat and glow that were cheering
to the captives. The Indians offered them food, and
clear water in a calabash, and the fare being seasoned
with appetite, was not unpalatable. Alice revived, but
her brother felt anxious that she should take rest, and
persuaded her to lie down with her head upon his
knee. The Indians had the considerateness to furnish
them with a few more furs and buffalo-robes, in which
Philip carefully wrapped his sister, and then reminded
her to say her prayers before she slept ; but when she
commenced the simple petition her mother had
taught her, the grief of the little girl was renewed,
and she could not speak for sobbing. Philip wept,
for he knew the cause 6f her trouble, and for some
time could not find voice to pray for her. He laid
his cheek to hers and kissed her tenderly, and Alice
at length cried herself to sleep. But it was long ere
Philip could compose himself to rest. The events
of the day returned to haunt the dreamy moments of
exhausted nature when fatigue and misery gained the
mastery over his reason; and while he felt scarcely
able to control the wanderings of fancy and of memo-
ry, he almost feared to sleep, lest the tragedy should
be re-enacted in his dreams, and often started up wild-
ly with a cry of horror, as the dreadful scenes of the
morning recurred tu his bewildered recollection. In
one of these awakenings, he opened his eyes upon the
dark features of the savage who was posted as a guard
44 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

to the party. He was bending over him with an ex-
pression of awe and wonder upon his swarthy counte-
nance, considerably heightened by the flickering glare
of the fire-light which played upon its fierce linea-
ments, giving to them an effect so malignant and
threatening, that Philip exclaimed, in the confused
language of his dreams, * Kill me, then, now; kill
me, but spare my little sister !”

But Philip did not long repose, though he awoke
again without a start, and calmly surveyed the ‘new
and striking objects which surrounded him. The
scene was indeed highly picturesque. The Indians,
to the number of ten dark figures, lay stretched upon
the earth, wrapped in their buffalo-robes; their guard
stood upright against a tree, perfectly motionless and
rigid as a statue, the restless glances of his dark and
gleaming eyes alone betokening life and animation in
him who stood there. The captive gazed mutely upon
the savage, struggling with the flood of misery which
seemed swelling up from the very depths of his soul,
threatening to overwhelm and engulf him. How
dreadful the thought, even if life were spared, to pass
it with such beings as the petrified ferocity he there
beheld! How unbearable their society, their cruelty,
and how dreadful their revenge !

“Oh my God! my Father!” cried Philip, while the
tears again gushed forth, and sobs of anguish choked
the half-uttered prayer ; ‘ forsake me not, for thou art
mighty to save! Oh! my Savior! thou hast suffered
—aid me and be near me in this dark, dark hour!”
After this earnest but broken ejaculation, he was calm-
er; a sweet sense of the care and providence of God
returned to his heart ; he was led to consider the sad
bereavement and trials of this day as forming one of
the numberless events which are only to be viewed as
ordered or permitted by the Almighty for good purposes,
and as such, to be left in his hand, that the end of all
may be well. Philip recalled the lessons he had so
lately learned from his friend Rachel More—lessons
of obedience and faith—whereby he might strengthen
PHILIP RANDOLPA. 45

his drooping courage, and fortify his soul in every
coming trial. He fell asleep again, with the words
of the psalmist on his lips: “I will say of the Lord,
He is my refuge and my fortress; my God: in him
will I trust.”

CHAPTER VII.

Ir were tedious to dwell upon the journey of Philip
and Alice Randolph to the west. After two days of
equal toil and misery, they were again sailing up the
river.

Philip was permitted to be with his sister, and if
aught could have diminished the weight of the burden
which oppressed him, his heart had felt lighter and
less bereaved when he saw Alice gradually reviving
from the effects of the terrible blow which had fallen
upon her with the suddenness of a thunderbolt. Al-
ice was too young to cherish sorrow; she naturally
banished it from her heart as an unwelcome guest
who would mar all the enjoyment she so loved, and
she was too ignorant of the perils to which she was
exposed to anticipate evil of any kind. She often
turned to her brother with the animation of renewed
hope beaming in her bright countenance, and besought
him to cheer up, for she was sure Ralph Giles or
father would soon come after them, and take them
home again. She had lost her terror at their fero-
cious captors, and found herself an acceptable com-
panion to those who had probably children at home;
and being permitted the use of a paddle whenever she
pleased, she amused her many idle moments in learn-
ing to row and manage the canoe.

Early one afternoon they landed, and the canoes
were drawn ashore as if no further use were to be
made of them. Alice was again elevated on the
46 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

shoulder of an Indian, and the party commenced an
inland journey. They followed the course of the
river on a high level above its banks as far as the path
admitted, and then struck off in a northerly direction,
their route lying across an undulating plain rather
savannah, intersected by many tracks, which, from
their appearance, had been frequently trodden of late.
The savages walked less regularly, and with the care-
less manner of those who have ridden themselves 21f
an irksome restraint not to be resumed if possible; and
even the habitual dignity of Indian reserve seemed to
have been thrown aside, or, replaced by exultation at
their anticipated triumph when they should return to
their villages with the news of their glorious ictory
over the defenceless pale face, and exhibit the won-
drous beings whom they had made captives. At a
late hour they encamped for the last time, and some
of the party commenced the operation of painting
afresh and decorating their persons with the spoils of
the ravaged settlement. ,

Morning returned, and with it new trials for the
captives. They commenced their march, however,
and on the way Philip suught to calm his fears of
future evil by firm and composed reflection. He
thought it useless to anticipate sorrow by suffering in
imagination what might in the good providence of
God be averted; and bidding Alice take heart and be
cheerful, he followed his captors with as much alac-
rity as if he were returning home to his friends and
family.

They ascended a hill which gradually became so
steep and difficult that Philip conjectured they must
now be upon one of the Blue Ridge, those azure-
colored mountains which he had seen from the river.
The fatigue of ascending depressed him, and weaken-
ed by previous suffering of mind and exposure to hard-
ships he had never before encountered, he found his
strength greatly diminish. Thus they proceeded tll
after a toilsome walk of a few hours the party halted,
and a young man, who seemed to be their leader, took
PHILIP RANDOLPH. . 47

the prisoners under his care. He was fierce-looking,
and had a most malignant expression in his eye,
though, as he scanned the manly proportions of Phil-
ip, it relaxed into one of approval and admiration.
After he had despatched one or two of his party as
heralds to announce their approach, he set forward
with the rest, and as they now began to descend the
hill, their progress was rapid. ‘They were apparently
entering one of the green and secluded valleys of the
west of Virginia. The side of the hill was covered
with rhododendrons and other flowering shrubs ; and
the smoke of a neighboring village was plainly seen
rising from the woods already bursting into leaf, and
a fair clear stream flowed through the vale at a little
distance from their dwellings. Several huts of rude
construction were scattered among the trees or in the
midst of green and open glades with which the plain
was interspersed.

Philip was much interested in looking for the first
time upon an Indian village, and felt surprised at the
general air of neatness and comfort it presented. He
had often thought, with more romance than reason,
that a woodland life would surely prove a happy one,
and that savages had many advantages over the civil-
ized world in the primitive simplicity of their mode
of living, and in the few wants with which they were
acquainted. He now felt differently. A transient
curiosity yielded to the dread of unknown trials, and
the dangers of his situation returned to his recollec-
tion. He knew not the character of the tribe whose
habitations were now in sight; but, from all he had
lately witnessed, he could only suppose them to be as
barbarous as other savage people. And what treat-
ment could he expect from their hands more merciful
or humane than their usual mode of dealing with their
prisoners? Philip would have felt it difficult to look
calm had he not glanced at Alice, whose blanched
cheek betrayed the fear with which she regarded her
present conductor, who had placed her upon the
ground, and was rather dragging than leading her, as
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PHILIP RANDOLPH. 55

gently taking his head between his hands supported
him, whispering a few texts in his ear. The savages
did not prevent him. Their eyes were eagerly fixed
upon the woods, from which their companions were
just issuing, with rage and disappointment depicted
upon their countenances; for Captain Preston was
not to be seen, and their pursuit hud been unsuccess-
ful.

They turned with menacing gestures toward their
remaining captive. Philip rejoiced at heart that they
would exert their vengeance vainly. He held the
dying Morton’s head, and having broken a few of his
cramping fetters, he felt that every breath he drew
became more feeble. When they came up with tom-
ahawk and hatchet unsheathed and uplifted, he pointed
expressively to the closed eyes and rigidly-set features
of their intended victim. ‘They gazed in mute aston-
ishment one instant, and then set up a howl of min-
gled despair and rage. They glanced at Philip, and
a few hasty words were exchanged between the fore-
most of the party, two ferocious-looking savages, who
appeared to dispute some matter in which he was con-
cerned. The contest grew loud, and another advanced,
whose dignified demeanor announced him as a chief.
He laid his iron-grasp upon Philip's shoulder, and
turned to address his companions. His language was
not understood by his captive, but Philip saw that its
effect was to make them al] more fierce. ‘Their regret
and anger were so great at losing their other victims,
that they thirsted for his blood. A hundred knives
gleamed in the air, and they all thronged around him,
each snatching at some article of dress, and merci-
lessly tearing the sleeve from his wonnded arm, left
him half destitute of clothing, and exposed to all their
relentless vengeance. Philip still clung to Jife, and in
this moment of peril thought of all or of anything he
might do to save it. The name of Oneyda flashed
across his mind, and he thought of the wampum belt
presented by the stranger Indian on the morning of
his departure from their dwelling With the urgency
56 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

of one whose life is indeed at stake, he drew the cu-
riously-wrought band from the pocket of his jerkin,
not yet rifled by the greedy hands around him, and
holding it up, called loudly upon the name of Oneyda.
‘There was a long and portentous silence. Every
brow grew darker, but not a hand was stirred, and
Philip felt the tiger-like grasp of the savage relax: he
was free at length, and stepped forth boldly into the
circle of old men, holding up the belt to their view.
They looked gravely at one another, and addressed a
few words to the warriors, who lowered their shining
weapons; but murmurs still went round the assem-
*bly, and Philip saw that he had yet much to dread
from their dangerous vicinity. But a friend appeared
in this moment of suspense and apprehension. To
the yells of rage and murmurs of disappointed ven-
geance, suceeded shouts of triumph and of rapturous
oy:

; XK nother war party entered the village, laden with
spoils and trophies of their barbarous victory over the
detested Yengees. The warrior in advance appeared
to be their leader; for his dress was rich, and for an
Indian chief, almost magnificent. The skin which
composed his frock or hunting-shirt, was emblazoned
with various hieroglyphics, probably the history of his
own exploits in war: he wore many rude ornaments
of the precious metals, and a large plume of eagle’s
feathers nodded over his dark but handsome features.
Philip could not think himself mistaken: he had seen
that majestic figure before, and knew it could be none
other than Oneyda. The chief was greeted with ex-
traordinary manifestations of joy, and even the old
men quitted their stations todo him homage. The
women held up their little ones to behold him; and
the young men and boys approached eagerly, and as
near as they dared to the spot where he stood. The
captive was soon summoned to the presence of the
great warrior, who scarcely returned his courteous
salutation, but instantly Jaying his hand upon his
shoulder, Oneyda addressed the surrounding crowd in
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 57

rapid but singularly musical language. It seemed to
carry persuasion with it; for every countenance be-
came calm, every knife was sheathed, and every hatch-
et thrown to the earth; not a murmur was uttered,
but all stood attentively listening, and in attitudes of
submission and respect. Philip was surprised at the
extraordinary change produced in those around him:
a few words from this stranger had stilled their tur-
bulent spirits, and transformed these resentful savages
into the tractable subjects of a despotic chief. Oney-
da concluded his oration by baring his wounded limb,
and displaying the scar which was still visible. This
last appeal was unanswerable, and its eloquence reach-
ed the best feelings of his auditors. They extended
their hands to Philip, and endeavored to show him
how much they approved his conduct ; and their grat-
itude was as troublesome as their rage had been im-
portunate. He shrank back from their rude atten-
tions, and, passing his arm hastily through that of his
deliverer, said earnestly, * Oneyda, take me to your
wigwam; I am weary; let us go!”

The chief complied, and the crowd divided to let
them pass. On their way Philip stopped before the
lifeless body of William Morton. He turned to
Oneyda, and summoned resolution to request that it
might be buried. A dark shade passed over the brow
of the Indian as he replied haughtily, and in better
English than he had condescended to use in the
dwelling of Henry Randolph:—

«My young men are the children of the eagle;
they must have their prey; they hold fast; they never
give back. The son of the pale face shall come to
Oneyda’s wigwam, and he will forget the dead dog
that dies at the torture-stake.”

Oneyda’s wigwam was the largest in the village,
and contained four or five apartments, all constructed
and arranged with greater regard to neatness and com-
fort tuan was usual among the Indians of the west.
‘The young woman who had visited Philip in the hut
was sitting upon a richly-dressed mat upon the floor

\
58 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

When they entered she instantly arose with gladness
and delight in her eyes, and yet timidly advanced to
greet her husband, who, like others of his race, hardly
condescended to notice his wife, and carelessly throw-
ing off the weapons that encumbered him, and pre-
senting her with the surplus ornaments he had taken
from the ravaged settlements, turned away to look for
his companion, who had made his way to another
apartment, and was now standing with his little sister
clinging to his neck crying aloud for joy. Philip had
caught a glimpse of Alice upon entering the wigwam,
and rushed forward, calling her by name, to announce
ehis approach. She was playing with an Indian baby,
whose swarthy fingers were busily travelling through
her long bright hair, and very much pleased did she
appear with her plaything. However, when she
heard her brother’s voice, down rolled the baby on the
floor, and regardless of its screaming, she flew into
his arms and almost strangled him in her embrace.
She was for some moments quite overcome with ec-
stacy and surprise; but when she found voice to speak,
she poured forth such a mingled strain of joy at pres-
ent happiness, and misery endured in his absence,
that Philip, smiling, bade her be silent awhile and tell
him all by-and-by when she had recovered breath.
Alice was indeed supremely happy while looking into
his face and safely sheltered in his arms. She thought
of nothing but the present felicity, and was only re-
called to other recollections by the appearance of the
chief, who came to take up the crying infant, soon
soothed by his father’s caresses.

“Qh, Philip, I dare say that Indian man is that
kind woman’s husband. Dost thou know she sang
me to sleep, and gave me the baby to play with? and
I dare say she'll coax him to let us go.”

‘“‘ Do you remember giving that man some of your
porridge? He slept in our barn, and you played with
him at breakfast.” .

‘Qh, that’s the man !”’ cried Alice; “ then I’m sure
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 59

he'll be kind to us. Dost think he will speak to me,
Philip?”

“Certainly; come with me and talk to him.” So
saying, he led her into the presence of the chief, who
smiled as,she gave him her hand, and patting her upon
the head as he would have caressed adog, bade her be
seated upon a mat at his feet. ‘At a sign from her
husband, the young woman brought out the best pro-
vision of her simple larder, and sat them before their
guest. Tbe grateful Oneyda seemed bent upon show-
ing him their Indian hospitality, and urgently pressed
him to eat much ; but Philip could scarcely taste the
food so warmly commended—not being able to relisi?
the mess of corn, vegetable, hommony, and venison,
which Oneyda piled upon his platter. He observed
with surprise that knives and spoons of English manu-
facture were offered him, and his manner of using
them occasioned astonishment to the squaw, who re-
garded him with looks of interest and curiosity.

CHAPTER IX.

Monvrus passed away, and the summer had reached
gs prime, and the trees of the forest were thick and
sheltering, but their hues were changing fast, and
nothing could be more beautiful than their rich and
varied coloring. ‘The days were still warm, but the
mornings were bracing, and evening came with its
cool breezes to refresh the weary brow of Philip—
wearied of a life of comparative idleness, and sad at
heart under his long captivity. He felt it a present
duty to appear reconciled to circumstances, as Alice
was as much concerned in the result as himself. She
had discovered her importance among her savage play-
fellows, and had little difficulty in tutoring them to
her will, in all sorts of games and pastimes. She bad
60 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

a particular pleasure in being the object of their admi-
tion, as she frequently stood at the door of Oneyda’s
wigwam, with the baby in her arms, receiving their
homage with the most unembarrassed gratification.
But her affection for Philip was more influential than
any other feeling of her heart over her conduct and
temper ; and as he dreaded the effect of such associa-
tion upon her impressible character, it was his con-
stant endeavor to attract her by the pleasure of his
own society from theirs: and Alice loved him too well
not to come readily when he called her te the woods
or to the river-side. Early every morning he took
‘her aside to say her prayers, and to repeat Scripture,
but the keeping of the sabbath was more difficult to
accomplish. He frequently repeated to her upon that
day the impressive command, “ Remember the sab-
bath day to keep it holy ;” and led her into the wood
to pray and sing psalms. His memory furnished him
with many precious stores from the Bible, and he
carefully instructed his little sister in all that he him-
self remembered. Thus the sabbaths were felt to be
happy days among the monotony and restraint passed
in the village. Philip became a favorite with all: the
men felt flattered by his respect and attention to them,
and by his earnest endeavors to learn their language ;
and the warriors and young men of the tribe admired
the readiness with which he learned to manage their
weapons. The women liked him, because he was so
kind and obliging to them, performing many little of-
fices of domestic drudgery which their husbands and
sons never condescended to do for them. Though
the arrangements of Oneyda’s wigwam were superior
to those of any other in the village, and adorned with
the spoil of many a ravaged settlement, the uses of
these articles of furniture and clothing were not un-
derstood by himself or his young wife, who, though
attended on some occasions by all the rude pomp of
savage rank, was obliged to perform the greater part
of her household work, though her dignity exempted
her from the more fatiguing labors of the field and
PHILIP RANDOLPH. . 61

plantation. Philip taught her to dispose of the wood-
en chairs and settles—some of them well carved and
polished—which had been strangely transported to
the wigwam of an Indian chief; and the various im-
provements he made were so acceptable to the squaw,
that she treated him with great kindness, and present-
ed him several articles of clothing for himself and
Alice.

The weather became so sultry, as the summer ad-
vanced, that Philip found his cloth dress unbearable,
and had thrown it off, though he had nothing to sup-
ply its place but the light hunting-shirt of the savages,
which did not accord very well with his dark hose
and doubtlet. The first day he appeared in this mot-
ley attire before Alice, she laughed heartily, and was
very sure mother would not have known her neat boy,
as she always called him. Oneyda, who was present,
took occasion to recommend a still greater transforma-
tion, which was nothing less than to metamorphose
Philip into a young warrior. “ Myson is a brave ; he
has the heart of an eagle under his pale skin ; he shalt
wear the paint of my young men, and lead in the
hunting-grounds of the Wyannows; the sun of the
red man is hot, it warms him more than the white
man’s sun; Philip shall look as brave as he is.”

Poor Philip was most unwilling either to look or
act the part of @ brave, but the chief would take no
refusal, and upon this occasion manifested the high
and resolved tone of command which he had before
used to rescue his protegé fron, he thirsty knives of
his warriors. His will was law, ana u2 did not conde-
scend to express it twice. With his own hands he
painted and dressed Philip, who was so disguised that
even Alice would not have recognised him, but for the
thick clustering curls which adorned his ample fore-
heau, and ine peasant voice .n which ne always ad-
dressed her. He had lost the long shining locks which
bis mother had thought so beautiful, but would not
permit Oneyda to shave his head. He was the more
reconciled to the change in his attire, from finding it

6
62 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

lighter and cooler than his'cloth jerkin, and his limbs
were more free. Altogether, the effect was so good
that he found himself an object of much admiration to
the Indians; and if their compliments could have
atoned for his captivity, Philip had felt happier on
that day than he had done for three months past : but
as he folded up his rejected attire, he could not for-
bear sighing deeply, and acknowledged that now he
had filled up the measure of his misfortunes, and made
himself more than ever their prisoner, by thus assimi-
lating his external condition to theirs. Yet, upon
calmer reflection, he felt a degree of sulid consolation
in the recollection, that, though in appearance he
might be as savage as his captors, his inward being
was stamped with a different impress, as distinguish-
ing as light from darkness. As Philip drew the con-
trast between his own character and attainments and
those of his present associates, his heart relented of
many of its proud and self-gratulating thoughts, and
he became humbled under a deep sense of his own
responsibility. Having been blessed with so many and
great advantages, it was his duty to regard their defi-
ciencies charitably, and also to endeavor to lead them
to a better and safer mode of life. But was it possible
for him—a helpless prisoner, ignorant of their lan-
guage, and detesting their customs—to effect anythjng
for their permanent good? If such might be the re-
sult, he should never regret having been torn from
home and kindred ; and the suggestion infused new
energy into his mind. He resolved to cultivate every
occasion that should present itself to this end, and
went forth from the wigwam of Oneyda to mingle in
the sports of his young companions, with the calm
and settled purpose of a benevolent heart.

In pursuance of his intention to gain information of
Indian life and customs, Philip went much among
them, and was always treated kindly by the people of
the village, who regarded the protegé of their powerful
chief as a friend, and one to whom they were bound
to pay the most hospitable attention. In many of
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 63

these visits Alice accompanied him, for he liked to
hear her simple and often acute remarks upon all she
saw in the strange scenes to which he introduced her.
One evening about sunset, they heard mournful cries
from a number of women collected at the door of a
hut, and Philip stopped to inquire the cause. They
made way for him to pass, but he bade Alice wait for
him while he went on to ascertain the cause of such
distress. A young man, apparently in the last stage
of consumption, and almost insensible, lay upon a
mat; two conjurers were exercising all their arts to
recall him, and as these consisted chiefly in shaking
over the prostrate sufferer a variety of charmed snake-
skins and bear-skins, Philip much feared that suffoca-
tion would be the speedy result. The patient was
passive from weakness or insensibility, but his long-
drawn respirations attested his struggles and need of
fresh air. While his tormentors were performing
their anties, his aged father and brothers stood upright
against the rude wall of the wigwam with fixed and
resolute countenances, their feet close together, and
their arms folded. The eye of the old man alone be-
tokened sense or emotion betraying the inward strife
of nature with stoicism : it glanced restlessly from his
dying son to the conjurers, as if to chide their mock-
ery or want of skill, but he spoke not. Philip gazed
compassionately upon all, and turned sadly away,
aware of his inability to relieve or prevent the catas-
trophe so speedily approaching.

He led Alice from the spot, and hastened to Oney-
da’s dwelling. The following morning, when Philip
entered the wigwam to breakfast, he found Oneyda
busily engaged in painting a number of black and
white lines upon his arms and legs; his plume was
resumed, and an attendant Indian presented him with
two or three additional black feathers, and assisted his
chief in the disposition of a few of his arms, some of
which, being of English manufacture, neither of them
knew how to wear. However, when his toilet was
completed, Oneyda looked and moved a savage, and
64 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

Philip could not glance at him without a shudder.
The chief explained that they were about to bury a
warrior, and gave orders to his attendant to draw the
same lines upon Philip, who did not venture to re-
fuse ; and as the process was shorter, he was soon re-
leased. When their morning meal was concluded, he
accompanied Oneyda to the burial-ground which he
had visited on the preceding evening.

Many warriors were already assembled, and the
chief took the place of honor among them. ‘The old
men stood with downcast looks, awaiting the arrival
of the dead. At length a mournful train appeared :
the body of the young man Philip had visited lay upon
a bier, borne by six of the stoutest youths ; his broth-
ers followed, but not with the step of mourners ; they
walked firmly and erect, without paint or weapons,
but as proudly as if they were accompanying some
triumphal procession rather than the body of a broth-
er to an early grave. The father had already taken
his post among the group of old men, undistinguished
from them by any outward mark of sorrow ; but as
the young men sat down the bier, he gazed fixedly
upon the countenance of the dead. Worn by suffer-
ing, and emaciated by disease, the shrunk and wasted
form contrasted sadly with the arms and ornaments
which so profusely decked its rigid limbs, and seemed
but the mockery of life in death. But now a party
of girls approached, strewing flowers fresh gathered
from the hillside, spangled with the dew of early
Morning, and scattering them abundantly upon the
bier and corpse. One of them addressed the dead
warrior as if entreating him to return: she tore her
long black hair, and clasped her hands, and wept and
screamed in her frantic energy ; then, as if upbraiding
him for his silence, turned away with a haughty air
and flashing eye. Again she approached, and again
bent over him, addressed to his lifeless ear tones of
exquisite tenderness, and seemed to entreat his return
with the gentleness of most patient affection ; then, as
if she had found all unavailing, she drew back and re-
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 65

joined her companions: they commenced a chant, in
which the praises of the youthful warrior were sung—
his swiftness in the race, his skill in the hunt, his
valor in the fight, and his vengeance at the torture-
stake. ,

Oneyda next addressed the assembly. His manner
was by no means so urgent as when he pleaded for
Philip’s safety ; and after speaking for a short time in
a cold and monotonous strain, he returned to his
place. All eyes were now turned to the father of the
young man, who answered the appeal by slowly quit-
ting his station among the elders of the tribe, and tot-
tered rather than walked to the foot of the bier. He
regarded the inanimate face of his son for some mo-
ments earnestly and in silence: the muscles of his
throat were seen to work convulsively, as if essaying
to do their office, but in vain; and he bent forward
from momentary weakness; but however powerful
might be the pleadings of natural grief within the fa-
ther's heart, the stern requirements of a barbarous cus-
tom prevailed. It was his duty to relate the actions
of his son—of the wounds he had received in battle,
of the scalps he had won, of the captives he had made,
of the scars he had brought home, and how long he
had struggled with death. The old man found voice
for all this, and went through the recital unhesitating-
ly till he came to the farewell address, which the fu-
neral rites prescribed as the best dismissal of the dead
to his new and last abode. Then his voice faltered,
gradually losing its power and pathos till it reached a
faint shrillness, when, at Jength totally overcome by
emotion, the aged and heart-broken father abruptly
buried his face in his mantle and retired.

