which a rude, primeval state of society induces, where community of danger inspires strong fellowfeelings, and simplicity of life banishes the ceremony that chills the heart, and the luxury that renders it imbecile.

During the winter that the Huguenots thus enjoyed shelter and sympathy from their new-found brethren, preparations were in progress for their obtaining a more permanent home. These negotiations eventually terminated in the purchase of a tract of land, in the county of Worcester, about thirty miles from Boston, recommended both by native fertility, and beauty of situation. The stream, whose line of crystal variegates with its graceful windings those vales of verdure, received from the emigrants the name of French River; but why they gave their new residence the appellation of Oxford, in preference to one fraught with the mellifluent tones and romantic recollections of their own delightful land, history does not inform us. Perhaps at the moment of baptizing this lodge in the wilderness, their torn hearts wished to lave in the waters of Lethe, the hand that had wounded them. Perhaps they deemed it wise, to stifle emotions, which were too tender and torturing for their peace. Or perhaps, some claim of unrecorded gratitude prompted the name of their adoption. Suffice it to say, that Oxford, or, as some traditions assert, New-Oxford, was the nomenclature of their infant settlement.

At the earliest indications of the broken sway of

winter the more hardy of the colonists, went to take possession of the territory, and to erect temporary habitations for their families. Spring had somewhat advanced, ere the more delicate part of the community followed. The young turf was springing, and the silver leaf of the willow had hung out its banner.

On the hardships and privations appointed them, they entered with a patience and cheerfulness which nothing could subdue.. They rejoiced to find a temple where God might be worshipped, free from the tyranny of man, though that temple was amid forests, which the step of civilization had never explored. Those who had been nurtured amid the genial breathing of a luxuriant clime, who had imbibed the fragrance of the vine-flower in their infant slumbers, went forth to daily labor, amid tangled thickets, where the panther and wolf howled, and nightly returned to their rude cabins, with a smile of gratitude, "an everlasting hymn within their souls."

Among the early cares of the colonists, was the erection of a fort, as a place of refuge, in case of an attack from the native dwellers of the forest. They found themselves borderers upon the territory of a powerful tribe, and stories of the cruelty of Indian warfare, which had occupied a prominent place among the winter evening tales of their friends in Boston, had made deep impression upon the minds of an imaginative people. Political motives, there

fore, as well as their own peaceful and pitying dispositions, led them, while they stood prepared for evil, to make every effort to soothe and conciliate their savage neighbors. They extended to them, at every opportunity, the simple rites of hospitality, and their bland and gentle manners apparently won the friendship of those proud, yet susceptible aborigines.

In the lapse of a year after the arrival of the Huguenots, their settlement began to assume the features of regularity. Its simple abodes equalled the number of families, and an air of neatness and even of comfort, pervaded them. Each dwelling had a small spot, allotted to horticulture, from whose broken surface, newly exposed to the free action of the sun, the seeds of France might be seen timidly emerging, and striving to become naturalized in a foreign soil. In a large field, held as common property, the maize had already appeared in straight and stately ranks, its intervals enlivened by the varied hues of the bright bean-blossom. Lycurgus might here have seen illustrated his favorite plan of the Laconian brotherhood, where without contention, each should give his labor to the earth, and without jealousy apportion its treasures. The natives, seeking for game in the neighboring thickets, frequently paused to regard the movements of the new settlers. But it did not escape their observation, that the simple expressions of amity with which their arrival had been welcomed, soon subsided into

a reserved deportment, varied occasionally by marks of stupid wonder, or decided aversion. At length the son of the forest utterly avoided the habitations of his white neighbors, where he had sometimes accepted a shelter for the night, or a covert from the storm. Still he might be seen with a dejected brow, lingering near their cultivated fields, and regarding their more skilful operations of agriculture, with an ill-defined emotion. This was by some explained as the result of envy, by others of hatred, infused by the powaws, who continually impressed the idea that these pale intruders would eventually root the red man out of his father's land. Yet these symptoms of disaffection, however variously interpreted, were ominous; and the resolution was unanimous, to preserve the most conciliatory deportment, yet to take every precaution for safety, and not to go unarmed even to daily labor. Thus the musket was the companion of the implements of rural toil, as in the days of Nehemiah the restorers of Jerusalem wrought "every man with one hand upon the wall, and with the other held his spear, having his sword girded by his side.”

It was after sunset on a summer's day in 1687, as the colonists were returning from the field, that a party of natives was observed to approach, apparently with an intention of cutting off their communication with their abodes. Continuing to reject every attempt at parley, and bearing on their dark brows the sullen purpose of vengeance, they passed

slowly onward in an oblique direction, as if to obtain possession of the rising grounds in the neighborhood of the fort. A momentary council was held among the emigrants, who were compelled to perceive that their destruction was meditated. Conscious that they embodied the effective strength of the colony, and that on their present decision its existence depended, they were anxious to avoid rashness, and yet not to testify such regard for their personal safety, as might give to the watchful foe, an appearance of timidity. They observed that they were greatly outnumbered, but that only a few of their enemies were provided with fire-arms, the remainder carrying bows and tomahawks. Three muskets were immediately fired in rapid succession, according to a previous agreement, as a signal for the females and children to take refuge in the fort, if their husbands and fathers should be attacked at a distance from home. Then forming into a solid body, they marched onward with a firm step, having their pieces loaded, but not deeming it expedient to hazard the first assault. Each silently revolved the desolation that would ensue, upon their fall, to the infant settlement, the peaceful fire-side, and those dearer than life.

Yet with unshrinking bravery they approached their terrible opponents, and in silent aspirations invoked that Being, with whom it is "nothing to save, whether by many, or by them who have no help.” The shifting lines of the enemy became stationary,