of the surrounding morasses. A fort was built on the island, and fortified with a palisade and a breastwork of felled timber. Here the savages believed themselves secure from assault. The English regiment arrived at the swamp at daybreak on the 19th of December, and struggling through the bogs, reached the fort at noonday. The attack was made immediately. The only entrance to the camp was by means of a fallen tree that lay from an opening in the palisade to the opposite bank of a pond. Over this hazardous passage a brave few sprang forward, but were instantly swept off by the fire of the Indians. Another company, made cautious by the fate of their comrades, crept around the defences, until, finding a point unguarded, they charged straight into the enclosure. The work of death and destruction now began in earnest. The wigwams were set on fire, and the kindling flames swept around the village. The yells of the combatants mingled with the roar of the conflagration. But the superior discipline and valor of the whites soon decided the battle. The Indians, attempting to escape from the burning fort, ran everywhere upon the loaded muskets of the English. A thousand warriors were killed and hundreds more were captured. Nearly all the wounded perished in the flames. There, too, the old men, the women and babes of the nation met the horrors of death by fire. The pride of the Narragansetts had perished in a day. But the victory was dearly purchased; eighty English soldiers, including six captains of the regiment, were killed, and a hundred and fifty others were wounded.

A few of the savages, breaking through the English lines, escaped. Led by Philip, they again repaired to the Nipmucks, and with the opening of spring the war was renewed with more violence than ever. As their fortunes declined the Indians grew desperate; they had nothing more to lose. Around three hundred miles of frontier, extending from Maine to the mouth of the Connecticut, there was massacre and devastation. Lancaster, Medfield, Groton and Marlborough were laid in ashes. Weymouth, within twenty miles of Boston, met the same fate. Everywhere were seen the traces of rapine and murder.

But the end was near at hand. The resources of the savages were wasted, and their numbers grew daily less. In April, Canonchet was overtaken and captured on the banks of the Blackstone. He was offered

his life if he would procure a treaty of peace; but the haughty chieftain rejected the proposal with disdain, and was put to death. Philip was still at large, but his company had dwindled to a handful. In the early summer, his wife and son were made prisoners; the latter was sold as a slave, and ended his life under the lash of a taskmaster in the Bermudas. The savage monarch was heartbroken now, and cared no longer for his life. Repairing secretly to his old home at Mount Hope, his place of concealment was revealed to the whites. A company of soldiers was sent to surround him. A treacherous Indian guided the party to the spot, and then himself, stealing nearer, took a deadly aim at the breast of his chieftain. The report of a musket rang through the forest, and the painted king of the Wampanoags sprang forward and fell dead.

New England suffered terribly in this war. The expenses and losses of the war amounted to fully five hundred thousand dollars. Thirteen towns and six hundred dwellings lay smouldering in ashes. Almost every family had heard the war-whoop of the savages. Six hundred men, the flower and pride of the country, had fallen in the field. Hundreds of families had been butchered in cold blood. Gray-haired sire, mother and babe had sunk together under the vengeful blow of the red man's gory tomahawk. Now there was peace again. The Indian race was swept out of New England. The tribes beyond the Connecticut came humbly submissive, and pleaded for their lives. The colonists returned to their desolated farms and villages to build new homes in the ashes of old ruins.

The echo of King Philip's war had hardly died away before the country was involved in troubles of a different sort. It had been expected that the English government would do something to repair the heavy losses which the colonists had sustained; but not so. Instead of help came Edward Randolph, a royal emissary, with authority to collect duties and abridge colonial liberties. Governor Leverett received him coldly, and told him in plain words that not even the king could rightfully restrict the freedom of his American subjects; that the people of the colonies had finished the Indian war without a cent of expense to the English treasury, and that they were now fairly entitled to the enjoyment of their chartered rights. After a six weeks' sojourn at Boston, Randolph sailed back to London, bearing to the ministry an exaggerated account of colonial arrogance. The king was already scheming to revoke all the New England charters; Randolph's reception furnished a further pretext for such a course of action.

The next trouble was concerning the jurisdiction of Maine. Sir Ferdinand Gorges, the old proprietor of that province, was now dead;

but his heirs had never relinquished their claims to the territory. The people of Maine had meanwhile put themselves under the authority of Massachusetts; but the representatives of Gorges carried the matter before the privy council, and in 1677 a decision was rendered in their favor. Thereupon the Boston government made a proposition to the Gorges family to purchase their claims; the proposition was accepted, and on the 6th of May the heirs signed a deed by which, in consideration of twelve hundred and fifty pounds sterling, the soil and jurisdiction of the province were transferred to Massachusetts.

A similar difficulty arose in regard to New Hampshire. As far back as 1622 the Plymouth council had granted this territory to two of their own number-Gorges, just mentioned, and Captain John Mason. Seven years after the grant was made, Gorges surrendered his claim to Mason, who thus became sole proprietor. But this territory was also covered by the charter of Massachusetts. Mason died; and now, in 1679, his son Robert came forward and claimed the province. This cause was also taken before the ministers, who decided that the title of the younger Mason was valid. To the great disappointment of the people of both provinces, the two governments were arbitrarily separated. The king's policy was now made manifest. A royal government, the first in New England, was immediately established over New Hampshire'; Mason nominated Edward Cranfield as governor, the king confirmed the appointment, and received in return one-fifth of all the rents.