6*
66 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

CHAPTER X.

How sad was Philip to lose the sunny days of au-
tumn, the rich bright coloring of the woods, and the
balmy air of the Indian summer! How would he lin-
ger in an evening with Alice by his side upon the
banks of the stream, and watch the sun set—to mark
every cloud that moved across the gorgeous sky, clus-
tering at length in such brilliant masses round the
west! Some youths of his age would have worn
themselves out in vain repinings and discontent ; but,
though Philip yearned for the rest of heaven, he
blamed himself for desiring anything which it was
manifestly not the will of God that he should have ;
and, with the help of God, he determined to submit
cheerfully and resignedly to all that might befall him.
He returned to the wigwam on the evening of his
seventeenth birthday, after such reflections as these,
strengthened for duty, and comforted in mind, though
the day had commenced sadly, bringing with it so
many dear associations of his home and parents, and
the fond recoilection of bis mother in particular,
whose kind voice had always greeted him on awaking
with words of love and solicitude.

But thoughts of home were to be banished by a
\wuut, and Philip anticipated a degree of pleasure from
change of scene and occupation, as Oneyda had in-
vited him to accompany them in their intended excur-
sion to the prairies. On setting out, Philip gave
Alice a strict charge to devote herself to the baby and
Meeahmee, which she promised to do; and though
she looked pensive for a few seconds after receiving
his parting kiss, when he looked back he saw her
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 67

laughing merrily at his expense ; for, it must be con-
fessed, Philip's attire rendered his whole appearance
rather grotesque. He answered her laugh by a smile
and wave of the hand, and was soon lost to sight,
though she stood looking toward the wood into which
the party had plunged with the eager activity of men
who are just commencing an agreeable expedition.

The party consisted of fifteen or twenty persons,
and each was provided with arrows and long spears
pointed with flint, more than one pair of moccasins,
and a quantity of parched corn. ‘The chief talked
much to his followers, laying aside his usual dignity
of demeanor for the familiar tone and manner of a
companion. Nothing could be more musical than
his laughter, or more animated than his countenance
in conversation, or more playful than his sallies,
which were received with undisguised raptures by the
rest, who seemed delighted to converse thus freely
with their leader, and threw aside all their reserve
and indifference, though none stepped beyond the
line of defer€nce so strongly defined by their relative
stations. Philip had often heard of the obedience of
the Indian tribes to their sachems and wise men, but
he felt much surprise at the invariable submission
manifested by the Wyannows for their chief, resem-
bling rather the tutored deference of courtiers than
the discipline of native warriors. Oneyda’s manner
had also on many occasions indicated the conscious-
ness of power with the tone and spirit of a despot.
He was certainly of high rank, and Philip was curi-
ous to know his real position and office, and especially
his relations with English Virginia.

They marched westward and pursued the course
of the stream, keeping upon its wooded banks as long
as the path permitted; gradually, however, the trees
thickened on both sides, and they went farther into
the forest; but Philip had yet to learn the wandering
and capricious plan of an Indian journey. They
were not long in the wood, but emerged from it rather
suddenly by a by-path upon the banks of a river
68 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

whose current was so rapid that Philip could not sup-
pose it to be the same as that they had just quitted
Here the party lowered the bark canoes which they
had borne upon their shoulders, and launched them;
two entered at a time into each boat, and Oneyda
beckoned to Philip to come with him. The invita-
tion was gladly accepted, though he felt some alarm
upon finding himself for the first time in such a mere
cockle-shell; but slight as these rude barks appeared,
they skimmed over the surface of the turbulent wa-
ters, to which they were better suited than boats of
heavier construction. They flew with extraordinary
swiftness, and a few strokes of Oneyda's arm impelled
his canoe with a velocity which carried it far ahead
of its companions.

The chief isoked inquiringly into his protegé’s
face, as if to ascertain what he thought of his novel
position ; and it was so new that Philip could not
conceal the emotions of surprise and apprehension
which it occasioned; but these feelings changed to
awe and admiration at the scenery which presented
itself at every turn. The canoes bounded lightly over
the small cataracts that sparkled in their way, until
they approached the head of a rapid. Oneyda rose
and guided the boat skilfully to the top of the fall,
then, suddenly sinking, grasped its sides, and in an in-
stant they were precipitated. The little vessel soon
regained its equilibrium and the chief resumed his
oar. Philip was much surprised as he measured the
height of the rapid, and it alarmed him more to see
the canoes in their wake falling with such amazing
rapidity down the same descent. Oneyda was too
busy guiding and managing his canoe to talk to his
companion, but at length, when the chief paused in
his exertions, Philip ventured to ask him a few ques-
tions respecting the country and the people to whom
it belonged.

Oneyda’s lip curled at the latter inquiry, and his
gaze dwelt proudly upon the magnificent scene, as he
replied: “The land of the sun is the land of the red
PHILIP RANDOLPH. .69

man; my fathers hunted from the great salt lake to
the place where night is; they followed the chase
from the shores of the big river to the hills where the
sun sleeps, every night: and their children are free ;
they kill the deer in the woods, where the pale-face
dwells, and the buffaloes on the prairies; and none
say the land is mine. Why does my son ask if the
land is ours? we hunt where we will.”

«You sold your land to the white man, did you not?”

Oneyda answered in a tone of disdain: ** Our fathers
never lived long by the shores of the salt lake, for they
loved not those flat shores ; they were warriors and
hunters, and left their land to the pale-face; their
heart was in the forest and on the prairies; Oneyda
never took their presents.”

Philip saw plainly that the Indian would scorn to
acknowledge any obligation between his race and the
pale-face; he therefore changed the subject. The
chief seemed pleased with the courtesy, and gave
various rude sketches of the history of his people,
though the language was often so figurative as to be
totally incomprehensible. But Oneyda was gratitied
at the interest of his young friend, and cordiality and
intimacy were gradually ripening into confidence and
affection.

Encouraged by Oneyda’s affability, Philip ventured
to say, ‘* Oneyda, were you of the party that destroyed
my home and drove my father from his dwelling ?”

The Indian turned his head haughtily away like
one who was not accustomed to be interrogated ; but
Philip remarked that his breast seemed heaving with
irrepressible emotion, and it was some moments ere
he replied, in a tone of sadness and with an air of in-
jured dignity : ** When Oneyda ate bread and drank
water with your father he spoke words of friendship.
An Indian will not sleep in the wigwam of the white
man and take his scalp on the morrow. My young
men did foolishly; they knew not the resting-place
of their sachem.”’

“ Then you would have hindered that massacre had
70 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

you been there; yet why should your young men
have been without a leader—they should surely have
waited for their chief?”

Oneyda bent such a gaze of serutiny and severity
upon the youth that Philip's eye sank under it for a
moment; but he recovered his self-possession and
said firmly; ‘ Oneyda, you are a brave chief, and will
not be angry if I ask you that question again, for I
have long wished to know by whose authority I was
torn from my home?”

“We talk of these things at the counci. fire,” re-
plied the Indian, gravely, ‘‘and why should my son
ask? When the hatchet of the warrior tastes blood
it cries for more; and why should my young men
stay their hand? They knew not that their sachem
had a friend among their enemies, and why should
they not strike 7”

Philip shuddered, but quickly answered: “If you
count my father your friend, then J know you were
not of that war party ; but, Oneyda, since you would
have spared his dwelling had you been there, why
will you not send me home to him? He thinks me
dead, let me then return to tell him what a friend you
have been to me.”

“If your white father thinks you dead,” said the
subtle savage, ‘ he will not look for your return. No,
Philip shall stay and be Oneyda’s son.”

The tears gushed forth from Philip’s eyes. “Oh
no !” he cried, “I can never become one of you.”

Oneyda looked surprised and offended. ‘* When
my son was at the torture-stake, who saved him from
the knives of his enemies—who told my old men he
was a brave—who has given him food and brought
him into his wigwam—who will make him a great
warrior? Philip shall be Oneyda’s son; Oneyda is
a great chief; his enemies have never followed on his
track in the forest, and who ever saw him in the
white man’s arm? From the swift river to the dark
lakes Oneyda is a chief, and no one disputes his will ;
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 71

Philip shall be his son, and the eagle of his tribe will
be his father. Has not Oneyda given him life?”

Philip could have reminded him that he too had
probably saved his life when he tock him starving and
wounded to his father’s dwelling, but was too gener-
ous to recall an obligation to another. Giving a few
rapid strokes with the oar, the chief caused his little
boat to shoot far a-~head of its companions, and when
he thought himself beyond their observation, he laid
a hand upon the shoulder of his captive and said, in a
satirical tone, and with a gesture of contempt: “Can
a brave weep? Women only weep! My young
men will despise their brother if they see his tears.
Philip is Oneyda’s son, and the great chief loves him,
though he can not let him go; what would my war-
riors say if their sachem lied? No, he said the boy
is brave—he shal! live, he shall be a great chief, and
he shall lead us against the pale faces ; the great king
shall tremble when he hears this. But what would
my warriors say, if Oneyda sent back the brive white
boy? They would plunge their knives into his heart
that he might not die like a coward.”

“Think not, Oneyda, that I will ever lead your
people against my own; never will I yield to your
cruel expectations,” said Philip, whose anger was
now kindled by indignation at this last specimen of
savage craft. ‘The eye of the Indian gleamed fiercely,
and his hand instinctively relinquished the oar and
grasped a weapon. “Kill me, then,” said Philip,
passionately, ‘kill me at once, for I would rather die
than live in such hopeless captivity. Cruel, barbarous
wretch!”

Oneyda looked calmly, though with sternness, up-
on the boy, and recovered his oar.—‘ No, no, he is
mine,” he muttered.

Long did Philip struggle with the tide of grief and
passion that oppressed his heart, but when the shad-
ows of evening drew closer and his now detested com-
panions lay down to rest, he turned aside, and, a3 was
his custom, knelt down to his evening prayer. “I
72 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

have done what I ought not to have done!” he ex-
claimed, and tears of penitence mingled with those of
self-upbraiding and sorrow; and presently he rose
with a heart lightened of half its burden, though still
humble and pensive ; his feelings toward his compan-
ions assumed a more charitable and forgiving character,
and he overcame his repugnance so far as to take his
station among them, and even to close his eyes in the
vicinity of Oneyda, and with his own shoulder in con-
tact with that of a savage. He lay down but could
not sleep, and knowing that they all took singular
pleasure in hearing him sing, he raised his voice in
the evening hymn he had so often sung at home, and
though he faltered, the melody made its way to
Oneyda’s heart, for he drew nearer and requested
Philip to sing more. While thus engaged, he
thought he discerned some object emerging from the
branches on their sylvan hearth, and presently dis-
tinguished the writhing and shining body of a large
snake, which had probably lain torpid among them tiil
awakened to consciousness by the heat.

The dangerous reptile was within a yard of the
naked leg of a young Indian. Philip sprang lightly
from the ground, and dexterously seizing it below the
head, with one blow of his hatchet destroyed it ere
another could interfere. Oneyda looked on with
much admiration, and the young savage, rising, thank-
ed Philip with many expressions of gratitude. ‘The
snake was examined and found to be of a most dan-
gerous species; but the incident caused no further
commotion among the party, whose loud breathings
now greatly disturbed Philip, who found it very diffi- .
cult to sleep in the woods at night. These sounds
were also accompanied by the notes of the whip-poor-
Will and the cry of another bird which was very
plaintive, and made him feel sadder. The bird was
evidently near them, and its note awakened Oneyda,
who had sunk into slumber. He started, and, turning
to Philip in his usually confidential manner, said, in a
tone of mystery, ‘ That bird sings of death to the In-
PHILIP RANDOLPH. . 73

dian; he comes to tell him that a warrior must soon
go to the happy hunting grounds. My brother had
been on his way before the sun wakes if Philip had
not used the hatchet of the brave.”

“Your brother! is that young man your brother,
then ?”

‘** Appomax is my brother, and he is a young war-
rior. He can bring down the flying birds, and knows
where the deer hide. Philip and Appomax are the
sons of the great chief of the Wyannows.”

In the morning they once more took to their canoes,
and the chief's brother rowed by their side, talking
animatedly with him, frequently regarding Philip with
an admiring eye. With this young man’s manners
and appearance Philip was much pleased, as they
were less ferocious and much more gentle and modest
than those of his nation generally. This day’s sail
was altogether more agreeable than that of the pre-
ceding, and Oneyda evidently condescended to concil-
jate his protegé, who felt, in consequence, less miser-
able. In the afternoon they reached a spot whose
principal feature astonished Philip more than anything
he had yet seen; fora lofty bridge appeared in view,
thrown across the river by a single though imperfect
arch. Being the first bridge he had ever seen, he felt
surprised that that one should be of Indian architect-
ure. He could not imagine how it had been built,
much less how it should ever have been projected by
savages ; and the more he examined it the more won-
deriul it appeared. He longed to take a nearer view ;
this, however, he feared was not to be allowed him,
as the river became more turbulent in its course, and
having ventured as far as they dared, the savages step-
ped ashore and drew up their canoes after them.
Philip congratulated himself when he saw that they
took the direction of the bridge, and, carrying Oney-
dz’s boat upon his shoulder, followed their steps with
alacrity. He soou had leisure to examine the object
of his curiosity more minutely. It was high enough
above the water to form a beld object ina scene of

7
74 ’ PHILIP RANDOLPH.

wild grandeur, and as the party in advance approached
the supports they looked like pigmies in comparison.
The bridge was formed of a very irregular arch, but
strong and massy in its construction. Shrubs, and
even trees, hung over it; the base was of solid rock,
much broken, and covered with beautiful festoons of
the Virginian creeper, which hung down in graceful
wreaths of many a brilliant hue, mingling its gay col-
ors with the tawny foliage of other trees and the rich
mosses with which these rugged bulwarks were cov-
ered. Philip stood gazing in silent admiration—he
could not guess its height.

* Who built that bridge?” he asked of Oneyda,
who was standing near him in contemplation of the
same magnificent object.

Oneyda replied, with much reverence of tone and
manner: ‘“ The Great Spirit made the woods and the
water for the red man, and gave him the great path
over the river. My people say that He made it.”

‘Then it must be a natural bridge,” cried Philip,
springing forward to examine it more nearly. He
scrambled down the rocks til! he reached the river,
and endeavored to stand beneath the arch, but could
not; he was therefore obliged to return without the
satisfaction of examining its roof and sides, and soon
rejoined his companions.

Their route now lay across the top of the bridge,
and Philip noticed that the rock of which it was com-
posed was even more worn in the exposed parts than
in the sides and base, but could not account for the
manner in which it had assumed its picturesque and
magnificent form. He felt pleasure in looking down
upon the rushing river from this platform. The fig-
ures of the Indians were less unpleasing to him in
this scene of wild grandeur, and he thought he had
never before realized the freedom and solitude of na-
ture or its suitability to savage life, so much as in
those almost unvisited retreats. His imagination be-
came engaged, and for some hours he walked on
without fatigue, his mind impressed the while with
the novel and beautiful ohiects thus presented
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 75

CHAPTER XI.

Tue morning sun rose brightly on the open prairie
and the first object which greeted the sleepy eye of
Philip was its large and glowing orb magnified by
proximity to the horizon, from which it seemed burst-
ing, as if about to roll over the majestic plain. Philip
retired to the privacy of the wood to attend the better
to his devotions; for these he never neglected under
any circumstances, nor had he assumed the habits of
an Indian with the dress of one.

Though Philip used all speed, he was much later
than the hunters approved. Whether Oneyda’s curi-
osity got the better of his consideration, or thinking
his favorite had been long enough, he at length went
to seek him. Philip had just concluded his prayer,
and paused ere he rose from his knees ; then rising,
he resumed his weapons with a sigh, and turned to
leave his retreat, when, to his surprise, he beheld
Oneyda standing at a little distance, and doubted not
that he had been a witness of his devotions. The
chief returned his expression of surprise with a look
of cold scrutiny, and if he had not felt embarrassed
and distracted by this intrusion he might have dis-
covered traces of ill-concealed wonder upon the fea-
tures of the almost noble-looking savage.

“« My young men are swift hunters ; they wait ; they
ask for my son. Will he stay upon his knees all day,
like the bear that creeps? The Great Spirit loves a
good hunter; he hates the idle. Does my son listen
for the tramp of the buffalo upon the leaves of his
hiding-place ?”

“Oneyda,” replied Philip, gravely, “my God wilt
76 PHIEIP RANDOLPH.

not bless me or do me any good this day if I do not
ask him. He is a great and holy Spirit, who is not
so much pleased with the customs you think are
pleasing to him as with humility and obedience to his
commands.”

The savage interrupted him with an exclamation
of surprise, and not comprehending Philip’s explana-
tion, asked, “If Wacondah were not the Great Spirit
of the pale faces ?”

“No, Oneyda! you have never heard that great
name. The God whom we worship is he who made
the earth, the red man and the white ; he is called the
Lord Almighty !” and with habitual reverence Philip
bowed as he spoke.

“« My son speaks low,” replied Oneyda, laying his
hand on the youth’s shoulder, unconsciously awed by
his solemnity of manner. ‘“ Does Philip think that
the red man and the white man have the same Great
Father? Go, go! my son is very proud; he says
there is only one Father of life; but the Indian has
Wacondah, and the white man has his God.”

‘Philip did not pursue the conversation, but rejoiced
that Oneyda remembered even the name he was so
anxious to teach him. The savage turned to depart,
saying : “‘ My son shail tell me of his God in the long
nights when the snow is round the wigwam of Oney-
da. My young men wait; let us go.”

The party set forth, and all seemed sensible of the
freshness of the air and the agreeable elasticity of the
atmosphere. ‘Travelling farther west, they often
halted to listen if there were sounds upon the plain;
but though every heart was beating high in expecta-
tion of their dangerous-sport, no countenance betrayed
the slightest symptom of disappointment oy of im-
patience. Oneyda walked among his warriors as a
familiar friend, talking animatedly; but suddenly the
chief paused and stood still; their mirth ceased, and
they also stopped, while Oneyda bent toward the
earth and then lay flat among the grass for a few sec-
onds with his ear to the ground, as if listening very
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 7

intently. His acute sense of hearing had not de-
ceived him, for presently a cloud of dust arpse in a
corner of the hetizon and extended over that side of
the plain. It appeared to be approaching them rapid-
ly. The Indians threw themselves down, and Philip
followed their example. The cloud which had been
seen in the distance came nearer and nearer; a noise
resembling thunder was heard, and then a mighty
trampling. Hundreds of buffaloes were on the plain,
racing over its untrodden grasses in all the freedom of
their reckless natures, wild and savage as the scenes
through which they roamed as sole proprietors.

On they came tossing their heads, jostling one an-
other, shaking their huge flanks, and bellowing loud-
ly. The effect was terrific and stunning. Philip
peeped through the grass and obtained a view of the
herd which was now approaching; his heart beat
quickly, and he closed his eyes with a sudden sensa-
tion of faintness; but recovering, took courage and
re-opened them, impelled by an irresistible curiosity
to watch the progress of the terrible foe. At length
Oneyda raised himself from his recumbent position to
take a view of the herd. The animals were very
near. His companions sprang up and rushed forward
in various directions, shouting and throwing their
arms into the air, clashing their weapons, and using
every means in their power to frighten the startled
host. The effect was as instantaneous as wonderful;
the buffaloes were thrown into a panic and divided ;
file after file scampered past the hunters, and the
whole herd diverged over the plain. Those nearest
to them, bewildered by the sudden shock they had
received, though at first so madly bounding forward,
had been checked effectually by the cries and men-
acing gestures of the party. A few stragglers, bold-
er than the rest, remained at bay, and these it was
Oneyda’s right and duty to attack. His rank entitled
him to this dangerous privilege, and he advanced alone
to the charge. The foremost buffalo received an ar-
row in his flank, and rendered furious by the wound,

ze
78 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

came rushing toward his assailant, tossing his huge
and shaggy head and bellowing loudly, while he
trampled the long grass beneath his hoofs. The dan-
ger appeared imminent, but Oneyda sank quietly to
the earth, and the enraged animal, still plunging on-
ward, passed within a yard of the spot where he lay.
He was soon upon his feet again, and drawing anoth
er well-aimed shaft, his victim fell, tossing and strug
giing, to the ground. Nothing could exceed the ar-
dor with which the Indians pursued their favorite
amusement. The whole plain re-echoed with the
shouts of the hunters and the roars of the dying or
infuriated animals.

CHAPTER XII.

Tue dreary months of winter came at length;
dreary, because to Philip they brought the cheerful
memory of past years with painful vividness before
him, and in bitter contrast to his present position.
Philip was weary of his captivity, and his patience
often wavered; the firm and constant courage he had
proposed to himself yielded frequently to the depres-
sing circumstances of his lot, and he was fast approach-
ing to asettled despondency. The society of Alice
became a burden to him, and he preferred his solitary
rambles where he could indulge in melancholy with-
out the interruption of her lively prattle; for the little
girl had no intention of nursing care of any kind, but
had thrown away sorrow, and reconciled herself most
happily to her new mode of life and the companion-
ship of savage playfellows.

But from this unhealthy state of mind, he was re-
covered by a new train of thoughts arising from a
providential circumstance. Christmas day airived,
and he awoke to these painful feelings in the gloomy
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 79

light of a winter’s morning. As usual, he called the
name of the day to his sister, who slept in an adjoin-
ing apartment of the hut.

The poor captive covered his face with his hands,
and gave way to the troubled feelings which over-
whelmed him. The past brought torturing recollec-
tions, from contrast with the present ; and resignation
and hope seemed for a while to have given place to
despair. Captivity was intolerable, and Philip thought
he woald rather not live than continue in such an un-
happy condition. But the voice of Alice again recall-
ed him to a sense of duty and exercise of self-control.
She came up to the door of his little dormitory, which
opened into the village, and assailed it with so much
resolution that the fastenings would have yielded, had
not Philip started up and hastened to assure her that
he would soon be with her. The incident, slight as
it was, produced a good effect upon him, and remind-
ed him that he had some reasons and inducements
yet left for life and for a more patient endurance of
captivity.

‘The brother and sister met in the wigwam to share
their Indian breakfast of hommony. Unpalatable as it
was, Alice had brought in a good appetite from her
morning ramble, and Philip felt reproved for his indo-
lence when he observed the advance which the sun
had made in his course above the hills of the eastern
horizon.

«¢ And where hast thou been, Alice?”

“Oh, I have been down by the river side, helping
Maneecho to launch his canoe; but the water is frozen
over, and [ could not get a sail.”

“Thou hadst better not sail without me, Alice; but
when breakfast is ended we will go into the wood to-
gether and walk*to the farthest clearing. I want to
talk about heme to thee, and of the church at James-
town.”

Alice pouted, and, coloring deeply, went on with
her breakfast, and did not reply.

‘Nay, Alice, what ails thee? Surely thou wilt
80 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

come and hear of home, and talk of all we did this day
last year ?”

«“T don’t want to talk of home, Philip; it is no use;
and I promised to have a play with the children, and
Maneecho is going to teach me to shoot. I don’t
want to go into the woods this morning.”

Philip gravely regarded her. ‘I wish thee to go,
Alice; and J] am sure father and mother would not
like to see thee playing to-day, or learning to shoot
arrows with Maneecho when I wanted thee go with
me.”

“Indeed, indeed!” said Alice, angrily; I don't
see why you should not let me play to-day ; we can
not go to church, and we have no books. I am ten
years old, Philip, and I am not going to do what you
say always ;” but she did not venture to withdraw the
hand which her brother had taken. He looked at her
sorrowfully, and sighed. Nine months of association
with the wild children of the Indian village had not
improved Alice either in character or appearance.
She had lost the orderly habits in which her mother
had so carefully brought her up; her curls were still
beautiful, and nothing seemed capable of robbing her
complexion of its delicate fairness, but her dress was
untidy and soiled, and her moccasins full of holes.
Her countenance had lost much of its mirthfulness
and vivacity in exchange for confidence and haughti-
ness, which dispositions were but too much encour-
aged by the passive obedience yielded to her will by
her companions, who regarded her as a superior being,
and permitted her to rule in their games with undis-
puted authority: she was acquiring a decision and
wilfulness of temper very contrary to the docile and
gentle character her parents had so earnestly desired
to cultivate.

“Tam sorry, Alice, that thou art unwilling to hear
about home; for I thought it would have been very
pleasant to us both to talk of the Fair Meadows and
Jamestown church, and father and mother and little
Margaret. To-day they will stay to take the Holy
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 81

Sacrament, and I am considering who will take care
of baby as thou didst when Bridget used to stay.
Baby will miss his little nurse. How pleased thou
wast, Alice, to take charge of him, and sing him to
sleep and make him happy while mother and Bridget
were away! And this day last year, how well do I
remember, Alice, grandfather gave thee that pretty
hood from England, and thou wert on his knee all
evening stroking his Jong white hair and calling him
‘dear dad.’”

