the middle of a distant and almost inaccessible swamp. It was a fit retreat for a despairing fugitive, being one of those waste and dismal places to which few ever wandered, covered with rank and dense vegetation. The moist soil was almost hidden by the cypress and other trees, that spread their gloomy shades over the treacherous shallows and pools beneath. Oaks and pines grew in the few drier parts, and between them, a brush wood so thick that the Savage could hardly penetrate. On the long rich grass of these parts, wild cattle fed, unassailed by the hand of man, save when they ventured beyond the confines of the swamp. There wolves, deer, and other animals; and wilder men, it was said, were seen here, supposed to be the children of Indians who had been either lost or left here, and had thus grown up like denizens of this wild. Here the baffled Chieftain gathered his little band around him, like a lion bated by the hunters, sullenly seeking his gloomy thickets, only to spring forth more fatally. Despair was his only friend; for what other was now left?—his love was turned to agony his wife was in the hands of his enemies; and would they spare her beauty? His only son, the heir of his long line, must bow his head to their yoke his chief warriors had all fallen, and he could not trust the few who were still with him. Quanonchet, whose fidelity and attachment were stronger than death, was in the Land of Spirits, chasing the shadowy deer, and solaced with many wives;-for Philip, to the last, believed in the religion of his forefathers. In this extremity, an Indian proposed to seek peace with the English-instantly, the Prince laid him dead at his feet. This man had a friend, who, disgusted with the deed, soon after fled from the place to Rhode Island, where the English were recruiting their weary forces, and betrayed the place of his retreat. On this intelligence, a body of forces immediately set out. The night before his death, Philip' like him in the army of Midian,' says the historian-' had been dreaming that he was fallen into the hands of the English. He awoke, in great alarm, and told it to his adherents; advising them to fly for their lives, for that he believed it would come to pass.' The place was well suited to awaken all the terrors of the imagination. To any eye, but that

of the Savage, it was like the Valley of the Shadow of Death.' The cypress and oak trees hung heavy and still over the devoted soil: the faint gleam of the pools and sluggish lakes on every side, in the starlight, and the howl of the wolf, fitfully, as if it warned that the hour was nigh. 'Now, just as he was telling his dream, Captain Church, with his company, fell upon them.' They had been guided to the swamp by the deserter, and with great difficulty across some felled trees, into its labyrinths. The battle was fierce and short. Philip fought, until he saw almost every follower fall in his defence; then turned and fled. He was pursued by an Englishman and an Indian; andas if the oracle was doomed to be fulfilled-the musket of the former missed fire, and the latter shot him through the heart. Thus fell King Philip, the scourge of the English! the champion of his country's independence.

INDIAN CRUELTY AND GRATITUDE.

-but

Cruelty and Gratitude form a curious association :— so it is. An old man of eighty years, by name Schoonhoven, related to a friend of Dr. Silliman, the following instance of Indian cruelty and gratitude :-During the last French war in America, he, with six or seven other Americans, was taken prisoner by a party of Indians, while scouring the wilderness between Fort William Henry, on Lake George, and Sandy Hill on Hudson's River. They were conducted to a spot, and were there made to sit down, in a row, upon the trunk of a tree. The Indians now began, with tomahawks, to split the skulls of their victims successively. Schoonhoven was the last but one on the opposite end of the tree, where the massacre began. His turn was already come-when the Chief made a signal to put an end to the murder. Upon this he approached Schoonhoven, and calmly said, 'Do you not remember how, (at a time which he mentioned), while your young people were dancing, some poor Indians came up and wished to join the dance; but your young people said, "No: no Indians shall dance with us." But you, (for

I will now

this man, it seems, recognized his features just at the critical moment) said, "the Indians shall dance." show you that Indians can remember a favour.'

This ac

cidental recollection saved the life of Schoonhoven and his surviving companion.

INDIAN CRUELTY AND GRATITUDE,

SEASONED WITH WIT.

