The army under the command of General Bacon had succeeded in concentrating the confederated tribes of the Peninsula, which had so long annoyed its flank and rear, at the falls of the Powhatan. Here they had erected a rude fortification, composed of fallen trees, having an entrenchment surrounding it, with the excavated earth thrown up as an embankment. This was situated upon an eminence commanding the more even ground on each side of a small stream, which ran nearly at right angles with, and fell into the river below the falls. The army of the Colonists arrived within sight of the Indian fires, just after the sun had sunk behind the horizon. General Bacon's plantation[3] was situated but a short distance from the very spot on which the savages had erected their fort, and consequently he was well acquainted with the ground. After halting a short time to examine the position of the enemy, he marched his troops to the open plain beneath their strong hold, in perfect silence. Here they bivouacked for the night, with the intention of storming the intrenchments at the first dawning of the morrow. Every thing was noiselessly put in readiness for this final struggle for supremacy between the whites and the Aborigines. The latter had collected in overwhelming numbers, and seemed determined to make a desperate effort to regain their lost footing in the land of their fathers, while the former, having daily improved in discipline, were in high health, buoyant with the youthful hope and courage, and impatient for the dawn, that they might strike a blow at once, to answer the high expectations of their friends at home, and terminate the war. Little did they imagine that an army of those very countrymen was treading in their footsteps, under the command of Sir William Berkley, with the avowed purpose of meting to them that chastisement which they were so impatient to bestow upon the enemy before them.

Their commander was not long left in ignorance upon this point, however, for scarcely had the columns made their arrangements for the night along each side of the small stream, before a courier from the capital was brought into his quarters, by one of the sentinels stationed upon the outskirts of the encampment. He was the bearer of a proclamation, signed by Sir William Berkley as Governor of his Majesty's Colony in Virginia, in which Bacon and his followers were denounced as traitors and rebels, and commanded forthwith to lay down their arms and return to their allegiance, under pain of death, and confiscation of their property. The surprise and indignation occasioned by this singular document had not subsided, when another messenger was dragged into the presence of the commander in chief. It was a negro, trembling from head to foot with visible terror at the very uncivil treatment which he had received, and more, perhaps, at the warlike preparations around, and the glaring effects of the Indian fires on the hill. All attempts to gain an intelligible account of his mission proved for a length of time, utterly unavailing, until Bacon, recognising something of old acquaintance in his features, dismissed his attendants. He then quickly disclosed, in his mongrel dialect, that he had been ordered to deliver a letter into the general's own hands, and when no person was present. A greasy and rumpled document was then drawn from his pouch, which, notwithstanding its hard treatment, and discoloured exterior, Bacon instantly recognised as the writing of Harriet Harrison. The date was rather more remote than seemed necessary for its regular transmission to its present destination, which the sable messenger explained by stating that he had been some days dodging in the footsteps of the army, but that as often as he approached it he had been frightened back again by the flying hordes of savages, hanging upon their skirts. If Bacon felt disposed to indulge in merriment at the ludicrous detail of poor Pompey, the contents of the note, which he now began to decipher by the light of a lamp, speedily restored his gravity. Harriet briefly related to him the nature of the conversation she had held with Sir William Berkley at his own house, and the treatment which Virginia suffered at his hands; she concluded by stating the preparations then making in Jamestown by the Governor and his party, to pursue and capture, or cut them to pieces. This information was truly startling to the youthful general; that concerning Virginia was most moving; but the imminent peril of those gallant spirits entrusted to his command required his immediate attention. He despatched a chosen mounted band on the instant, to scout along the late route of his army, far enough to ascertain whether that under the command of Sir William was within such a distance, as to enable him to interrupt the contemplated attack upon the savages at the dawning of the coming day.

Bacon's character was eminently prompt and decisive. He determined, should such be the case, to commence the attack upon the instant he should receive such information.