Alice looked down, her varying color denoted that
she had still more interest left in her home than she
had before acknowledged; but she turned her head
away and began to play with the jagged corner of the
buffalo coat which the squaw had made for her as a
protection against the winter’s cold.

“Yes, Alice ; and dost remember how last Christ-
mas day, when we had all said our catechism, and
thou hadst been praised for thy comely behavior in
church, that Rachel More kissed thee and patted thy
head, and said, ‘ May God bless thee, child!” Ah!
our dear friend is gone now. And then when we all
sat round the fire, what a happy party we were,
throwing on the hickory till it blazed so bright and
high! Grandfather kissed thee, and said thou wast
his own good little damsel. He will not say that
again, Alice! And father and mother looked on and
smiled so lovingly !”

This last appeal was not made in vain, and the sim-
ple eloquence of her brother penetrated with the
power of nature into the very heart of Alice. He had
stirred the slumbering feelings of natural affection
which had for a while lain dormant there, and though
she stifled her emotion as long as she could, they
were too powerful to be controlled, and, throwing
herself into his extended arms, she hid her face in his
bosom, and sobbed and wept as if her heart would
break. Philip did not attempt to check the current
of her sorrow; he thought it better that she should
yield to the touch of Nature, and strove not to inter-
82 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

rupt this overflowing of pent-up emotions. It light-
ened his heart to find that Alice was not wanting in
affection for those she had been torn from, and that in
hers was a chord still unbroken, which if touched
skilfully, would vibrate in sympathy with his own.

While the brother and sister were thus engaged
Meahmee had been observing them with much atten-
tion ; her own eyes were moistened at sight of Alice’s
grief, and unable to bear it any longer, she approach-
ed and said, in her native language, which Philip
could understand :-—

“Why does the golden-hair weep? she is Meah-
mee’s own child; what shall her mother bring to dry
her tears? Philip has spoken angry words ; let him
go. A brave is too fierce for a dove ; let him go.”

‘“No, my mother,” replied the youth, addressing
her by the name she had assumed when they were
brought prisoners to her hut, ‘you are wrong ; Philip
loves his sister; he talks to her of home, of her father
and mother, and she weeps because she can not go to
them. Meahmee knows that she is right to weep for
the wigwam of her father.”

Meahmee comprehended, and replied quickly :
“The golden-hair weeps for her father and mother
and the children who sleep in the wigwam, but they
can not hear her; they do not see her, and they know
not the speech of their Indian children. Let my
children stay, and they shall have corn and water;
aud their skin shall be red, like the children of the
eagle, and my brothers will love them. Meahmee
has a wide heart, and she loves her white children.”

This address was most gratefully received by Phil-
ip, who valued the simple affection it manifested ; but
Alice, though tenderly embraced by Meahmee, was
inconsolable. The sorrow which had been stirred
within her did not subside till Philip thought it ad-
visable to subdue it. Her affections had been dor-
miant, but their existence was proved; and however
cold or indifferent she had appeared to be, she had
shown that she yet retained a fondness for those dear
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 83

and’‘nearest friends she had first learned to Jove and val-
ue. They passed the day together, and in the even-
ing Alice sat pensively by the hearth, her face resting
on her hand, and the mirthful light of her eyes
quenched for a while by the tears she had been shed-
ding and which still occasionally suffused them.

CHAPTER XIII.

Onerpa had been absent for some weeks upon a
war excursion, from which he was daily expected to
return, and Philip began to wish for his coming. He
had not found many opportunities of making further
explanations of his faith to the savage; and though
he sought such conversations, the chief appeared
anxious to avoid them, or had become indifferent to
the subject. Meahmee was more interested, and lis-
tened with the attention of deep curiosity to Philip’s
details, his history, in language the simplest he could
use, of the creation and fall of man and the birth and
death of the Savior of the world, which the squaw
gave ear to very much as queens and princesses of
old might have done to their bards and minstrels, not
, realizing the truth of the story, but finding in it agree-
“able food for the imagination. Philip was led to most

sanguine expectations of her conversion to Christianity
by the unaffected interest she manifested in his efforts
to instruct her. She was a simple-hearted and untu-
tored child of Nature, with a mind utterly unaccus-
tomed to thought upon any subject ; and though her
countenance expressed greater softness and intelli-
gence than the hard-featured and inanimate faces of
the Wyannow women, it was rather the intelligence
of feeling than of mind. Association with the Eng-
lish strangers had already improved Meahmee, and
zhe thought Philip the wisest and most extraordinary
84 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

of beings; t was, indeed, matter of ceaseless wonder
to her how the young pale face should be even wiser
than her grayheaded father, the renowned Tallassee,
sagamore of a neighboring tribe; a chief much es-
teemed among his people for discretion and sagacity.

As Philip was anxious to acquire more of the Indian
language, he often applied to her for instruction, and
she felt much gratified in being thus appealed to, tel-
ling him very readily the names of different things,
and in return requesting to be taught them in the
Yengee tongue. The domestic economy of a squaw
was very simple, and Meahmee had many idle hours,
which she had been accustomed to spend in talking
with her neighbors, or reclining upon a mat in sum-
mer in the shade, and during the winter by the fire.
She then passed the time in a different manner-—in
learning English words, or in teaching Alice to weave
wampum, or to fabricate the more delicate and beau-
tiful ornamental dresses of a chief in the dyed porcu-
pine-quills and feathers, which formed so striking an
effect when tastefully arranged. She also showed her
how to weave baskets and mats of the twigs of the
sumach and the long thick reeds which grew upon the
bank of the river; and the little girl did not enjoy these
hours of industry more than Meahmee, who was de-
lighted with the interest and skill manifested by her
pupil; and the great object of completing a new hunt-
ing-frock, richly embroidered and ornamented, for the
chief on his return, was at length accomplished, and
the little fingers of Alice had mainly contributed to
the work.

But the little girl was not always at work. She
found time for active sport, and Philip could not help
smiling to see her sometimes assuming the airs and
authority of a drill-sergeant, turning and marshalling
a troop of swarthy children like a company of recruits,
admonishing the inattentive and awkward with a long
stick, pulling their long black hair, or calling out an-
grily to the disorderly. The grave warriors could not
forbear a relaxation of their rigid muscles at sight of
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 85

the fairy figure of Alice flitting around the little troop,
her cheeks glowing with exercise, and her bright eyes
flashing with animation and eagerness to make them
do just as she pleased, vociferating her orders in the
imperious tones of a commanding officer; indeed, they
began to do her credit, and marched in tolerable order.
Their parade-ground was the green of the village, or
square, as it might be termed ; and one day while thus
engaged, the young recruits were interrupted by the
unexpected return of the war-party from a successful
expedition—a band of a hundred warriors or more,
with Oneyda at their head. Before him were carried
on a pole the barbarous trophies of his victories.

The chief walked proudly, but not more firmly or
elate than the captives who followed him; though
painfully bound and fettered, and surrounded by a fe-
rocious guard, unarmed, and in prospect of a merciless
fate, they were erect and indifferent.

The scene so nearly resembled that of their own
peril, that Philip’s heart sickened at the contemplation
of it; and Alice, so lately sporting and elate with her
superiority over her playmates, ran toward him with
a blanched cheek and quivering lip. The cries of the
children, and the ferocious gestures of the warriors
and women, had struck terror into her heart, and
startled her from the dream of empire in which she
had so unconsciously been indulging.

“ They will not harm thee, Alice,” said her brother,
fondly kissing her; “come, let us go into the wig-
wam: we shall be far better out of their way.”

Alice submissively followed him. They found Me-
ahmee at the entrance with her child in her arms,
hushing him, for he had awoke from sleep at that
wild cry, and was not to be pacified ; he was calmed,
however, on the appearance of Alice, and began to
play with her long curls as he was wont when he
wanted amusement. Philip was glad to find that she
had not gone out to meet the war-party, and thought
there wasa shade upon her joyous countenance which
he had never observed before. Her gaze was riveted

8
86 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

upon the form of her husband, and she looked as if
she would have drawn him from the group if a glance
could have brought him; but when she turned her
eyes toward the captives, they seemed to glisten with
a new emotion. Perhaps it was pity awakening in
her bosom—that strange and unknown feeling from a
savage to his foe. Philip regarded her with interest
and in silence as she stood with her baby hanging over
her shoulder, unconscious of her burden, her thoughts
absorbed by the yet distant party. At length they
moved toward the centre of the green before the
council-lodge, and then Meahmee turned and said,
abruptly—

«« My son is not with the warriors; why does he stay
with the women? Oneyda’s enemy is at the stake ;
my son must go.”

‘No, my mother! my heart is a white man’s; I
love not the torture-fires, and those poor men are not
my enemies.” '

A sigh escaped her as she replied, ‘* When the war-
riors came back from battle, Meahmee was a swift
fawn, she ran to the prisoners, she made their hearts
pale, they were afraid when she looked at them; but
now her heart is white too, and she stays with her
white children ;” and Meahmee looked down, as if
ashamed of her confession.

Philip smiled. “‘ Oh, my mother is wise ; it is not
for women to be with the warriors at the council-fire.
Let her heart soften toward the prisoners; see, they
are taking them to the council-lodge.”

Meahmee’s eye rested once more compassionately
upon the prisoners, and Philip continued: ‘“ They
have wives in their wigwams, and a baby like our own
baby, my mother; they will never go to them again;
and their wives will weep for them, as Meahmee
would if Oneyda were to go and not return. T know
that my mother’s heart weeps for these men, though
there are no tears in her eyes.”

Meahmee hastily retreated within the shade of her
dwelling. She was ashamed to show so much sym-
PHILIP RANDOL} BH. 87

pathy for her husband’s enemies, and this last ap-
peal had affected her anew to tears. Who can tell
what was the luxury of these dawnings of compas-
sionate feeling toward those she had been taught to
detest ?

But the council was held, and the captives were
condemned, and their torture-fires lighted. They
were tied to separate stakes, and each seemed to emu-
jate the example of the other, so undauntedly they
behaved. Philip sat in the wigwam with Alice by
his side, endeavoring to engage and divert her atten-
tion ; but she was aware that some deed of horror was
going forward, though she saw it not, and her coun-
tenance betrayed every alternation of her feelings: as
each shout of the barbarous victors rose in the air, she
started, and the color left her cheek, and at length she
stopped her ears, to shut out, if possible, the terrific
sounds. A hasty step was heard, and Appomax en-
tered the hut.

“Come, my brother!” he exclaimed, breathlessly
addressing Philip, ‘come, take your hatchet and knife;
come, see how brave men die! The chief of the Black-
feet is at the stake, but his heart is stone ; he does not
feel the knives of my people; let my brother come,
and he will tremble.”

*T can not go with you, Appomax, for he is not
my enemy, and I would not see him tortured for the
world; and do you stay with me, Appomax. What
harm has he done you, that you should join in these
cruelties? If you are my friend, you will do as I do.
Lift not your hand against brave men, who can not
help themselves : that is not like a warrior.”

Appomax heard him with surprise, and turned away.
Meahmee would have spoken, but another yell rose in
the air, and the young Indian hastened from the wig-
wam, fearful of losing the important moment for
plunging his weapon into the expiring foe.

The captives, after enduring the measure of their
enemies’ malice, had perished; but Oneyda took little
part in those horrors. It might be that compunction
88 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

struggled for the first time against the strong current
of habit, pride, false shame, and a savage nature. He
did not join in the taunts and scoffings with which
they reviled their defenceless prisoners, but he stepped
forward once to offer the brave chief his life, on condi-
tion that he would become a Wyannow warrior. The
proposal was rejected with scorn, and the proud vic-
tim expired without giving his enemies the slightest
cause to triumph over his weakness. As soon as the
prisoners had breathed their last, Oneyda withdrew to
his wigwam in deep thought, his dark countenance
clouded with ill-concealed disgust and sadness. Me-
ahmee kept her station upon the mat which lay before
the fire, and rose not to greet her husband. His rec-
ognition was, however, kindly, and then the young
wife sprang up with joy sparkling in her eyes, and
presented the child with much animation to his fa-
ther. The chief pressed it tenderly to his heart, and
then returned the frightened infant to its mother. A
few rapid words were exchanged, and Philip’s name
was mentioned. He stepped forward and offered his
hand to his host, who received him with as much cor-
diality as suited the dignity of a great warrior in pres-
ence of a woman.

“My son was not at the torture-fires,” he said in
English. “ Does a brave stay with the women when
his foe is dying ?”

“‘My Indian father knows that I hate the sight of
cruelty, and since I could not save those unhappy cap-
tives, [ would not look upon their sufferings,” replied
Philip, boldly, a deep flush of indignation coloring his
whole face.

Oneyda did not reply but by a look of surprise, and
turned away to conceal a faint smile of admiration.
His wife had already prepared their simple meal, and
they sat down together upon the benches which Phil-
ip had constructed during the chief’s absence. Alice
was all happiness; she could not help jumping up be-
fore she had finished, to run away and get the hunting-
shirt which she was so impatient to present to Oney-
PHIL P RANDOLPH. 89

da; and Philip felt a secret astonishment at the cour-
teous and complimentary manner in which he instantly
accepted it—throwing off the one he had then in wear,
and putting on the new, at the same time bestowing
many endearing appellations upon Alice, who clapped
her hands in an ecstasy of joy when she saw Oneyda
attired in her handiwork. Meahmee was quite as
happy, and the chief all politeness and affability. This
little incident had evidently gratified his feelings, and
called forth new acts of attention and kindness. As
the brother and sister rose from dinner, as it might be
called, and Philip was preparing to go out, Oneyda
laid his hand upon the youth’s shoulder, saying, in a
low tone, * Go not, my son; night will make all dark,
then you may go. You must not see my people
now.”

Philip took his place again by the fire, and Oneyda
resumed: ‘It is well; my son is wise. Now] shall
tell him what will make his heart very glad. When
the white men were upon the trail of my warriors,
Oneyda walked free among their villages ; he never
forgets a friend; he saw your father, he spoke to him,
he told him that his children were well.”

‘You saw my father, Oneyda! and spoke to him!
how could that be ?” cried Philip, eagerly, and forget-
ting, in the surprise which this information occa-
sioned, the peculiar sensitiveness of the chief when
he supposed his veracity doubted.

“« Oneyda never lies !” replied the chief with digni-
ty; ‘he saw Henry Randolph, and he spoke words
of friendship to the pale face.”

“Qh!” exclaimed Philip, the tears suffusing his
eyes as he spoke, and his heart beating quickly with
the varied and tender emotions which the name of his
father awakened, * you know my father, Oneyda, and
you have seen him many times, I know : tell me how
he looked, and what be said, and if he is well; and
my mother ”

Oneyda said little, but he spoke in friendly tones =.

g*


90 ‘PHILIP RANDOLPH.

“ Why does my son ask what were the words of his
white father ? The red man may not stay in the sun-
shine with the pale faces; they have made him like
the timid deer that flies to the woods when he hears
the steps of man. The Yengee has hunted Oneyda
for long days and many nights; but who can find the
nest of the eagle?” He added proudly, while his
dark eye sparkled with mingled passion and scorn,
‘©No! there will be many suns and moons in the sky
before they tread upon the track of .” He ab-
ruptly quitted the hut, leaving Philip in a state of
mind far from enviable.

The village was silent when evening’s shadows fell
around it, and the early winter's night commenced.
When Alice had retired, Philip took his accustomed
walk, and bent his steps toward the wood. The
moon was shining brightly over the tops of the naked
branches, which were elegantly and clearly outlined
upon the gray sky, standing out with the vivid pen-
cilling of nature from its soft mysterious depths. He
felt soothed by the mild radiance of the firmament,
and the keen night air soon exhilarated his frame, and
restored his languid powers : the events of the day had
almost stupified him. But as he passed the still smo-
king embers of the torture-fires, his heart once more
sickened, and he paused a moment ; then shuddering,
quickly turned from the spot. Yet the sufferers were
released from the cruelty of their relentless foes ; and
naught remained of the renowned chief and his com-
panions but the mouldering ashes, which the first
breeze would scatter to the heavens.

‘* Ah! what is man when left to himself?” thought
Philip.“ What pleasure can one human being de-
rive from witnessing the agony of another? And
Oneyda, too: he could be thus destitute of humanity !
And shall I never escape from such a den of cruelty
as this? And yet, if civilized Christians were never
to make their way here, they could neither be hu-
manized nor converted, or made better than they are.
IT am too selfish toward these poor savages.”


PHILIP RANDOLPH. 91

At this moment a tall dark figure crossed his path
and stood before him. ‘ Oneyda!”

‘My son wanders from the wigwam of Oneyda, he
is tired of his red father,” replied the Indian, in a tone
go sad, that it went to Philip’s heart. ‘* What has the
great chief done? Philip hides his heart ; there is a
cloud over it now.”

The youth answered with emotion, turning and
pointing toward the smoking stakes: ‘* What has
Oneyda done with his captives? It is this sight that
makes my heart so sad, and under a cloud to-night.
Oh! Oneyda, why should a brave chief like you ter-
ture your poor unarmed prisoners 1”

The Indian waved his hand with an impatient ges-
ture. ‘ Philip thinks he is the only wise man among
my people. QOneyda killed his enemies in the fight ;
but when my young men lighted the torture-fire, my
hatchet was in the ground. Oneyda will not torture.
He said, ‘ Great chief, be my son;’ but the heart of
Mahuree was hard, and his spirit a great way off, and
he died when my young men bade him. Oneyda ie
the eagle of his tribe ; he flies to the sun; he does not
stoop to the crow.”

Philip gathered from this address that the chief dis-
dained to torture an enemy his inferior in rank, and
regretted to find that no better principle withheld him.
They walked on toward the wood, and had not pro-
ceeded very far when Appomax joined them. ‘The
young Indian was anxiously seeking his friend, to gain
an explanation of his conduct that morning ; and this
induced Philip to speak of his principles, and that it
was his religion which rendered him averse to every
deed of cruelty.

_Appomax could not understand the word cruelty,
and Philip had some difficulty in explaining its mean-
ing, and still more to make him apply it to his own
actions ; but Appomax had a reverential affection for
Philip, and regarded him with superstitious confidence ;
therefore, though he could not understand the reason-
ing of his friend, he doubted nothing of the truth of
92 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

his statements as to the wondrous story of God’s pow-
er and providence in this world, his love to man, and
the holy law which he had given for man’s conduct
and happiness.

Philip had not long exercised himself in self-com-
munion ere be discovered how iittle he actually knew
of his own heart; and he never returned from more
active life to the retirement of his solitary rambles
without deeper convictions of this very truth. Every
day’s experience confirmed it, that intercourse with
beings so distasteful and uncongenial was so unendu-
rable that he was only too anxious to avoid them, and
was growing selfishly fond of his own society ; first,
because it enabled him to gain more self-knowledge,
and secondly, because it rendered captivity more toler-
able. Still this was not motive sufficient to shun so-
ciety and withdraw himself from every opportunity of
doing good to the ignorant beings he had resolved to
instruct. But how was heto do them good? He
knew not; and principally because he really knew
very little of himself. If Philip had been left to the
happy tranquillity of undisturbed domestic life in the
Fair Meadows, he would have grown up a good and
amiable man, romantic but inactive, rather passively
excellent than useful ; but now he was called upon, by
the voice of conscience and the powerful conscious-
ness of superiority to his present associates, to exert
himself for others, and todo God service. After much
thought upon the subject, it appeared to him better
and wiser to commence the work patiently and ob-
scurely by endeavoring to influence those immediately
around him. The wayward Alice, the simple Meah-
mee, the ardent and affectionate Appomax, and Oney-
da, were unquestionably the first and nearest objects
of his solicitude, and in them was evidently centred
his sphere of duty. But could he hope to gain the
haughty and indifferent Oneyda as a patient listener,
when, after so many attempts to secure his attention,
he had discovered him to be deeply abstracted and
even unconscious of his presence? He thought that
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 93

no plan he could fix upon for his good would be more
effectual for the present than to regulate his own tem-
per, to set an example in his own conduct of the prin-
ciples he wished to inculcate ; and, above all, to pray
daily for direction in his duty, and for spiritual bles-
sings upon his companions.

It will not have been forgotten that Oneyda deferred
more serious conversation with Philip on the subject
of his religion till the winter evenings should arrive,
when by the wigwam hearth, the white boy was to
tell him of the God of his fathers; but, during the
beginning of the winter, the chief was absent, and
not until the evening so lately described had any such
converse taken place between them. From that
night may be dated the missionary labors of Philip
Randolph among the Indians of the west.

When night set in and the cold winds blew fiercely
without the wigwam of Oneyda, the inmates drew
around their central hearth, and though the smoke of
the chief's pipe blended with that of the piled-up fuel
and escaped as it could best find vent through a hole
in the roof, the interior was neither comfortless nor
unpicturesque. Meahmee, busily plaiting reeds, or
assisted by Alice dressing the porcupine’s quills for
dyeing, sat upon a mat before the fire, her child
sleeping in a corner, while Oneyda reclined upona
vile of skins and furs, which a modern trader would
have envied—the most luxurious couch of a warrior ;
Appomax, a frequent visiter, seated upon the ground
with folded arms, and dark wondering eyes fixed upon
the countenance of Philip, who, with an arm thrown
around his sister, and sitting upon a low bench of his
own construction, in these moments often forgot the
weariness of captivity; they were the sweet drops
mingled in the bitter portion allotted him, and, while
talking to Appomax with a fluency that increased
with practice, he lost all consciousness of the savage
scene in which he was acting. Appomax showed
much interest and curiosity respecting the settlement
and the hahits of the English; he felt great desire to
94 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

visit them, and asked many questions as to the way
thither, which Philip could not answer, and to which
Oneyda never replied. Meahmee too, showed by her
artless and almost childish expressions of wonder and
delight, how much interest she felt in hearing of Mar-
garet Randolph’s housekeeping, but especially of her
loom, which was the most extraordinary and incon-
ceivable thing she had ever heard of. ‘These fireside
conversations were insensibly working changes in the
minds of the simple natives. ‘They served to bring
them in contact with civilization; presenting objects
new and striking, and leading them by degrees to em-
ulate all they heard, and to long for the same happy
condition. it gave them also very great conscious-
ness of Philip’s superiority, and so agreeable did he
thus become that in spite of bis pride, Oneyda himself
was not proof against the charm, and though he sel-
dom joined in the couversation, the abrupt and laconic
questions with which he occasionally interrupted it,
evidenced an interest and attention highly flattering to
the youthful speaker. ‘hese meetings were held in
the wigwam every evening, and Philip thought he
was doing good. ‘Thus occupied his heart felt light-
ened of half its sorrows, and at night he retired with
feelings more resigned io his lot, and cheered by the
efforts he had been able to make for the good of oth-
ers.

It was not to be expected that Oneyda always in-
tended to leave his adopted son behind him in his va-
rious excursions ; Philip was of an age to take a more
active part in these expeditions than merely to stand
by and watch the preparations for war or the depart-
ure of the warriors. He thought it now time for him
to come forward and show that he still possessed the
brave spirit which they had at first admired in him.
Philip had not a few enemies among the Wyannows,
there were very many of his companions who secretly
hated the favorite of their chief, and eyed the stranger
with dislike and suspicion. They had frequently ex-
pressed their opinion that he was no brave, but loved
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 95

walking by the river much more than handling a weap-
on. But, either these aspersions never met the ear of
the chief, or he was indifferent to them; for he con-
tinued to speak of his protegé in terms of affection,
and was evidently proud of the treasure he possessed.
In those moments of private and domestic intercourse,
when unrestrained by the observation of others or the
formal and ceremonious requirements of Indian dig-
nity, he would throw aside the stoical reserve of his
race, and talk to Philip in the free and confidential
tone of a father addressing a favorite son. On such
occasions Philip was often made aware that Oneyda
was his inferior. ‘Though the Indian possessed
knowledge that sometimes surprised his young com-
panion, and uttered sentiments far in advance of his
age and nation, they were of the kind least likely to
be appreciated by a youth who knew little of real
life and nothing of the actual position of the chief or
of the sources of his information; but Philip, while
he knew his own mental and moral superiority, was
despondent of imparting any; and, moreover, the bet-
ter he became acquainted with Oneyda the less hope
he felt of ever rendering the influence he possessed
available to the regaining of his own freedom.
Oneyda must not be called a savage; he had not
thus long associated with so intelligent a mind as Phil-
ip’s without experiencing the beneficial effect which
is sure to result in every case from such a circum-
stance. Jt was not indeed the first time he had been
thrown into civilized society, but he had never been
placed for so long a period under a similar influence.
There was a gentle firmness in Philip’s manner and a
thoughtfulness beyond his years that attracted his in-
terest; he marvelled that one so young should have
attained to such dignity and self-control. He never
saw in him any approach to the folly and wild ferocity
which was so ready to break forth in the young men
of the tribe when ordinary restraints were withdrawn.
This Yengee youth, though brave and sincere, fearless
of his anger and resolute in doing what he thought
96 PHILIP RANDOLPH

right, was at the same time patient and respectful, and
wise in many things which he had never thought or
heard of. What could be the cause—the secret law
by which he governed himself? Oneyda longed to
know, and sometimes condescended to inquire ; but
he was too proud to be definite, and his questions
were so vague that Philip, who was too inexperienced
to read such a heart, felt unable to satisfy his curiosity.

