De Gourgues sailed from Cuba, and as he passed the Spanish force at the mouth of the River of May, they saluted his little fleet, thinking that the ships were Spanish. He returned the salute, and then stood out to sea again, in order to deceive the Spaniards, and going north a few leagues entered the mouth of a small river. The Indians, thinking that the strangers were Spaniards, rushed down to the beach with shouts and yells of hatred, and prepared to prevent their landing. But no sooner did they see that the new-comers were French than they fell on their knees and kissed their hands and gave them every possible sign of welcome. And their joy was increased when they learned that they had come to make war upon the Spaniards, whom they feared and hated.
Satournia, the old friend of Ribault and Laudonnière, now welcomed their successor with the same marks of friendship he had shown them, and declared himself willing to join all his forces with De Gourgues in his attack upon the Spaniards. All the Indian warriors were called in, and at a solemn meeting they promised faith and help to the French, and as a proof of their good intentions the chief placed his wife and son into the hands of the French.
Then at a council of war they agreed that the French should go by sea and the Indians by land to a certain place farther south, where they would join forces and march to St. Augustine.
They met at the place appointed, and De Gourgues leading the French, and Olotocara, a nephew of Satournia, the Indians, they pushed forward toward the fort. As the Spaniards had done three years before, they had to wade through swamps and streams, and make their way through marshy forest lands, and their feet were bruised and bleeding, and their clothing torn, and their hands wounded with briers and nettles; but they did not care, but went on all through the night, and scarcely felt weary when at dawn they stood in front of the Spanish fort on the north bank of the River of May.
Only one sentinel stood there as the French and Indians came up in the gray light of the early day, and as he saw the stern faces of the enemy he no doubt thought of that other morning, three years before, when he had stood in the drenching rain waiting for the daylight to lighten the walls of Fort Caroline. But he was a brave man, and shouting that the French were upon them he turned his gun upon the enemy, and stood there bravely to defend the fort. But Olotocara springing upon the platform ran the sentinel through with a pike, and when the frightened Spaniards rushed out they were met by French guns and Indian arrows, and knew that the time for vengeance was come. They tried in vain to escape, and cried in vain for mercy; they were only met with scorn and hatred, and so swift and terrible was the work of destruction that in a few moments all the Spaniards were killed except fifteen, who were found and held as captives.
The Spaniards at the fort on the other side of the river knew that some stronger enemy than the Indians must be attacking their friends, but they could do little to help them, and in a short time were obliged to think of defending themselves, for no sooner had De Gourgues completed his work on the north bank than he took ship and sailed across the river, the Indians swimming by the side of the vessels in their eagerness to reach the fort. The Spaniards left their works and fled into the forest, where the Indians hunted them like beasts, and where their cry for quarter was met with the same pitiless response that had greeted the ears of their comrades. Fifteen of them were bound and their lives spared for a short time, and the rest were speedily murdered.
Still another fort remained to be taken. The Spaniards sent out from it a man disguised as an Indian to find out how many French and Indians there were; but the quick eyes of Olotocara saw through the cheat and the man was taken prisoner. There were three hundred Spaniards in the fort, and they might easily have overcome De Gourgues, who only had about a hundred men; but the Spaniards thought his force was far greater, and when, two days after, he appeared in the woods behind the fort, the Spaniards thought that a great part of his soldiers were still on the way, and sent out a party to scatter his forces before help could arrive. But De Gourgues managed to place some of his men between the fort and the Spaniards who had left it, and thus they were in danger of the fire from the fort as well as from the enemy in front. The French fell upon them with their swords, and not a man was left. The Spaniards in the fort, discouraged at this, sought refuge in the woods; but few if any escaped. Still the French cried no quarter, and still the Indians remembered the wrongs they had suffered and rejoiced that their enemies had fallen into their hands. When the dreadful work of death was over, De Gourgues hauled down the flag of Spain and raised the French banners on the fort, and then he had the prisoners brought before him, and told them he had come there to avenge the insult which France had received at their hands three years before. Then they were led to the same trees on which Menendez had hanged his prisoners, and over their heads was placed this inscription, "I do this not as unto Spaniards, but as unto traitors, robbers, and murderers."
And then they were all hanged, and De Gourgues thought his revenge was complete. The Indians were satisfied too. "I am willing now to live longer, for I have seen the French return and the Spaniards killed," said an old squaw, and that was the feeling of all her nation. De Gourgues did not remain long in Florida, and the Indians were very sorry to have him go, and parted from him with many kind words and promises of friendship; and the French, too, parted with regret from their dark-skinned friends, and promised soon to return and make their home among them, and so the fleet sailed away again, and reached France in safety, although the Spanish king hearing of the massacre of his subjects had sent a force to prevent its return home. But De Gourgues found that his brave deed was not approved by the King of France, and he soon had to leave court and live very quietly, lest his enemies should find out where he was. But everywhere throughout the world he was looked upon by the Protestants as a hero, and long years afterward the Indians in Florida remembered affectionately the man who had so bravely taken up the cause of the unfortunate Huguenots.
SIR WALTER RALEIGH.
Sir Walter Raleigh was a brave English knight, the friend of Sir Philip Sidney, and like him renowned for his chivalry. The story is told that when he was a young man he happened one day to be standing on a street down which Queen Elizabeth was passing, and as she came to a crossing that was very muddy, Raleigh stepped to her side and taking off his cloak laid it down for her to walk upon. This act of courtesy was the first thing that made the queen notice him, and she immediately took him into her favor and helped him all she could, and her kindness was well bestowed, for Raleigh was always the courteous, noble-minded gentleman, ready to do any one a kindness, rich or poor, high or low, and to serve his friends and his country as far as was in his power. For a long time after the visit of the Cabots, Englishmen thought very little about the New World, but at length one or two voyages were made there, and after this people began to think that perhaps it would be a good thing to try to make settlements there.
Raleigh was among the first Englishmen who formed plans for the settlement of America, and as he was a great favorite of the queen, he had very little trouble in carrying his plans out. He was also very rich, and after obtaining permission from Queen Elizabeth to settle North America, he sent out two vessels under command of Amidas and Barlow. The ships reached the coast of Carolina in the month of July, 1584, and took possession of the country in the name of the queen. The land seemed to the voyagers like a glimpse of Paradise. They spoke with delight of the "sweete-smelling timber trees," and the abundance of grapes, and of the shady bowers which echoed to the music of wild birds, and of the gentle manners of the natives who seemed to live "after the manner of the golden age." They spent some weeks there trading with the natives, but did not try to make a settlement, and then returned to England, taking with them a cargo of furs and woods.
