Chapter 4

"That night, when they thought I slept, I overheard the leader of the band that brought me talking with Wattasacompanum, the chief of the Nipmucks. He said Philip had ordered them to bring me here, and sent a message that I should be kept and well treated until he should see fit to have me ransomed. Wattasacompanum, who is a good chief and a praying Indian, promised that I should be faithfully guarded. The next day, before Philip's messengers departed, I was carried outside the wigwam, where the Indians danced a wild, fantastic war-dance about me, to the music of their own strange screaming. I lay trembling with fright, until the old squaw came out and sat by me, somewhat quieting my fears by repeating, 'They no kill you; they no kill.' They wished to paint my face and decorate my head with branches, but Wattasacompanum said no, that being ill I should not be disturbed. He laid his hand on my head, and solemnly promised to safely keep me; and after that the strange Indians departed."

"What did they do for you to bring back your health?"

"Very little. I was allowed to rest for a time, was not treated very harshly, and nature did the rest."

"What food did you have?"

"Ah, that was the worst trial; for days I ate almost nothing. I could not touch the meat they kept constantly boiling in a great common kettle, which all could go to, but I soon learned to eat a sort of cake they make of Indian corn, and when stronger I wandered about and found berries and dried nuts for myself; but I have never been strong since I came here."

"That does not surprise me. Such a life for one like you! Have they always treated you well?"

"No, they are often very rough; but the women are kinder than the men, who, fortunately for me, are away upon the war-path the greater part of the time, returning only occasionally for a night."

"What work do they require of you?"

"I first bring up water from the lake in the morning,--that tires me most,--then I help cook their food, and do whatever is necessary in an Indian household,"--and Millicent smiled,--"and I sew for the women and children."

"The wretches! why don't they bring their own water from the lake, and make their own clothes?"

"I would willingly do all they ask could I but know that I may soon be free to look for my sister, and be among my own race again."

"We will see about that. You must not do drudgery for these savages much longer. Have you no relatives with whom it may be possible your sister is now?"

"None; the family whom we were visiting when I was captured were our only relatives. My sister was out at the time on an errand in the town; so you see I do not know whether she was killed or captured, undoubtedly one or the other. My name is Millicent Gordon; hers, Martha. Now, sir, you have my history, and I wish to thank you for your kind attention. It has done me good to relate it to you, for you are the first white man whom I have seen for many months."

"My dear lady, your story has interested me deeply and aroused in me both sincere admiration and sympathy for one who has suffered so much and so bravely. My one thought is to liberate you."

"Can you really do so? Is the country, then, not all given over to the Indians? Oh, tell me it is not!"

"No, indeed; they are being steadily and surely conquered; though, God knows, they do enough damage even now. I am Captain Merwin, sent here from Boston on a scouting expedition. I have two men with me, who are awaiting my return less than a mile off. I wandered in this direction while they were resting. I knew there were many Indians roving about; but that there was a camp in this vicinity I was not aware."

"They suppose their existence here to be unknown to the whites."

"I wonder they trust you as far as this."

"They do; I always return. They know I am unable to escape, and would be found and brought back if I tried; so they grant me my only solace, that of wandering in the woods."

"This time they have trusted you once too often. Will you go with me, and let me take you back to your friends?" asked the captain, impulsively.

"I would go with you most willingly; but would the venture not be too rash? Would it not endanger your own safety and that of your men, who might escape harm alone, but, impeded with a woman, you might lose your lives while saving hers. No, I had better stay where I am. You can be of more service without me," answered Millicent, with quiet forethought.

"Not for a moment would I consider myself in the matter, Miss Gordon," replied the captain, with prompt assurance; "but perhaps it is not best to attempt to rescue you until I have secured more men." He remained silent a few minutes, apparently in deep thought, and said, at last, very decidedly, "No; in case we met even a small band of Indians we should be unable to resist, and they would surely recapture you or kill us all at once. If you will have a little patience, and still trust me, I promise to return and liberate you as soon as I can get men."

"Yes, I trust you wholly; and, as for patience, the hope of rescue will make it infinite until you come," said Millicent, smiling.

"Thank you for your trust; it shall not be misplaced. Be prepared at any time after a week for an attack upon the camp, and this time the war-cry will come from friends instead of enemies. May I do homage to the fair hand that has carried water to quench the thirst of an Indian squaw?" Before the blushing Millicent could deny the favor he had pressed her fingers to his lips.

"I must return now, or they will look for me. See, the sun sets already."

"I will go part way with you, as I wish to observe the situation of your present home."