CHAPTER XIV.

Tue chief had interests of his own to advance in
extolling the superiority of his captive protegé, and
this cherished plan of the subtle Indian was none
other than to train his adopted son in all the discipline
of savage warfare, that in process of time he might
lead the Wyannows against the detested pale face.
He contemplated with fierce exultation his anticipated
triumph over the foreigners, when they should behold
one of their own race bringing fire and sword and
terror into their usurped domains. Philip would not
only have the training of a red warrior, but possess
naturally that mysterious influence which all white
men appeared to hold in common with such strange
appropriation over the deceived and injured native.
Many vague ideas of the manner in which his proj-
ects were to be accomplished floated through Oney-
da’s imagination, and so deep was the animosity he
cherished toward the English intruders, and so great
his infatuation respecting Philip, that he could not re-
frain from discoursing upon his hopes to those elders
of the tribe who were already prepossessed in his fa-
vor; and their opinions coinciding with his own, Oney-
da could not entertain a doubt as to the delightful re-
alization of all his wishes.
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 97

With almost delirious joy the haughty chief was
summoned to receive the deputies of his allies in the
council lodge of the village. Philip remarked with
surprise and interest the high degree of order and
ceremony maintained upon this occasion, and the
deference paid to the messengers, more than is usually
bestowed upon the ambassadors of modern princes;
but that which most astonished him was, the lethargic
composure of Oneyda, whose dignity did not allow
him to show the proud joy he felt at being thus hon-
ored. He sat apart and abstracted, though occasion-
ally his eye glanced toward the envoys with intelli-
gence, as if to intimate that he was perfectly con-
scious of all that was passing, but that it suited not his
present pleasure to reply. They made their oration,
and the old men returned an answer through one of
their body. A long pause ensued, but Oneyda was
still silent. The assembly were in suspense, and the
younger warriors who could not imitate the stoical
indifference of their seniors, looked anxiously and im-
ploringly at their chief, but he rose not. The mes-
sengers maintained the calm and patient dignity suita-
ble to such an occasion. Nothing had been omitted
on their part; the wampum had been presented and
the pipe smoked; they must now wait tll the great
chief should condescend to speak.

At length Oneyda rose; he considered that sus-
pense had rendered them sufficiently deferential, and
doubted not that he should be most attentively listened
to. His attitude was majestic as he waved his power-
ful hand toward the assembly; and then, drawing
himself up to the full -height of his noble figure, he
stepped forth with animation in every feature, and
throwing up his arts in the air, uttered a few senten-
ces in a tone that shook the rude rafters of the build-
ing, and made many a heart within it beat quickly.
His oratory was not ineffective; none would have dis-
sented from him who had just been ruling them with
so subtle and wonderful a spell. The shout with
which the first burst of eloquence was reccived re-

9
98 PHILIP RANDOLPH,

sounded through the lodge, was caught up by the
crowd of women and children without, and then gave
place to a stillness that, by contrast, seemed super-
natural. But when the sounds had quite ceased, and
the ardent young warriors looked at their chief, he
was Calin and silent as the air arouna them. Having
resumed his former attitude, he prepared to receive
the replies of the envoys. They were in accordance
with his wishes; the alliance was entered into, and
its details considered; the obligations of each party
were defined, and arrangements made for a future ex-
pedition. But Oneyda had yet another matter to/
bring forward; one which evidently lay near his
heart; for he appeared struggling with feelings too
powerful fur utterance. Catching a view of Philip,
he motioned him to his side, and the countenances
of the messengers expressed their surprise at the
youth’s attire; for though he wore the short buffalo
robe and weapons of a young warrior, his head was
not shaven, and to the initiated eye of a native, many
deficiencies were observable.

The chief introduced his protegé to the assembly,
commending his brave heart and wise head, and con-
cluded by assuring them that be would soon have a
red skin like the children of the sun, who looked kind-
ly upun the pale face since he had made his dwelling
with the sons of the eagle. In the enthusiasm of the
moment, Oneyda went on to anticipate the day when
Philip should lead the Wyannows against the Yen-
gees. But first le must learn their method of war-
fare, and follow Maneecho, a brave young chief, on
the track of the false-hearted Dahwyotti; then would
his arm be strong for his red fathers. He asked his
young men how they should like to have Philip for
their companion in the approaching war excursion,
but in a tone of curiosity rather than of earnestness ;
and as if he deigned not to wait for their answer, went
on to assert still more decidedly his own confidence in
their perfect willingness to receive so distinguished an
associate. The proposition met with applause. Oney
PRILIP RANDOLPH. 99

da next turned to Philip, and his manner instantly
changed to one of gentleness and courtesy.

** My son,” said the latter, addressing him in the
softest intonations of his musical language, ‘‘ my son
- will be the young eagle of his tribe; he will fly up-
ward as I have done, who am the father of my young
warriors. My son shall take up the hatchet, and
lead to the track of the falsehearted Dahwyotti; they
shall not see his pale skin under the paint of a Wyan-
now.”

Philip considered that the moment had arrived for
speaking boldly, though he apprehended no danger to
his person. He looked up, therefore, and answered
in a firm tone of voice, and in English, “TI will not
fight against the Dahwyotti; they are not my ene-
mies.”

All turned to Oneyda for an interpretation ; but he
was silent from astonishment. Appomax, who had
been for some time intently watching his friend, now
glided through the crowd, and making his way to the
side of Philip, whispered in his ear, ‘ Say you will
fight, my brother; your heart says no, but let your
lips say yes—only yes.”

** No, Appomax, 1 must not tell a lie; I never will
fight with your people, or against them; and iy lips
shall not speak what my heart forbids.”

Appomax turned toward the assembly, and, over-
coming his agitation, took upon himseif the office of
' interpreter, saying, ‘‘ My brother is very brave, but he
has never been on the trail of our enemy, and he can
not sing our war-song; he has never taken a scalp,
but he will learn when my brothers teach him. Can
the young eagle fly to the sun till the old bird has
taught it? It follows, and then it can fly down alone.
Let the Yengee go with us, and he will learn to fight
tike our braves.”

Philip waited to observe the effect of his friend’s
appeal, but an enemy rose. “Ifthe pale face will go
and fight against the Dahwyotti, we will call him
brave: but if he will not smoke the pipe, he is a cow-
100 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

ard. If he can not speak with the tongue of a red
man, he can smoke.”

«“ Let him smoke,” said the old men, who were now
beginning to take a lively interest in the affair.

The pipe was presented to Philip, but he pushed it
from him; then looking around, and seeing the state
of commotion into which the assembly were thrown
by this act, he stepped forward once more to the side
of Oneyda, and said in the Indian language, ‘I have
not told you any lie; a white man thinks it wicked to
fight like his red brothers. My God isa good and
holy God; he hides his face when men are cruel; he
speaks to me now, and I must listen to his voice.
My lips can not speak when my heart is silent. Wry-
annows, I will not fight with you.”

The old men applauded the honesty and bravery of
the youth, who was not afraid to stand forth boldly
and alone to justify his conduct, and many of them
would have suffered the matter to rest there; but
Maneecho had stirred up a few spirits malignant as
his own, and a cry was raised against Philip that
reached the ears of Oneyda, but he stirred not.

“« He must die if he will not fight,” cried the angry
few. ‘He is the friend of our enemy, if he is not the
enemy of the Dahwyotti,” said Maneecho.

“True,” repeated the old men; “if this young
stranger will not fight after being adopted into the
tribe, he is our enemy, and not a friend ; let himsmoke
the pipe.”

‘There was a pause of some moments, and still the
youth remained firm to his resolution not to act a
fraud ; the remonstrances and pleading glances of Ap-
pomax were vain. Another cry arose in the assembly
while every fierce spirit was roused at the undaunted
firmness of their captive. Many threatening gestures
were used by the younger party. and some approached
nearer, commanding him to sinoke ordie. Philip re-
tained his composure. Turning to Oneyda, he said
in English, “Can you not help me, Oneyda? Will
you see me in such danger and yet stand silent?
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 101

Speak for me now, and I shall escape. Oneyda! is
this your friendship? Will you see me die before your
eyes? [can not smoke the pipe: for ‘that would be
to act a lie, and that is sin against my God.”

Oneyda appeared as utterly abstracted from the
scene as if his bodily presence were withdrawn. He
started, however, when Philip again addressed him in
a tone of thrilling energy ; for the youth felt the ex-
tremity and peril in which he found himself.

**Oneyda! why do you not help me? You area
great chief, and one word from you would save me.”

“ My son,” he said, “‘Oneyda can not help you!
These are not my people—Oneyda has no people.
He reads your heart; he knows you are brave. But
why does my son listen to that voice now! The
knives of my young men are greedy; they cry out
for the blood of the Yengee. Does your God tell
you not to do a thing which would save you from
death ?”

Oneyda suppressed a sigh as he was interrupted by
the shouts of Philip’s enemies, who were augmenting
every moment; but against this storm the innocent
object of their hatred was upborne by Him whose
strength and protection he had sought daily in prayer,
and who did not leave him in this extremity. An old
man now arose and spoke a few words, which were
received with deference by the assembly, though in
opposition to the almost unanimous opinion. It was
therefore agreed that the contumacious captive should
be confined in the prison-hut ; and that when the war-
party were ready to set forth, he should have the
same alternative presented to him—but upon a second
refusal should die as decreed, the death of a coward.
«“ Brave men,” said the old man, * only are worthy of
torture ; one stroke of the hatchet will find the lite of
a coward.”

Oneyda gave his orders, and a few of the younger
warriors advanced to the spot wheré Philip stood, and
taking from him his weapons, laid them down at their
sacMm’s feet. His heart sank within him as he passed

g*
102 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

Oneyda, who gave him no token of interest or regard ;
but Appomax pressed his hand in the crowd, and
Philip read in the glistening softness of his dark eyes
the eloquence of a heart fondly devoted to him; and
thus was he placed a second time in the hut which
had received him little more than a year before, a des
olate and bereaved captive.

CHAPTER XV.

Caprain Presron escaped the pursuit of his tor
mentors and reached Jamestown, though in such a
state of exhaustion that he lay long afterward upon
the borders of the grave ; but when sufficiently recov-
ered, he devoted all his energies to the affairs of the
colony, which were much deranged. The whole
community had received so terrible a shock in the
fearful calamity which had befallen them, that the hor-
rors of the general massacre had left an impression
upon the minds of old and young which it was scarce-
ly possible to efface.

Captain Preston brought the first news of the safety
of Heury Randolph’s children; at Jeast he had seen
Philip alive, and thought him in no peril; but of the
fate of Alice they were uncertain, till one night Henry
Randolph received an unexpected visit from the In-
dian whom he had so hospitably treated at the Fair
Meadows. The stranger informed him of his chil-
dren’s safety ; that they were well, and kindly enter-
tained by a great chief, who had adopted them into
his tribe : but he would not tell the place of their cap-
tivity, or the name of their protector. In vain the
anxious parent eftreated to be made acquainted with
these. ‘he Indian would tell no more, and departed
ts abruptly as he came. Henry determined to f8ftow

os
PHILIP RANDOLPA, 108

and detain him till the information was given; but the
stranger moved quickly, and upon reaching the river’s
side, a canoe, manned by four dark figures, was seen
in waiting. It would have been madness to attempt
compulsion, and Randolph was obliged to relinquish
his intention. With a sigh he saw them receive their
companion into the boat, and push from the shore.
But as they rowed into the current, a tall figure rose
in the boat, and waving his hand in the direction of
the bank, said in English, ‘Henry Randolph will
never hear the voices of his children in his dwel-
ling again; but they shall be safe in the wigwam of
Oneyda.”

One morning Henry Randolph was called to the
council; and when he entered the hall where the
members held their mecting, the governor did not
immediately recognise him, he had grown so thin and
careworn. Suffering had traced her intelligible char-
acters on his brow, and as he walked toward the up-
per end of the apartment, Sir George remarked with
regret that he appeared both lame and feeble.

“f fear you do not find yourself so well, Master
Randolph; pray be seated. You seem somewhat wea-
ry ; these March days are fickle as April.”

“I have not quite recovered from the wounds J re-
ceived a year ago,” replied Henry gravely, ‘ and much
fear they will accompany me through a weary lite ;
but the will of God be done!”

“Well, well, my friend, I feel for you ; those were
bad wounds of yours a year ago, but the matter won’t
be mended by dwelling upon it. We must take life
as it goes. You'll not be lame all your life, depend
upon it. No, no! all cloud just now; but sunshine
will return, doubt it not.”

The governor spoke rapidly, but the husky tones
of his voice denoted ‘how much he felt for the misfor-
tunes of Henry Randolph. The latter replied with a
struggle for composure— .

«« We must take everything unquestioning from the
han@#Mf the Lord. His providence ordered the blow :
104 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

shall we not receive evil as well as good from him?
I am weak from my wounds still, Sir George ; but my
heart is sadder this morning than I like: ’tis the room
that unmans me. Last year, the very day before the
massacre, we held council, and your excellenry gave
audience to ”

“Ah! true, my friend—to those rascally Indians,
the knaves! Well, I'll have acare they don’t abuse
my trust in that way again. I wish | could catch
that crafty villain Opecanoff; but I think he’s made
of something more invisible than air—as slippery as
volatile mercury. Send where I will, the man is no-
where to be seen; and just when I would lay my
hand on him, he vanishes. But I forget to tell you,
Master Randolph, that we meet to-day to consider
some matters of reprisal.”

“ Reprisal! Sir George—how so?”

““ Nay, may; that face of yours augurs ill for the
unanimity of our counsels to-day. Weil, sit you
down, Master Randolph, and the business shall be
opened. Gentlemen, 1 am ready and impatient to
hear your deliberations. Captain Preston, favor us
with your scheme ; and you, Captain Smith, we hope
will introduce us to yours anon;” and the governor
took his usual place under the canopy at the head of
the table.

Many busy heads were clustered, and much con-
versation was going on. Around Captain Preston
were grouped a few whose dark and flushed counte-
nances looked hardly English in their characteristics ;
already had the climate effected a change in their
complexions, and they were talking with all the ar-
dor of the southern temperament. Opposite to this
party sat a young man busily engaged in studying a
rudely-constructed chart of Virginia. He was attired
in military costume, and evidently an officer of high
rank in the corps so recently imported to the colony.
This person spoke to none, and seldom raised his
eyes from the map, upon which he was making vari-
ous lines and measurements. He appeared q@p ab-


PHILIP RANDOLPH. 108

stracted from the noise and business by which he was
surrounded, and started when a hand was laid upon
his shoulder, and he was informed that the proceed-
ings of the morning were now at hand.

After an address from the governor, which was en-
tirely preliminary, Captain Preston rose to announce
his scheme. It was none other than a plan for redu-
cing the native tribes to subjection, at the risk of ex-
terminating every human being among them, though
the speaker shrouded his meaning as well as he was
able by involving it in dubious language, and the use
of terms which sound better than they mean, though
too frequently in the mouths of politicians.

The speech of Preston was brief and animated, and
met with a favorable reception from the greater part
of his auditors.

«« But your means, your means,” cried Sir George,
vehemently, as if listening to some bright but imprac-
ticable speculation. “ You have raised a goodly pros-
pect to view in the peace we should all value so high-
jy, but I have no eyes for it till I see whereby you
would establish such a state of things.”

“ Seems it truly a fair prospect? Then your excel-
lency need not question the means thereto; though,
after all, much will depend in the worshipful assist-
ance the colony’s servants hope to receive from the
governor and council. And presently I shall endeavor
te show to the members here assembled those meth-
ods of Indian warfare in which they know me to be
not unskilled, seeing that I knew much service in the
time of our late friend and ally Powhatan. But the
rules of courtesy prescribe the precedence to my
young friend Captain Smith, whose command of the
reinforcements entitles him to that honor.”

The stranger rose and bowed, his pale face flushed,
and belied not the energy of his tone and manner.
His utterance was rapid. and accompanied by gestures
rather nervous than graceful; but his simple and
straight-forward eloquence made its way to some
heal the assembly. He introduced himself as a
106 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

young relative of the Captain Smith who had some
years before rendered such distinguished services to

irginia. He, too, urged an immediate attack ; but it
roust be open, and after the European mode of war-
fare; for his troops knew nothing of any other, and
would fail unless they were led by their own com-
mander, and according to the discipline of the service.
Besides,” said he—his eye kindling with indignation
at the thought—‘* what can be more unmanly, more
inglorious, than to take one’s brave fellows skulking
into the woods, now hiding from, and now peeping
at, the enemy? I am not here as a delegate of your
Virginia assembly, but I bear the commission of his
majesty to defend the colony, either in garrison or by
carrying arms against the natives, if need require, and
I will not return with my duty undone. If the red
man is to be exterminated, let it not be by our means;
let us make him indeed quail before us, and drive him
far from our habitations : but would it be justifiable or
honorable to fall upon him in his own cruel and crafty
manner? My heart abhors such counsel; I scorn to
use my sword in such a service!” And here he
sheathed it with such violence that the scabbard rat-
tled on the floor, and the walls of the congress hall
gave back the angry sound.

In spite of the rather untempered vehemence of the
speaker, many of the members regarded him approv-
ingly, and Sir George himself could not refrain from
bestowing a glance of cordial admiration ; but Captain
Preston rose once more, with a proud smile upon his
swarthy countenance, and without deigning to look at
his youthful opponent, turned to the governor :—

‘Let your excellency and all in council to-day
Judge whether it seem prudent to Jead English sol-
diers into the forests of the west against the wander-
ing and lurking savage. ‘Tactics would little avail us
in such quarters ; and a few picked adventurers, pru-
dent and fearless men, would accomplish our purpose,
were they dispersed over different stations. Methinks,
since his majesty’s captain so well andersta@y the
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 107

chart of Virginia, he should have learned. the length
and depth of our forests. My plans are well digested,
and of most simple execution.”

« We await your announcement, Captain Preston,”
said the governor, whose curiosity was much excited.

‘It is simply this,” replied the captain, with an air
of studied indifference ; ‘the fact is well known that
the Indians are lulled by our apparent dejection and
‘nactivity into a state of confiding repose ; they are not
in the least expecting the tardy vengeance I propose.
Who knows not the proverb, ‘Set a fox to catch a
fox?’ Well, here I stand, not little used to their war-
fare, and with two hundred men would engage to sur-
prise Opecanoff himself, and return his treacherous
dealing with a liberal hand.”

“If you could catch him, you would indeed find
your fox,” interrupted Sir George, laughing at his
joke.
ae The tribes between this river and the Delaware
are quiet enough, and forsooth ‘tis this which encour-
ages me to my plans. I have certain advice that the
Indian king, our crafty foe, has but lately taken signal
vengeance upon our allies the Blackfeet, and this is a
sure token of what is in store for all who are friendly
toward us. Now, I find by comparing notes with our
worthy Master Randolph, that the chiet of the tribe
from whom I so nearly got a roasting last year, is sa-
chem of the Wyanuows—by name Oneyda—and he,
by advice of Opecanoff I should presume, is about to
overpower our best allies, the Dahwyotti. Could we
procure a Dahwyott guide, we should easily make our
way to Oneyda’s village. Such a blow as that | con-
template would have a signal effect, and by such alone,
my friends, can you hope for safety to your homes
and children. Ah! there will be no flourishing plan-
tations, no fair posterity on these settlements, unless
the natives be swept from the lands. Ye who have
friends, brothers, and children, in captivity, would
you not wish to rescue them from their grievous
bondage? Will you sulfer any fearful and softhearted
108 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

notions to come between your courage and this enter-
prise?”

Many eager murmurs were now heard, for Preston
had touched a chord which he well knew would re-
spond to his appeal. Sir George Yeardley looked
around ; his better feelings revolted at so barbarous a
policy, yet he could not help thinking how much
more easy would be his rule of the colony were his
savage neighbors removed. He did not wish to reply.
and requested Henry Randolph to give his opinion
upon this difficult question.

The father, whose feelings had been so painfully
touched by the last allusion, obeyed ; and, suppres-
sing his emotion, spoke in a firm tone fixing his calm
upright eye upon the stern countenance of Preston.

“Shall we do evil that good may come? You
know well, my friend, that we should not. Let every
father present answer for himself; for my own part, 1
am ready to reply, and to express my abhorrence of
this scheme of extermination. [ wish not to magnify
my own sufferings, though all must know how bitter
they have been, and how aggravated by suspense; but
T would not sacrifice my principles to regain anything
Thave lost. Shall we treat the Indiaus as they have
treated us? Shall we carry destruction into their
villages, as they brought death and anguish to our
homes? I should marvel less at the natural cruelty
of a savage than at the proposition we have heard,
were it put into execution by Englishmen. You
know, my friends, that two of my children are in sad
captivity. | would do all that a just man may do for
their rescue; but no countenance will 1 give to a
measure such as this. The English settler has yet a
duty toward his red brother unperformed, and how
shall it be done if we treat them as they have treated
us? Consider it well, I entreat you, before decision
is given. Aud may it please your excellency to ex-
cuse me; my advice and opinion have been offered to
the assembly, and my vote against the enterprise.
The feelings of a bereaved father must plead for my
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 109

weakness ; I should listen to these discussions with
more distress than would be seemly. Gentlemen, I
would fain withdraw.”

There was an expression of such keen anguish on
the countenance of Henry Randolph that appealed to
every feeling heart, and the struggle he evidently was
making for resigned composure gave dignity to his
sorrow, which could not fail to win him respect and
interest. He withdrew, and a silence of a few mo-
ments succeeded to his departure. The young offi-
cer looked after him with admiration and sympathy,
testifying his respect by rising and saluting him with
a low bow as he passed; but when the pause had
been broken, many experienced a sense of relief, as if
some weight had been removed, and those most anx-
ious for revenge commenced forwarding the designs
of Preston and Smith with equal ardor. The delib-
erations of the council finally resulted in a confirma-
tion of the barbarous project of Preston; which, in
the language of these worldly politicians, was termed
merely an act of moderate and justifiable retaliation.

CHAPTER XVI.

Henry Rawpovps left the council with a perturbed
spirit; yet amid the conflicting feelings which had
been roused to such distressing activity by Preston’s
speech, a self-approving thought rose to cheer him.
He had made his protestation against the cruel pro-
ject, and feeble as his voice might be, he had done all
he could do publicly, though he still hoped to plead
the cause of mercy with the governor, and privately
consider with him other plans of a more peaceful ten-
dency. Not that he hoped very much against the
promptings of self-interest and the natural .il pas-
sions of the men who were stimulating the good-tem-

10
110 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

pered and thoughtless Sir George to the deed, but
because he felt it a duty to use further arguments ere
he gave up the matter.

Captain Preston was a man of daring spirit, whose
favorite element was enterprise. A life of adventure
had made him unscrupulous and recklJess of conse-
quences, and he was little accustomed to consider
principles of any kind; expediency, what is best for
the present, was his governing maxim, therefore he
could not be called a good or honest man. In the
subtle modes of Indian policy and warfare Pyeston
had become an adept; and in his frequent communi-
cations with Pow-how-tan, had formed friendships
with many of the sachems or principal chiefs of tribes.
With one in particular he had contracted an intimacy
which was only dissolved by death; and Oneyda in
dying had charged his son to show kindness to his
white friend, for whom the youth had always mani-
fested the greatest abhorrence and animosity. This
young man’s name was Opecancanoff, whom Preston
supposed to be the same as the newly elected king
Pow-how-tan’s successor, but was unable to verify
this supposition, as the haughty chief had never
deigned to visit the principal station of the colony, and
his wanderings were so extensive that he was seldom
to be heard of; yet he was suspected to be the prime
mover of the horrible transactions of the day of
March. Preston had often boasted that he could fol-
low the fox to his hole as well as any hound, and not
a little prided himself upon his skill in conducting
hazardous expeditions against the crafty foe.

With such a man Henry Randolph had nothing in
common. So far was he from appreciating these
qualifications that he could not discern the least tal-
ent in the captain of the garrison, and dreaded him as
a reckless man, who had prudence only for his own
ends, but was not trust-worthy ; and his own feelings
as a Christian were entirely repugnant to the plan
brought forward in council by this person, whom he
regarded as now more devoid of humanity than ever.


PHILIP RANDOLPH. 111i

Yet the last argument introduced by Preston for the
recovery of the lost ones had made much impression
upon the fond father. The project for attacking the
chief Oneyda, in. whose keeping his children were
supposed to be, was at one moment too inviting, and
he could not at first bring himself to condemn it ut-
terly ; but after further reflection, hia judgment de-
cided the matter, and he resolved to go straight to the
governor and have a private interview, in the hope of
dissuading him from his cruel purposes. He accord-
ingly repaired that same evening to Sir George, whom
he found just preparing to set out for the garrison,
attended by Captains Smith and Preston.

“Ah, thou bird of ill omen!” cried Sir George
gayly, “prithee, Master Randolph, lay aside that
grave countenance; our plans are all arranged and too
cumbersome for any further ordering. My forehead
is wrinkled already with the weight of this matter.”