The queen was delighted to hear that the new country was so rich and beautiful as these sailors described it to be, and said that because it was discovered while she was queen her reign would be forever famous; the name given to the country was Virginia, in honor to the queen, who was unmarried. The sailors said that Virginia had a good soil and fine climate, and that the Indians were very kind and friendly. Raleigh was delighted to hear this, and immediately sent out another expedition which was to settle on Roanoke Island. But when the settlers arrived there they found that the Indians were not so friendly as at first; they got into a great deal of trouble with them, and as they had been getting all their food from the Indians they came very near starving. Instead of planting corn and grain they spent their time in searching for gold and silver mines, and just as they were about to give up in despair, a vessel stopped there on its way to England and the captain took them all back home again.
But Raleigh was not discouraged; he sent out another company, two years afterwards (1587), under John White. This company also settled on Roanoke Island and laid the foundations of the "City of Raleigh." And here, on this wild American island, where a few years before many brave Englishmen had been killed by the savage Indians, where there were only rough log-houses to live in, and where fierce wild animals roamed through the gloomy forests, was born one day a little baby girl. She was the granddaughter of Captain John White, the governor of the colony. This little girl was the first child born in America of English parents, and she was named "Virginia Dare." Some time after White had to go back to England for provisions; he was away three years, and when he returned to Roanoke every trace of the colony had disappeared. And to this day no one knows what ever became of the colonists, and of little Virginia Dare. It is supposed that they might have been carried away by the Indians and spent their lives as captives, but no one knows whether Virginia Dare grew up as an Indian maiden, far away from her friends and not knowing that she was the child of white parents, or whether, with all the rest of the colony, she perished by the hands of the Indians. All we know is that, more than three hundred years ago this little English maiden came to live a while on the Island of Roanoke, and that then she vanished as utterly as do the rain drops that fall into the sea, and only her name is remembered.
THE STORY OF POCAHONTAS, THE INDIAN PRINCESS.
Pocahontas was a very beautiful child, and was so good and sweet that she was loved by all the tribe over which her father ruled. Her home was in Virginia, and a very happy life she led there, in the sunny woods, with the birds and squirrels for her companions; and in after years, when she went to live far away across the sea, the memory of her childhood home seemed the sweetest thing in the world to her, for it brought to her mind the songs of the birds, the beautiful flowers, the waving trees, the bright rivers, and the fair skies that she was so familiar with when she was a little happy child.
To have had a happy childhood is a very beautiful thing, it makes all after-life sweeter, it is like the first spring flowers which we gather in the meadow, and although by and by the snow will come and cover the place where they bloomed, it cannot take away the memory of their sweetness and loveliness, for that is in our hearts and will stay there forever.
So Pocahontas grew up in this pleasant home, and learned to embroider her dresses with shells, and to weave mats, and to cook, and to do all those things which Indian maidens were accustomed to.
One day, when she was about twelve years old, an Indian came into the village and told the people a story about a wonderful white man that had been captured some time before. It was said that he could talk to his friends many miles away by putting down words on a piece of paper, and he had a queer little instrument by which he talked with the stars, and he had told them that the earth was round, and that the sun "chased the night around it continually." They had never heard of such curious things before, and they decided that this strange being was something more than a mere man, and that perhaps it was in his power to bring good or evil upon them as he wished. So all the Indian priests and magicians met together and for three days practised all sorts of magic to find out from the invisible world what they had better do with their prisoner; and finally they decided to take him to the great chief Powhatan, father of Pocahontas, and let him decide for them.
Powhatan received the captive with great courtesy. He asked him about his life, and found that he was one of a company of men who had sailed from England to found a settlement in Virginia.
Smith saved by PocahontasSMITH SAVED BY POCAHONTAS.
SMITH SAVED BY POCAHONTAS.
This man was Captain John Smith, a great soldier, who had already won much fame in fighting against the Turks.
He and his companions founded Jamestown, in Virginia, the first English colony which succeeded in America. While exploring the country he had been captured by the Indians. His companions were put to death immediately, but he saved his life by his presence of mind. When the Indians captured him he did not show any sign of fear, but began talking to them about his friends in Jamestown, and wrote a letter which he asked them to send there. Then he took out a pocket-compass and showed them how to use it, and also talked to them about the shape of the earth, and its motion around the sun.
All this surprised the Indians very much. They had never seen a written letter before, and they imagined it could only be done by magic, and they thought that if Smith were guided through the forest by means of the compass it was because he could talk to the stars and the sun. And then, had they not always been taught that the sun came up from the east in the morning, and went down in the west at night, never to return, but that a new sun came each day to light the world? So they listened to all these wonderful things with great awe and fear, and Powhatan and his council decided that it was not safe to let such a man live, as he might do them great harm, being so powerful and wise, and knowing so much about the unseen world. When Pocahontas was told that Smith must die, she felt very sad indeed. During the time that he had been a prisoner in the village she had grown very fond of him, as he also had of her, and it seemed a dreadful thing that such a brave and good man should die.
Many a story had he told her of the lands beyond the sea, where lived the little English boys and girls whom he had left behind him, and Pocahontas was never tired of listening to the tales of that fair England that Smith loved so well. How different it was from her own home, and how she would like to see those blue-eyed, fair-haired children, whose lives were so unlike her own. Ah, it was such a cruel thing to think that this good man must die. If she could only save him in some way, how glad she would be. And he was so brave too, he did not flinch when he was told that he must die—not even when he was told that he was to be put to death in the most cruel way that the Indians could think of. And so the Indian maiden grieved and grieved and tried to think of some way in which she might save her friend's life, but she could not.
At length the time came for his execution. He was brought out in the village square, and after his hands and feet were bound he was stretched on the ground with his head resting upon a great stone. Beside him stood an Indian with a great club in his hand with which he was to dash out the Englishman's brains. The club was lifted in the air and in another moment would have fallen upon Smith's head, had not Pocahontas, who at the last moment resolved to save his life at the risk of her own, rushed up to the spot and, clasping the captive's head in her arms, begged her father with tears in her eyes to spare his life.
Powhatan was touched by his daughter's sorrow and listened to her request; he ordered Smith's bonds to be taken off, and said that he would spare his life.
So Smith rose from the ground a free man, and with an escort of twelve men was sent back to Jamestown.
