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5. Hark! a glad voice the lonely desert cheers.
6. Lo, earth receives him from the bending skies! Sink down, ye mountains, and ye valleys, rise! With heads declined, ye cedars, homage pay; Be smooth, ye rocks; ye rapid floods, give way The Saviour comes! by ancient bards foretold: Hear him, ye deaf!* and all ye blind, behold! 7. He from thick films shall the visual ray, purge And on the sightless eye-ball pour the day : He the obstructed paths of sound shall clear, And bid new musick charm the unfolding ear; The dumb shall sing, the lame his crutch forego, And leap exulting like the bounding roe.
8. No sigh, no murmur, the wide world shall hear;
9. As the good shepherd tends his fleecy care,
10. No more shall nation against nation rise,
11. Then palaces shall rise; the joyful son
* Pronounced děƒ.
And start, amidst the thirsty wilds, to hear
13. On rifted rocks, the dragon's late abodes,
14. The lambs with wolves shall graze the verdant mead,
15. Rise, crowned with light, imperial Salem, rise!
16. See thy bright altars thronged with prostrate kings,
17. No more the rising sun shall gild the morn,
18. The seas shall waste, the skies in smoke decay,
NARRATIVE OF THE CAPTIVITY OF MRS. JEMIMA HOWE, TAKEN BY THE INDIANS, AT HINSDALE, NEW-HAMPSHIRE, JULY 27, 1755.
As Messrs. Caleb Howe, Hilkiah Grout, and Benjamin Gaffield, who had been hoeing corn in the meadow, west of the river, were returning home, a little before sunset, to a place called Bridgman's Fort, they were fired upon by twelve Indians, who had ambushed their path.
2. Howe was on horseback, with two young lads, his children, behind him. A ball, which broke his thigh, brought him to the ground. His horse ran a few rods, and fell likewise, and both the lads were taken. The Indians, in their savage manner, coming up to Howe, pierced his body with a spear, tore off his scalp, stuck a hatchet in his head, and left him in this forlorn condition.
3. He was found alive the morning after, by a party of men from Fort Hinsdale; and, being asked by one of the party whether he knew him, he answered, "Yes, I know you all." These were his last words, though he did not expire until after his friends had arrived with him at Fort Hinsdale. Grout was so fortunate as to escape unhurt.
4. But Gaffield, in attempting to wade through the river, at a certain place which was indeed fordable at that time, was unfortunately drowned. Flushed with the success they had met with here, the savages went directly to Bridgman's Fort. There was no man in it, and only three women and some children, Mrs. Jemima Howe, Mrs. Submit Grout, and Mrs. Eunice Gaffield.
5. Their husbands I need not mention again, and their feelings at this juncture I will not attempt to describe. They had heard the enemies' guns, but knew not what had happened to their friends.
6. Extremely anxious for their safety, they stood longing to embrace them, until, at length, concluding from the noise they heard without, that some of them were come, they unbarred the gate in a hurry to receive them, when, lo! to their inexpressible disappointment and surprise, instead of their husbands, in rushed a number of hideous In
dians, to whom they and their tender offspring became an easy prey; and from whom they had nothing to expect, but either an immediate death, or a long and doleful captivity.
7. The latter of these, by the favour of providence, turned out to be the lot of these unhappy women, and their still more unhappy, because more helpless children. Mrs. Gaffield had but one, Mrs. Grout had three, and Mrs. Howe seven. The eldest of Mrs. Howe's was eleven years old, and the youngest but six months.
8. The two eldest were daughters, which she had by her first husband, Mr. William Phipps, who was also slain by the Indians, of which I doubt not but you have seen an account in Mr. Doolittle's history. It was from the mouth of this woman that I lately received the foregoing account. She also gave me, I doubt not, a true, though, to be sure, a very brief and imperfect history of her captivity, which I here insert for your perusal.
9. The Indians, she says, having plundered and put fire to the fort, we marched, as near as I could judge, a mile and a half into the woods, where we encamped that night.
10. When the morning came, and we had advanced as much farther, six Indians were sent back to the place of our late abode, who collected a little more plunder, and destroyed some other effects that had been left behind; but they did not return until the day was so far spent, that it was judged best to continue where we were through the night.
11. Early the next morning, we set off for Canada, and continued our march eight days successively, until we had reached the place where the Indians had left their canoes, about fifteen miles from Crown Point. This was a long and tedious march; but the captives, by divine assistance, were enabled to endure it with less trouble and difficulty than they had reason to expect.
12. From such savage masters, in such indigent circumstances, we could not rationally hope for kinder treatment than we received. Some of us, it is true, had a harder lot than others; and, among the children, I thought my son Squire had the hardest of any.
13. He was then only four years old, and when we stopped to rest our weary limbs, and he sat down on his mas
ter's pack, the savage monster would often knock him off; and sometimes too with the handle of his hatchet. Several ugly marks, indented in his head by the cruel Indians, at that tender age, are still plainly to be seen.
14. At length we arrived at Crown Point, and took up our quarters there for the space of near a week. In the mean time, some of the Indians went to Montreal, and took several of the weary captives along with them, with a view of selling them to the French. They did not succeed, however, in finding a market for any of them.
15: They gave my youngest daughter to the governour, de Vaudreuil; had a drunken frolick, and returned again to Crown Point, with the rest of their prisoners. From hence we set off for St. John's in four or five canoes, just as night was coming on, and were soon surrounded with darkness.
16. A heavy storm hung over us. The sound of the rolling thunder was very terrible upon the waters, which, at every flash of expansive lightning, seemed to be all in a blaze. Yet to this we were indebted for all the light we enjoyed. No object could we discern any longer than the flashes lasted.
17. In this posture we sailed in our open, tottering canoes, almost the whole of that dreary night. The morning indeed had not yet begun to dawn, when we all went ashore; and, having collected a heap of sand and gravel for a pillow, I laid myself down, with my tender infant by my side, not knowing where any of my other children were, or what a miserable condition they might be in.
18. The next day, however, under the wing of that ever-present and all-powerful Providence, which had preserved us through the darkness and imminent dangers of the preceding night, we all arrived in safety at St. John's.
19. Our next movement was to St. François,* the metropolis, if I may so call it, to which the Indians, who led us captive, belonged. Soon after our arrival at tha wretched capital, a council, consisting of the chief sachem. and some principal warriours of the St. François tribe, wa convened; and, after the ceremonies usual on such occa*Pronounced Fron'say