Having provided for the safety and accommodation of Pompey, and ordered the courier of the Governor into close but respectful keeping, he sallied out along the outposts, to examine the scene of future operations. The stars twinkled brilliantly in the heavens around the horizon, but the glaring light of the savage fires upon the hill threw the mellowed rays of the heavenly orbs into dim contrast immediately round the two camps. As he walked along the margin of the little stream, upon the borders of which his own troops were stationed, toward the river, the night-scene presented to his view was reviving and exciting to his imagination. The ascending columns of fire upon the hill reflected the trees and other objects upon its brow in gigantic shadows over the plain beneath. The bright red light fell upon the broad sheet of water below the falls, in long horizontal rays, stretching far away over its shining surface toward the opposite shore. The island in the middle of the stream, a little higher up than the point at which he stood, was clothed in verdant impenetrable shrubbery—the darkness gathered around its shores more palpable from the contrast of the neighbouring fires. The roar of the falls fell monotonously upon his ear, ever and anon interrupted by the sharp shrill whoop of some over-joyous savage, engaged in orgies within the fort surmounting the hill. As he pensively stood upon the banks of the Powhatan, and surveyed the illuminated scene immediately around, and the darker shadows of the hills stretching away in the distance and skirting the margin of the river, the shining waves beneath his feet, and the dusky outlines of the rocks and islands beyond, it little entered his imagination that upon that romantic spot, in future time, there should spring up a noble city—the capital of an empire state—that the natural lawns upon which he stood, would be exchanged for docks and quays—that the hills on his right hand (which to a scholar might, even then, have recalled the Acropolis) should support classic colonnades, and spires pointing to the clouds; and that the diminutive stream upon the banks of which his troops were bivouacked, should receive, from the sanguinary battle in which he was about to engage, a name to outlive the very monuments of his generation.[4] Without these deeply interesting associations, however, the scene in its natural and unreclaimed features was eminently captivating and romantic. No site in the country abounded more with bold and enchanting objects. On the one hand were the picturesque hills,[5] commanding a prospect seldom equalled, never surpassed, of landscape varied with woodland, dell and meadow, through which the shining waters of the Powhatan were now visible, glowing like a sheet of fire, and now lost in the shadows of the towering forests, as it held its devious course beyond the reach of the reflected fires in the back ground.

Our hero might have stood gazing upon this enchanting scene until the sound of the reveillÉ in the morning had roused him from his revery, had not his quick eye caught a glimpse of moving lights within the Indian encampment. With hurried steps he retraced his way through the line of sentinels, and issued immediate orders for his subordinates in command to assemble in military council. He was satisfied in his own mind, as he walked up the stream, that some unusual occurrence had taken place within the palisade of the Indians—perhaps the presence of his own stationary columns, as they stood in their dark frowning outlines, had been discovered by the ever cunning and watchful enemy. He had more than once stood in wonder at the apparent absence of their usual stratagems and devices. He supposed, however, that, trusting to their immense superiority of numbers, and the protection of their breastworks, they had resolved to risk an engagement, in which courage and strength alone should be the implements of victory.

The council of war had scarcely assembled, before they were astounded with the report of musketry in answer to the usual accompaniments of a savage sortie, in the most remote direction of the camp. General Bacon issued his orders promptly and decisively. The columns whose rear had been surprised by a sortie from the enemy, were, by a prompt movement, instantly wheeled into line, changing their front so as to face the assailants, while the mounted Cavaliers, under the command of young Harrison, fiercely attacked them in flank. The desperate band of warriors were speedily driven within their breastworks. It was doubtless only their intention to harass the outskirts of the army, and then, by retreating, draw their pursuers within reach of the ambuscade stationed behind the breastwork. They were pursued by the mounted troops, who had no sooner driven them within the palisade, than they in their turn suddenly wheeled and retreated upon the main body.

These sallies were kept up through the first watches of the night, with so much perseverance on the part of the enemy, and so much annoyance to the ardent and impatient troops of the patriot army, that General Bacon determined to give way to their martial ardour, and at once storm the strong hold of the enemy.

The plan of battle in this straight-forward mode of warfare was simple in the extreme. Seldom had the Aborigines given their white enemies a chance of testing the relative valour of the two races; and protected as they were even now by a formidable breastwork, General Bacon did not hesitate as to the propriety of trusting to the discipline and skill of his soldiers, and the immense superiority of their arms, against the greater numbers and defensive preparations of the enemy.

The fires within the palisade were apparently flickering upon their dying embers, and an unsteady flash, gleaming at intervals, was the only light shed over the contemplated battle-ground. A profound quiet reigned within the camp of the enemy, indicative to the mind of Bacon of some new treachery or savage scheme. Having warned his officers against these, he despatched mounted scouting parties to hover round both camps, and took every other human precaution against surprise; orders were now issued preparatory to a general attack upon the enemy's entrenchments.