You can well imagine that he would never forget this brave, beautiful Indian maid who had saved his life. And many times after that he had reason to be grateful to Pocahontas. At that time the Jamestown settlement was in constant fear of attacks from the Indians, and more than once Pocahontas came through the forest at night to warn the English of danger, and Captain Smith said that, had it not been for her help, the Jamestown colony would have died of starvation. The Indians were very unfriendly and very unwilling to supply the English with food, and if Pocahontas and her father had not brought them corn they could not have gotten it anywhere else. Jamestown soon became as familiar to Pocahontas as her own father's home. She often went there to offer help and counsel to the colonists, and always showed the same fondness for Smith that she had shown in early childhood. Smith was obliged to go back to England after a while, to be treated for a wound, and after he went away Pocahontas did not visit Jamestown any more. The English told her that he was dead, and she could not bear to go there without seeing him. But he was not dead, and the two friends were to meet once more—not in Jamestown, it is true, but in England, where Pocahontas went as the bride of the young Englishman John Rolfe.
Rolfe loved the young Indian maiden dearly, but he could not marry her, as it was then considered very wrong for an Englishman to marry a heathen; but after a time Pocahontas became a Christian and was baptized under the name of Rebecca, and soon after she was married.
Powhatan and his chiefs were very glad of this marriage, as were also the colonists, and for many years after the Indians were more friendly. Pocahontas was taken by her husband to England, where she was received with great delight by the English court. The king and queen grew very fond of her and showed her every kindness that they could, and all the great English lords and ladies wished to see the Indian girl who had been so kind to their countrymen in Jamestown. As she was a princess she was called Lady Pocahontas, and every one was surprised that a girl who had been brought up in the society of cruel savages, should have such beautiful and gentle manners. They said that she acted more like one of their own English ladies than the daughter of an Indian chief, but Pocahontas was gentle-mannered because her heart was kind and good; not gentle birth but kind hearts make the truest ladies and gentlemen, and no lady of the English court could say that she had saved another's life at the risk of her own as could the Indian maid from across the sea. Pocahontas was much surprised to find Captain Smith alive and in England; she wept on seeing him, and begged him to let her call him father.
Smith told her that, as she was a king's daughter, this would not be allowed at the court; but she said that she must call him father and he must call her child, and that she would be his countrywoman forever. Smith wrote a letter to the king and queen asking them to receive Pocahontas kindly, and it was through him that she was so much noticed by the English nobility.
Her beauty and sweetness would have won their hearts, but it was the memory of what she had done for the English in Jamestown that made them so eager to be kind to her in return. Pocahontas did not stay very long in England, although she grew to love it dearly, and did not want to go away from the land where she had only known happiness and kindness. But her husband decided to return to Jamestown, and Pocahontas prepared to leave England with a heavy heart. She thought that they could be much happier there than in America, and she wanted to bring up her little son as an English boy, and did not want him to see all the cruelty and wickedness which she knew he would find in the wild life in Jamestown. So all things were made ready, and they left London and went to Gravesend, where they were to take ship for America. But, just as they were about to sail Pocahontas was taken ill and died; the English climate had been too severe for one born in the South, and so Rolfe and his little son went back to America alone, and the beautiful princess was buried in England, far from her own land; and her English friends mourned for the sweet Indian girl whom they all loved; and for years and years her story was listened to with admiration by the boys and girls in the homes of England, for it was the story of a brave and true heart, and such we must always honor.
THE SETTLEMENT OF MAINE AND DISCOVERY OF LAKE CHAMPLAIN.
Although the southern part of North America became very well known to Europe almost immediately after its discovery, yet many years passed away before the whites knew very much about the lands farther north. This was because in settling America the settlers thought more of finding gold and silver than any thing else. Gold and silver had been found in such quantities in Mexico and Peru, and Spain had grown so rich by conquering those countries, that no one thought it worth while to go to any place that had neither gold nor silver nor precious stones to offer. And then, besides this reason, the northern part of America did not have such a warm, delightful climate as the southern. In Florida one could live for the greater part of the year on the fruit, that was so abundant, and one scarcely needed a house where the summer lasted so long; but up in the north one must be well protected from the icy winds, must have heavy fur clothing and warm comfortable houses, and above all, must spend the spring and summer months in planting corn and grain for use in the long, cold winter; and so, as men knew living would be very hard work, and the chance of getting rich very small up there on those northern coasts, they stayed away, and long years passed before white settlers came to live among the beautiful mountains and valleys of New England.
The first people who came were the fisher-folk. They came from France, and spent the warm months in tossing on the waters around the coast of Newfoundland and Maine, taking in large cargoes of fish which they sold readily in European markets. When they went back home again they told very entertaining stories about the northern lands; of their great rivers that came rushing down from the north, and of the beautiful forests of pine and spruce, and of the pleasant inland lakes whose waters were so clear that one could see the pebbles on the bottom, and which were filled with delicious trout.
By and by these fishermen's stories attracted other people to those regions, and men began to go there not only to fish, but to trade with the natives; and gradually it came to be quite a general custom for the traders and fishermen to build a few warm huts and pass the winter on the shores of some sheltered bay, instead of going back to France at the first sign of cold weather. And here they learned many interesting things about the new country, and which made it seem quite worth living in. They learned how the Indian could start from the coast in his bark canoe, and, by means of those large streams, the Kennebec, and the Penobscot, and the lakes that they formed, reach easily the smaller rivers of Canada and so float down to the great Hochelaga or St. Lawrence; thus going from the Atlantic coast, through hundreds of miles of dense forest, to the large Indian villages of Hochelaga or Stadacona. Sometimes the traveller would have to carry his canoe from one lake to another, always a short distance, or around the rapids or waterfalls of the narrowing river; but with these exceptions the journey was made entirely by water. And as the Indians of Canada and those of Maine were constantly trading with one another, the whites soon saw that a country where distant places could be so easily reached, and whose fine forests, and rich furs, and excellent fisheries could be had for the taking, was not so poor after all, and that perhaps they might as easily draw gold from the sea, or find it in the sweet-scented woods, as by wandering through the marshes of Florida, or on the banks of the Mississippi.
And so, little by little, the French king began to believe that it would be a very good thing for France to own and settle Maine and Canada, or, as all the northern part of America was then called, New France; and in 1604 Sieur De Monts, a Huguenot nobleman, sailed from Havre de Grace for the purpose of making a French settlement in Acadia. With De Monts came his friend Jean de Biancourt, Baron de Poutrincourt, also a Huguenot, who wished to find a new home in America, where he would be free from all the religious troubles that were constantly vexing him in France. Samuel Champlain was also one of the company, and as he had been on several voyages before, and knew the country and people better than the others, he was looked upon as a very important member.