“Yet must J crave a word. I would not trouble
your excellency needlessly ; but the affair is alto-
gether too urgent for ceremonials. Will you grant
me five minutes private audience before you go to
parade ?”"

“Why now [ know all you would say as well as
if you had told me, Master Randolph ; but no learned °
lawyer could ever make case clearer than do you to
get on the weak side of me. However, I can not re-
fuse you if I would, so we will not detain these gen-
tlemen any longer.”

The young soldier looked after Randolph’s retreat-
ing figure with admiration, and said with much ener-
gy, “That man is an excellent fellow; I like him,
Preston, and I am certain that he has a great mind.”

“Pooh! pooh! that’s a spice of your romance,
I suppose,” answered Captain Preston peevishly.
‘The man’s worthy enough, but too tame for me.
I’ve no mind to make out such a mystery as his char-
acter; he has not an idea like any one else in the
colony, nor can 1 see a glimmer of what he’s after.
A man that can leave his two children in captivity
112 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

without raising a finger to help them is quite beyond
my understanding. Ay, and such a noble stripling
too; he’d make the best king the red wretches ever
chose to rule them. If he’s sensible, he'll stay and
get promotion.”

Smith replied as though he heard him not: “A
great man, |’m convinced.”

“Well, Captain Smith, since you choose to wait
on the governor I'll on to the garrison. We shall
have work enough ere night-fall—all to go over again,
I warrant you—now that he’s come to turn Sir George
round again.” Preston walked quickly out of the
room, in evident displeasure.

The young man stood musing. They had merged
their differences; but he was too entirely opposed to
Captain Preston in principles to yield his opinion with
regard to Randolph. Nor would he have felt grieved,
had the latter been able to impress the easy governor
with his own view of the proposed hostilities. ‘The
thing which occasioned most surprise to Smith was
this: that a man bereaved of his children, should still,
upon avowed principles, urge good faith toward a
faithless foe. In the meanwhile the subject of his
meditations was endeavoring to turn Sir George Y eard-
ley from his present intentions. But, though the
good-natured governor of Virginia would most wil-
lingly have obliged all parties if it had been in his
power, he could not extricate himself from the dilem-
ma into which his want of firmness had led him, but
at the risk of offending the majority of his council,
and such consequences were extremely disagreeable.
Like most men who are afraid to do right, from a
dread of false shame, or ridicule of the world, he
wished to excuse himself to the man whom he so
much respected, urging the impossibility of disarrang-
ing plans which had been made and concerted by the
newly-formed house of representatives. It was in
vain that Henry Randolph placed the truth before him
of the precise resemblance the intended inroad bore
to the deed perpetrated by the Indians themselves :
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 113

that by whatever specious name they might call it, it
was nothing less than a massacre, and one which
could not fail to bring a lasting disgrace upon the
name of England and all succeeding settlers in Vir-
ginia. Sir George had reasons shallow and weak,
but better than none to his own mind; and though
suspicious that he was doing wrong, he fortified him-
self against all the twinges of conscience, by falling
back upon his advisers and the decisions of the legis-
lature.

The contrast between the two men was very strik-
ing, as they returned from their conference to the
apartment where Smith was still awaiting them.
Henry Randolph looked sad, but stepped as one who
felt conscious of having done a duty to the utmost,
though unsuccessfully; and Sir George rather tripped
along than marched in his usually soldier-like manner,
endeavoring to hide disagreeable sensations under a
gay exterior. On bidding Henry good night, he ex-
tended his hand, and said, with a slight tremulousness
in his tone—“ A good night, my friend; pray do not
set every man down as cruel or dishonest who can not
see with your eyes. A good night to you, Master
Randolph, and better days to you and yours. Soon
shal] your lost ones be restored; doubt it not. Pre-
sent me courteously to Mistress Margaret,” and away
he went. But Smith lingered; a flush passed over
his pale countenance, as, with an impulse he strove
not to resist, he seized Randolph’s hand, and said,
“Yes! I pledge my word as a soldier and brother, to
bring your children back to you safe and soon ; trust
me, they shall return.”

“You are most kind indeed, young man,’’ replied
Henry, with much emotion; “ but say not so confi-
dently that they shall return. God knows how blest
a sight it would be to me and their poor mother ; but
He who led them captive can alone restore them to
our prayers. I shall hope much from your generous
efforts, and my gratitude”——

“Nay, nay, nothing of gratitude, I pray you,” in-

10
114 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

terrupted Smith. “It will bring its own reward if 1
succeed, to witness your happiness. But how shall
I know your son, if so fortunate as to meet with him?”

“Know him! Oh! if you should see one more
active, healthy, and comely than another; though I
say it, that is my son. He has a modest bearing and
a gallant fearless carriage ; and Alice, she is the fair-
est, sweetest, little sprite, as loving and as”— Here
the fond father stopped abruptly, and sank into the
nearest chair, covering his face, and trembling vio-
lently. The young man looked on compassionately,
and respectfully waited till he should recover a little.

“Tam very foolish,” at Jength said Randolph, in a
tone of anguish. ‘“ Pardon such weakness, young
friend : it speaks little for the resignation a Christian
man should exhibit. Pardon me.”

Smith only replied by again wringing his hand, and
then quitted the room, to overtake, by rapid strides,
the less-enviable governor.

When Henry Randolph reached his temporary
dwelling, he felt better, happier than when he left it ;
and, as he took his two youngest children on his knee,
and looked at the sweet and contented countenance
of his wife, thankfully felt and acknowledged that by
the goodness of God, he had yet many blessings left.

CHAPTER XVII.

Axice Ranpoupn sat pensively in the wigwam of
Oneyda, totally regardiess of the whining of her in-
fant charge, who, in the absence of its mother, had
been intrusted to her care. Her eyes were red with
weeping, and though she had ceased to shed tears,
she sighed very frequently, and many a long breath
ended in sobbing. Altogether, the little girl seemed
very sorrowful. T'wo or three children without the
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 118

hut were staring in, but did not venture to ercss the
doorway, and pressingly invited her to join their
sports; bat she motioned them from her, and at heart
could scarcely endure their swarthy visages. They
had never looked more savage in her eyes: the whole
current of her feelings was turned against her late
associates.

But the child began to cry more piteously, and
Alice felt obliged to attend to him. She placed him
in a more comfortable position, and gave him a few
rushes to play with; then, resuming her former mel-.
ancholy attitude, the tears which had for a short time
been repressed, gushed forth anew, and she wept once
more, as passionately as before. While thus yielding
to her grief, she was not unobserved by a new inmate
of the hut. Oneyda had entered just as a fresh party
of children, more inconsiderate than the rest, were
about to rush in and disturb their favorite and quon-
dam leader, but he pushed them back sternly, and at
this rebuke, the whole group took to their heels and
were soon out of sight. ,

The chief, seeing that his entrance was unnoticed,
stood silently regarding Alice with glances of interest
and affection; but she was so absorbed in grief, that,
she never uncovered her face to inquire whose step
had crossed the threshold, or whose presence had
stilled the crying child, now chattering in his baby
language, to hisfather. Oneyda did not interrupt her.
At length, as if a new thought had darted into her
mind, she hastily arose, and, without casting a glance
at the baby, ran out of the wigwam, and rapidly bent
her steps to the prison-hut ; but her progress was ar-
rested by a strong hand, and she turned with a feeling
of keen disappointment ; but the moment she beheld
Oneyda, the flush of hope overspread her cheek, and
she uttered an exclamation of joy. She clasped his
hand tightly, and covered it with kisses, bestowing
every endearing epithet she could think of upon the
silent chief, who only replied by leading her back to
the wigwam, where, having closed the door, he sat
116 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

down, and stroking her hair in indication of his affee-
tion, told her to speak to him again. She thought
the day her own, and, with greater importunity, re-
peated her request to be taken to Philip.

“ Thou shalt go to thy brother, my child; but tell
him that he must fight, or my young men will be
angry.”

“Oh, never mind your young men; you are a great
chief, and you should make them do as you like.”

He shook his head and was silent for a few moments:
yet the simple child had suggested an idea that was
very agreeable to the imperious Oneyda. Alice stole
closer to his side, and looked into his face with such
a pleading tenderness, that even the stern chief could
not but be moved.

“Oh yes, now dear good Oneyda, do let Philip out.
Never mind your silly young men; thou knowest,
dear Oneyda, they are none of them half so good as
our Philip. What business have they to shut up
dear Philip, indeed? Oneyda, let me tell those young
men that you don’t care a feather for them ;” and her
blue eyes flashed defiance, and Alice waived her hand
as haughtily as he himself could have done. ‘This
appeal was answered by the low and musical laughter
of the chief. He motioned her to depart, giving her
a small feather from his plume, as a passport to the
guard.

“Go to thy brother, golden hair: thou hast the eye
of a dove and the heart of an eagle. Go, tell hin
that summer is coming.” :

Alice delayed not a moment: she flew across the
green, and soon stood with her feather upheld, urging
instant admission. ‘The sentinels did not prevent her,
and she was soon nestled by her brother's side, laugh-
ing and chattering with her accustomed glee. She
could not sorrow long, and the traces of her recent grief
had almost entirely disappeared ere an hour had sped
in Philip’s society. A day and night had he been a
prisoner ; but desolate as his external condition was,
he had not felt unhappy. He sought to wait upon his
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 117

God and trust entirely to his providence, not anticipa-
ting evil which he had yet the power to avert. It
gave him pleasure to see Alice so happy and contented
with him even in this gloomy prison, and now bent
fondly overher ; his dark eyes were only occasionally
upraised as the thought of his peril and the possibility
of separation intruded, but soon again they sank un-
der their long fringes, rendering the expression of his
countenance stil! more tender and touching. She,
all animation and happiness, sat his unconsciously
beautiful contrast, the brilliancy of her fair complex-
ion heightened by the suffusion of joyous emotions
which tinged her cheek with a deeper glow, varying
with every modulation of her voice; the liquid and
quivering brightness of her blue eyes was now and
then obscured by the dgooping of her waving hair,
which fell over her forehead as she moved, to be as
hastily tossed back by her rapid hand. Philip had
the sweet satisfaction of observing that his presence
was enough to éreate this sunshine in the mind of
Alice, and that she truly, warmly, loved him. She
would have chattered on the whole afternoon, but the
guard at the door Jooked in and made a sign that she
was to come away.

“Not I,” cried Alice, tossing back ber hair as she
looked resolutely upon him. ‘ Oneyda said I might
stay, and thou need not tarry for me there; I am not
coming yet, Maneecho.” The savage stood as if
transfixed by the picture, and wonderingly regarded
the fair being whose appearance indicated so much
both of softness and energy.

“Never mind him, Philip; Oneyda says he’ll teach
those bad young men that hate thee to behave better,
and he won’t let them do thee any harm, so I don’t
care how long he stands staring.”

“Nay, Alice, Oneyda did not say all that; what
would thou tell me?”

“Why,” answered Alice, blushing, “he did say
something, but my heart was so full I did not mind
much what he said. Oh! but Philip, he called me
118 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

his dove and his eagle, and said summer was coming,
so when summer comes he will send us home, and
then these ugly men can’t lock thee up.”

Alice kissed him again so affectionately that he
could not ask any more questions ; but putting togeth-
er the probabilities of these random recollections, he
inferred that some hopeful circumstances had arisen
The guard at Jast recovered from his revery, and once
more beckoned to Alice to depart; but she was so un-
willing that it required all Philip's persuasive powers
to effect obedience.

Where was Meahmee? She had quitted the wig-
wam early that morning, leaving her boy to the care
of Alice. aud promising to return ere the sun slept,
saying that she would soon make Alice laugh again.
She unmoored a light canoe from under the shelter
of a projecting rock and sprang into it, displaying
great skill in its guidance down the river. She had
not proceeded far when her attention was diverted by
the sudden appearance of her husband on the bank.
He made a sign that she should stop; whereupon she
instantly made toward him and he sprang into the
boat, but did not take the oar from her hand. A few
hasty words were exchanged between them, and with
more tenderness than le was wont to display, Oneyda
smiled encouragingly upon his wife, and giving her a
hasty salute made a spring and soon stepped lightly
ashore avain leaving the happy Meahmee to pursue
her voyage with a joyous heart. A few hours of
floating brought.her to her destination. Here she
was met by an elderly Indian accompatiied by two
younger warriors, not of Oneyda's tribe, but attired
very much after the fashion of the Wyannows. The
young men's reception was kind, and less negligent
than their usual inanner of addressing 2 woman; but
the old man embraced her affectionately, and accepted
the presents she had brougist from Oneyda, with
much satisfaction and courtesy. Meahmee did not
quit the river's brink, but promptly made known her
mission, for which they were in some measure pre-
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 119

pared by the tokens she had despatched the previous
evening, by the trusty hand of Appomax. Her father
listened with grave attention to the simple eloquence
of his daughter, and the brothers stood respectfully
awaiting his decision, in which they were sure to ac-
quiesce.

Oneyda's efforts to deliver his protegé had been pro-
foundly considered; he must not appear as an agent
in the liberation of their contumacious captive. Hav-
ing turned over many plans in his mind for effecting
this purpose, he at length decided upon one which for
its policy and wariness could scarcely have been ex-
celled. This plan was to secure the assistance of
Tallassee, one of the wisest sigamores of the west,
whose influence and counsel wereé_,indigpensable .in
this affair. His alliance had been “tnade, and the
friendship between his people and.those of Oneyda
cemented by a marriage between the ‘powerful chief
of the Wyannows and Meahmee, for whose hand
many suitors had enriched her father by the quantity
and value of their presents, but she loved Oneyda,
and nothing could have pleased her father better than
such a choice. Meahmee, prompted by an urgent
desire to save her adopted son, painted his qualities in
glowing terms to her father and brothers, and partic-
ularly intereste. the latter in his -bebalf. They
thought he must indeed be scarcely human to possess
such wisdom without gray hairs: they almost ima-
gined, though perhaps very indefinitely, that to serve
him was to do honor to the Great Spirit, the Father
of Life, who had so richly endowed him with gifts
seldom shared by mortals. They resolved to send an
embassy on the following morning, which should ar-
rive about noon in the Wyannow village, just at the
time when it had been arranged to bring out Philip
to his trial, and this they had no doubt would cause a
diversion. If his enemy was very urgent, and the
public voice clamorous, ‘l'allassee, as an acknowledged
friend and adviser, was to petition for his life and to
claim him for himself. This would prove a sure
120 PHILIP RANUVOLPH.

means of rescuing Philip, us it was in the power cf
Oneyda to comply, which he intended to do, aldiough
he had not felt sufficiently independent to set the
prisoner at liberty by his own command. Meahmee
did not spend any unnecessary time with her father
and brothers; but entered her canoe once more with
a lightened heart, and was peacefully sailing, when
she was startled by the sound of oars splashing in the
distance, and at once drew in closely under the bank
to listen and watch unobserved. ‘The sound grew
more distinct, and Meahmee looked around for a safer
position, but she must sail onward a few yards before
she could reach a landing place. Moving steadily
along she gained a harbor, but, just as she was about
to land, three boats filled with strange men appeared
in sight, and their singular aspect startled and arrested
her. The drooping branches of a tree partially shad-
owed her, and she hoped thus to escape their obser-
vation ; to move she felt would be most difficult, and
therefore remained quiet, watching the party from her
place of retreat. They paused, and the three boats’
crew drew up to consult, apparently in great perplex-
ity. Some stood upright and scanned each side of
the stream, probably in quest of a landing place.
They selected the one already chosen by Meahmee,
whose consternation was excessive on observing that
they were steering toward it. With the lightness of
a fawn she sprang from her canoe and gained the bank
so noiselessly as not to be heard by the eager stran-
gers, whose attention was shortly attracted by the sol-
itary canoe, now rocking and trembling from its re-
cent impulse; but Meahmee was not discovered. She
plunged into the brushwood, which is usually to be
found on the borders of the forests near water, though
never abounding in the interior, and concealed herself
by crouching down, and scarcely daring to breathe
after attaining its shelter.

She soon heard the voices of the strangers, and
her ear detected many tones and words which Philip
and Alice had made familiar te her; and she there-
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 121

fore rightly concluded that they must be English.
Fearful anticipations rushed upon her imagination ;
the pale faces had come armed into these wilds ; what
should they seek but the blood of her people ?

The party in the foremost boat had disembarked,
and, upon gaining the upper bank of the steep side
of the river, commenced reconnoitring the place,
and then one of them descended to give a report to
the others remaining in the boats.

«There is no path to be seen, and the wood is im-
penetrable ; we had better try lower down or higher
up, ’tis far too steep here; the lower land would do
better,” said one.

“ Not so,” cried another speaker, leaping down the
steep bank as he spoke, ‘every one who knows any-
thing of Indian hunting may be sure that an open
trail were the very worst to be chosen; take the river
if you choose, Captain Smith; I’m for the forest,
and will take my chance of the first prey.”

“We are going in quest of brave men, of human
beings, Captain Preston, and not after buffaloes and
deer,” replied the first speaker, haughtily ; “and I
put it to our friends in the boats whether mine or
yours be the most soldier-like method—skulking
through the woods, or marching on an open track
where there may be fair vantage ground.”

“Well, Tam not here to take my first lesson in Tn-
dian warfare from you, gallant captain; though I
doubt not your tactics are vastly humane. But | put
the matter to vote, and the volunteers of our party
shall decide.”

A third officer now rose from the stern of one of
the boats. ‘“ My opinion is this,” said he, “that our
party divide. Do you, Captain Preston, proceed up-
on your forest excursion, and Captain Sinith and I
will land at some point which you shall name, either
east or west of this spot, whence we can make some
Junction with you inland. We may then probably
pick up our Dahwyott friends, who have been so long
on the way to meet us.”

ql
122 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

“Trust a Dahwyott! the knaves. I'll be beholden
to the first that shall ever do us service. As you say,
Mark, we will divide; do you and Smith take the
western direction, and I'll lead a few brave fellows
through this wood up to the red bluff you'll see hang
ing over the stream; but mind, gentlemen, its all a
chance that you’re not seen upon the open river;
draw in to the bank if a leaf stir. We shall get noth-
ing done, I fear, before morning. Follow me, my
men, we must not tarry.”

“ Ay, ay,” cried a hearty voice from below, you
say right now, captain; and if ever any proverb was
true there’s one [ wot of—‘set a thief to catch a
thief, sirs. There’s Captain Preston that ’lI have all
the villages burning before morning, just as the red
villains did the Fair Meadows not so long ago; and
there, while you’ve been talking o' this way I’ve been
speering about I’se warrant, and ] think we’ve caught
something already. Now is it likely that canoe could
ha’ sailed itself into that snug corner all alone? Its
clear to me there’s been hands and feet here; and, for
sure, the little thing’s rocking about just as if it had
been left to shift for itself all of a sudden.”

“ Well said, Ralph Giles,” cried Preston, ‘and we
must look into this at once; thou art a sharp fellow,
with ail thy impudence. If I catch the bird that has
flown so recently Pll tie him to the nearest tree till
we're safe back again. Everything depends upon a
surprise. I would not have any forerun er to our
coming on this occasion. Look sharp, my men, and
beat the bushes there; some of you get into the
trees, and look round.”

“Preston !” said Captain Smith, with much energy,
after some deliberation, “1'll join your party, and
place my men as a reserve under your orders, bul on
condition that no cruelty is used here. ‘To be honest,
I confess | have my motives, but from this time am
resolved to act in concert with you; so! my men, up
and be ready.”

Captain Preston was soon upon the bank of the
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 123

stream once more, and seizing the young officer’s
hand, grasped it with great cordiality. ‘1 question
no man’s motives, Smith; you need not tell me yours
—it is quite enough that you set so noble an exam-
ple of union. J am sure I am only too happy to have
you as my companion in this affair. | acknowledge
your bravery, but must again declare that in expedi-
tions of this kind wariness is far more needed than
courage.”

Smith bowed slightly at these words, and made no
reply ; but his pale face flushed as he turned away to
hasten the movements of his men.

Captain Preston reasoned with honest Ralph that
the boat could not have come there without agency,
and no Indian would have quitted his canoe without
securing it in some manner, or drawing it up after
him, unless suddenly made aware of an enemy’s ap-
proach ; he inferred, therefore, that their own party
had alarmed the late occupant, and that that individu-
al must either have escaped by magic, or be still very
near them.

Poor Meahmee began to tremble when she felt the
brushwood above her hiding-place press more heavily
upon her, and heard the loud voices of the men on all
sides; but she remained quiet, patiently bearing the
rude jostling of the passers-by, who, sedulously as
they beat the bushes, did not discover her. At length,
after spending much time in this manner, weary of
their fruitless efforts, the men returned to their leader,
and Captain Preston was much annoyed at this mys-
terious escape, as he'deemed it. If the late occupant
of the canoe had observed their arrival, and gone for-
ward to give intelligence, it was of the first importance
to depart and pursue their way to the village of the
far-famed chief Oneyda. So, after observing the po-
sition of the sun, they endeavored to keep westward,
and commenced their march through the mazes of the
forest.

When all became still, and the crackling of fallen
branches was no longer audible, Meahmee tremblingly
124 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

emerged from her hiding-place, and cautiously ap-
proached the spot where she had Jeft her canoe, but
did not venture to descend till the three boats had dis-
appeared; waiting impatiently till the sound of the
oars had quite died away, with a deep sigh she entered
her own frail bark, and with a heavy heart paddled io
the direction of the Indian village.

CHAPTER XVIII.

Onxypa’s spirit had caught fire from the spark
which the unconscious Alice had thrown out in her
childish vivacity and resentment at the young men.
He pondered the strange fact which her inadvertent
remark had brought to light, that he, a great and pow-
erful chief, was really afraid of his young men, and in
dread of them—daring not to follow the inclination
which so strongly urged him to rescue his protegé by
more direct means from their jealous machinations.
The more he dwelt upon the matter, the less satished
did he feel with the long-practised customs of his
tribe ; and it might be that his own sentiments had lost
much of their sternness, rendering him less capable
of yielding the stoical sbedience which savage law
required. Unconscious that affection for Philip was
the ruling motive, he arrived at a conclusion which to
his own mind justified anything he might propose to
himself for execution. He resolved to break through
the barrier which barbarous customs had so long up-
held, and become arbitrary master of the people he
ruled. But Oneyda was too much the Indian to ar-
rive at the end by direct means; he could not help
reflecting, planning, and balancing, ere he took any
step of importance, and subtlety was as natural to him
as it might be obligatory to an ordinary politician.
What a civilized but worldly-wise white man would
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 126

have deemed policy, Oneyda naturally esteemed cred-
jtable deceit, such as all prudent sachems would em-
ploy to accomplish their own ends. Of one thing he
assured himself, and that was a visit to the captive
when night should fling its sudden shadows over the
village. There could be nothing suspicious then ; his
people would have retired, and they should have evi-
dent testimony in the meanwhile that he was not con
niving at escape or treachery.

None who could have seen the stately Oneyda pa-
rading with such an air of apathetic haughtiness the
irregular promenade which lay in front of the council-
lodge, would have supposed that he felt either anxie
ty or apprehension, so abstracted was his demeanor,
and so dignified his carriage. He seemed to tread the
earth with condescension, and as if his deep-set eye
deigned not to glance at it; indeed, it was steadily
fixed upon the distance, except when he turned in his
walk, and then it was not withdrawn for an instant
from the wigwam before which Philip’s guard stood
statue-like. Oneyda was greatly respected by the
men of his tribe; old and young venerated, almost
adored him, and many were the respectful salutations
and difficult glances he received in his solitary prome-
nade, for none ventured uninvited to join him. It was
plain to them that the great chief was holding high
and dear converse with his father and «rrandsire, both
of them renowned warriors, who at this moment were
doubtless urging him to take a refined and summary
vengeance on the ungrateful Yengee, who had repaid
his kindness with such perfidious defiance. Sothought
the young men, and so feared Appomax, who stood
pensively leaning against one of the rude pillars of the
lodge, his eyes fixed upon his brother, though occa-
sionally wandering toward the prison-hut which con-
tained his dear friend, whom he pictured to himself
as there pining and plunged in despair. When the
idlers had dispersed, and but one or two remained
upon the green, Appomax ventured to join his brother,
but an expressive sign from the chief caused him to

11*
126 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

withdraw and disappear from the lodge. Oneyda had
not spoken, but Appomax understood the direction of
his glance, and obeyed it. He continued to pace the
green with the same measured and majestic tread till
the red of the glowing west had faded above the dis-
tant trees, and he knew that the sun must have sunk,
and the summer night was fast coming on. Oneyda
now bent his steps slowly toward the river, and on the
way was accosted by Appomax, who had preceded
him to the appointed place of meeting.

There was a thrilling plaintiveness in the tones of
the young Indian as he addressed his brother, which
seemed to effect a change in his feelings ; for Oneyda’s
manner of proud dignity instantly appeared influenced
by their pathos, and melted as snow in sunshine, be-
coming cordial and affectionate ; he spoke in low but
rapid accents, and ere he had uttered a few sentences,
Appomax almost bounded from the earth, uttering an
exclamation of joy, but he was immediately checked
by his brother's ready caution.