"Abode, not home," Millicent said, half-jestingly. "Yes, come with me, but tread softly or you may be heard," and she led the way through the wood. Upon reaching the brow of the hill she halted, and, placing her hand on the captain's arm, said, "Look through these trees into the clearing yonder." He did so, and saw a number of wigwams, with smoke curling out from their tops, and, sitting about on the ground outside, several women, and one or two old men.

"And there you have lived for nearly a year; but it is late; I must leave you. Be of good courage, and believe that never a crusader felt his pledge to visit the Holy Land more sacred than I do mine to liberate you;" and, lifting his hat with deference, he withdrew into the forest.

The scene above described carries the reader back to the time of the fierce and devastating war waged by King Philip against the settlers of New England, in which all the worst elements of the Indian nature came to the surface. The firebrand and the tomahawk were the weapons employed by the Indians to accomplish their purpose of destroying the advancing power of the white man; and so mercilessly did they use these that the outposts of civilization were swept away as by a whirlwind. The savages, avoiding direct conflict with organized forces of the English, made sudden and unsuspected attacks, under cover of darkness, upon exposed houses or towns, applying the torch to the buildings, and massacring the inhabitants or carrying them into captivity. Neither the life nor property of a white man was safe for an instant. While sitting quietly by his fireside or working in his cornfield, he was liable to instant death at the hands of an unseen foe. In such a condition of affairs it is not surprising that spots, where of late the influence of civilization had begun to make itself felt, were abandoned by their terror-stricken inhabitants. Thus, for a while, the rude savages again appeared as rulers of the land, and the forest often resounded with their war-cry as they fell on one partly-deserted town after another, and their yells of triumph rang on the hushes of midnight as they returned from their fiendish expeditions of plunder waving aloft the scalps of their victims. For a year or more this bloody war lasted, bringing death and desolation to many homes, until its guiding hand and vital breath, King Philip, was struck down, killed by one of his race.

[TO BE CONCLUDED IN NEXT ISSUE.]

THE SINGER.

[FROM THE GERMAN OF GOETHE.]

BY LAURA GARLAND CARR.

"Outside the gate, what do I hear Along the drawbridge sounding? A song! Now let it reach my ear Through palace-halls resounding!" So speaks the king; the small page flies; The lackey comes; the message hies; The old man comes, low bowing.

"These noble lords have welcomed me; These fair dames give me greeting. What heavenly kingdom do I see With star-gleam, star-gleam meeting! Such splendor, pomp, and wealth allied, Desire must here rest satisfied, While Time forgets his speeding!"

He pauses now; now strikes in song Full toned, of pleasing phrases. Each knight grows proud in look, and strong; Dames blush at fancied praises. The king, for whom the songs awake, As fair return the bard to make-- A golden chain upraises.

"Oh give to me no gift of gold! Such to your knights deliver, Before whose faces, stern and bold, The foe's best lances shiver. Or let some chancellor of state This gift receive, a treasure mete, Fit token from wise giver.

"I sing as some free wild bird sings, Among green branches swinging. The song that from the throat outrings Its own reward is bringing. But may I beg a gift of thine? Then give to me of rare old wine In golden beaker, brimming."

They bring it in; he drinks it up. "O drink--sweet, strength-bestowing! O happy house--where one may sup With such wealth ever flowing! Thank God--you share with me a part! It stirs my brain; it warms my heart! I go with new life glowing."

[Webster Historical Society Papers.]

THE WEBSTER FAMILY.

BY HON. STEPHEN M. ALLEN.

I.

The family of Webster, which settled on the easterly coast of Massachusetts and New Hampshire, became quite numerous, and emigrated to the various parts of western New Hampshire as early as 1763. Stephen Webster was one of the twelve pioneers of the town of Plymouth, N.H., in which, with other settlers of the backwoods, they had to endure great privations and hardships.

The three Webster families which settled and remained in Plymouth always claimed Daniel and Ezekiel of Salisbury as first or second cousins.

I quote from Moore Russell Fletcher, M.D., who was connected with the Webster family on both sides, the following narration. He says that Mrs. Stephen Webster and her sons and daughters, the youngest of whom was Mrs. Betsey Fletcher Webster,--the mother of the doctor, and who died in 1863, at the advanced age of eighty-one,--gave him much of his information.

