the English promised to visit him within six weeks. Now it seems that their commerce with the Indians at this period was mostly carried on by the aid of one Thomas Savage, an interpreter, and the same man whom Smith had left with Powhatan fourteen years before. The visit took place according to promise, and it was then ascertained that Opechancanough had employed one of his Indians to kill Savage. The pretence was, "because he brought the trade from him to the easterne shore." The truth probably was, that the chieftain was jealous of the English influence among the tribes of that region.

But the storm which had been gathering ever since the death of the emperor was at length ready to burst upon the devoted colony. Ope. chancanough had completed every preparation which the nature of things permitted on his part, and nothing remained but to strike the great blow which he intended should utterly extinguish the English settlements forever. The twenty-second day of March, 1622— an era but too memorable in Virginian history-was selected for the time, and a certain hour agreed upon to ensure the simultaneous assault in every direction. The various tribes engaged in the conspiracy were drawn together, and stationed in the vicinity of the several places of massacre, with a celerity and precision unparalleled in the annals of the continent. Although some of the detachments had to march from great distances, and through a continued forest, guided only by the stars and moon, no single instance of disorder or mistake is known to have happened. One by one they followed each other in profound silence, treading as nearly as possible in each other's steps, and adjusting the long grass and branches which they displaced. They halted at short distances from the settlements, and waited in deathlike stillness for the signal of attack.

That was to be given by their fellow-savages, who had chosen the same morning for visiting the different plantations, in considerable numbers, for the purpose of ascertaining their strength and precise situation, and at the same time preventing any suspicion of the general design. This, it should be observed, had recently become too habitual a practice with the Indians, to excite suspicion of itself. The savages were well known to be in no condition for a war, and had shown no disposition for one. The English, therefore, while they supplied them generally with whatever they asked for, upon fair terms, neglected to prepare themselves for defence. They were so secure, that a sword or a firelock was rarely to be met with in a private dwelling. Most of their plantations were seated in a scattered and straggling manner, as a water-privilege or a choice vein of rich land invited them; and indeed it was generally thought, the further from neighbors the better. The Indians were daily received into their houses, fed at their tables, and lodged in their bed-chambers; and boats were even lent them previous to the twenty-second, as they passed backwards and forwards for the very purpose of completing the plan of extirpation.

The hour being come, the savages, knowing exactly in what spot every Englishman was to be found, rose upon them at once. The

the colony. The former also de
of the English inhabiting the coun
gamating the two nations, that so
among his people, while some of
former promise was confirmed, o
certain mines represented to be
was the deception carried, that
thought he perceived more int
than could easily be imagined
He acknowledged his own rel
sired to be instructed in the C
loved the English better than
anger was their custom of c
black boys."*

It must have been about t!
trouble to send some of his
a quantity of poison, peculi
use in his operations against
true object of the embassy:
sounding the disposition
Accordingly, it is recorded
secretarie of Virginia, in 1.
Pawtuxent, made an app
lege of trading with the

*Allusion seems to be gular to deserve some de children. A ceremony o! may best be described in 1. boyes, betweene ten and brought them forth, the p about them with rattles. roote of a tree. By the tinado in his hand, mad tweene them all along, t to fetch these children. to fetch a childe, eac them with their bastina defending the children that pay them soundly. men weepe and cry out and dry wood, as things were thus passed the boughs, with such viol... their heads, or bedecked with the children was no valley as dead, where the werowance being deman the children were not all bloode from 1

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Take resistance saved their Captain Smith's, though is assailants with an axe; urrounded him fled, and he possession of a house against . Baldwin, whose wife was so by repeatedly discharging his oth her and himself. Ralph u his house, successfully, with family, living near Martin's ree of the English were slain, ver heard any thing of it until own and some of the neighbor

of a Christian Indian named ted of the design by his brother,

hancanough gave of his deepvet, such was his profound dis

March, he treated a messenger e utmost civility, assuring him would fall sooner than it should e, an excellent man, who had anising the Indians, supposed that Opechancanough by building him

fashion; in which he took such door a hundred times a day. He he discourse and company of Mr. equite some of his kindness. Nevereman was found among the slain. e, the Indians guided a party of the sent home one who had lived among On the very morning of the fatal day, came, as at other times, unarmed into hdeer, turkeys, fish, fruits and other Sces sat down to breakfast with the same tomahawk.

the historians consider it--of the conbed. There was a noted Indian,

who was wont, out of vanity or some unaccount- himself up with feathers, in a most barbarously This habit obtained for him among the English the e-feather. He was renowned among his countryage and cunning, and was esteemed the greatest warimes. But, what was most remarkable, although he y skirmishes and engagements with the English, he aped without a wound. From this accident, seconded ition and craft, he obtained at length the reputation of ble and immortal.

22, Nemattanow came to the house of one Morgan, who a variety of well-selected commodities for the use of the itten with a strong desire to obtain some of them, Nersuaded Morgan to accompany him to Pamunkey, on the an advantageous traffic at that place. On the way, he is have murdered the trader. Within two or three days, he ain to the house of his victim, where were only two stout 1, servants of Morgan, at home. They, observing that he master's cap on his head, inquired after him; and Jack told kly he was dead.

med in their previous suspicions by this declaration, they in, and endeavored to carry him before Mr. Thorpe, who a neighboring settlement. But their prisoner troubled them so y his resistance, and withal provoked them so intolerably by vadoes, that they finally shot him down, and put him into a order to convey him the remaining seven or eight miles of the But the Indian soon grew faint; and finding himself surprised pangs of death, he requested his captors to stop. In his last nts he most earnestly besought of them two great favors; first, to make it known that he was killed by a bullet; and secondly, try him among the English, that the certain knowledge and monuit of his mortality might still be concealed from the sight of his ntrymen. So strong was the ruling passion in death.