The ships reached Nova Scotia without any mishaps, and Poutrincourt, who was delighted with the country, got permission to settle here, and began the foundation of his new home. He had chosen a delightful spot, and for many years lived there peacefully and happily, cultivating the rich soil, and showing the Indians how to improve their own way of farming. And although Poutrincourt was a loyal Frenchman, still he never looked back regretfully to France, for he found, amid the pleasant meadows and blossoming orchards of Acadia, a greater peace than he had ever known in his old home. The Indians all loved him, and the little Indian children came and went freely through the halls of his stately mansion, often lying at his feet while he was dining, and catching in their little dark hands the nuts and raisins which he threw them as their part of the dessert.
Very pleasant indeed would the settling of Maine have been if all Frenchmen had possessed as good and true hearts as Poutrincourt; but when De Monts, who had settled first at the mouth of the St. Croix, went sailing around the coast of Maine to find a better place, he found that the white visitors before him had left a bad name among the Indians, who came down to his ship with scowling faces and angry gestures; and so, although De Monts saw many pleasant spots up among the deep sheltered bays, and would have been very glad to settle there and hunt and fish, yet the natives seemed so unfriendly that he gave up the idea and went back to St. Croix for awhile, and then finally sailed across the bay and settled at Port Royal, in Acadia, the home of Poutrincourt.
But Champlain could not remain content with the idle life that was led there. He was constantly making expeditions into the great forests, and learning all that he could about the country; he went back to France too, and while there a company of merchants employed him to explore the country from Maine to the St. Lawrence. He started off on his travels as soon as he returned to America, and pushing through the forests of Maine and Canada, travelling for the greater part of the way in an Indian canoe, came at last to the St. Lawrence, and floating down the mighty stream to Stadacona, the old resting place of Jacques Cartier, built there a fort in July, 1608. Here he remained for many months, visiting all the country round, going up and down the St. Lawrence, and learning its islands and tributaries, and giving names to rivers, islands, and lakes which they keep to this day. In the spring the men laid out garden plots and planted them carefully, so that they would have corn and vegetables for the next winter; and as soon as the planting was done, and everything in good order, Champlain started off on one of his trips, which proved to be the most interesting he had ever undertaken.
He was accompanied by a large party of his men, and in his journey met, as agreed upon, the Indians of Canada in an expedition against the Iroquois, the tribes of what is now known as New York State. He met his Indian friends at the mouth of the Iroquois River, now called the Richelieu; they were very glad to see him and his men, for they knew that they would be of great help in the coming battle, and probably be the means of their defeating the Iroquois. Champlain noticed the beauty of this river, which he had never sailed on before, and asked his guides where it came from. They told him it came from a beautiful lake not very far away, and which he could easily reach with his vessel. But he soon found that this was not true: the river grew narrower and narrower, and the bed became so rocky and steep that the Indians at last confessed that they had deceived him in the hope that he would join in the coming battle. But as soon as Champlain saw that he could not reach the lake in his own vessel, he sent it back to Quebec, only being able to persuade two of his men to go on with him. The rest of the journey was made in the canoes, and although there were many dangerous places in the river—falls and rapids and immense boulders that almost blocked the way—still, by landing and carrying the canoes around the worst places, they at last came to smooth water without having lost a single boat. And then Champlain saw, as they floated into this shining stretch of water, that of all the lakes he had seen in Maine or Canada none was so beautiful as this. For miles and miles ahead its waves glistened in the July sunlight, and everywhere lovely islands appeared; the shores were bordered with magnificent trees and covered with luxuriant vines; on one side rose the wooded heights of Vermont, and on the other the white peaks of the Adirondacks, and as the admiring party slowly coasted along, visiting the little bays and islands, and gathering the wild flowers and strawberries that grew in abundance, they felt well rewarded for their difficult journey.
Champlain gave the lake his own name, which it bears to this day in honor of its great discoverer.
Two or three days passed very peacefully, and it seemed they had only come to that beautiful place for quiet and enjoyment; but one evening, just as the dusk was creeping over the lake, they saw the dark faces of the Iroquois looking down at them from the leafy heights above. The Canadian Indians gave a shrill cry at the sight, and all that night the two tribes shrieked defiance at one another, and waited impatiently for the sunrise, which was to be the signal for the battle to begin. At break of day the Iroquois stood ready for battle, awaiting the attack of the Canadians, who all this time had kept Champlain and his friends hidden from the sight of their enemies. Now they formed in ranks, still keeping their white friends concealed, and marched slowly toward the Iroquois, who were eager for the fight. But before a single arrow was shot the ranks of the Canadians opened, and Champlain came coolly to the front and fired his gun. The Iroquois were terrified, having never before seen such a weapon, and when they saw that two of their number were wounded, they became still more afraid; and thinking that Champlain was a god, and held a magic instrument in his hand against which it would be useless to fight, they turned and fled into the woods, pursued by the Canadians, who were delighted at the success of their trick, and shrieked out their joy over their easy victory. But the Iroquois went on, not heeding their enemies' triumphant cries, and did not consider themselves safe until they reached their own peaceful valleys, hidden away among the Adirondacks; and years and years after that the children of the tribe, as they gathered the water-lilies from the beautiful mountain lakes, or wandered among the woods plucking dainty flowers and waxen Indian pipes, would tell with wonder and awe the story of the great white god and his magic weapon, and how by his aid the brave Iroquois, always before victorious in battle, had been defeated on the shores of that distant lake which lay beyond the slopes of their snow-capped mountains.
But the Canadians went home rejoicing, and Champlain went back to Quebec, and told of his discovery, and placed the new lake on his maps with much pride, and wrote in his journal an account of his journey thither, which, when the French people at home read it, pleased them so much that they were more determined than ever that the whole of that beautiful region should belong to France, and to no other country. And Champlain lived in honor at Quebec until his death, in 1635; but his name will never be forgotten, for it is heard year after year, and echoed again and again, among the trees that fringe the shores, and the mountains that overlook the beautiful lake that he discovered.
But in the meantime the English had not been idle. The year after De Monts left France the English also sent an expedition to the northern part of what they then called Virginia. The leader was George Weymouth, and the name of the vessel was the Archangel. After a pleasant voyage they landed in May on Monhegan Island, south of Maine, near Pemaquid Point. After the long sea voyage the men were glad to get on land again, and delighted with the island, which had fine shade trees, cool streams of fresh water, and was covered with gooseberries, strawberries, roses and violets, which grew down to the water's edge. But pleasant as this was, they made only a short stay here, and went on along the coast and up some of the large rivers to find a good place for a settlement. They sailed in and out among the many bays, and everywhere found the country as pleasant as their first view of it. Everywhere were good harbors, forests full of deer and other game, trees for ship-building, acres and acres of fertile ground for raising crops, and miles of meadow land, through which ran the brooks that had come rushing down from the high lands. The men declared that the peas and barley grew half an inch a day, and said that it was impossible to describe the beauty and goodness of the land.