"Stephen Webster, with eleven others, with their wives and children, went from Chester, N.H., to Plymouth, N.H., then a wilderness, about forty-five miles north of Penacook, now Concord, and there, on the Pemigewasset, near the juncture of Baker's River (afterwards so called), they erected a log-cabin, in that hitherto transient abode of the wild animals of the forest and the still wilder Indians, who at intervals passed through the place on their way to Penacook, Contoocook, Hooksett, Suncook, and Soucook, their old camping-grounds. These men, having selected lands for farms, had no alternative but to carry on their backs the articles of food, implements and seeds requisite for their colonization. They had axes, saws, augers, and shaves, or drawing-knives, and for protection and food their guns and ammunition; not forgetting their bibles, hymn-books, and tinder-boxes. In their journey through the wilderness from Penacook, a distance of sixty or seventy miles, they were guided by blazes on trees made by surveyors or men in search of lands, were obliged to cross streams on fallen trees reaching from bank to bank, and when hunger and fatigue compelled a halt, they selected a spot near some stream, drew forth their tinder-boxes, and with steel and flint struck a fire; then they selected flat stones, wet some Indian meal, placed it on the stones, and baked it for their frugal meal--their 'Johnny-cake.' At night they constructed a little booth of bushes, with their fire at its entrance, and, as they laid upon the boughs, their feet would be near the fire,--a great protection against wild animals who infested the forest and who are known to have great dread of fire.

"Each day was a repetition of its predecessor. Upon their arrival their first efforts were directed to erecting a temporary wigwam of trees and bushes in their new home, and all reposed on the boughs, prior to which all joined in prayer and thanksgiving for their safe arrival and good health. On the morrow, after locating the spot for buildings, they began the erection of their log-houses, with one room, with opening for light, and an attic, which was accessible by a small ladder. The crevices between the logs were stopped with moss; the floor of the rooms, roofs, and the attics and doors were of small poles. A few days were sufficient to get their houses in the rough well under way. For food all had equal rights and took an equal part in procuring it. Three or four took dog and gun, and in an hour or two returned with a dead moose, bear, or three or four deer on their shoulders. They subsisted largely upon game, which was plenty in the forest, and when a change was desired they sought fish, with which the streams abounded.

"A few months after their arrival, Mrs. Stephen Webster signified her expectation of adding another member to her family. It was a matter deemed of such importance that a town meeting was called, a moderator and clerk chosen, and the vote put to the meeting upon the name which should be given to the new-comer, which vote was unanimous 'if a boy his name shall be Plymouth.' But their vote did not prevent its being a girl, and she was called Lydia, with the remark, 'the first white child born in Plymouth.'

"Upon one occasion, food being nearly exhausted, a settler took a bag, went to Concord, got one hundred pounds of Indian meal, took it on his shoulder, and carried it to Plymouth, sleeping on boughs, and baking his corn-cake on a flat stone. His arrival was hailed with enthusiasm. When tired of moose and bear meat they tried deer, rabbit, coon, and turtle, then turned to salmon, eels, and pouts. For dessert they had chestnuts, beech-nuts, and butternuts, and for drink they used the checkerberry and hardhack, but mostly they used mountain tea and swamp chocolate-root; these two last-named articles nearly resembled those brought from foreign countries. They raised flax, and with it made their clothing for both men and women. For coats and outer garments they doubled and redoubled the threads, the cloth resembling our present canvas. Linen was found to be cold for stockings and socks, and their inventive talent was brought into use. They cut hair from the bear-skins and mixed it with tow, and thus Bruin furnished them meat, cotton, and wool.

"After a few years of roughing it the settlers began to reckon on some of the luxuries of civilization, and indulged in windows, each allowing two panes of glass 7 X 9. Their fireplaces and chimneys were built of flat stones for the first few feet, and were 'topped out' with clay, mixed with straw, and held by sticks of wood laid up cob-house fashion. The same kind of chimney may now be seen in the rural districts of Canada, New Brunswick, and Nova Scotia. In many places the fireplace and chimney stand outside of the house, and the fireplace is wide enough to burn wood ten feet long. The wood requires but little chopping or splitting. For andirons they used large stones. When the children wanted to warm themselves they stood at the corner at the ends of the wood.

"They made their furniture, hewing planks from logs for tables, and for a tub chopped off the end of a log, dug a hole through it, leaving only a shell, in which, with a jackknife, they made a groove for the bottom, which also was hewn from a piece of log. The shell of their tub was then soaked with hot water, to enlarge its circle; the plank bottom was then crowded into the groove, and the tub dried before the fire. If not water-tight, the openings were filled with rags. For chairs they took tops of trees with many limbs, split them into two parts, and the limbs answered for legs. Their crockery, much of it, was made of hard wood: from knarls they made trays, bowls, pans, plates, and sometimes spoons, knives, and forks. Instead of candles they used pitch and candle woods. My grandfather, had in his house wooden trays, bowls, plates, and wooden spoons.