Soon after Litchfield began to be settled by the English, an unknown Indian came into an inn, at dusk, and requested the hostess to furnish him with food and drink; stating, that he had no success in hunting, and could not pay till he had better fortune. The woman refused ;called him a lazy, drunken, good-for-nothing fellow. A man who sat by, noticed the poor Savage, as he turned away from the unfeeling shrew, and generously ordered her to furnish him with a good supper, for which he himself would pay. The Indian, having finished his meal, thanked his benefactor again and again; assuring him he should never forget his kindness. He added, that he had ́one more favour to ask, should the woman be willing to hear a story. The hostess, now made good natured by money, readily consented. The Indian, addressing his benefactor, said, "I suppose you read your bible?" The man assented. Well, the bible says, God make de world; and den he took him, and looked on him, and say, 'All very good.' Den he made light; and took him, and looked on him, and say, 'All very good.' Den he made land and water, sun and moon, grass and trees; and he took him, and he looked on him, and say, All very good.' Den he made beasts, and birds, and fishes; and he took him, and looked on him, and say, 'All very good.' Den he made man; and took him, and looked on him, and say, 'All very good.' Den he made woman; and took him, and looked on him, and—he no dare say one such word.”

Many years after this, the Indian's benefactor was taken prisoner by an Indian scout, and carried into Canada.

He was saved from death by one of the tribe; who asked leave to adopt him in the place of his son who had fallen in battle. Through the winter, he encountered the customary effects of Savage hospitality. The following summer, as he was at work in the forest alone, an unknown Indian came to him and appointed a meeting at a certain place, on a given day. The prisoner consented: but afterwards, fearing mischief might be intended, he neglected the engagement. The Indian again sought him; reproved him for his want of confidence; and assured him the meeting would be for his good. Encouraged by his apparent friendship, the man followed his directions. He found the Indian, provided with muskets and knapsacks; and was ordered to arm himself and follow him. Their course lay towards the South; and, day after day, the Englishman followed, without being able to conjecture the motives of his guide. After a tedious journey, he arrived at the top of an eminence commanding a view of a country somewhat cultivated and populous. 'Do you know that country?' said the Indian, with an arch smile. yes; it is Litchfield,' replied the White man, as he cordially pressed his hand. Many years ago, you gave weary Indian supper there,' said he. He promise to pay you, Go home, and be happy.'

and he pay you now.

'Oh

INDIANS OF CALIFORNIA.

These Savages may, without injustice, be classed lower in the human scale than even the Esquimaux. Equally inanimate and filthy in habit, they do not possess that ingenuity and perseverance which their Northern neighbours can boast. Sullen and lazy, they only rouse themselves when pressed by want.

The men are large, but not muscular, nor of a manly appearance. Their complexion is very dark, and their features partake of the negro cast: the hair is long, but not coarse. The women are also large; their limbs and features regular, but not handsome. They perform all the

household work; and are quite slaves to the other sex. Both sexes tattoo, but without any regular design of figure. They perforate the lobes of the ears, and wear in them pieces of wood, four to six inches in length, ornamented with feathers: their head-dresses and waist-belts are also adorned with decorated wood and pieces of bone, teeth of animals, and mother-of-pearl. They use no pottery or earthenware, but work baskets so close as to contain fluids. Bows and arrows are their only weapons; which are of fir, and slightly made: but, to give toughness to the bow-which is about three feet in length-the back part of it is strengthened with a glutinous composition of deer sinews. The arrows are about the same length, very slender, and armed at the point with small pieces of flint, jagged at the edges.

The use of the temiscal, or vapour-bath-of which they are passionately fond-is peculiar to this part of North America. It is constructed of mud; the floor of which is sunk from four to five feet below the surface of the earth, of a circular form, about fifteen or eighteen feet in diameter. Besides the entrance-which is provided with a short passage to check the too ready admission of the external air-there is a small orifice in the top, to allow of the escape of the smoke from a fire kindled in the centre. of the temiscal. Around this fire, and with their feet towards it, the Indians lie wrapped up in their thick woollen blankets, and continue so till the whole frame is reduced to a nervous debility by excessive perspiration. In this state, they quit their warm retreat, and plunge themselves into a stream of cold water; near which they are careful always to place their temiscal.

These Indians pay their adorations to an Evil Spirit, who is supposed to preside over every thing, and whose displeasure they wish to avert by worship. This spirit is believed to be supreme, and unassisted in his office inferior agents. They entertain a full conviction of a future existence, and expect to enjoy happiness after this life in some delightful island in the sky which happiness, being measured by their present ideas, consists in sensual gratification. Immediately after the breath has left the