"Queen of the people who dwell beyond the waters,” said the chief, "dost thou see the clouds settling upon the woods of Pocassett?"

"The queen beholds dark clouds above the trees, like the frowns of Hobbomocko, when he goes forth in the sky to pierce his people with arrows of flint,” replied she, casting her eye timidly to the quarter of the heavens pointed out by the chief; and then added, in a tone of still deeper earnestness, "have the sons of Pometacom sinned, and shall they not burn their bows and their wampum to the god

of evil?"

"Woman!" exclaimed the chief, "Hobbomocko has made his wigwam in the clouds; his hand is red with blood; but the Wampanoags shall carry the scalping-knife by his side. The pale-faces shall lie beneath the grass of his hunting-grounds before the frost turns the leaves yellow in the woods. Hobbomocko and Pometacom are one god."

A convulsive shudder shook the frame of the fair Indian queen, as she replied, "Many moons ago, as the great Massasoit lay upon his mat, and made ready to go on his journey to the place of the Great Spirit, he called his two sons, Wamsutta and Pometacom, to his side. My children,' said the chief, in a feeble voice, 'it is the will of the good Kritchtan that Massasoit shall visit him in his wigwam in the far south-west. He will leave his tribe, his captains, and his paniese, with his sons, and cross the bright lake in the spirit-canoe to the cabin of the Great Spirit. The songs of his fathers will make his heart glad, but his bones will lie in his burial-ground at Pokanoket, where the waters murmur in his sleep. Keep peace, my sons, with the pale-faces.""

During this recital, Pometacom became more and more deeply excited, as if it had awakened in his breast new

incentives to revenge. His face was black with rage, as he replied, vehemently, "Wamsutta is dead; the white man killed him. Pometacom will be avenged. In the full of the moon Pometacom went to the grave of Massasoit : the dews fell on his mound; the waters slept among the pebbles of the beach; the wolf howled at a distance, for he feared the spirit of the warrior; but the foot-prints of two pale-faces were upon the grass that grew above his heart. The son of Massasoit will be avenged." He then added, in a softer tone, but with the most grave authority, “Go, Woo-ke-nus-ke, to the rock where the spring bubbles from the ground. Take the boy by the hand, and go. A runner shall lead the wife and son of Pometacom to the country of the Narragansets; his brother, Conanchet shall hide them in the wigwams of his fort."

With an Indian woman, to hear is to obey. She grasped the arm of her little son, waved her hand in silent adieu, as she turned the winding foot-path that was to hide her from the view of her haughty sachem, and disappeared. The chief acknowledged the signal by a corresponding gesture, and then darted like an arrow into the recesses of the wilderness.

CHAPTER II.

"Sit at the feet of History."-The Ages.

To form any thing like a correct opinion of the causes which led to the war with which our story is inseparably connected, requires the greatest impartiality of judgment, as well as a minute study of the records of those times. The situation of both parties to this bloody drama was of such peculiar delicacy; their fears, as well as the worst passions of their natures, were wrought upon by inciting causes so unhappy, and at the same time so overpowering, that our sympathies are almost equally divided between Civilization reaching forth her arm to take possession of a soil one day to be exclusively her own, and savage life clinging to old religious, hereditary forms, the bay and the river, the haunts of the otter and the beaver, and, more than all, the burial-places of the dead.

The English population of New England, at that period, amounted to about fifty-five thousand; the aboriginal, to less than one-half that number. The English lived in permanent houses, and had permanent means of subsistence; the Indians had nothing but perishable wigwams of bark to secure them from the inclemencies of the winds and snows common to this wild region, and gained that uncertain livelihood which chance throws in the way of improvident savages, who have no commerce, and no methodical system of agriculture. One party was

towered a high hill, still known as the "Burying-hill"—the place consecrated by the Puritan adventurers for the burial of their dead. From the summit of this hill, which rises to the height of about two hundred feet, the view of the surrounding country was at that time wild beyond comparison. In the back-ground lay an elevated plain, covered with pines and ever-greens; to the north, on a pleasant hill, embowered in trees, stood an old-fashioned-looking mansion, where Miles Standish, the military hero of the colony, lived and died; to the east and south, stretched the broad expanse of Massachusetts bay, with its well-defined southern limit, the peninsula of Cape Cod. On the morning of the 16th of June, the summit of Burying-hill presented a scene of unusual animation. The whole male population that tenanted the humble houses which stood upon the hill-side, seemed to have forsaken their homes, and betaken themselves to the summit of this hill, where they were occupied, at an early hour, with an intensity of application which plainly indicated the progress of some enterprise, deemed by all the parties concerned of vital importance to the interests of the colony. The strong palisades already enclosed an area one hundred and fifty feet square, and the work looked as if it might, when completed, withstand the assaults of the combined savage tribes of New England. A little apart from the rest of the party, upon a wooden bench that had been placed beneath a wide-branching oak, sat Governor Winslow, a soldierly-looking gentleman, about forty-five years of age, punctiliously dressed, and armed with the long straight sword much in use at that period. His features were eminently handsome, and there was about his whole appearance an air of refinement that seemed to have little in common with the rough forms and faces of those who surrounded him. He appeared to be in

earnest conversation with a man about thirty-five years of age, who stood with his head uncovered, probably out of respect to the executive presence.

This latter personage (then and still known by the title of Captain Church) was of an athletic form, full, florid countenance, and light brown hair, which curled in thick clusters around a forehead that seemed to have more breadth than height. His large gray eye had that happy expression of merry good-humour, and careless courage that never fails to attract the notice of a stranger. His dress, though neat, was perfectly simple, and his look and manner were those of a bold, free-hearted pioneer, ready for the most daring adventure, and from constitution, as well as from habits of exposure, able to endure the worst extremes of the elements. The conversation between the two gentlemen was evidently, from the tone of voice and animated looks of the parties, one in which they were deeply interested, and upon which they entertained some difference of opinion.

"And what think you," said the govenor-as if anxious to draw out the views of his friend upon a new topic"What think you of the project proposed and advocated by some of the leading men of this colony, of erecting a fort at Mount Hope neck, and driving the Wampanoags from their own ground?"

"There can be no doubt," replied Church, "that Philip is determined to give us battle, and that his purpose is now settled, never to lay aside his arms till he has scalped and tomahawked every man, woman and child in the English colonies. To speak frankly, I never thought the Plymouth colony had dealt towards this Indian in a politic way or with entire justice. They have always contrived to determine against him all actions of ejectment and other suits