- What were some of the early signs of the Indian attack
on February 10th, 1675?
- How do the dogs respond to the Indian attack?
Further
questions: TBA
Passages for Identification/Discussion:
A. On the tenth of February 1676,
Came the Indians with great numbers upon Lancaster. Their
first coming was about sunrising; hearing the noise of
some guns, we looked out; several houses were burning,
and the smoke ascending to heaven. There were five
persons taken in one house; the father and the
mother and a suckling child they knocked on the head; the
other two they took and carried away alive.
B. We had six stout dogs belonging to our garrison, but
none of them would stir, though another time, if any Indian
had come to the door, they were ready to fly upon him and
tear him down. The Lord hereby would make
us the more to acknowledge His hand, and to see that our
help is always in Him.
C. I had often before this said that,
if the Indians should come, I should choose rather to be
killed by them than taken alive; but when it came to
the trial, my mind changed; their glittering weapons
so daunted by spirit that I chose rather to go along with
those (as I may say) ravenous beasts, than that moment to
end
my days. . . .
D. The next day was the Sabbath. I then
remembered how
careless I had been of God’s holy time, how many
Sabbaths I had lost and mis-spent, and how evilly I had
walked in God’s sight,
which lay so close unto my spirit that it was easy
for me to see how righteous it was with God to cut off
the thread
of my life and cast me out
of His present for ever. Yet the Lord still shewed mercy
to me, and upheld me; and as he wounded me with one hand,
so he healed me with the other.
E. This was the comfort I had from them; “miserable
comforters are ye all,” as he said. Thus nine
days I sat upon my knees, with my babe in my lap, till
my flesh
was raw again; my child being even ready to depart
this sorrowful world, they bade me carry it out
to another wigwam (I suppose because they would not
be troubled with such spectacles), whither I went with
a very heavy heart, and down I sat with the picture of
death in my lap. About two hours in the night, my
sweet babe like a lamb departed from this life,
on February 18, 1676, it being about six years and
five months old. It was nine days from the first
wounding in this miserable condition, without any refreshing
of
one nature or other except a little cold water.
F. Oh the hideous insulting and triumphing
that there was over some Englishmen's scalps that they
had take (as
their manner is) and brought with them, I cannot but take
notice of the wonderfull mercy of God to me in those afflictions,
in sending me a Bible. . . .
G. And here I cannot but take notice of
the strange providence of God in preserving the heathen:
They were many hundreds, old and young, some sick
and some lame; many had papooses at their backs; the
greatest number at this time with us were squaws, and
they traveled
with all they had, bag and baggage; and yet they
got over this river aforesaid; and on Monday the set their
wigwams on fire, and away they went. On that very day
came
the English army after them to this river and saw
the smoke of their wigwams, and yet this river put a stop
to them. God did not give them courage or activity
to go over after
us; we were not ready for so from great a
mercy as victory and deliverance; if we had been, God would
have
found out a way for the English to have passed this
river, as well as for the Indians with their squaws, and
children, and all their luggage.
H. Then I went to see King Philip. He bade me come in
and sit down, and asked me whether I would smoke it (a
usual
compliment nowadays amongst saints and sinners) but this
no way suited me. For though I had formerly used
tobacco, yet I had left it ever since I was first
taken. It seems to be a
bait the devil lays to make men lose their precious
time. I remember with shame how formerly, when I
had taken two or three
pipes, I was presently ready for another, such a
bewitching thing it is. But I thank God, He has now given
me power over it; surely
there
are many who may be better employed than to lie sucking
a stinking tobacco-pipe.
I. I went to see an English youth in
this place, one John Gilbert of Springfield. I found
him lying without doors, upon the ground. I asked
him how he did? He told me he was very
sick of a flux, with eating so much blood. They
had turned him out of the wigwam, and with him an
Indian papoose, almost dead
(whose parents had been killed), in a bitter cold
day, without fire or clothes. The young man himself
had nothing on but his shirt
and waistcoat. This sight was enough to melt a heart
of flint. There
they lay quivering in the cold, the youth round like a dog,
the papoose stretched out with his eyes and nose and mouth
full of dirt, and yet alive, and groaning.
I advised John to go and get to some fire. He told
me he could not stand, but I persuaded him still,
lest he should lie there and die.
J. They would pick up old bones, and
cut them to pieces at the joints, and if they were
full of worms and maggots, they
would scald them over the fire to make the vermine
come out, and then boil them, and drink up the liquor,
and then beat the great
ends of them in a mortar, and so eat them. They
would eat horse's guts, and ears, and all sorts
of wild birds which they
could catch; also bear, venison, beaver, tortoise,
frogs, squirrels, dogs, skunks, rattlesnakes; yea,
the very bark of trees;
besides all sorts of creatures, and provision which
they plundered from the English. I can but stand
in admiration to see the wonderful power
of God in providing for such a vast number of our enemies in
the wilderness, where there was nothing to be seen, but
from hand to mouth.
K. Before I knew what affliction meant,
I was ready sometimes to wish for it. When I lived
in prosperity, having the comforts
of the world about me, my relations by me, my heart
cheerful, and taking little care for anything, and
yet seeing many, whom
I preferred before myself, under many trials and
afflictions, in sickness, weakness, poverty, losses,
crosses, and cares
of the world, I should be sometimes jealous least
I should have my portion in this life . . . .