in their immediate vicinity could bring into the field at least seven hundred warriors. War was certain, and it was not known at what moment the savages would attack the settlements in overwhelming force. Connecticut called upon Massachusetts for aid, but only twenty men, under Captain Underhill, were sent to their aid. The energies and attention of the Bay colony were engrossed by the Hutchinson quarrel.

The Pequods, notwithstanding their immense numerical superiority, were unwilling to make war upon the English without the support of another tribe. They accordingly sent envoys to Miantonomoh, the chief of the Narragansetts, to endeavor to engage that tribe in the effort against the whites. Such a union would have menaced all New England, and as soon as the news of the negotiation reached Boston the government of the Bay colony prepared to prevent the alliance. Governor Vane at once wrote to Roger Williams, the friend of Miantonomoh, urging him to seek that chieftain and prevent him from joining the Pequods. It was a dangerous mission, and certainly a great service for the magistrates of Massachusetts to ask of the man whom they had driven into exile. They did not ask in vain, however. All of Williams' generous nature was aroused by the danger which threatened his brethren, and he embarked in a frail canoe, and braving the danger of a severe gale, sought the quarters of Miantonomoh. He found the Pequod chiefs already there, and the Narragansetts wavering. Knowing the errand on which he had come, the hostile chieftains were ready at any moment to despatch him, and had Miantonomoh shown the least favor to the project, Williams would have paid for his boldness with his life. He spent three days and nights in the company of the savages, and succeeded in inducing Miantonomoh not only to refuse to join the war against the English, but to promise the colonists his assistance against the Pequods. In the meantime he sent a messenger to Boston to inform the governor of the designs of the Indians.

The Pequods, left to continue the struggle alone, flattered themselves that their superiority in numbers would give them the victory, and continued their aggressions upon the Connecticut settlements to such an extent that in May, 1637, the general court of that province resolved to begin the war at once. A force of eighty men, including those sent from Massachusetts, was assembled at Hartford, and the command was conferred by Hooker upon Captain John Mason. The night previous to their departure was spent in prayer, and on the 20th of May the little force embarked in boats and descended the river to the sound, and passed around to Narragansett bay, intending to approach the Pequod town from that quarter. As the boats sailed by the mouth of the

Thames, the savages supposed the English were abandoning the Connecticut valley.

The day after the arrival of the English in Narragansett bay was the Sabbath, and was scrupulously observed. On the following day they repaired to the quarters of Canonicus, the old chief and principal ruler of the Narragansett tribe, and asked his assistance against the Pequods. Miantonomoh, the nephew and prospective successor of Canonicus, hesitated to join in the doubtful enterprise, but two hundred warriors agreed to accompany the English, who could not, however, count upon the fidelity of these reinforcements. Seventy Mohegans, under Uncas, their chief, also joined Mason. With this force the English commander marched across the country toward the Pequod towns on the Thames, and halted on the night of the 25th of May, within hearing of them.

In the meantime the Pequods, convinced that the English had fled from the Connecticut region, and never dreading an attack in their fort, which they considered impregnable, had given themselves up to rejoicing. The night, passed by the English in waiting the signal for the attack, was spent by the Pequods in revelry and songs, which could be plainly heard in the English camp. Two hours before dawn, on the morning of the 26th of May, the order was given to the little band under Mason to advance. They knew they would have to decide the battle by their own efforts, and were by no means certain that their Indian allies would not turn against them. The Pequods were posted in two strong forts made of palisades driven into the ground and strengthened with rushwork, an excellent defence against a foe of their own race, but worthless when assailed by Europeans. The principal fort stood on the summit of a considerable hill, and was regarded by Sassacus, the Pequod chief, as impregnable. The tramp of the advancing force aroused a dog, whose fierce bark awoke the Indian sentinel. The keen eye of the savage detected the enemy in the gloom of the morning, and he rushed into the fort, shouting, "The English! the English!" The next moment the English were through the palisades. On all sides they beheld the Indians pouring out of their lodges to take part in the hand-to-hand fight. The odds were too great. "We must burn them," cried Mason, and, suiting the action to the word, he applied a torch to a wigwam constructed of dry reeds. The flames sprang up instantly and spread with the rapidity of lightning. The Indians vainly endeavored to extinguish the fire, and the English, withdrawing to a greater distance, began to pick off the savages, who were doubly exposed by the light of the blazing fort. Wherever a Pequod appeared, he was shot down. The Narragansetts and Mohegans now joined in the conflict, and the victory was

complete. More than six hundred Pequods, men, women and children, perished, the majority of them in the flames. The English lost only two men; and the battle was over in an hour.