The Indians, too, were of orderly and peaceful habits, the different tribes living for the most part very quietly. The principal tribe was the Abnakis, and it was their custom to dwell in villages and to till the soil. The principal villages were on the banks of the Kennebec, the Androscoggin and the Saco. They were all enclosed with high palisades for defence against enemies, and the wigwams were very comfortable, being built of bended poles and covered with bark and moss. These Indians had gardens well laid out in regular manner, and raised corn and peas and beans. They prepared the ground as soon as the snow melted, and planted their corn early in June, making holes in the ground with their fingers or with little sticks.
The Abnakis were also fond of ornamenting their dress with fringes of feathers and shells and stones, and always wore a great number of rings, bracelets, necklaces, and belts embroidered with shells and pearls. But the English never could win the Indian hearts as the French could. They never trusted them as they trusted the French, and when trouble arose between the English and French for the possession of Canada, the Indians always were ready to join with the French against the English, and showed their hatred and distrust in very cruel and savage ways. One reason for this was, that the French tried to win the Indians by kindness; they did not show that contempt for them which the English nearly always showed, and they tried in every way to be just in their dealings with them. They learned the different Indian languages so that they could talk easily with the natives, and in naming rivers and bays and islands, they kept many of the poetical Indian names, which the English would never take the trouble to learn to pronounce. And then, too, it was always very easy for the French to adopt the habits of the Indians. Frenchmen would sleep in wigwams and eat Indian bread, and wear the Indian dress, travel in birch-bark canoes, and hunt Indian fashion. All this was very different from the English, who, wherever they went, changed the names of places for English names, and insisted on the Indians learning the English way of doing things.
And so the Indians grew to love the French, who were always kind to them in health, and whose gentle priests nursed them carefully in sickness; and by and by they came to learn many useful things, and to adopt many French customs, which linger among their descendants to this day.
But all this made it very much harder for the English who tried to settle that part of the country, and Weymouth and his friends soon found that the natives looked upon them with distrust and dislike; and very good reason they had for this, as the English captain, the first chance he got, kept five Indians who had come on board his vessel and carried them off to England.
Here they were looked upon as great curiosities. Great crowds followed them about the streets, as they walked through London wrapped in their skin mantles, and with their strange head-dress of quills and feathers; and none the less curiously did the Indians look at the Londoners, and at the fine buildings and palaces which adorned their famous city.
The returned seamen reported that the coast of Maine would be an excellent place for an English settlement, and gave wonderful descriptions of the fine climate, rich soil, and good fishing, and praised the country so much that from their accounts, and from the stories of the kidnapped Indians, some English gentlemen decided to begin a settlement there at once. There were plenty of men willing to go to a place where the sailors said one could gather pearls on the beach, and where the trees oozed gum as sweet as frankincense, and very soon a ship was sent out to explore the country still farther, and take Nahanada, one of the captive Indians, back to his tribe at Pemaquid.
In 1607 two other ships left England also, and on one of them was the Indian Skitwanoes, who was to act as guide and interpreter.
They landed in July, and immediately received visits from Indians on the coast who came to trade; and after spending a week in visiting the islands near, a boat was sent up the river to an Indian village in Pemaquid. Skitwanoes went with this party to show them the way, and had it not been for his presence the English would have been met with a shower of arrows, for as soon as they came in sight of the village the Indians started up, and snatching up their bows, would have begun fighting at once, had not Skitwanoes stepped in front of the party and called the angry chief by name. It was Nahanada, the Indian who had been sent back from England the year before; as soon as he recognized Skitwanoes and saw that his friends were Englishmen, he dropped his weapons and went up to his visitors, and welcomed them and kissed them in true Indian fashion. After a pleasant visit of some hours they returned to the ship, and in a few days, after choosing a good spot on the banks of a river, built a fort and some houses, and the place soon looked like a thriving little settlement. Some timber was cut and seasoned for the building of a ship, which was named the Virginia, the first vessel ever built by English settlers in America.
The Indians looked on all these preparations with wonder. For the first time they saw substantial houses that would protect the inmates from snow and cold; and the fort, with its twelve mounted guns, looked as if the new-comers meant to stay, and if need be fight for the new homes that had been made with such trouble. But there was one thing the natives could not understand, and that was what right these white men had to come and take away one of their favorite spots, and make it their own without paying for it, or even asking for it. It seemed to them very unfair that they must lose their property in this way, and they soon began to show the settlers that they were very much displeased. They became very troublesome, refused to trade with the English, and showed their ill-will in many ways; and this was very discouraging to the English, who wanted to get along peaceably; and so many of them, before the winter was over, became disheartened at the thought of living in such a cold, dreary region, surrounded by bitter foes, and sailed back to England again in the Virginia, on her first voyage to the old country.
As time went on the Indians grew more and more troublesome, sometimes even coming inside the fort; and once the settlers became so angry that they set the dogs on them and drove them back to the woods. But this only made matters worse, and when a party went up the river to explore the country, they found that the other tribes were just as unfriendly, and that, excepting the chief Nahanada, they had not a friend among the natives.
The second winter was as severe as the first, and quite discouraged the colonists, who could get very little to eat, as their storehouse had been burned by the Indians; and so when spring came and they had a chance to leave Maine they all went back to England, and the settlement of Maine by the English was given up for many years. The next attempt to settle this coast was made by the French, who, not satisfied with claiming Acadia and Canada, wanted also to get possession of Maine, which had been so often described as a good place for settlement. In 1613 Madame la Marquise de Guercheville, a wealthy Catholic, and some French priests sailed from France to make a settlement at Kadesquit on the Penobscot; but, arriving at the coast in a heavy fog, they did not reach the mouth of the Penobscot, and, after waiting two days for the fog to lift, found themselves near Mt. Desert island. The grand and beautiful scenery of this island pleased them so much that they sailed up into Frenchmen's Bay, and made a landing on the coast, intending to stay there awhile before going on.