Opechancanough was so far from being a particular friend of enattanow, that he had given the president to understand, by a mesnger, some time before the transaction just related, that he should consider it a favor in him, if he would take measures to have Jack despatched. The popularity of the war-captain was the only reason why he forbore to take such measures himself. Nevertheless, with a consummate wiliness he availed himself of this same popularity, on the death of his rival-as Jack seems to have been-the better to inflame and exasperate the Indians against the whites. He affected to be excessively grieved at his death, and for some time was unusually loud in his declarations of resentment and his threats of revenge. A messenger came from the president, to ascertain what was intended by these demonstrations of hostility, and again all was quiet as before; nothing could induce the sachem to violate the vast regard which he had always entertained for the English. About the same time he gave them liberty, by negotiation, to seat themselves any where on the shores

a stranger, and by the same reason so must I doe you." Smith still expressed himself unworthy of that distinction, and she went on:"Were you not afraid to come into my father's countrie, and caused fear in him and all his people but mee, and fear you I should here call you father? I tell you then I will; and you must call me childe, and then I will bee foreuer and euer your countrywoman." She assured Smith that she had been made to believe he was dead, and that Powhatan himself had shared in that delusion. To ascertain the fact, however, to a certainty, that crafty barbarian had directed an Indian who attended her to England to make special inquiries. This was Tomocomo, one of the emperor's chief counsellors, and the husband of his daughter Matachanna, perhaps the same who had been demanded in marriage by Sir Thomas Dale in 1614.

It is the last and saddest office of history to record the death of this incomparable woman, in about the two-and-twentieth year of her age. This event took place at Gravesend, where she was preparing to embark for Virginia with her husband and the child mentioned in Smith's memorial. They were to have gone out with Captain Argall, who sailed early in 1617, and the treasurer and council of the colony had made suitable accommodations for them on board the admiral-ship. But, in the language of Smith, it pleased God to take this young lady to his mercy. He adds, that she made not more sorrow for her unexpected death, than joy to the beholders to hear and see her make so religious and godly an end. Stith also records that she died as she had long lived, a most sincere and pious Christian. The expression of a later historian is, that her death was a happy mixture of Indian fortitude and Christian submission, affecting all those who saw her by the lively and edifying picture of piety and virtue which marked her latter moments.*

The same philosophic writer, in his general observations upon the character of Pocahontas, has justly remarked that, considering all concurrent circumstances, it is not surpassed by any in the whole range of history; and that for those qualities more especially which do honor to our nature-a humane and feeling heart, an ardor and unshaken constancy in her attachments-she stands almost without a rival. She gave evidence, indeed, of possessing in a high degree every attribute of mind and heart which should be and has been the ornament and pride of civilised woman in all countries and times. Her unwearied kindness to the English was entirely disinterested; she knew that it must be so when she encountered danger and weariness and every kind of opposition and difficulty, to bestow it seasonably on the objects of her noble benevolence. It was delicate, too, in the mode of bestowment. No favor was expected in return for it, and yet no sense of obligation was permitted to mar the pleasure which it gave. She asked nothing of Smith in recompense for whatever she had done, but the boon of being looked upon as his child. Of her character as a princess, evidence enough has already been furnished. Her

* Burk's Virginia, Vol. I.

dignity, her energy, her independence, and the dauntless courage which never deserted her for a moment, were worthy of Powhatan's daughter.

Indeed, it has been truly said, that, well-authenticated as is the history of Pocahontas, there is ground for apprehension that posterity will be disposed to regard her story as a romance. "It is not even improbable," says Burk, "that considering every thing relating to herself and Smith as a mere fiction, they may vent their spleen against the historian for impairing the interest of his plot by marrying the princess of Powhatan to a Mr. Rolfe, of whom nothing had been previously said, in defiance of all the expectations raised by the foregoing parts of the fable."

Young Rolfe, her only offspring, was left at Plymouth, England, under the care of Sir Lewis Steukley, who undertook to direct his education, his tender years making it inexpedient to remove him to Virginia. As that gentleman was soon after completely beggared and disgraced by the part which he took in the proceedings against Sir Walter Raleigh, the tuition of Rolfe passed into the hands of his uncle, Henry Rolfe, of London. He became in after years a man of eminence and fortune in Virginia, and inherited a considerable tract of land which had belonged to Powhatan. At his death he left an only daughter, who was married to Col. Robert Bolling. By him she had an only son, who was father to Col. John Bolling, (well known to many now living), and several daughters, married to Col. Richard Randolph, Col. John Fleming, Dr. William Gay, Mr. Thomas Eldridge, and Mr. James Murray. This genealogy is taken from Stith, and he shows with sufficient minuteness that this remnant of the imperial family of Virginia, which long survived in a single person, had branched out into a very numerous progeny, even as early as 1747. The Hon. John Randolph of Roanoke is, if we mistake not, a lineal descendant of the princess in the sixth degree.

NOTE.-Mr. Seba Smith has lately published a metrical romance, entitled Powhatan, which abounds in excellent and beautiful poetry. We will extract a part of the fourth canto, descriptive of the incident of Pocahontas saving Captain Smith from a violent death, by throwing herself beside him and putting her arm around his head, beseeching her father by her looks to spare him; it is a faithful and eloquent description:

Though many honored brave Sir John
For his spirit bold and high,
The solemn council now decide

That brave Sir John must die.

For this alone, they deemed, would serve
To appease great Ökee's wrath;

And safety to the monarch's realm
Required the strange chief's death.
So great a foe and terrible

Their tribes had never known:

Hence 'twas decreed, that in his fall
Great Powhatan alone

Was worthy to inflict the blow

This mighty chief to slay;