But the people took care that the rents should not amount to much. They refused to recognize Cranfield's commission, and thwarted his plans in every way possible. Being in despair, he wrote to the English government that he would esteem it the greatest happiness to return home and leave the unreasonable people of New Hampshire to themselves. The king attributed all this trouble to the influence of Massachusetts. He could not forget how that commonwealth had treated his custom-house officer Randolph. The hostility of the English government to the existing order of things in New England became more bitter than ever. To carry out his plan of subverting the colonial governments, the king directed his judges to make an inquiry as to whether Massachusetts had not forfeited her charter. The proceedings were protracted until the summer of 1684, when the royal court gave a decision in accordance with the monarch's wishes. The patent was forfeited, said the judges; and the English crown might justly assume entire control of the colony. The plan of the king was thus on the point of realization, but the shadow of death was already at his door. On the 6th of February, 1685, his evil reign of twenty-five years ended with his life.

The new sovereign, James II., immediately adopted his brother's colonial policy. In the next year after his accession, the scheme so long entertained was successfully carried out. The charter of Massachusetts was formally revoked; all the colonies between Nova Scotia and Narragansett Bay were consolidated, and Joseph Dudley appointed president. New England was not prepared for open resistance; the colonial assembly was dissolved by its own act, and the members returned sullenly to their homes. In the winter following, Dudley was superseded by Sir Edmund Andros, who had been appointed royal governor of all New England. His commission ought to have been entitled AN ARTICLE FOR THE DESTRUCTION OF COLONIAL LIBERTY. If James II. had searched his kingdom, he could hardly have found a tool better fitted to do his will. The scarlet-coated despot landed at Boston on the 20th of December, and at once began the work of demolishing the cherished institutions of the people. Randolph was made chief secretary and censor of the press; nothing might be printed without his sanction. Popular representation was abolished. Voting by ballot was prohibited. Town meetings were forbidden. The Church of England was openly encouraged. The public schools were allowed to go to ruin. Men were arrested without warrant of law; and when as prisoners they arose in court to plead the privileges of the great English charter which had stood unquestioned for four hundred and fifty years, they were told that the Great Charter was not made for the perverse people of America. Dudley, who had been continued in office as chief-justice, was in the habit of saying to his packed juries, at the close of each trial: "Now, worthy gentlemen, we expect a good verdict from you to-day;" and the verdicts were rendered accordingly.

Thus did Massachusetts lose her liberty; and Plymouth fared no better. If the stronger colony fell prostrate, what could the weaker do? The despotism of Andros was quickly extended from Cape Cod Bay to the Piscataqua. New Hampshire was next invaded and her civil rights completely overthrown. Rhode Island suffered the same calamity. In May of 1686 her charter was taken away with a writ, and her constitutional rights subverted. Some of the colonists brought forward Indian · deeds for their lands; the royal judges replied, with a sneer, that the signature of Massasoit was not worth as much as the scratch of a bear's paw. The seal of Rhode Island was broken, and an irresponsible council appointed to conduct the government. Attended by an armed guard, Andros proceeded to Connecticut. Arriving at Hartford in October of 1687, he found the assembly of the province in session, and demanded the surrender of the colonial charter. The instrument was brought in and laid upon the table. A spirited debate ensued, and continued until evening. When

it was about to be decided that the charter should be given up, the lamps were suddenly dashed out. Other lights were brought in; but the charter had disappeared. Joseph Wadsworth, snatching up the precious parchment, bore it off through the darkness and concealed it in a hollow tree, ever afterward remembered with affection as THE CHARTER OAK. But the assembly was overawed and the free government of Connecticut subverted. Thus was the authority of Andros established throughout the country. The people gave vent to their feelings by calling him THE TYRANT OF NEW ENGLAND.

But his dominion ended suddenly. The English Revolution of 1688 was at hand. James II. was driven from his throne and kingdom. The entire system of arbitrary rule which that monarch had established fell with a crash, and Andros with the rest. The news of the revolution and of the accession of William and Mary reached Boston on the 4th of April, 1689. A few days afterward, the governor had occasion to write a note to his colonel of militia, telling him to keep the soldiers under arms, as there was "a general buzzing among the people." On the 18th of the month, the citizens of Charlestown and Boston rose in open rebellion. Andros and his minions, attempting to escape, were seized and marched to prison. The insurrection spread through the country; and before the 10th of May every colony in New England had restored its former liberties.

IN

CHAPTER XVI.

MASSACHUSETTS.-WAR AND WITCHCRAFT.

N 1689, war was declared between France and England. This conflict, known in American history as KING WILLIAM'S WAR, grew out of the English Revolution of the preceding year. When James II. escaped from his kingdom, he found refuge at the court of Louis XIV. of France. The two monarchs were both Catholics, and both held the same despotic theory of government. On this account, and from other considerations, an alliance was made between them, by the terms of which Louis agreed to support James in his effort to recover the English throne. Parliament, meanwhile, had settled the crown on William of Orange. By these means the new sovereign was brought into conflict not only with the exiled James, but also with his confederate, the king of France.