By a prompt evolution, his battalions of foot were wheeled into a solid column of attack on the northern side of the stream, while the mounted Cavaliers were stationed as a reserve on the right. The former were marched in compact order, directly up the face of the hill, not a trumpet or a drum disturbing the silence of the funeral-like procession. The various colours of their plumes, as they waved in the night breeze, and the occasional glitter of burnished arms, as a flash of light fell athwart the solid phalanx from the flickering fires above, presented one of the most striking scenes imaginable.

General Bacon assumed the immediate command of his columns in person. He sat upon his impatient charger on the right wing, and examined the ominous appearance of the enemy's camp with intense interest. Not a warrior's head was to be seen above the breastwork as they approached. All was silent, gloomy, and portentous; not a sound was heard, save the measured tramp of his own troops, as they moved through the bushes.

Once indeed he thought he heard the wild shrill scream of a female, very different in its intonations from the harsh voice of the savage squaw. But so many unearthly sights and sounds had haunted both his sleeping and waking hours of late, that he drove the impression from his mind, to rest with hundreds of others of like import.

When the front lines had arrived within some forty yards of the dark and frowning breastwork, a sudden and momentary check was given to their farther progress. A rushing sound, as of the flight of many birds, and the clatter of Indian arrows against their arms and persons, simultaneously struck upon their senses, followed by the fall of many soldiers, and the short involuntary exclamations of pain, which, from the impulse of the moment, escaped the unfortunate individuals.

Trumpets and drums instantaneously broke the stillness of the march. Their martial notes reverberated over the surrounding solitudes in enlivening peals. The ill-omened birds of night flapped their wings, and swooped through the unsteady lights of the scene in utter dismay at this untimely invasion of their prescriptive dominions. These were quickly followed by a discharge of musketry, poured into the formidable palisade. It was scarcely discharged, however, before Bacon discovered the utter uselessness of such a waste of ammunition. He saw that the breastwork was so constructed, that, while it admitted of the discharge of missiles from within, it afforded a secure protection to its occupants against the musketry of their assailants. In the mean time his soldiers were exposed to the murderous discharges of poisoned arrows.

In this emergency no time was to be lost; placing himself, therefore, at the head of his troops, he ordered the walls to be torn down. These, as before related, were composed of large trees piled one upon another, with their green boughs still protruding in many places over the shallow intrenchment, and the earth excavated from the latter thrown up on the outside against a rude wicker-work of fine bushes, filling up the interstices of the trees. Trumpets sounded the charge, and the columns moved at a quick pace to the onset. Still not a savage head was seen until they had arrived at the very borders of the intrenchment. Here some two hundred of the stoutest and ablest bodied of his soldiers were marched up to the projecting limbs of the largest tree, forming the basis of the breastwork. Bacon saw at a glance that if he could manage to seize hold of these projecting arms and turn the tree across the fosse, it would at once open the way for his mounted troops, and perhaps carry with it some forty or fifty feet of the palisade, and thereby bring the opposing armies face to face. They had already seized the projecting limbs, and were shaking the frail protection of the savages to its very foundations, when simultaneously a thousand lights gleamed over forest, hill, and dale—A thousand voices united their shrill clamours in one deafening yell of savage ferocity. The troops engaged in tearing down the breastwork instinctively loosed their hold, and flew to their arms, as they threw their eyes upward to the spot whence these blinding lights and deafening noises came. It was but the work of an instant, for little more time were they permitted to examine,—they were called upon to act, and that vigorously, for their own preservation. In a single instant, and apparently at a given signal, the whole of the rude terrace surmounting the fortification literally swarmed with painted warriors, each bearing in his left hand a pine torch, and in the other, a tomahawk, a war-club, or a battle-axe.[6] They sprang from their commanding position into the midst of their assailants, and scattered themselves in every direction through that part of the army already advanced to the breastwork.

Human ingenuity could not have devised a mode of warfare better calculated to suit their numbers, position, time, courage, and limited means of resistance. It at once rendered the mounted troops useless—prevented the colonists from using their fire-arms, because those immediately engaged were at too close quarters, while those at a greater distance were as likely to kill friends as enemies. The savages dealt their murderous blows with wonderous rapidity and precision, and though the hardy planters in the front ranks turned upon them with the butt ends of their muskets, the savages had evidently the advantage. The blazing fagots were often thrust into the very faces of their opponents, and while writhing under the confusion and agony of the fire and smoke, they were stricken down like helpless beasts.