A number of Indian villages were scattered over the island, and as soon as the French landed they saw smoke arising, and knew by that that the natives had seen them, and that the smoke was meant for a signal; so they built a fire in answer, and the Indians soon came flocking down to the beach in great haste to see the strangers. One of the priests, Father Biard, had met some of these Indians before on his former visit to the Penobscot, and he now asked them the way to Kadesquit. But the cunning Indians did not want their white visitors to go on to Kadesquit; they wanted them to stay there with them, so they told them that their own island was a much better place than Kadesquit. They pointed to the mountains covered with spruce and pine, and to the sparkling brooks, fringed with delicate wild flowers, and to the moss-covered rocks, and clusters of dainty ferns, and said that this fair spot was as healthful as it was beautiful, and that all the neighboring tribes sent their sick to them to be cured by the pure air and delightful waters. But Father Biard was quite determined to go on to Kadesquit, and the Indians, seeing this, gave up coaxing and instead begged of him to visit their sick chief, who, they feared, was going to die. Kind Father Biard consented very willingly to go and see the sick man, and when he reached his home, which was on a bay in the eastern part of the island, he found the place so beautiful that he quite gave up Kadesquit, and decided to stay there.
So they raised a cross, built some huts, and planted corn, for it was in the early summer, with many long months of warm weather still to come.
But the settlement that was begun in such pleasant weather, and with such good will from the natives, came soon to a sad end; for an English captain from Jamestown, who was sailing along the coast, was very angry when he found that the French had begun a settlement, and asked the Indians to show him the way thither; and they, thinking that the English and French were friends, and that the captain wanted to get provisions from the priests, led the way, and, as most of the French were away from the camps, the captain had no difficulty in seizing the place, and in two days he had plundered it of everything, and, driving some of the men away in a boat, took Father Biard and the rest with him to Jamestown; the English governor there said that the captain had done quite right, and sent him back to destroy all the French settlements in Acadia too. The captain was very glad to do this, and landing first at Mt. Desert, he cut down the French cross, and then went on his way to Port Royal, where Poutrincourt's son, Biencourt, was ruling; and here the English did as they had done at other French settlements on their way, for Biencourt had few men and could make no resistance. The English destroyed Port Royal, its fort and monuments and church, and even chiselled out the name of De Monts that was engraved in a stone column, and so the French were driven out of Acadia, and not a single cross remained upon the coast of Maine to show they had ever been there.
The English themselves did not make any permanent settlement there till 1629.
HENRY HUDSON AND THE KNICKERBOCKERS.
Henry Hudson was the first white man who ever sailed up the Hudson River. He was an English sailor in the service of the Dutch, who sent him on a voyage to North America. While sailing along the Atlantic coast he entered the bay of New York, and passing inland discovered the beautiful river that bears his name. He was charmed with its clear waters and banks which were covered with grass and flowers and trees, and said that the country through which it flowed was "as beautiful as one could tread upon."
The vessel was called the Half Moon, and had a crew of English and Dutch—Hudson's own son being of the number. As they sailed up the river the Indians put out from the shore in their canoes and paddled up to the Half Moon. Hudson would not let them come on board at first, as one of his sailors had been killed by an Indian; but as they seemed very friendly, the sailors at last grew less timid, and traded with them, giving them beads, knives, hatchets, etc., for the grapes, pumpkins, and furs which they brought, and after a time Hudson and his men went on shore and visited the country around.
The Half-Moon in the HudsonTHE HALF-MOON IN THE HUDSON.
THE HALF-MOON IN THE HUDSON.
Hudson sailed up the river as far as he could with the Half Moon, and then sent a small boat as far up as Albany. He was hoping to find a strait through which he could sail to India; but of course he did not find that, so he turned back and sailed down the river again, and out into the ocean and back to Holland.
Some time after he came back to America, and, sailing to the north, discovered Hudson's Bay; while here his men became angry because they did not wish to go any farther in such a region, and taking Hudson and his son and a few others, they bound them and put them in an open boat and set them adrift in the sea. No one ever heard of them again. It is supposed that the boat was dashed to pieces by the floating ice, and that the bold sailor and his companions perished; but in the old stories of the Hudson the legend runs that he and his companions did not die, but found their way down to the Catskills and Highlands; and when it thunders they say it is Henry Hudson and his crew rolling their ninepins among the hills.
How that is we do not know. If the brave sailor and his friends really are living there yet, why, we must admit they could not have chosen a lovelier place, for nowhere in the world is a fairer spot than where the Hudson goes down to the sea, passing on its way the misty blue Catskills, rich with stories of fairies and legends of the old Dutch sailors, and the beautiful Highlands, which stand strong and firm, as if protecting the bright river that sweeps around their base.
This happened over two hundred and seventy years ago, in the year 1609, two years after the settlement of Jamestown by the English.
About five years after a company of Dutch came to trade with the Indians, and just as their ship was ready to sail home again it caught fire and burned up; so they had to stay all winter with the Indians. They had landed on Manhattan Island, on which the City of New York now stands, and from this time the Dutch began coming there to trade with the Indians, and after a few years they bought the island, paying about one hundred and twenty-five dollars for it.
The little Dutch children used to do very much as the little New York children do now. They had their lessons and their games; and although they learned in a different way and about different things, still they played a good deal and worked a very little, as is the way of children all the world over.
Perhaps, though, you would like to imagine yourself a little Dutch child living in New York (or New Amsterdam, as it was then called, after the city of Amsterdam in Holland) over two hundred years ago.
Well, in the first place, you would not be living in a tall, narrow house of brown stone or red brick, standing in a row with thirty other houses just like it. You would be living in a wooden house with a gable roof like a country church, and the ends of the house would be made of black and yellow bricks. Over the door would be some iron letters telling when the house was built, and on the roof a gay weather-cock would be standing. When you came in from the street on a winter day and wanted to warm yourself, you would go up to a great open fireplace and sit up in the corner of it, close to where the great logs of wood were burning.
The fireplaces were all tiled as many of those in new houses are now, only the tiles then were all arranged so as to tell some story, usually from the Bible, and around one fireplace you would read the story of Noah and the Ark; around another, the story of the children of Israel crossing the Red Sea, and so on.
The floors were not covered with carpet, but every day they were sprinkled with fresh white sand, and the little Dutch girls were taught how to draw pretty figures on the sand with their birch brooms; and at night, when they gathered around to listen to the stories of the Catskill fairies, the room would not be lighted with gas or lamps, but with great pine knots or tallow candles, which with the flames from the wood fire made the room full of queer shadows; and I do not doubt that oftentimes the little girls and boys were just a little bit afraid to go to bed after listening to some of these tales of Hendrick Hudson and Rip Van Winkle, and their queer adventures among the mountains up the river.