‘‘ Hush! Jet not my brother's voice be heard; the
night winds have not whispered to the trees; they wait
till the shadows are deeper: let them not tell their
tale in the wigwam of Maneecho. Shall the enemy
of Philip hear? No! hush, speak low, my son, and
he will soon be free.”

Appomax repressed his delight at the further com-
munications of Oneyda, who, while talking, never de-
layed his progress to the river's side, where he expect-
ed to find Meahmee just arriving. They waited till
twilight had faded, and the stars began to gleam in
the dusky sky, and the outline of the dark woods be-
came fainter and fainter, but still she came not. Oney-
da, who would have felt ashamed to betray emotion
in the presence of another, could not now rejoice that
the darkness hid his agitated countenance from his
brother, whose acute ear enabled him to ascertain
that Oneyda was feeling unwonted anxiety about
Meahmee. The darkness made her absence_only the
more alarming, and her husband now hastened down
PHILIP RANDOLPR. 127

the bank, chiaing the gloom, and lamenting that he
had sent her away upon so difficult an enterprise,
while Appomax endeavored to cheer him with the
reasonable expectation that she would arrive at last.
The night was remarkably still; every sound of nature
was hushed to calmness; the village was quiet; the
woods might have been silenced at the wish of the
anxious listeners; nothing was heard but the quick
breathing of Oneyda, and the gentle plaintive tones of
his brother, who occasionally uttered some plausible
conjecture respecting the absent Meahmee. Atlength
the long-wished-for sound was heard, and Oneyda
flew along the brink of the river in the direction
whence the plashing of oars in the water seemed to
proceed. He strained his eyes, and called loudly
upon the name of his wife ; but suddenly all was still
again, and, unable to account for so strange a decep-
tion, he rejoined Appomax, greatly wondering at the
mystery.

“ She will not come,” said Appomax; “ her father
and mother have given her a mat in their wigwam to-
night, and she stays to sleep there, as the night is
dark.”

“Yes, it is so,” replied Oneyda, gloomily; ‘ yet
why does a wife leave the wigwam of her husband ?
T told her I should wait at the river when the sun
slept, and her footsteps are swifter than the fawn’s
when Oneyda calls. See, another star is burning
above the sumachs, but the light of Meahmee's eyes
will not shine on my hearth to-night; it will be very
dark, brother.”

The youth listened with secret surprise at this
avowal of tenderness, and thought his brother much
changed toward his gentle wife, who, though she had
ever been treated kindly by Oneyda, had never ap-
peared to be an object of such great interest to her
husband. However well Oneyda might behave to
her in private, Meahmee received no attention from
hiin in public ; yet, apparently, she was the happiest as

- well ag the most interesting woman of the whole tribe.
128 PHILIP RANDOLPH,

The brothers at length walked homeward, but in-
stead of entering his own wigwam, Oneyda led the way
to the prisoner’s hut. An Indian was standing motion-
less before the door; a large torch was placed in the
ground at a little distance, at which the chief lighted
asmaller brand, and bidding Appomax retire out of
sight, he went upto the guard and requested him to
open the door. ‘The savage hesitated, and Oneyda
raised his flambeau to obtain a better view of his
countenance. It was that of Maneecho, the inveter-
ate enemy of his protegé, and the chief sternly scruti-
nized him. He then spoke a few words in a tone
which made the young man’s heart beat, and, pushing
him aside, unfastened the door and quietly entered
the hut. ;

All was still. ‘The kindness of Meahmee had pro-
vided a mat for her adopted son to sleep upon, and an-
other to serve as a coverlet to his rude couch. There
he lay peacefully sleeping, one arm thrown over his
head, and his face fully exposed to the light. Oneyda
stood for some moments intently gazing upon the
captive, noting with admiration each well-developed
muscle, and the outline of a form of youthful sym-
metry ; he marked, too, the peculiarly placid expres-
sion of Philip’s features, though deficient neither in
dignity nor firmness. Oneyda felt humbled by the
contrast thus strikingly presented to him between him-
self and his defenceless captive, whose superiority,
even in moments of unconsciousness, he acknowl-
edged and respected.

** He shall be free!” he muttered as he turned away ;
for he would not disturb slumbers so tranquil and in-
nocent, and quitted the hut. The crafty Maneecho
had heard these words, and they inflamed every evil
passion of his revengeful heart. He knew that he
had no power to oppose the will of his chief, should
the latter interpose to save his intended victim, and he
began to feel far too insecure of the perfect vengeance
he had promised himself. He paused a moment, and
then, rapidly unsheathing his knife, gently unfastened
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 129

the door and entered in darkness. He groped his way
to the mat, where Philip still sley t. But his murder-
ous purpose was arrested, even as he raised his hand
to strike, for he staggered and fell heavily to the
ground, himself wounded in the back by an unseen
hand. Maneecho writhed for a few moments under
the double torture of baffled revenge and the agony of
his wound, and fainted at the feet of Philip.

When Oneyda reached the door of his own hut, he
heard a low chanting from within, and, much sur-
prised, paused a few moments to listen. Great was
his joy upon recognising the sweet tones of Meah-
mee’s voice, who was rocking her baby to sleep in
the little cradle which the ingenuity of Phitip had
constructed. Rushing into the dwelling, Oneyda
greeted his wife with every demonstration of delight
at seeing her safe at home once more; and, overjoyed
at such unusual attentions, Meahmee could scarcely
find words to reply to the many interested inquiries
he made concerning her voyage and return. It was no
new thing to be treated kindly by her husband, but
she had been little accustomed to hear hin express
anxiety and distress at not finding her where she had
promised to meet him at a certain hour, or to see joy
and tenderness sparkling in his eyes at her safe return,
or to receive food from his hand because she was
weary—that she almost forgot everything save the in-
tense delight of the present moment. She felt like
some little bird restored to the parent nest after peril
and exposure, never to be torn thence again : no queen
upon the mightiest of earth’s thrones could be hap-
pier, or have fewer wishes ungratified, than the simple
Meahmee while receiving the still dignified but affec-
tionate attentions of her husband.
130 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

CHAPTER XIX.

Tur morning sun rose brightly upon the village of
the Wyannows, and its inhabitants were stirring early.
The whole tribe seemed to be in commotion. Oney-
da had quitted his wigwam soon after re-entering it,
and had visited the dwelling of every chief warrior ;
before dawn he had held a council with the old men
in the lodge; and now was seen making his way
through the throng which had so suddenly assembled
to the prisoner's hut, with a ruffled air, far different
from his demeanor of the preceding day. His dress,
too, was changed ; that is to say, he was now accou-
tred in the full costume of a warrior chieftain. The
bright lines indicative of the character of his warfare
were carefully painted in their proper colors upon his
arms and legs; his hunting-shirt of doe-skin was
beautifully wrought in feathers ; and upon his mantle
were pictured the deeds he had performed, in the rude
style of savdge artists. ‘The precious metals were not
wanting to add richness to his attire: the plumed crest
of his tribe and rank gave a few inches to his stature ;
and at every step his glittering weapons rattled and
shook as if to give intimation of the chafed spirit of
him who so proudly wore them. A few hasty strides
brought him to the door of the hut; the guard was
absent, and the fastening undone. Hestarted! Per-
hays the prisoner had escaped ; and if so, then had he
lost one unspeakably dear to him. He entered; and
what was his surprise to find Philip still sleeping, for
it was yet very early, and Maneecho stretched to all
appeatarce lifeless on the ground by his side. A
fierce smile passed over the dark features of Oneyda,
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 131

and he stood awhile irresolutely regarding the scene.
Appearances were strongly against Philip, and would
render the task of liberating him extremely difficult.
He scarcely knew what to do; but, after further re-
flection, roused the sleeping captive, who was instant-
ly called to consciousness by the well-known voice of
his friend.

“ Oneyda!” cried the youth, starting to his feet,
‘you are come to deliver me; Idreamed that you
were by my side—that you saved me from a cruel
death ; but oh! what is this?” recoiling, as he spoke,
in horror from the insensible savage, whose cold form
he at that moment touched. Oneyda narrowly scru-
tinised him.

** Who did this, my son ?”

«Who, indeed?” said Philip, compassionately
.stooping, and, raising the drooping head of his enemy,
he carefully examined him. “There may yet be life;
oh, Oneyda, quick! Can we do nothing for him?
Why tis the image of my dream! I dreamt last
night that the knife of Maneecho was at my throat ;
but that you—no, some other person—saved me, but
not thus: Appomax oh! get help instantly.”

“ Stay!” said Oneyda, in a tone which startled
Philip by its nervousness; but it was the quivering
of hardly suppressed rage against which he seemed
struggling. ‘This dog has died as he deserved, and
why should we call to his father or his brothers :—
but your dream, my son; and what of Appomax ?”

Philip was perplexed, and endeavored to recall the
features of his dream, but all was confused.

‘Who calls Appomax? He is here:” and the
young Indian glided in through an opening he had
made by loosening the planks of which one side of
the rude building was constructed. Oneyda pointed
in expressive silence toward the body of Maneecho ;
but his arm trembled so excessively that he could not
hold it long outstretched and it fell to his side, sha-
king his dazzling weapons with an ominous sound.
Philip occupied himself solely with endeavoring to


132 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

ascertain the extent of Maneecho’s injury, and for a
short time flattered himself that life was pot yet ex-
tinct. He tore from his own person part of his attire
wherewith to stanch the gaping wound; but the
blood had become a coagulated mass, and he was at
last obliged to realize the painful truth that the unfor-
tunate savage was now far beyond the reach of pity
or of prayer. The brothers stood silently regarding
one another. A spell had fallen upon the whole par-
ty; but a hubbub of voices was now heard without,
and a crowd approached the wigwam.

Ata sign from Oneyda, Appomax threw open the
door, and the father and brothers of the dead rushed
in. They beheld the sad spectacle with clamorous
grief; but rage and fury succeeded to this first emo-
tion. They would have immolated Philip upon the
spot but for the presence of Oneyda, whose tone ot .
calm authority was not to be withstood ; for he placed
himself before the captive, and as soon as the friends
of the deceased had become less noisy addressed them
quietly and simply, relating how he had found the
prisoner sleeping, with Maneecho dead at his feet.
They knew that he had been deprived of his weapons
when brought thither ; and the dead warrior was still
clenching his own tomahawk unstained in his own
hand. It was evident that his intentions had been
most dishonorable and murderous ; he had thought to
kill the captive alone and in secret, without consulting
any one, and had reaped the reward of his treachery.
Could Philip be the murderer, who was now bendin
over the body with such earnest sadness and had
bound up the wounds with portions of his own dress?
They regarded Philip with unfeigned astonishment,
and stood in deepest perplexity. Here was indeed a
mystery, and many heads were shaken. But when
they saw Philip about to depart with the chief and
Appomax they exclaimed loudly, and insisted upon
his detention. QOneyda haughtily waved his hand ia
the direction of the open door, saying, as he laid the
other upon Philip's shoulder :-—
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 133

. “He is mine! Death has buried all jealous words,
and my son shall return to his father’s wigwam. Go!
take Maneecho; he shall have a brave’s burial, and
we will lay the scalps of our enemies upon his grave.
The Yengee is eagle-hearted ; he shall live for his red
fathers. Lama great chief. Go.”

The countenance and atlitude of Oneyda expressed
an authority which none present could gainsay, and
every voice was hushed, and each face grew calm and
submissive; they all left the wigwam in order, bear-
ing the body away to the but of his father, each pas-
sing his chief with a profound salutation. Philip
stood mournfully gazing after the procession, and
Appomax appeared unable to congratulate his friend
upon his liberty ; Oneyda alone was active; he smiled
more proudly than ever, and motioned to his com-
panions to hasten their departure.

But Philip would not leave the prison, where he
had so lately learned to prepare for death, without
thanking his Heavenly Father upon his knees for his
deliverance ; and his companions, so far from betray-
ing any impatience at the delay, waited in the door-
way till he was ready ; Appomax regarding his friend
with reverent attention, and Oneyda standing with
downcast eyes and an expression of ill-concealed won-
der upon his countenance. .

Meahmee flew to welcome her adopted son, and set
before him the most sumptuous breakfast her stores
afforded; but Philip looked around for his sister.
She had gone out for her customary morning ramble
ere any one could prevent, but would doubtless soon
return. Philip finished his breakfast, bur stil] she
came not; and Oneyda looked anxiously at his wife,
and she at the corner where their child generally lay,
but he too was gone. Philip declared that he would
go in search of them, and bring both back speedily.
“ Little truant,” he thought, ‘she knows not that |
am free.”

He walked toward the river, and on the way saw
much that surprised him. The children were group-

12
134 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

ed inastrong body under the trees, and the larger
boys were practising with their bows and arrows.
Alice was not among them. The morning was bright
and genial, and al] Nature seemed to smile henignantly
upon him. The sunshine without was in harmony
with his own cheerful thoughts, and a deep enthusi-
astic thankfulness filled his heart with emotions which
winged their way heavenward in many a silent aspi-
ration. But his happiness reached its climax when
he heard the sweet voice of his sister and caught a
glimpse of her figure. She had been tempted to take
a bath in the stream, its waters looked so inviting, and
had just completed her toilet when Philip addressed
her. The baby had been allowed to play upon the
bank, and was now pulling flowers to pieces, occa-
sionally holding out a few to his young nurse. Alice
uttered a scream of joy at sight of Philip, and flew

. toward him. ‘Oh! Philip, did not I tell thee thou
wouldst soon be free; and, I’m sure summer ts come,
and we shall go home!” and she clapped her hands
in the ecstacy of her anticipations.

“Tt is, it is!” cried a person very near them; and
in another moment Alice was grasped by the sturdy
hand of Ralph Giles.

“Well, now, for sure, it is our own sweet little
Mistress Alice! Dear, dear, this is the best bit of
luck that ever happened; come along with me, dar-
ling. Well, I never knew anything like it; indeed,
never!”

Alice returned his affectionate salute with all her
heart ; but Philip stood bewildered and overcome by
this unexpected apparition. While his sister was
assailing Giles with question upon question, and the
honest fellow was indulging in every expression of
delight which he could command, his companion, an
officer in the dress of an English cavalier, stood aloof
for afew moments, eying the whole scene with much
interest, yet unwilling to intrude upon emotions so
precious; but as Giles was evidently incapable of
stirring from the spot so long as Alice’s arms were
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 135

clasped about his neck, he thought it best te remind
him of the value of every minute, and to suggest that
he proceeded with his charge to the boats.

‘Well, my dear little mistress,” said Ralph, smil-
ing through tears which glistened in his eyes as he
gazed upon the long-lost child, “where shall we find
Master Philip? But, stay; I'd better take you off
quietly, and then, when you're safe, we can easily
find him. But, Captain Smith, |’se thinking you
might tie up that youngster there, to quiet him, or we
shall be found out; and now, little lady, tell us where
we may get at Master Philip when we come back ?”

Alice laughed merrily. ‘‘ He’s near enough, Raiph
Giles, if thou bast any eyes.”

Ralph stared and looked again, and drew nearer.
“Well, well,” he exclaimed hastily, placing the little
girl upon the bank, “this is a day of wonders, that
both should be here just to our hand, like; but in-
deed, Mistress Alice, 1 am blind, for sure I see no
Master Philip at all. My word, the jacknapes is stir-
ring: we must fix him at any rate. Why he’s wil-
ling to be caught, I’se thinking, to be standing staring
there.”

« Very willing, honest Ralph, I can assure thee,”
said Philip, holding out bis hand to his faithful friend,
who lifted up his eyes and hands in amazement, which
lor a moment or two seemed to deprive him of the
power of speech. But when those well-remembered
accents reached his heart, he was almost beside him-
self with joy. He took Philip’s proffered hand and
shook it heartily, and his expressions of delight were
so boisterous that his prudent companion thought
proper to remind him once more of the flight of time,
and how much the safety of his precious charge de-
pended upon caution, and that they must all be quiet.

“It’s easy for you to talk, captain; but how was I
to know Master Philip in that mountebank fashion ?
Why, he looks as like an Indian as any of them; but,
for all that, I’se glad to see you, my young master,
136 PHILIF RANDOLPH.

and the first sound of your voice was like to break my
heart.

‘¢And what are we to do?” asked Philip, eagerly.
The moment was come at Jength which he had so
longed for—the realization of his dreams; and yet,
when liberty was in his grasp, he felt an involuntary
pang at the thought of leaving thus abruptly his kind
protectors, the well-intettioned beings who had shown
him so much love and hospitality ever since he had
dwelt among them. It was so ungrateful to leave
Oneyda and his generous brother, and the kind gentle
Meahmee, who had been as a mother to him, without
a word of regret. He urged these feelings in excuse
for not instantly complying with the entreaties of his
friends to depart at once, while they might do it se-
cretly.

“It can not be Philip Randolph,” said Smith, who
at heart admired these sentiments; ‘our mission is
most perilous, and every moment's delay adds to its
danger. Our departure must be prompt and instant.
Ralph Giles, do you take the little girl on your shoul-
der and set forth.”

Alice’s heart was overflowing with happiness, and
she thought of nothing but the pleasure of riding
upon Ralph’s shoulder, as in former days, and quite
forgot her little charge and everything else she had
cared for in che morning ere she quitted the wigwam.
The present was the ail of the volatile child, and she
was borne away, without a pang of regret, from the
scene of her late enjoyments, willing to enter upon
novelties, and most happy to be restored to an old
friend’s protection. All this was natural to Alice, but
her brother still paused. Captain Smith urged him
in vain to quit the spot; he looked at Meahmee’s
child, and said, firmly,

“T must first take back this child to his mother; |
promised to do su ten minutes ago, and J can not
leave her thus ungratefully.”

“| admire your generous conduct greatly, Philip
Randolph, but it is now misplaced; the child will
PHILIP. RANDOLPH. 187

take no harm ; and my promise is given to your father
that you shail returo with me. The way is clear, and
our opportunity may be lost if we delay; so follow
me.”

‘ My father!” repeated Philip, in a faltering tone,
while the tears rose fast to his eyes, and his lip quiv-
ered with an emotion which promised well for Cap-
tain Smith’s proposition; “God knows how I yeara
to see my father’s face, but I may not desert this help-
less baby. I will soon return, and do you, sir, with-
draw: I will rejoin you at the creek above this spot,
in a few minutes.”

‘There goes the worthy son of his father,” thought
Smith, as he watched the retreating form of Philip;
and when he had quite disappeared, he himself turned
to depart.

Philip flew up the steep ascent which led to the vil-
lage, and, as he drew nearer, heard distinctly the
sounds of chanting and the tramp of many footsteps.
Upon arriving at the green, he beheld a large body of
warriors dancing their war-dance and shouting their
discordant song of battle. Contrary to the custom of
mauy tribes, their chief stood apart among the circle
of old men, above whom his majestic form towered
conspicuously, and ever and anon his plume waved in
unison with the energetic eloquence he was then
using.

When his oration was ended, he looked around
wth an air of discontent and impatience. The curl-
ing of his lip might indicate the contempt he felt at
the absurd usages of his barbarous and unenlightened
subjects. He did not condescend to join in the war-
dance or add his voice to the terrific yell which rent
the air with its discord. Philip turned not aside, but
went onward to the wigwam of Oneyda. He placed
the child in Meahmee’s hands, and his own trembled
as he did so. How can I leave her thus ungrateful-
ly,” he thought, “ without a word of kindness; and
what will Oneyda think of me? Oh, Heavenly Fa-
ther, guide me; teach me what to do!”

12*
138 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

Meahmee inquired why the golden hair came not
“ She is a sad truant, mother; but I will go again and
seek her.”

Philip rejoiced that he could speak the truth, and
hoped that the squaw would not ask him any ques-
tions to which he might not be able to reply evasively.

“My son,” said Meahmee, timidly, ‘‘ Appomax
will go; there is danger. Oneyda said, ‘ Let Philip
stay; a dark cloud is over our village to-day.’ Go
not forth, my son.”

‘‘ Nay, mother, if there be danger J ought to pro-
tect my sister,” and he turned to depart, though with
so much agitation that the watchful eye of Appomax
observed his unusual emotion; and placing himself
in the doorway, he entreated him to remain, declaring
his willingness to go in quest of Alice. To this,
Philip, of course, did not accede, and accomplished
his purpose of leaving the hut. But just as he was
darting across the green, every joyous hope and long-
cherished anticipation winging his footsteps, he was
suddenly arrested by a cry, which, in its horrific
shrillness, seemed to fall upon his heart with the
weight of a death-blow, chilling every bright thought
and stagnating every pulse of hope within him.

But the cry was succeeded by many more, and the
din grew louder. The clash of weapons was next
heard, mingling with the shrieks of affrighted women
and children. They came rushing over the plain,
wildly mixing with the warriors thus suddenly inter-
rupted in their preparations. The way toward the
river was completely blocked up, and so great was the
confusion that Philip could only gather from appear-
ances that some unexpected attack had been made
upon the Wyannows, though, as yet, he could not
distinguish the foe. But now, above the shouting of -
the multitude, was heard the report of firearms, and vol-
ley after volley sueceeded. Not many of the savages
had seen or heard these formidable and destructive
arms, and their terror and amazement were so great
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 139

that, though brave and determined, they shrank from
the encounter with a species of superstitious dread.

The old men could not join in the fight, and looked
on with anxious hearts, though too stoical to betray
their feelings even to one another. It was for them
to plan a method of escape for the women and chil-
dren; and they hastened the flight of all they could
assemble toward the river, on that side of the village
yet free from attack. By making a short circuit it
was still possible for many to escape without interrup-
tion from the enemy; but not a few already lay life-
less or dying upon the ground, and others, wounded,
or stupified by terror, were unable to follow those
who were flying from the dangerous fire. Philip,
with entire unselfishness, endeavored to persuade
Meahmee to retreat, offering to escort her to the ca-
noe which always stood moored in its special har-
bor; but she would not quit the spot which she
had chosen, and whence she could see the plume of
eagle’s feathers and occasionally obtain a glimpse of
Oneyda’s form.

When Philip saw that his persuasions were thrown
away, he turned to others who equally needed his
care. Many a bewildered child he raised from the
ground and hurried forward to join the departing
crowd. But sometimes he was called to the wigwam
door by the clash of weapons, and those of Appomax
were already stained by collision with some daring
intruder. In spite of the resistance made by the
youthful sentinel, who now fought like a true warrior,
a soldier effected an entrance, and Philip had only
time to rush in and throw himself before Meahmee.
How did his heart sicken at sight of a human being. a
civilized man, with sabre upraised and aimed at the
head of a defenceless woman !

“ Stay, stay!’ he cried, “Iam Philip Randolph,
and for my sake spare this woman; she has been a
mother to me in my captivity.”

The man instantly dropped his weapon, and, after
examining Philip’s face and dress, replied, “Well,
140 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

master, I do it at your bidding; but my orders are to
kill every woman and child and old man, for we've a
lesson to teach them that they wont forget in a hurry.
But you had better stay in these quarters, youngster,
and then we shall know where to find you when the
work’s over.” The man departed as quickly as he
had entered, unmolested by Appomax. whose eyes,
however, glared fiercely on him as he passed out
within the reach of his tomahawk.

Meahmee had been so alarmed that she now con-
sented to follow Philip's advice, and was quite willing
to fly as soon as an opening could be made for her in
the throng; but her agitation and distress were so ex-
cessive that she could scarcely stand unsupported.

Smith looked for Philip Randoiph and called upon
his name repeatedly, but the object of his solicitude
was then engaged in assisting Meahmee to escape, as
also two wounded children whom he carried in his
arms. ‘Their retreat was covered by the lion-hearted
Appomax, and their flight accelerated by a pressure
from the crowd behind them. Filled with a gener-
ous anxiety about Meahmee, Philip thought not of
his own freedom, and that of Alice being secured, he
was less careful for personal safety. He had the hap-
piness to place the squaw and her child with the two
young Indians whom he had rescued, in a canoe ; and
then, turning to Appomax, requested him to follow
and take charge of them to some place of safety, but
Appomax drew back.

“And you, my brother,” said he, inquiringly,
‘‘ where do you go?”

“Ask me not,” answered Philip; ‘ I must away.
Farewell, dear kind friends; may God bless you and
lead you into his truth.”

He was bounding away, when Appomax firmly
seized his arm. The eye of the young savage glis-
tened, and his voice was very tremulous as he replied,
‘“« My brother is going, and he will never come back ;
when he is gone to his people the heart of Appomax
will wither; he wiil sorrow because your voice is si-
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 141

lent; he will never learn wisdom. Oh, my brother!
if you leave us the sunshine will be darkness.”

Philip was much affected and could scarcely an-
swer. “But, Appomax, we may meet again; how
shall I stay when the voice of my father and my moth-
er calls me? I shall never forget you; but I must
away. Farewell, Appomax! why would you keep
me from liberty? We shall meet again; I will go
and try to make peace for your people, and you shall
come and visit me in my father’s house.”

But Appomax was not to be comforted. With a
mournful farewell he wrung his friend’s hand, and,
relinquishing his firm grasp on Philip’s arm, turned
away and sprang into the canoe. Philip did not trust
himself to say another word ; he had already suffered
much by delay, and, plunging into the crowd once
more, made his way unheeded to the green. He
went on, seeing and hearing nothing but the imploring
looks of Appomax and the pathetic tones of his voice.
Yet liberty invited him smilingly forward. He look-
ed toward the spot where he had last seen Preston,
and to that point directed his efforts as if life and
death hung upon its attainment.

