Schuyler, the next year, 1691, with three thousand men, nearly half Mohawks and Schakook Indians, made an attack on the French settlements, north of Lake Champlain. De Callieres, governor of Montreal, was waiting to oppose him. After a severe encounter, Schuyler made good his retreat, having killed thirteen officers and three hundred

men.

New-York found great security against the encroachments of the French, in the Five Nations, who now carried on a vigorous war, along the river St. Lawrence, from Montreal to Quebec.

But the eastern portion of the country, particularly NewHampshire, suffered exceedingly; the storm falling with the greatest severity upon them. Both Connecticut and Massachusetts raised troops for their defence; but such was the danger and distress of the colony of New-Hampshire, that the inhabitants were upon the point of abandoning the province.

The winter of 1696 was unusually severe. Never had the country sustained such losses in commerce, nor had provisions, in any period of the war, been more scarce or borne a higher price.

Sec. 7. In the midst of these distresses, the country was threatened with a blow, which it seemed impossible that it should sustain. The Marquis Nesmond, an officer of high reputation, was despatched from France, with ten ships of the line, a galliot, and two frigates. Count Frontenac, from Canada, was expected to join him at Penobscot, with one thousand five hundred men. With this force, they were to make a descent on Boston; to range the coast of Newfoundland, and burn the shipping, which should fall in their way. To finish their work of destruction, they were to take New-York, whence the troops, under Frontenac, were to return to Canada, through the country, wasting and destroying the regions through which they should pass. But De Nesmond sailed too late for the accomplishment of his purpose. On his arrival on the coast, not be

ing able to join Frontenac, in season, the expedition failed, and the colonies were saved. At length, Dec. 10, 1697, a treaty was concluded between France and England, at Ryswick, in Ger many, by which it was agreed, in general terms, that a mutual restitution should be made of all the countries, forts, and colonies, taken by each party during the war.

King William's war, which was thus terminated, had been marked by atrocities on the part of the French and Indians, until then, unknown in the history of the colonies. Women, soon expecting to become mothers, were generally ripped up, and their unborn offspring inhumanly dashed against a stone or tree. Infants, when they became troublesome, were dispatched in the same manner. Or, to add to the anguish of a mother, her babe was sometimes lacerated with a scourge, or nearly strangled under water, and then presented to her to quiet. If unable soon to succeed in this, it was too effectually quieted by the hatchet, or left behind to become the prey of prowling beasts. Some of the captives were roasted alive; others received deep wounds in the fleshy parts of their bodies, into which sticks on fire were thrust, until tormented out of life, they expired. In one instance, an infant was tied to the corpse of its mother, and left to perish, vainly endeavoring to draw nourishment from her bosom.

Great were the sufferings of those whose condition was the best. They were subjected to the hardships of travelling without shoes, without clothes, an often without food, amidst frost, and rain, and snow, by night and by day, through pathless deserts, and through gloomy swamps. No kindness was shown them, and no pity felt for them. If they fainted under their burden, or only remitted for a moment their toil, they received from their inhuman conductors the severest chastisement, or expired by means of a blow from the tomahawk. Such were some of the calamities which our ancestors endured in the defence of the country, which they have transmitted to us with so much honor.

The details of individual sufferings, which occurred during this war, were they faithfully recorded, would excite the sympathies of the most unfeeling bosom. One instance only can we relate.

In an attack by a body of Indians on Haverhill, NewHampshire, in the winter of 1697, the concluding year of the war, a party of the assailants, burning with savage animosity, approached the house of a Mr. Dustan. Upon the first alarm, he flew from a neighboring field to his family, with the hope of hurrying them to a place of safety. Seven

of his children he directed to flee, while he himself went to assist his wife, who was confined to the bed with an infant, a week old. But before she could leave her bed, the savages arrived.

In despair of rendering her assistance, Mr. Dustan flew to the door, mounted his horse, and determined in his own mind, to snatch up and save the child which he loved the best. He followed in pursuit of his little flock, but, upon coming up to them, he found it impossible to make a selection. The eye of the parent could see no one of the number that he could abandon to the knife of the savage. He determined, therefore, to meet his fate with them; to defena and save them from their pursuers, or die by their side.

A body of Indians soon came up with him, and, from short distances, fired upon him and his little company For more than a mile he continued to retreat, placing him self between his children and the fire of the savages; and returning their shots with great spirit and success. length, he saw them all safely lodged from their bloody pursuers, in a distant house.

A'

It is not easy to find a nobler instance of fortitude and courage, inspired by affection, than is exhibited in this in stance. Let us ever cultivate the influence of those ties of kindred, which are capable of giving so generous and elevated a direction to our actions.

As Mr. Dustan quitted his house, a party of Indians entered it. Mrs. Dustan was in bed; but they ordered her to rise, and, before she could completely dress herself, obliged her and the nurse, who had vainly endeavored to escape with the infant, to quit the house, which they plundered and set on fire.

In these distressing circumstances Mrs. Dustan began her march, with other captives, into the wilderness. The air was keen, and their path led alternately through snow and deep mud; and her savage conductors delighted rather in the infliction of torment, than the alleviation of distress.

The company had proceeded but a short distance, when an Indian, thinking the infant an incumbrance, took it from the nurse's arms, and violently terminated its life. Such