But the best time in all the year was at Christmas, when the Dutch kept the feast of Santa Claus, or St. Nicholas. What a gathering then of all the little folks! what games were played over the nicely sanded floors! and what a treat to sit around the great fire and eat the sweet cakes and crullers, which no one but Dutch mothers knew how to make so well! And you must remember, when at Christmas you have your Christmas tree and invite your little friends to come and spend the evening with you, that you are doing the very thing that the little Dutch boys and girls did in New Amsterdam over two hundred years ago; and when your mamma stands in the parlor on New-year's-day ready to receive callers, she is doing just what the Dutch mammas did so long ago; and at Easter when you have presents of colored eggs and ask your playmates to hunt for the nests which you have hidden away, remember that this, also, was a Dutch custom, for the Dutch were great people for holidays, and to this day many of the Dutch manners and customs are to be found among the New Yorkers who are proud to claim descent from the honest and hospitable Knickerbockers, who looked on life as a thing to be enjoyed, and who have left such pleasant customs to us, as the keeping of Christmas, New Year, Easter, and other holidays.
One morning, about fifty years after the Dutch first settled on Manhattan Island, a fleet of English vessels was seen in New York Bay, and by and by a letter was brought from the English commander to Peter Stuyvesant, the governor of New Amsterdam, asking him to give the town up to the English. The English king, Charles II., thought that as the Cabots had first discovered this part of America, the English had more right to it than the Dutch, and he sent a fleet across the sea and demanded the Dutch to give up the town.
Governor Stuyvesant got into a dreadful rage at this, and stumped wrathfully around on his wooden leg, and threatened dreadful things if the English did not hoist sail and go away again; but it all did no good; the Dutch people themselves thought that they would be better governed, and also better protected from the Indians, if they were ruled by the English; so they made Governor Stuyvesant give their city up to the English, who changed its name to New York, in honor of the king's brother, the Duke of York, to whom the king had given all the Dutch possessions in America. But for years and years the Dutch language and customs held their own in the city, and there are many things about it still which show that it was originally a Dutch settlement.
THE PILGRIMS AND THE SETTLEMENT OF NEW ENGLAND.
About two hundred and fifty years ago, there was living in England a class of people who did not think it right to worship God in the same way that most of the English nation did: they did not believe in building so many fine churches and cathedrals, or in having so much chanting and singing in the service; they did not like to see the priests, dressed in rich robes, standing before magnificent altars whereon candles blazed and incense burned. They said that this was all wrong, and that the money that was spent in fine churches and music and candles was only wasted, and that such things were not pleasing to God; and above all they did not believe many of the things which the English Church held sacred. So all these people refused to go to church; they stayed at home and had meeting at their houses, much in the same way that people now, who live far away from churches, meet at one another's houses and have prayer-meeting.
But the king of England, James I., said that these people had no right to stay away from church, and he made a law which said that every one who did not go to church should be punished.
These punishments were very severe, and the people were even sometimes afraid of their lives. After this law was passed they did not dare any more to go to meeting openly, but used to meet at night at their minister's house.
At last things got so bad that they decided to go away from England, and find some place where they could worship God as they thought right; so they sold their houses and lands, gathered their families together, and one day sailed away for Holland.
The king's officers, however, were looking out for them, and some of them were captured before they could get on the ship and taken to prison, where they were kept many weary months; but finally as many of these people as wanted to found their way to Holland. Here they lived very quietly for eleven years, the Hollanders being very willing to have them among them, as they were a very peaceable, honest, and kindly people.
But after a time the Pilgrims—for so these people were called—did not like it so well in Holland as they did at first, for they found that their children were growing up to be Dutch children instead of English; their sons and daughters began to marry into the families of their Dutch neighbors, and they feared that in a few years they would no longer consider themselves English. The Pilgrims were still very fond of England and everything English. Their language and customs were still dear to them, and they considered themselves Englishmen in every way.
So the principal men met together and talked the matter over, and at last decided that they would leave Holland and seek some other place where their children would hear only English spoken and learn only English habits.
As they could not think of any place in Europe where it would be safe for them to go, they all agreed that the best thing for them to do would be to sail away across the ocean to the New World, where they would be free to worship as they pleased, and where they would make a little colony by themselves.
There were so many Pilgrims in Holland at this time that they could not all go to America at once, as they did not have enough ships or money to undertake such a voyage; so they chose some of the youngest and strongest who were most willing to go, and one sunny morning in the month of July, 1620, a little ship sailed away from Holland, carrying with it the brave-hearted Pilgrims who were so determined to seek a home across the sea.
The voyage was very long, the weather cold and stormy, and many times the little Mayflower seemed to make no headway against the rough winds and waves; but at last, after long waiting, they saw the shores of the New World. For a month they sailed up and down the coast looking for a good place to land. They had expected to go to the Hudson River, but the storms drove them farther north, and the first land that they saw was the coast of Massachusetts.
It was not a very pleasant-looking country—with low sand hills, and no sign of grass or flower; but the pines looked fresh and green, and the Pilgrims were determined not to be discouraged. They sent little expeditions to the shore to look for a good place to land, and finally one day they all left the ship at a place which Captain John Smith had named Plymouth, and here they resolved to stay.
If you should ever go to Plymouth you would see in the Hall there some of the curious old furniture which the Pilgrims brought with them—old-fashioned armchairs and queer spinning-wheels, ladles, wooden spoons, a great iron dinner-kettle said to have been owned by Miles Standish, and the "samplers" which little Lora Standish worked. Perhaps the thing that you children would like best would be the old-fashioned cradle wherein slept the little Peregrine White, who was born on board the Mayflower. It is not a very fine cradle, not trimmed with silk and dainty laces, but the little English baby slept in it very comfortably, and every one will admit that it is the most interesting cradle in America to-day.
It was on December 21st that the Pilgrims landed, and you can imagine how cold and bleak it was down there by the sea; the first thing they did was to build a house, a large one that would hold them all; and they lived in this until they had time to build separate houses for the different families. These houses were built of logs, having tiny little windows in which oiled paper was put instead of glass. As soon as they could they built a church, of logs also, with four cannon on the top, to defend it from the Indians.
The Pilgrims had a very hard time of it that first winter, they suffered very much from the cold and from sickness, and, worst of all, they had scarcely enough to eat; nearly one half of them died before spring, but the rest were still not discouraged. They lived on game, killing deer and wild turkeys, and besides, being so near the sea, they could catch fish. As soon as the weather grew warm enough they planted corn, and after that they got along much better.
Seven or eight years after the Pilgrims landed, another company of English people came to America; they, like the Pilgrims, left England because they could not worship there in the way they thought right.
These people were called Puritans, but it made very little difference whether they called themselves Pilgrims or Puritans; they were all alike Englishmen and had come to America for the same purpose; they all suffered the same hardships and endured them bravely, for wherever the Englishman goes he takes a brave heart with him.