He could not pass directly to the desired spot, and
was compelled to turn aside in order to avoid the shot
that was whistling round him; so he detertnined to
make for the wood, hoping to gain the river’s brink
by a pathway familiar to him. When he reached the
first clump of trees, what was his horror to behold,
surrounded by numbers of slain, the very protector
he had been seeking! Captain Preston lay dead
upon the field of carnage.

Ata little distance from him, almost insensible, and
dangerously wounded, was stretched the Wyannow
chief. At the sound of an approaching footstep, he
opened his languid eyes and raised a feeble arm,
which instantly sank into its recumbent posture.
Philip flew toward him, and kneeling dowa upon the
blood stained turf, bent over him, and said, in the lan-
guace of the Indian:—
142 PHILIP RANDOLPA.

“ Oneyda, ’tis your son, ’tis Philip; what shall he
do for you ?”

The warrior’s stern countenance relaxed as he said.
faintly, “* Who calls for Oneyda? He was a grex
chief, and is gone to the happy hunting grounds.
But, is it Philip? Raise me, my son, that [ may look
at my young men; and bind my arm and stop the
stream of life; it flows fast, fast, Philip; and the
Yengee is at the door of my wigwam.”

Philip complied with his request, and assured him
that Meahmee was safe: that she and her child had
escaped with Appomax. A smile lit up the dark
features of the Indian; they wore a humanized ex-
pression, tender and parental, as he pressed the hand
of Philip, and called upon the Great Spirit to bless
him. But again his eye became fixed upon the fight,
and he could scarcely be repressed from rising and
shouting his war-cry. When he saw that all was
lost, that the English maintained their ground and
were gaining upon his people, his agitation was ex-
cessive; but he did not withhold his admiration of
the brave man who now appeared to lead the enemy,
and who, it was plain to see, was facilitating by every
means in his power the retreat of the aged and help-
less to the river side.

Philip, intent upon his work of mercy, would not
quit Oneyda’s side. He believed him to be dying,
and was anxious once more to whisper in his ear the
truth he had so long endeavored to teach him. But
the eye of the chief was busily scanning the combat;
he was restless though faint, and frequently started
from the supporting arms of his generous attendant.
But at length the wearied lids closed and his lips grew
paler, his head sank Janguidly upon his chest, and he
swooned away. As consciousness returned, he spoke ;
but his mind wandered, and bis thoughts were evi-
dently fixed upon things not present.

« A shadow has fallen over my soul, and I see that
the glory of my race is departed. Oneyda is a great
chief; he goes to the happy hunting grounds with
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 143

the scalps of a thousand foes. Why does the Father
of Life hide his face under acloud? But his voice
is in my heart, and he has called me. I come, my
Father! I am swift upon the trail of Meeattonee—
the deer is not swifter; the soft breath of the west
whispers the names of my fathers, and they crown
ine with flowers of the blessed prairies.”

“ Oneyda! Oneyda! listen to me, listen to me,”
said Philip, who hung over him in deepest sorrow.

‘\ No, no, pale face, go; go tell the Yengees that
Opecanoff is the eagle of his tribe; he fears not
death, his heart is far from the knife of a pale face.
But, Philip, my son, my pride” A cry arose
into the air, and instantly interrupted hostilities.



CHAPTER XxX.

Louprr had become the battle-cry, and fiercer the
strife. The attacked were fighting with the desperate
mergy of men whose all was staked upon the result,
who knew that they were struggling for home, and
iife, and name. The council-lodge was already bla-
zing ; many huts in its vicinity were reduced to ashes ;
the wounded and dying, the old men, and helpless
children, and feeble women, were stretched around
them. Their chief had disappeared ; doubtless, over-
powered by numbers, he had fallen; now their own
arms were fainting and their numbers rapidly dimin-
ishing. When all seemed lost, and while the elated
victors were pursuing with detestable alacrity their
work of carnage, in despite of the efforts of Smith to
prevent them, a succor arrived, most unexpectedly to
all parties, in the person of Tallassee, accompanied by
his sons and a large body of warriors. Then arose
the terrific war-cry which had startled Oneyda, and its
effect was to cast a gloom over the English; but it
imparted fresh vigor to the Indians, who now flew
with greater animation to the combat, and desperately
144 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

repulsed their assailants. But the arrival of these new-
comers interrupted hostilities, and the first words of
Tallassee were conciliatory and pacific.

He proposed that the English should withdraw, and
be permitted to do so unmolested ; they had taken suf-
ficient vengeance, he said, and it became them to be
satisfied with the number of slain in the engagement.
‘A brave warrior when full, ceased to be hungry.”
To this proposition Captain Smith fully agreed, and
declared his willingness to depart, if they would de-
liver into his hands the captive Philip Randolph. Here-
upon many asserted that they had seen him flee to the
river, and that they were sure he had taken this oppor-
tunity to escape. These words seemed perfectly rea-
sonable to Smith, who felt it would be impossible to
seek for him in all the confusion which reigned so su-
premely over the plain ; and he considered, moreover,
that, as Philip had not replied to his oft-repeated call,
nor appeared to any of his party, he must surely have
departed to the place of rendezvous. Indeed, he had
no reason to doubt that he had repaired thither before
the attack commenced : so he did not think it necessa-
ry to pursue his inquiries, and proceeded to arrange
some terms of retreat with the now largely-reinforced
Wyannows. His chief difficulty arose from the ab-
sence of Preston, who was not to be found; and he
felt diffident about making conditions with the Indians
without his concurrence. As Preston’s men declared
that he had been flying in every direction of the field,
it was not improbable that, with his adventurous and
erratic ideas of combat, he should have made some
détour with a few followers; or, it was possible that
he had been wounded, and had made a retreat. He
ordered search to be made for the dead and wounded,
but forbade any approach whatsoever toward a renewal
of the fight. :

Smith’s terms were humane, and his conduct pru-
dent, upon the occasion which succeeded to the first
parley of the hostile parties. He declared that such
an attack as the present wuld never have been made,
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 145

but for the terrible outrage committed upon the set-
tlements the previous year; and that the late encoun-
ter might prove to every native tribe what they had to
expect if ever they dared again to intrude upon their
peacefully-disposed neighbors. That, on the other
hand, if they felt willing to enter into alliance with
them, he was ready to promise, on the part of his own
people, every encouragement they needed, and assured
them of inviolable amity, if fully confided in. These
statements were received courteously by Tallassee,
who promised to consider them in a grand council of
the western tribes, and doubted not that they would
all now be induced to enter into more friendly relations
with their white brothers, who had shown themselves
so wise and brave. But the old chief insisted upon
the immediate departure of the English from the vil-
lage, as he could not answer for the consequences if
‘the Wyannows should be dissatisfied and dissent from
these terms. Very few were present at the delib-
eration ; for the old men had escaped with the women,
or hidden themselves in the wood, and the warriors
who had been engaged in the recent combat were now
standing in moody silence, disdaining to raise their
eyes to their enemies, and busily cogitating some fu-
ture scheme of revenge.

The soldiers who had been sent to recover the dead
and wounded now returned, leading back a few who
had been much disabled by the well-aimed shafts ot
the savages; but Captain Smith gazed upon the only
inanimate burden which they bore with mingled pity
and aversion. Preston, of all the brave band he had
brought with him, alone had fallen in the engage-
ment, and his features in death wore so harsh and
stern an expression, that even the Indians of Tallas-
see’s party turned from the forbidding countenance
with awe and dislike. After assuring Tallassee of a
kind and honorable reception from the governor at
Jamestown whenever he should feel inclined to pay
him a visit, Captain Smith gave orders for a retreat,
and his small but well-disciplined body drew up as by

13
146 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

magic, the Indians thought, shouldered their formi-
dable firearms, and departed. taking the way that led
. toward the river, leaving the Wyannows dispirited and
overwhelmed by the terrible loss they had sustained,
and in much dread of the wondrous strangers, whose
appearance had been so unlooked for on the eve of
this fatal morning, and whose power they already be-
gan to appreciate.

When Smith and his company reached the river,
they found their boat, but scantily manned, awaiting
them: it was supposed that Captain Preston’s would
be met with lower down. Ralph Giles, having se-
cured the safety of Alice, would not leave her; and
they were both happily sailing homeward under the
protection of the third commander. With neither of
these boats did Captain Smith fall in; but he felt little
anxiety, never doubting that Philip Randolph was in
one of them. The distance from Jamestown was
great, and the soldiers were desirous to bury their late
commander, which they did on the evening of the
second day. After digging a grave within the shelter
of the forest, they laid him down amid the wild and
solitary scenes he had so loved when living. No tear
was shed, no prayer hallowed the spot which received
his remains; the sod was replaced, and, though the
deerand the hunter have often trodden that wilderness,
no Indian ever knew the grave of the reckless and un-
honored Preston.

The generous Smith sighed as he re-entered his
hoat when the melancholy task was ended, and blamed
himself for every hasty word and unkind or haughty
rejoinder he had been guilty of in their late intercourse ;
he mentally promised to be more guarded in future,
and to bear in mind the final destiny of the strongest
and the bravest. It was a bitter disappointment to him
as well as to the affectionate Ralph, upon meeting at
Jamestown, to find that Philip had been left behind.
They thought they were both much to blame for ever
having suffered him to leave them when once under
their protection ; but when Henry and Margaret Ran-
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 149

dolph heard the faithful relation of the circumstances.
they both exclaimed, “* We would not have had him
act otherwise ; our boy has done what he ought to
have done, and we are thankful that he did right.”
They would not allow themselves to feel anxious :
they indulged the hope that the providence of God
would eventually restore him, as Alice had been
brought back, to their yearning arms. But the tears
filled the poor mother’s eyes more frequently than
they had ever done before, when Alice told her of all
they had done, and of all Philip had suffered, and how
good he was, and how he made everybody good that
he talked to. They were not altogether tears of sor-
row, but of thankfulness and pride—the pride of a
doating mother—the fond consciousness that her cares
had not been bestowed in vain, and that the prayers
of former years were answered.

It may appear strange that the men who had borne
away Preston’s body had not observed Philip and
Oneyda, the latter reclining upon a bank very near
the spot where their commander had fallen. It might
be, that, as Philip wore the dress and paint of a war-
rior, he had been overlooked ; or, that at the time they
approached the place, he was absent procuring more
water, in the hope of restoring the insensible chief.
Be that as it may, Philip was conscious of nothing
but the danger, and, as he thought, near death of his
protector; for, as he held the fainting warrior's head
supported on his breast, and gazed upon his noble
features, all recollection of captivity or trouble was
merged in the present helplessness of him who had
rescued him twice from death, and had given him
proofs of so remarkable an attachment.

While these thoughts were passing through his
mind, the busy scene we have previously related was
going on, out of sight, but within a very short distance
of him.

When the sons of Tallassee, accompanied by a few
warriors of the Wyannows, came round to number
the dead, they found, to their great surprise, the still-
148 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

captive Philip supporting the wounded sachem. Their
joy at finding this renowned chief alive, though appa-
rently fast sinking, was not equal to their sentiments
of astonishment and admiration on beholding Philip,
who had lately been presented with so many oppor-
tunies of escape, stationary at the side of Oneyda—
bending over him with unfeigned solicitude, and evi-
dently wholly engrossed by his dangerous condition.
They marvelled at such generous self-forgetfulness ;
for it was too apparent, that, in order to succor Oney-
da, Philip had neglected his own opportunity of es-
caping. The sons of Tallassee accosted him with
the greatest respect, and pointed him out to their fol-
lowers as the most exalted of beings.

While Philip hung over the agonized form of
Oneyda, expecting every moment to see him breathe
his last, the sons of Tallassee stood by in silent consid-
eration of the scene, and made no attempt to interrupt
it; but when their father joined them, he immediately
gave orders that the wounded chief should be con-
veyed to his wigwam, the only one in the village pre-
served entire from the flames, and this on account of
the supposed presence of Philip. The latter would
not leave him.

“Your people are gone,” said one of the young
men, in the language of the Wyannows: “ will you
not follow them ?”

Philip almost bounded from the earth at these
words. Liberty, home, kindred—all that endeared
life to him—were thus presented, and he hastily de-
manded which way the troops had departed ; but, be-
fore a reply was returned, his feelings had undergone
another transition. Oneyda was in extreme danger—
none about him knew so well as he how to comfort
and nurse him. Here was an occasion of doing good,
and further opportunity for exercising that heroic self-
denial which he so much desired to practise. He
would not go ; he would stay till returning conscious-
ness should render Oneyda capable of receiving con-
solation and instruction ; he would seek to reclaim this
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 149

erring child of a common Father: he would imitate,
as far as he was able, the example of his Master,
who never turned away from the miserable and suf-
fering.

When Philip had reviewed this resolution, be felt
inexpressible comfort and self-satisfaction. His con-
science approved him, and he rejoiced at the intelli-
gence that the English had departed without him,
supposing their young countryman to have preceded
them homeward. ‘This information was communi-
cated with much delicacy and consideration by Tal-
lassee.

« They have gone, but they knew not that the son
of Oneyda was resting with his red father ; their hearts
will be sad, but my son shall dwell in our wigwam
and eat the Indian’s food till the great chief wakes.
When his wounds are healed and his strength returns,
he will speak his will to Philip. Be happy, my son,”
continued the old man, laying his hand upon Philip’s
head ; “let the Indian’s sun warm the heart of the
pale face; he is welcome to the dwelling of Tallassee.”

For many days did Philip watch by the mat of
Oneyda, rendering him every needful attention ; and,
though he had little skill in the healing art, he had
profited by having watched his mother and the worthy
Bridget, both renowned for their knowledge of sim-
ples, and the ability with which they dressed a wound
or treated complaints not very difficult of cure. During
the first few days of extreme weakness, Oneyda had
moaned incessantly; but, as consciousness returned,
and when he became aware of the presence of others,
the stoical principles of his race resumed their sway,
and he suppressed every indication of pain. Philip
was unremitting in his attentions to the poor sufferer :
from his hand Oneyda received whatever was adinin-
istered either of cooling beverage or of fruit, and when
irritated by pain or fever, it was Philip who alone had
power to soothe him. Often during the day did Oney-
da’s languid eyes turn toward his youthful benefactor,
and a look was sufficient when too feeble to express

13*
150 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

his wants: Philip understood them all. In all these
offices of active kindness, he neglected not a duty of
great importance. ‘The sick Indian marvelled to see
him kneeling at times in a shady corner of the hut,
with the same calm and fervent expression upon his
face, and in the same attitude, as when he had sur-
prised him in the wood; and often during Oneyda’s
wakeful moments, when Philip knew that he was con-
scious, would he lift up his heart in prayer, though he
retained his post by the sick couch; the deep earnest
breathings of his soul ascending from that dark cabin
as incense to Him whose shrine is the lowly heart of
faith. Philip had severed himself from sweet links of
hope; his bright anticipations of liberty had all van-
ished ; aud now he thought only, or chiefly, of pres-
ent duties : none could whisper consolation, or praise,
or compliment, or paint his generous self-denial in its
true colors. Left to his own resources, his own sor-
row—he did not feel alone. By the mat of a savage,
in the close atmosphere of that wigwam, the testimony
of a good conscience gave him its blessed companion-
ship ; and in the morning, when he ventured forth to
inhale the fresh air of the summer dawn, his spirit
drank not a purer or more refreshing inspiration than
from the gloom of the sick dwelling. He suffered
some pangs; self-denial cost him some efforts, but the
tumult of natural feeling was calmed by the tender
pleadings of pity within him, and, above all, by the
deep and constant sense of God’s merciful providence.
“It is all well,” he often repeated—“ God will care
for me; and he found peace and happiness in the
thought.

But thus occupied in unceasing attendance upon
Oneyda, Philip did not forget Meahmee or her child,
and inquired frequently after the faithful Appomax.
He learned with joy that they had reached Tallassee’s
village in safety, and were now dwelling in his wig-
wam; that Meahmee, though suffering still from the
alarm and fatigues she had felt during the day of the
combat, was gradually recovering under the care of
PHILIP RANDOLPH 151

her mother, and was only deterred from visiting. het
husband by the parental injunction of Tallassee, who
thought that the chief could be in no better hands
than those of Philip. As soon as he was convalescent,
the latter purposed to have him removed and conveyed
in a canoe to a new scene: rightly judging that he
would be little able to bear the sight of so much havoc
and destruction as that made by the English in their
sudden invasion. Many of his people were already
busily employed in constructing a new village, and
several neat huts had arisen upon a spot not very dis-
tant from that from which they had been driven. Ap-
pomax was not allowed to visit his brother, and in the
meanwhile had employed himself in constructing a
new habitation for him, the neatness and convenience
of which was highly creditable to him and to the hints
of Philip, whose pupil he bad been. His friend, du-
ring that time, was gaining all hearts by his kind and
prudent behavior, and receiving much honor through
the attentions and favor of Tallassee.

The benevolent and praiseworthy conduct of Philip
had produced a great effect upon the mind of the ven-
erable T'allassee, for such he was called by his own
people, although still erect and dignified. The snows
of more than sixty winters whitened his brows, and,
contrary to the custom of most Indians, his head was
not shaved, and his silver hair fell over his face in
much profusion. He was still vigorous, and his pow-
ers of mind retained all or more than their former ac-
tivity. This young white stranger had manifested
principles of conduct altogether different from any-
thing he had ever witnessed, and he felt a secret curi-
osity to know what it was that rendered him so much
wiser and more prudent than the youth of his own
people. He began to argue that if all the Yengees
resembled this specimen of their race, they would in-
deed prove formidable foes ; that it might be better to
cultivate their friendship, and lay aside thoughts of
revenge for more useful purposes. He questioned
Philip upon the strength and numbers of his people,
152 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

and their modes of living; but strange to relate, did
not inquire in the least respecting their method of
warfare. Philip soon perceived that he had met with
a character entirely new to him—one he could scarce-
ly have expected to find among savages. He discoy-
ered that Tallassee was a devout Indian, whose specu-
lations, though vague, were not without ingenuity, and
displayed a thoughtful and inquiring mind.

Tallassee was the sage of his tribe, and had acquired
great consideration from former governors of Virginia
as a peaceable and influential sachem, whose policy
had always been more humane than that of his neigh-
bors; and among the Indians of the west he was looked
up to as one deeply skilled in great matters, who had
seen andknown many things by direct revelation from
Wacondah himself, and they also highly respected
him for his profound prudence. The natural piety of
this savage had not carried him very far. He had
busily thought when upon the vast prairies, the rolling
rivers, in the open sky of his boundless land ; but his
range was, after all, very limited, for they could teach
his darkened imagination but little of the power and
nature of the true God of heaven and earth. Tallassee,
after long years of indefinite reasonings and self-com-
muning, was fast filling up the measured term of his
existence without a satisfactory solution to his diffi-
culties; something within him was at variance with
the views and principles of those among whom he had
passed his life; but he had neither guide nor revela-
tion, and was groping in the obscurity of natural re-
ligion when he unexpectedly met with a friend. For
God, who “in every nation accepteth hirh that feareth
him and worketh righteousness,” made the captive of
the Wyannows his instrument in conveying more
clear glimpses of truth to the mind of the aged in-
quirer. Philip listened to Tallassee with respect and
attention, and answered his questions with all the pre-
cision of which he was capable; and the Indian, grat-
ified by the readiness which the youth displayed to
couverse and argue with kim, enjoyed, probably for
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 153

the first time in his life, that greatest of enjoyments—
communion with a kindred spirit. Among truthful
minds sympathy must exist, and neither disparity of
years nor station can mar this union. Thus the expe-
rienced Tallassee tasted the sweets of this fellowship
of mind with a youth of seventeen, a foreigner, and
one of a hated race.

The conversations of the old man and our youthful
hero were on deeply interesting subjects ; and though
the arguments used by Philip were simple, and neither
learned nor connected, they satisfied Tallassee. He
was no logician, and his learning had been derived
from the great book which was ever open to him.
The landscape, the sky, and the waters, were his in-
structers, and nothing advanced by Philip as yet, star-
tled him or appeared unworthy of the character of
Him whom he ignorantly worshipped; but he was
still far from truth, and Philip felt by no means quali-
fied to give him the instruction he needed. He was
not in possession of any of the evidences of his faith
beyond those with which his simple education had
furnished him. The Indian listened with grave inte-
rest to all that his youthful teacher said; but indulged
in no expressions of wonder or of gladness at hearing
what was really so wonderful and joy-inspiring ; and
when Philip informed him of the revelation of God’s
will, and of the way of salvation by Jesus Christ, his
superstitious mind saw nothing incredible in the fact
that God should send his Son into the world to die
for man, a sacrifice and atonement for their sin.

Philip was young and inexperienced, though zeal-
ous, and sincerely desirous to do good. - He felt ex-
tremely despondent about Tallassee, after several con-
versations upon these subjects, to find him still so
imperturbable; he had not been able to touch his
heart, and saw that, although he received with little
doubt what was presented to him as general truth, he
still remained very far from convinced that religion
was a personal thing. Philip learned a useful lesson
with this disappointment; he felt that very little could
154 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

be done by his own power, and that, in order to con.
vert others, a missionary must use diligent prayer, and,
above all things, watch his own heart and seek dili-
gently to secure his own salvation. One who earn-
estly desires the teaching of God’s Holy Spirit to
enlighten the darkness of another’s heart, in like man-
ner will seek that purifying influence for himself.
Philip felt that he might confidently look up and de-
sire that greatest of all blessings a renewed heart, not
only for himself, but for the darkened and ignorant
beings around him; and as he advanced in his mis-
sionary task, he was made more intimately acquainted
with the difference which existed between himself
and them, and more powerfully reminded of his own
privileges and responsibilities.

CHAPTER XXI.

Pinttip Ranpoupu was a captive among the Wy-
annows, at least he was in attendance by the sick
couch of their once-renowned and powerful chief;
but Oneyda was no longer powerful. The very best
and bravest of his warriors had fallen in the late con-
flict, and there remained but few to take their places.
The old men and children, with a rising but undisci-
plined youth, now constituted the sole subjects of his
despotic sway; and after two months of dangerous
sickness, he lay weak and languid upon his low couch.
only leaving it occasionally, when his devoted atten-
dant assisted him to the door of the wigwam in order
that he might enjoy once more the refreshing air and
sunshine.

Oneyda spoke little, and from the first day of his
rising from his sick-bed, had become more and more
dejected. Meahmee, who was now permitted to join
Philip in his services «f disinterestedness, vainly sought
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 155

by every simple art to win him from his sadness.
He heeded her not, and would often lie for hours
with his face to the wall, mute and motionless as
death. When he had recovered more strength, Phil-
ip urged him to quit the wigwam and lie in the shade,
where nothing should be permitted to disturb him;
and the proposition seemed to give him some pleasure,
for he raised himself from the mat with a degree of
his former alacrity, and attempted to walk unsupported
to the door, but he could not, and sank back again in
extreme pain. For once his self-command forsook
him, and physical strength was at that moment so
prostrate, that scalding tears of mortification and im-
patience rolled fast down his wan cheeks: the stern
warrior was unmanned.

*‘ Better that I had died like a glorious chief than
lived to be a woman! Why did not the Great Spirit
call me to my fathers when he sent the knife of my
enemy to my heart? Oneyda isa girl; go, Philip,
and tell your squaws of the pale faces that Oneyda,
the great chief of the Wyannows, is turned into a
child that creeps ;” and he hid his face from his com-
panion, weeping bitterly.

Philip regarded him with compassion, and strove
to soothe him asa gentle nurse quiets her wayward
charge. He bade him hope for more strength, at the
same time reminding him that it must be according to
the will of God, and that, if it were his pleasure, he
should yet be strong and well again.

Oneyda’s next attempt to gain the door-way was
attended with better success; and he leaned upon
‘Philip's showlder, listening with pleasure to the voice
of his favorite, and together they stepped forth into
the light and freshness of the day. But Oneyda
shrank back for a moment as they were crossing the
village green and the blackened ruins of the council-
lodge met his view. The whole place indeed pre-
sented a scene of desolation most trying to the impe-
riously-minded chief, to whose memory the fearful
combat came back with torturing power in these mo-
156 PHILIP RANDOLPH

ments of weakness. Philip led him away to the
shade, where the exhausted invalid threw himself
upon a bank of verdure, and, closing his eyes, seemed
to be courting sleep; but he was much agitated, and,
frequently starting from his recumbent posture, cov-
ered his face with his hands and remained silent for
many moments. Philip watched him for a while with
much interest, and then said—

“ Oneyda, thank God for this day! You are raised
from your bed of sickness and restored to life, and to
many blessings; do not think now of anything that
you have lost, but of all that you still possess; ask
God to give you a thankful heart, for everything
might be much worse than it is.”

The chief uncovered his face, and replied to this
earnest address with a look of deep anguish ; he spoke
in tremulous accents, as if struggling to master the
powerful emotions of his troubled soul.

“Philip, Philip!” he said, with a pathos that melt-
ed his young friend’s heart, “I have lost all—all !”

’ Qh, no! my father; not all.”