"When the number of inhabitants had increased so that it was called a village, earthen plates and pewter plates and iron spoons were brought into town from the town and larger settlements. Men carried the flax wheel on their backs, and their mechanical skill enabled them to construct looms.

"As the settlement increased in number, and the people began felling trees, the Indians, who from time to time passed there on their way to Penacook, Contoocook, Hooksett, etc., seeing the whites encroaching upon their lands, began their maraudings and became so troublesome, that the settlers regarded it as no sin to kill a redskin who was known to watch about for an opportunity to secretly send an arrow with deadly intent at their white brothers whenever they ventured beyond the limits of their little settlement.

"There was one, Mr. Baker, whose delight was, we learned of the Indians,--being at their camping-ground, near the union of what is now Baker's River with the Pemigewasset River, about a mile above Plymouth,--to take his gun, as he termed it, and play hide-and-seek with the redskins. His scouting about would seem to be known, and an Indian would come out to spy his enemy, hiding from tree to tree. Baker did the same, and as each peeped for the other Baker placed his hat on the muzzle of his gun, and held it so that the Indian saw, as he thought, a white man's head. Then he sent an arrow whizzing through Baker's old hat, and, seeing it fall, stepped out to finish his foe by raising the hair, when Baker sent a slug through the redskin. Soon another Indian came peeping from trees to learn the cause of that report and the fate of his chief. In a few minutes Baker played the same game on him and several others. Baker became so notorious an Indian exterminator that they gave the river his name; hence Baker's River."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

THE NEW ENGLAND LIBRARY AND ITS FOUNDER.

BY VICTORIA REED.

Thomas Prince was an eminent divine and accomplished scholar, well known throughout New England during the first half of the 18th century. His life is worthy of consideration on many accounts, but particularly for the great work he accomplished outside of his profession. He is, perhaps, best known to this generation as the collector of the Prince Library, now incorporated with many other private collections in the Public Library of Boston, although his published work, "The Chronology of New England," confers an equal benefit on posterity, and both together entitle him to a place of honor in our annals.

His library was gathered as much for the instruction of others as for his own gratification. It is interesting to know that this bequest, now one hundred and fifty years old, obsolete in some respects, is still highly valued. Some writer says, that, if for no other reason, there should be a new fire-proof building for the Public Library for the better preservation of the Shakespeare collection and the Prince Library. The valuable editions of Shakespeare arranged in glass cases in the Bates Hall are no doubt familiar to many people, but it is possible that the majority even of the daily visitors to this institution have no definite knowledge of the Prince Library, which is found, on examination, to contain a fund for the curious, as well as many things of importance to the antiquarian.

This library was added to the Public Library twenty-four years ago, and was originally a gift to the Old South Church. It is a collection which should be treasured, not only by Bostonians and all New England people, but is also of importance to the country at large, as it was, in a limited sense, the forerunner of all public libraries in the land. It is of a twofold nature,--an historical section, with the other devoted to ecclesiastical works. Mr. Prince designed the ecclesiastical or Old South collection, as he called it, for the use of the pastors and church of which he was associate pastor forty years. This contained all the Latin and Greek books, and all in oriental languages.

His will states: "That whereas I have been many years collecting a number of books, pamphlets, maps, prints and manuscripts, either published in New England or pertaining to its history and public affairs, to which collection I have given the name of 'Ye New England Library,' and have deposited in the steeple of the Old South Church; and as I made this collection from a public view and desire that many important transactions might be remembered, which otherwise would be lost, I hereby bequeath the collection to the Old South Church forever, to the end that this collection may be kept entire. I desire that this collection be kept in a different department from the other books, and that it may be so made that no person shall borrow any book or paper therefrom, but that any person whom the pastors and deacons of the church for the time being shall approve, may have access thereto, and take copies therefrom."

The Prince catalogue states that, "at his death, the New England Library was the most extensive of the kind that had ever been formed. It contains, in its depleted state, not less than 1,500 books and tracts relating to America during the period of our colonial history."

The Mather family and Gov. Hutchinson are alone to be compared with Mr. Prince as collectors of books, and theirs avail little, as they have been scattered and destroyed. It is a matter of congratulation that the greater portion of Mr. Prince's books have been preserved, each of which had been carefully selected, "many bearing name, date of purchase, cost, and place where it was acquired." He frequently noted contemporaneous events of public importance on fly-leaf.

A great number were purchased during a seven-years' residence in Europe, and some one says, "By means of this memoranda, we can easily trace the stages of his sojourn abroad." He invented a very quaint book-plate, with flowered border, in which he inscribed his name.