As the sun rose, a body of three hundred Pequod warriors were seen advancing from their second fort. They came expecting to rejoice with their comrades in the destruction of the English. When they beheld the ruined fort and the remains of its defenders, they screamed, stamped on the ground and tore their hair with rage and despair. Mason held

them in check with twenty men, while the rest of the English embarked in their boats, which had come round from Narragansett bay, and hastened home to protect the settlements against a sudden attack. Mason, with the party mentioned, marched across the country to the fort at Saybrooke, where he was received with the honors due to his successful exploit.

In a few days a body of one hundred men arrived from Massachusetts, under Captain Stoughton, and the campaign against the Pequods was

resumed. Their pride was crushed, and they made but a feeble resistance. They fled to the west, closely pursued by the English, who destroyed their corn-fields, burned their villages and put their women and children to death without mercy. They made a last desperate effort at resistance in the fastnesses of a swamp, but were defeated with great slaughter. Sassacus, their chief, with a few of his men took refuge with the Mohawks, where he was soon after put to death by one of his own people. The remainder of the tribe, about two hundred in number, surrendered to the English, and were reduced to slavery. Some were given to their enemies, the Narragansetts and Mohegans; others were sent to the West Indies and sold as slaves. The Pequod nation was utterly destroyed.

The thoroughness and remorselessness of the work struck terror to the neighboring tribes. If the Pequods, the most powerful of all their race, had been exterminated by a mere handful of Englishmen, what could they expect in a contest with them but a similar fate? For forty years the horror of this fearful deed remained fresh in the savage mind, and protected the young settlements more effectually than the most vigilant watchfulness on the part of the whites could have done.

Relieved from the fear of the Indians, the people of Connecticut prepared to establish a civil government for the colony, and in January, 1639, a constitution was adopted. It was more liberal, and therefore more lasting, than that framed by any of the other colonies. It provided for the government of the colony by a governor, a legislature and the usual magistrates of an English province, who were to be chosen annually by ballot. Every settler who should take the oath of allegiance to the commonwealth was to have the right of suffrage. The members of the legislature were apportioned among the towns according to the population. The colony was held to be supreme within its own limits, and no recognition was made of the sovereignty of the king or Parliament. When Connecticut took her place among the States of the American Union, at the opening of the war of the Revolution, her constitution needed no change to adapt her to her new position. It remained in force for one hundred and fifty years.

In the year of the Pequod war (1637), John Davenport, a celebrated clergyman of London, and Theophilus Eaton, a merchant of wealth, and a number of their associates, who had been exiled from England for their religious opinions, reached Boston. They were warmly welcomed, and were urged to stay in the Bay colony, but the theological disputes were so high there that they preferred to go into the wilderness and found a settlement where they could be at peace. Eaton with a few men

was sent to explore the region west of the Connecticut, which had been discovered by the pursuers of the Pequods. He examined the coast of Long Island sound, and spent the winter at a place which he selected as a settlement. In April, 1638, Davenport and the rest of the company sailed from Boston and established a settlement on the spot chosen by Eaton. The settlers obtained a title to their lands from the natives, and agreed in return to protect them against the Mohawks. They named their settlement New Haven. In 1639, a form of government was adopted, and Eaton was elected governor. He was annually chosen to

this position until his death, twenty years later. The colonists pledged themselves "to be governed in all things by the rules which the Scriptures held forth to them." The right of suffrage was restricted to church members. "Thus New Haven made the Bible its statute book, and the elect its freemen." In the next ten years settlements spread along the sound and extended to the opposite shores of Long island. The colony was distinct from and independent of the Connecticut colony, with which friendly relations were soon established.