Oneyda interrupted him. “I was a great chief
once, and my arm was strong and my heart without
fear. I had five hundred braves around me, and they
followed my track in the forest, and we hunted over
the far west and no man crossed my path, for my
name spoke louder than the fire-spirit when he roars
upon the burning prairies; my old men were wise in
council, and my villages were never destroyed till the
pale face came to sweep away the name of my people
from the earth. Oh! if those warriors were yet liv-
ing, would they have left me in my death-struggle?
But I know they are gone never to return, I have
no tribe—no people—no name.”

Philip hastened to assure him that of the many as
dangerously wounded as himself some were already
better, and busied at the time in rearing a new village,
and settling the rest of the tribe on a meadow not very
distant; that as soon as he wished to be conveyed
thither, Tallassee had promised to send a canoe, and
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 157

that his recovery was a matter of much affectionate
interest to the whole of his people.

This intelligence imparted a gleam of hope to Oney-
da’s mind, in danger of preying upon its own despon-
dency ; and he was willing to be persuaded by the
kind considerations which Philip so well knew how
to suggest. He looked around him with greater cour-
age, and appeared to derive strength from the effort.
but his tones were still mournful and complaining.

“Why does the sun shine so gladly?” he cried.
“ Why is the sky so bright, and why does the spirit
of music speak in the forest? See, Philip, God is
angry with me; he despises me, and makes all things
sing proudly over my fall.”

“Not so, Oneyda! Oh, no! not so. God loves
you { nay, he afflicts you because he loves you and
wishes to make you love him better. He can not do
wrong. See how happy he has made everything :
the sky and the waters look joyous because they were
made to praise him and to tell of his goodness to us
his creatures; but lift up your heart to God, Oneyda,
and ask him to teach you to love him, and then you
will not grieve that he has afflicted you.”

‘How shall I speak to him, Philip, while I am so
angry? Do you speak to your God, and ask him.
He will not hear the red man.”

‘‘ He hears all who call upon him,” replied Philip,
much moved; and kneeling down he prayed a fervent
petition in the language of Oneyda, who felt surprised
that Philip should so well know his wants, and so
much of all he was thinking about.

‘« My son knows everything, and he shall teach me
of his God. Oneyda is a child—he knows nothing.”

Philip did not yet venture to speak of freedom.
His work made progress; the simple Meahmee be-
came a convert. Tallassee did not blame her, and
she commended her faith to those whom she could
influence by her blameless conduct. A change took
place in Oneyda ; he grew more humble, and, though
reserved, became gradually interested in the truth for

14
158 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

its own sake, though, at first, it had only been impor-
tant as spoken by Philip. He recovered from his ill-
ness, but at the end of three months was still weak
and tottering, and evinced much unwillingness to re-
move from his wigwam. At length, upon the solici-
tations of Tallassee, he consented to go to his new
village, and a canoe, manned by Appomax and the
brothers of Meahmee, arrived to convey him thither.
He entered it firmly, and calmly received the congrat-
ulations of his brothers, who had sufficient self-com-
mand not to betray their surprise and regret at the
great change manifest in his appearance.

The people, who thronged the river’s bank to wel-
come home their renowned chief, were all alike shock-
ed at this alteration in his appearance; but, bending
and lame as he was, Oneyda could yet wave his hand
with dignity, and address them in those tones which
had always held such a magic sway over their savage
spirits. He landed, assisted by Philip, and was con-
ducted to the wigwam which Appomax had so care-
fully constructed. Its aspect pleased him much, and
in the evening, when Meahmee asked Philip to pray
that God would bless their new home and do them
good in it, Oneyda listened with much attention, and
Appomax knelt by his friend’s side. It was a happy
evening to Philip, and he slept soundly and sweetly
upon the new mat in the new little dormitory which
affection and friendship had especially intended for
him. He awoke in the morning with a lightened
heart, and felt so much refreshed that he almost for-
got how far he still dwelt from home and kindred.

A week passed away after their arrival at the new
village, and Oneyda was visibly better. His people
became accustomed to him, and he felt less mortifica-
tion at being seen by them; but it was his hardest
trial to note how few brave men went through their
exercises, or mustered for a hunting-party. He pur-
posed training the youths as soon as he got better, and
also calling a council of allies; but pride still ruled,
and he shrank, for the present, from exposing his
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 189

weakness to hisneighbors. And had he no thought all
this time for the liberty of the generous youth who
had devoted himself so entirely to his safety, and
watched so long by his sick couch? Meahmee
yearned to suggest the wish of her heart; she could
not refrain from telling Philip that she prayed for his
freedom; but knowing the temper of her husband,
dared not propose it to him.

‘Whenever Oneyda’s eye rested upon Philip's couu-
tenance, he would sigh, and look so sad, that he latter
could not utter his oft-recurring wish to be sent home;
and he determined to wait a little longer, till the man-
date should proceed from a sense of justice, and Chris-
tian consideration be its prompting motive. In due
time his patience was rewarded. Oneyda led him to
the door of his dwelling one evening, and pointing to
the moon, which was then shining brightly in the ze-
nith, said, in a voice of emotion—

“© When that moon grows large, Philip shall go to
the wigwam of his white father.”

The youth started. “Shall I, indeed, Oneyda?
May God bless you for that word !”

‘* My son, I have been very selfish ; have hated the
white man and called him dog all my life till now ; but
from this time I am his friend. You shall go to your
father, and Oneyda will be your friend and his; but
forget not your red brothers” He stopped ab-
ruptly and turned away.

A few mornings after this conversation, Philip was
awakened by a cold hand upen his arm, and the voice
of Oneyda in his ear.

“Philip, my son, rise, for the sun is waking, and
you must be gone ere my people stir; hasten, my
friend! ’Tis not Oneyda that drives you from his
dwelling ; ’tis the voice of your heart, Philip, and you
are free to go where it leads you. Go, and tell the
pale faces that the red man is just; he will not keep
what is not his own. Philip, we shall meet again ;
and then I will tell your people what the captive did
for his cruel master.” He took PFilip’s hand and


160 PHILIP RANDOIPH.

pressed it to his heart, and the youth felt the warm
tears falling fast upon it.

“« Now,” said Oneyda, recovering his usual dignity,
“farewell! May your God and my God love you,
Philip, and take you to your father. You will not go
alone. Under the fiery maple you will find a canoe,
and Appomax awaits you. Go, my son! why do you
tarry? You are free!”

Philip pressed his hand and obeyed.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE morning was bright and dewy, and the turf
glistenedin the rising sun. All was happiness around :
and yet Philip felt pensive on his way to liberty. He
regretted not having bidden adieu to Meahmee, but
resolved to send many grateful messages by Appomax,
who greeted him sadly, and who could scarcely enjoy
the hours of uninterrupted intercourse which this
voyage afforded him, from the ever-present dread of
their coming separation. He knew that he was con-
veying his friend away, never to return ; and this con-
viction made him so sad, that Philip could only cheer
him by promising to come back at some future day and
pay them a visit. It was inthis voyage that Appo-
max confessed to his friend that he had been the mur-
der of Maneecho, though unintentionally. It was he
who had made an opening in the side of the hut, and
forced away the timbers, to get admission to the side
of the helpless captive ; and his hand had struck the
blow, though in ignorance of its terrible effects. He
had entertained many fears with regard to Maneecho,
and suspected him of the treachery he afterward at-
tempted. This confession Jed to an interesting con-
versation, in which Philip endeavored to show to the
affectionate Appomax what were the laws of God, and
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 161

that it was highly needful to guard against impetuosi-
ty. He made him feel regret for the deed and its con-
sequences, and led him to seek forgiveness of the God
whom he had injured, and whose law he had unwit-
tingly disobeyed. Appomax shed tears, and lamented
that he should have no friend or adviser when Philip
was gone, to teach him anything right.

‘Their monotonous voyage down the river lasted
several days. Though varied by conversation, it was
tedious ; and, to Philip’s harassed mind, much relief
was afforded when they left the boat to continue their
journey by land. He confided entirely in Appomax,
whose directions had been minute; and in less than
two days they reached the bank of another river, and
found a canoe moored in the shade, into which Appo-
max sprang. He paddled rapidly into the stream, and
looked at the sun; then returning, leaped ashore again,
and mourofully pointing to the rocking boat, bade
Philip enter it alone.

* And will you not come also, Appomax? What
shall ] do without my guide?”

“T may not,” answered the youth, sadly sighing ;
“‘Oneyda’s words were loud; he said, ‘'Take him to
his own river, and then follow your trail and hasten
home.’ Appomax could weep like a woman, but he
dare not; he will wait till his brother turns from the
sun, and then he will fly back to tell Oneyda. Go,
Philip—go !”

Philip thought it useless and tantalizing to keep
Appomax longer on the bank than was necessary ; he
therefore wrung his hand, and, stepping into the canoe,
turned down the stream, and soon discovered that he
was on the James river.

He passed many a well-known spot, and beheld the
green hill of the Fair Meadows rising in the distance.
How his heart swelled at that sight, and all the mem-
ories of the past rushed back upon his soul! He wept
and poured out a prayer of thanksgiving for the mer-
cies vouchsafed him from that fatal day of massacre to
the present. The banks became flatter and duller as

14*
162 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

he proceeded ; but, tame as they appeared in compari-
son with the many beautiful and magnificent scenes
he had witnessed in the west, they wanted nothing
now but the settlements that used to stud the river-
side, looking so peaceful and pleasant to his eye, as
the boat had so often conveyed the family to and from
the church of Jamestown. But his heart beat more
quickly when that hallowed building appeared in sight,
standing in its simplicity upon the fair rising ground
above the little town, sheltering, as it were, by its con-
secrated vicinity. Philip looked away to the banks
once more. They were evidently forsaken; but he
trusted that now the Indians would not be so formi-
dable, and that he at least could insure the friendship
of two great chiefs to the colony. This reflection
caused him to say that his captivity had not been -
vain. He plied a vigorous oar, and at last entered
the little port, and finally moored his canoe upon dry
land.

The sun was just setting, and cast a cheerful radi-
ance upon the painted wooden buildings of the little
town. He plainly discovered the sentinels on parade
upon the parapet of the fort, and heard the hum of
voices in the court of the government-house. All this
time he had forgotten that he still wore the dress of
an Indian ; and, though he was without paint, his ap-
pearance was sufficiently forlorn: and at the first glance,
an observant eye might very easily have mistaken him
for a wandering native. He thought it singular that
the day of his arrival should be that of the anniversary
of his birth. Such was the case; and he thought, too,
with delight and thankfulness, how happy, how much
happier, would be this birthday than any he had ever
passed in his life.

Inquiring from a man—who seemed much surprised
to hear such pure English from an Indian hunter, for
his dress betokened this—where was Henry Ran-
dolph’s house, it was pointed out to him.

«That white house yonder, and the neatest in all
the town, I can tell you.”
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 163

Philip hurried onward, but his step faltered us he
laid his hand on the gate. The dwelling was indeed
remarkat}y neat, and the garden bore traces of his
mother’s taste and care. The door was closed, and
no one appeared at the little glazed windows, so that
his approach was unperceived ; but still he hesitated.
The barking of a dog gave warning to the inmates
that some one approached ; and soon Bridget’s round
face appeared at a side window.

“What's your business?” were the first words.
«Oh, it’s one of them Indians !”

Philip turned his face away. How could he rush
into his mother’s presence thus abruptly? It might
shock her; she might be injured from excess of joy,
and his father’s nerves were none of the strongest. He
paused a moment, and then spoke in as harsh a tone
as he could assume—

“T come with news of Philip: to say that he is
safe, and not far off.”

Bridget gave a joyous exclamation, and had no soon-
er disappeared from the window, than Ralph Giles
took his station there.

* Hush, Ralph !” said Philip, stealing softly toward
him. ‘ Do not alarm my mother ; be careful.”

Ralph was soon in the garden, and after him came
Alice, who had no difficulty in recognising her broth-
er. ‘ He is here!’ she cried. ‘‘ Father, mother, it’s
Philip, it's Philip!” And she threw herself, weeping
and sobbing, into his arms.

Henry Randolph rushed out of the house, and folded
his long-lost son to his heart. “Thou art come, my
son! God be thanked, thou art come at last, my own
dear noble boy !”

Philip, starting from his father’s embrace, rushed
into the house, calling upon his mother’s name. When
he entered the room, he fcund his mother sitting at
the table, her cheek resting on her hand, and her face
pale as death. She could not rise; her lips quivered
convulsively, and she held out her hand, as if entreat-
ing assistance. Philip clasped her in hisarms. « My
164 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

mother!’ he said, and burst into tears. She made
another effort to rise and to speak, but the surprise
was too great, and she swooned away upon his
shoulder.

When Margaret recovered, the first face she opened
her eyes upon was that of Philip, bending over her
with fond solicitude.

‘*My son, my dear son!” she murmured faintly,
and then closed her eyes again. Philip withdrew, and
did not reappear till she was pronounced better able to
bear his presence. When her husband returned,
about an hour after, leading their son by the arm, she
was sitting up, and could speak to him. Philip had
changed his dress, and taken some food ; the principal
alteration in his appearance, therefore, did not, as at
first, affect his mother. He no longer looked the
savage; but in another suit of clothes, and with the
additional height of a year and a half’s growth, was as
handsome and manly a son as ever fond mother gazed
upon.

It was late that night ere any of the family retired
to rest; and Margaret could not tire of looking at
Philip, and listening to his voice. She saw no change
for the worse, and many of his expressions delighted
her. The sentiments he uttered were all touching
and truthful; and he appeared to be wise and experi-
enced beyond his years. Sorrow and danger and self
denial had greatly improved his character, and given
tone and strength to his moral feelings; these indeed
were quite in accordance with those of his excellent
parents.

“« My son,” said his father, after he had seen him in
bed, ‘‘ { wish you refreshing sleep. My heart is filled
with thankfulness to see you once more, and to see
you what you are. ‘Oh, Philip, Jet us not forget this
day as long as we both live; let us keep it as one of
thanksgiving to our God. He has chastened you,
Philip, for a wise purpose. He loves whom he chast-
ens. Blessed be the name of the Lord!”

“Amen !” said Philip, fervently ; and he soon sank
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 165

into sweet slumbers in the comfortable bed prepared
for him, and awoke next morning in the happy con-
sciousness that he was in his own home.

CHAPTER XXIII.

Tue affairs of the colony went on prosperously, and
many of the native tribes renewed their peaceful rela-
tions with the English. The colonists pursued their
occupations more freely, and began to extend the line
of buildings from the little town along the flat shore
of the river; and some even ventured to -post them-
selves in more distant and advantageous situations,
where they could cultivate the soil and form planta-
tions. But the Randolphs remained where they were,
and, with diligence and economy, soon found them-
selves in a fair way to retrieve their numerous losses.
Henry had many friends, and was not destitute of per-
severance. In all his labors, too, he was so assidu-
ously aided by Philip, that his daily employments
could hardly be called labors. Everything appeared
so hopeful and agreeable with such a companion, and
Philip, on his part, found occupation a most delight-
ful change after his long captivity, to the tediousness
of which, want of occupation had been so trying an
aggravation. ‘T'o him it was no burden to fill up ev-
ery moment of the day; and when manual labor
ceased, he devoted himself to study, endeavoring to
regain what he had lost; and the Bible, from which
he had been so long debarred, now became the prized
companion of his retirement.

One secret wish of his heart, which he had uncon-
sciously fostered from earliest childhood, was to visit
his native country. But though hope and imagination
pictured all that was brilliant, beautiful, and wondrous,
in that distant land, he saw clearly that present duty
166 PHILIP RANDOLPH

called upon him to remain in Virginia, so long as his
father should require his assistance. He knew also
the happiness whieh his society gave his mother; how
necessary his influence had become to Alice, and he
could not determine to give up these for more selfish
gratification. Therefore he never breathed the natu-
ral and reasonable desire of his heart to visit Eng-
land, the land to which his parents were still
fondly attached, and whose praises they so often re-
iterated.

Henry Randolph’s heart frequently overflowed with
thankful emotion when he considered the exemplary
conduct of his son. Every care of life ‘seemed robbed
of its bitterness ; his crushed spirits revived under the
congenial and refreshing influence of the association
now hourly afforded him ; and he had the sweet satis-
faction of knowing that Philip regarded him as his
best friend and most agreeable companion. The friend-
ship of father and son was as perfect as aught hu-
man could be, based upon the only foundation that
could render it endearing—the holy tenderness of the

arent’s feelings, and the heartfelt reverence of the
child. Philip respected his father as his best and
wisest earthly guardian, and listened to his opinions
with unwearied interest ; and Henry loved his son too
truly ever to withhold advice or confidence.

Thus their intercourse was remarkably distinguish-
ed by its candor and ease : untinctured, on the parent’s
side, by sternness or reserve, and quite devoid of con-
ceit or familiarity on the part of the son. Most happy
were they in their union, and blessings to one another.
No family in the colony was more respected than the
Randolphs ; and Sir George Yeardley looked upon
Philip with great favor, as a youth of rare promise,
who would eventually do great service and credit to
the cplony and state of Virginia. He paid him marked
attention, and soon discovered his cherished wish of
visiting the mother country.

“You should send that Jad of yours homeward,
Master Randolph,” he would frequently say; ‘ he
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 167

merits all the advantages you can give him, and travel
would be vastly serviceable.”

“True,” replied the father; “and he shall go
when I can bring myself to part with him.”

This was the only subject of reserve between Hen-
ry and his son. Philip could not introduce it, from
delicacy of feeling and self-denying principle, and his
father was incapable of inflicting such a blow upon
himself.

It must not be supposed that Philip forgot his In-
dian friends. Their names were often upon his lips,
and he remembered them in his prayers. He longed
for Oneyda’s promised visit, which, he doubted not,
would sooner or later be paid.

The natives had of late been very tranquil, and this
circumstance led to much suspicion on the part of
their English neighbors, who had experienced some
cause for apprehension on a former occasion, from a
similar state of things, and it was well known that the
Indians could adopt this policy when meditating an
outbreak. As yet, however, no infraction of late trea-
ties had taken place; and well guarded as they were,
the colonists maintained an appearance of indifference,
and felt themselves now sufficiently formidable to
quell a savage insurrection. Messages of a friendly
nature at length arrived from their former allies, the
Dahwyotti, a tribe bordering on the western bank of
the Rappahannock ; and the intelligence brought by
their envoys was at once gratifying and perplexing to
the government at Jamestown. They had made them-
selves masters of the famed and dreaded Opecanoff,
and offered to deliver him up to the English, if they
would guaranty to them the transfer of his lands, and
confer his dignities and title upon their own chief.
This was an affair requiring very delicate manage-
ment ; and some of the council were of opinion that it
would be better to decline any interference in the mat-
ter. But Sir George Yeardley could not resist the
strong curiosity he felt to see the mysterious and for-
midable foe, who had so long bafiled his vigilance, and
168 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

caused him so much anxiety and difficulty. He re-
solved to see the {ndian king ; and it was agreed to re-
ceive a deputation of the Dahwyotts ; but no promise
was given with regard to the chief or his dignities ;
and ina few days a party waited upon the governor,
accompanied by their prisoner. Much interest was
excited throughout the little town, and many came
to behold the renowned warrior whose nate and in-
fluence had so often struck terror into the hearts of the
inhabitants ever since the death of Powhatan. The
courtyard of the government-house was crowded with
an unusual number of spectators ; but they were un-
able to distinguish the captive among so many lofty
figures, who trod the path with such stately grace, as
if each were the sachem of a thousand warriors. The
governor was resolved to receive the party with some
show of power and pomp, and was attended by all the
principal personages of the colony, with many officers
of the garrison in full costume. The soldiers were
drawn up ina strong body before the window of the
hall, and the Indians marched through a double file
of them, to the apartment where the representatives
were sitting.

The chief of the Dahwyotti entered with an air of
unconcealed triumph, as he exultingly pointed toward
the only unarmed savage of their number, and uttered
a few words which were quite unintelligible to those
whom he addressed. Helaid his powerful hand upon
the arm of his captive, and motioned him forward.
Opecanoff raised his head quickly, and his flashing
eyes betrayed for an instant the sensitiveness of his
soul; but their fierceness subsided, and he obeyed the
mandate of his captor, advancing with apparent diffi-
culty, and eying the assembly attentively, directed his
steps to the spot where Sir George was standing,
and bowing low, stood silent and motionless before
him. -

All regarded him with astonishment. Could this
be the dreaded Opecanoff? The Indian was entirely
divested of paint and ornaments, and the torn remnant
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 169

of his once splendid buffalo-robe but ill concealed his
shrunk and wasted form. The ravages of illness had
evidently wrecked its noble proportions, and its sym-
metry was changed into deformity. He was very
lame, and one arm appeared contracted; upon his
chest and shoulders were the broad scars of many a
hard-fought combat. The captive and disabled war-
rior stood before them, weak and defenceless as a
child; but his countenance expressed none of the fe-
rocity of which he had always been accused : it was
calm, but not severe, and still singularly handsome;
yet its melancholy gravity expressed a sense of present
degradation, though borne with a dignity of which
his misfortunes had not been able to rob him.

“Can this be Opecanoff?” exclaimed the governor,
in involuntary surprise.

The Indian again raised his eyes with the same ex-
pression of wounded feeling as before, but encounter-
ing the inquisitive and astonished gaze of the assem-
bly, they soon sank beneath their long lashes, and a
deep flush darkened his swarthy countenance. His
lips quivered, and he pressed his hand tightly upon
his bosom, as if to quell the angry pulsation; but the
struggles of pride soon ceased, and he confronted once
more that formidable gaze. Waving his hand ma-
jestically toward the. governor, he said in English,
and with an air of dignified composure, “ I am Ope-
canoff.”

The tone was so musical and melancholy, and the
countenance of the fallen chief so prepossessing in its
expression of dignified sorrow, that there were few
present who did not experience emotions of compas-
sion and admiration. Sir George was touched by the
princely bearing of this savage, as he deemed him, and
exclaimed, with much warmth, “ You are most wel-
come, great chief; and we are only sorry to see you
thus suffering and disabled. Tell us how you came
into such a state as this; we wish to be generous to a
fallen enemy.”

This speech was evidently perfectly understood,

15
170 PHILIP RANDOLPH.

and another flush passed over the Indian’s face, but he
made no reply, and stood passively before the assem-
bly, apparently abstracted from everything around
him.

But the Dahwyotti became jealous of this style of
interview between their ally and hated foe; and resent-
ed the effect produced upon every one present by the
conduct and demeanor of the helpless prisoner ; they
addressed themselves vehemently to the council, who,
however, understood not a word of their discourse ;
and as Mr. Rolfe was absent, it was proposed to send
for Philip Randolph, equally skilled in Indian dialects,
to come and act as interpreter. The youth soon pre-
sented himself; and intent upon performing the office
_assigned him, never glanced at the prisoner, but ad-
dressed himself to the Dahwyotts. He had scarcely
uttered a few sentences, when the hitherto-abstracted
Opecanoff started with an impulse of surprise so sud-
den and electric, that Philip hastily turned at the
movement, and looked inquiringly at the person who
had thus interrupted him. ‘The youth seemed trans-
fixed when the prisoner spoke to him in the well-
remembered accents of the west. The whole council
and their Dahwyott visiters were amazed to behold
the Indian, with a Joud cry, open his arms and fold
Philip Randolph to his heart. The lofty and digni-
fied sagamore so far forgot the prejudices and stoical
principles of his race, the derision of his enemies, or
the presence of the pale face, that his head sank on
the shoulder of the youth, and his whole frame ap-
peared convulsed with violent emotion. Philip, greatly
affected, bent over him with solicitude, and supported
him for some moments, speaking in soothing tones,
and sharing his agitation. ‘he Indian became calmer :
with a great effort he sprang up from the sustaining
arm of the youth, and tottered toward the table; but
he was soon compelled to lean upon his shoulder, and,
though he tried to speak, he could not for some mo-
ments command his voice. His enemies laughed in
derision as the large tears rolled down his cheeks in
PHILIP RANDOLPH. 171

quick succession ; but he did not turn from them, and
remained for a while struggling for composure, while
Philip, not less affected, stood by his side, wholly en-
grossed with the melancholy situation of his friend.

“ Oneyda! I little thought to meet you thus!”

When the chief beheld the grief of nis favorite, his
own emotion instantly subsided; and after speaking to
him a few words in his native language, he turned to
Sir George, and said in excellent English, with a tone
of sadness that sank into every heart—

‘“‘Opecanoff was a great chief once, Philip knows.
His name was heard from the forest to the salt river,
and the Yengees hated the red sachem. When Ope-
canoff was young, Powhatan loved the pale face, and
they were his friends, and they came to his dwelling,
and the pipe of peace was smoked between them.
Opecanoff could not love the pale face; his heart was
red and hot as the sun of the rolling prairie, and the
white man laughed at him: he called the eagle of his
tribe adog. ‘Ihey stole the red man’s land, and they
drove him away from the big river; and they took the
knife and the hatchet against the tribes of the west,
and they asked not the red man where they might
dwell. Opecanoff was a great chief, and he said,
‘The pale faces shall not stay in the land of my fa-
thers.” He would not touch their gold ; he would not
speak to them any more. He lived in his own free
forests; he hunted wherever he would; and he sent
his young men to drive away the Yengee from the
land.” Here his voice faltered, and he looked around
him with an ai