The Puritans, looking for a good place for settlement, chose the peninsula of Shawmut, or Tri-mountain, which they found to be a place of "sweet and pleasant springs, and good land affording rich corn-fields and fruitful gardens," and here, in September, 1630, were laid the foundations of the City of Boston.
For many years the colonists could not raise any cattle on account of the wolves which roamed day and night through the forests. The Indians were sometimes friendly and would bring them corn, which the settlers would pay for in clothing, knives, etc.; it is said that once one of the Indians gave a settler a peck of corn in exchange for a little puppy-dog. Whenever food was scarce they all shared alike, so that no one had more than another, and after a time, as they began to raise more crops and as the forests became cleared, they got along very nicely and lived as happily in their log-houses as if they had been marble palaces.
To-day New England is famous for its beautiful villages, with their broad streets shaded with elms and their wide pleasant lawns and comfortable houses; but if you could have seen a New England village two hundred and fifty years ago, it would have been a very different thing.
If you had lived in those days your home would have been a log-house on the edge of a great deep forest. Imagine these little English boys and girls going to bed in a room where the snow could drift in through the cracks, and where they could hear the wolves howling in the forests. How afraid they must have been, and how they must have snuggled under the covers and covered up their faces.
Imagine going to a little church built of logs and having a flag waving from it, and cannon in front of it to protect it from the Indians. Sometimes the people were called to church by the beating of a drum, and every man carried his musket with him, as no one knew when the Indians might come. In these queer little churches, families did not sit together as they do now, but the men sat in one place, the women in another, and the children in another. There was always a man to keep the children in order, and well he did it too. No child dared smile in church, or he might be rapped on the knuckles for it. Every one had to go to church, whether he wanted to or not; if any one was absent the "tithing man" was sent after him, and for many years after this custom was given up, the New England mothers used to frighten their children by telling them that the "tidy man" was coming when they were naughty.
These children used to go to school in queer little log school-houses, and school was not the pleasant place to them that it is to you. Everybody had to be as solemn there as possible, and all the pupils used to sit up stiffly and primly, and look as grave as little owls, for the schoolmaster was feared and respected next to the minister, and no New England child in that age would have thought of even smiling if the minister were present. The fathers and mothers were very solemn people too—life was such a serious thing to them, they thought it wicked to waste time amusing children. They did not even keep Christmas for many years, and the Puritan children did not know as much about Santa Claus as you do about the man in the moon.
You must not think, however, that they were unhappy; children always find some means of having a good time, even if fathers and mothers are stern and sober people; and the Puritan fathers and mothers loved their children just as much as the Dutch fathers and mothers in New York loved theirs, only they showed their love in a different way, that is all. And, after all, these little log school-houses were not such bad places—they were always sure to be near the woods, where were great shady trees, and if the children did not sing pretty songs in school as you do, they could at least hear the birds singing all day long; if they had not bright pictures on the walls of the school-room, they had sweet, dainty wild flowers just outside, and the wind and trees and blossoms whispered their secrets to them; and that is one reason perhaps why they grew up so good and true and brave. Thanksgiving Day was the one day in the year on which the Pilgrims did not think it wrong to be merry. Early in the day they went to church, which was held partly as a service of thanks for the harvest, and partly in grateful remembrance for the relief that came to them from England when they were suffering from famine. When church was over the fun began. All the members of a family from near and far were brought together on this day, and what gay times the children had with their small cousins and nieces and nephews. What games and romps, and what interesting talk around the fire as to who had gathered the most nuts, who had built the strongest and swiftest sled, and who had been bravest when the Indians came prowling around.
For of all the troubles which the settlers of New England had to bear, the trouble with the Indians was the worst.
At first they seemed to get along quite peaceably with them; the chiefs of some of the tribes were very friendly and were kind to the colonists; but as time went on the Indians grew more and more unfriendly, and the settlers lived in constant fear of them.
Sometimes they would come in the night to a house where a mother was alone with her children, and kill them all and then set fire to the house. Sometimes a man would be working at a distance from his home, and go back there only to find that the Indians had been there before him, and had taken his wife and children away with them to make slaves of them.
The little children would go to bed at night and lie awake listening for the Indian warwhoop, which they dreaded even more than they did the howling of the wolves. Every woman in those days knew how to use a gun, and many a time a mother had to defend herself and children from some painted Indians who would come up to the house and ask to be taken in.
About forty years after Boston was settled, these difficulties with the Indians brought about a war which extended over all that country. The most powerful of the Indians at that time was King Philip, chief of the Wamponoags. This tribe had always been friendly to the whites, Philip's father, Massasoit, having formed a treaty with the Puritans soon after their settlement in New England.
King Philip was a very brave and good man, and for a time after his father's death he remained friendly to the whites; but he saw that, no matter how friendly the whites seemed, they really were trying to get all the land from the Indians that they could, and he thought if he could drive the English away from his country it would be much better for his own people. So he sent messengers to all the tribes from Maine to Connecticut, asking the chiefs to join with him and drive the whites away. All the chiefs promised to do this, and soon there was a terrible war all over New England.
The Indians did not like to fight the whites in open field, but they used to come at night, creeping through the forest in the shadow of the trees, steal down the quiet little village street, and then, with dreadful shrieks and war-whoops, begin their horrible work. Sometimes they would not go away until everybody in the village had been killed, and the houses all burned.
Sometimes they would go to lonely houses where the inmates were all quietly sleeping, and forming themselves into a ring, would dance around the house yelling and waving their torches, and the poor people would be awakened by this noise only to know that death awaited them.
This war lasted nearly two years, and in that time many villages were burned, and many people killed; but finally King Philip was killed, and then the Indians lost heart, and in a short time there was peace again.
For some years after this the colonists had no trouble with the Indians, but after a time war broke out again. This time the Indians were stronger and better armed, and besides they were helped by the French.
For a long time the English and French had each been trying to gain possession of North America. The English said they had the best right to it, and the French said thattheyhad the best right; and so it went on, until the French and Indians agreed that they would join together and fight against the English. The Indians liked the French much better than they did the English, as they had always treated them better.
Some of the French had married Indian wives, and they were looked upon by the Indians as brothers. To this day in Canada you can see little dark-eyed boys and girls, who call themselves French, but whose ancestors were Indian and French.
You will learn later that this struggle between the French and English lasted for more than half a century after the time of which I have been telling, and ended in a great war between the nations, that extended in America all over the country that was then settled. But at last the English gained the day and the French gave up all the country that they had owned in America east of the Mississippi to the English, and that is how this country came to be under English rule.
After the French and Indian wars were over the colonists had very little trouble with the Indians, and in a few years there was peace and quiet all over New England.