Bacon saw the imminent peril of his troops, and though he was at first astounded by the rapidity and daring courage with which the plan was executed, he did not despair, nor yet sit listlessly upon his horse to see his friends and countrymen slaughtered. He saw at a glance too that only the front columns were engaged—that a part of these must now necessarily fall, but he determined at the same time, that their deaths should be dearly avenged, and his remaining troops brought off victorious. He immediately placed himself between the forces already engaged and those rushing to the rescue. The latter he wheeled into line immediately in front of his mounted reserve, thereby changing their front to the flank of the contending parties, while their own right wing rested upon the top of the hill, and the left on the little stream already mentioned. Having completed this evolution to his satisfaction, the mounted Cavaliers were brought round to the position just occupied by the foot, so that they immediately faced the struggling combatants, and the latter were ordered to give way. The retreat was sounded from the brazen mouths of the trumpets over their heads, and Bacon in person and his mounted aids, rode furiously and recklessly among them, crying for them to fall back toward the line stationed on the right.

These various movements were but the work of a few moments. Meantime the painted and ghastly warriors, rendered still more horrible by the flaring lights which they bore in their hands, and by the reeking instruments of death which they swung over their head with such unerring precision, were pouring over the walls upon the devoted band in countless hordes. So intently were they engaged, that the evolutions of their enemies had entirely escaped their attention; and indeed the Colonists themselves, who were fighting hand to hand with the savages, had not observed the movement, until the voices of their commanders urged them to fall back upon the newly formed line. As Bacon had calculated, no sooner were the engaged troops made to understand the orders, and induced to recede, than a partial separation was effected, which was fatal to the Aboriginals. The retreating Colonists were almost immediately under the protection of the line already braced in solid column, and standing to the charge[7] ready for the expected pursuers. A company of the mounted Cavaliers was broken up into squads, and these were actively engaged in hewing down the pursuers, or cutting off their retreat to the protection of the fort. In a short time a complete line of separation was formed between the two armies, save where, here and there, two athletic men of the opposite races, both having lost their arms in the contest, struggled in the death gripe. Here an iron handed mechanist of the city clenched a warrior's throat—the eyes of the victim protruding frightfully from his head in the glaring light, and his tongue hanging from his mouth like that of a rabid animal, until he fell as a lump of clay among the hundreds of both parties who had gone before. There a grim warrior struggled with another, making desperate efforts to reach his knife, which the soldier as constantly struggled to prevent. Yonder among the heaps of slain, lay two of the differing races, fallen to the earth in a mutual but deadly clasp, each holding the other by the throat, until the struggle became one of mere endurance, and, strange to say, the white man generally conquered.

While, however, these desperate personal struggles were occurring, the tide of battle was fast turning against the most numerous party. It was with the greatest difficulty that Bacon could restrain the ardour and impetuosity of the troops stationed in line for the protection of the devoted corps which had led the van, the straggling members of which were momentarily retreating behind the solid bulwark of their countrymen's pikes and bayonets. But no sooner was this duty of humanity performed, and a complete line of demarcation distinctly drawn, than all restraints were removed. A volley of musketry was poured among the scattering savages along the face of the hill, in order to convince them that hereafter they would be kept at a respectful distance. A simultaneous movement of horse and foot now swept the brow of the hill; the horse charged immediately in front of the palisade, while the infantry drove in the extended line of savages at the point of the bayonet. The most inextricable confusion ensued in the ranks of the red warriors. While the cavalry cut them down on one hand, and the bayonets of the infantry transfixed them on the other, hundreds were tumbling over hundreds as they tumultuously leaped over the palisade. Some hung by the projecting bushes—others fell upon the terrace, and were cast down and trodden under foot by their companions; while multitudes were cut to pieces in making the attempt. In a short time the open field was left in complete possession of the whites—the brow of the hill was literally covered with the wounded and the slain, both of white and red. Yet the battle was not ended; hundreds upon hundreds had escaped within the fort. The savage force amounted at the commencement to something like three thousand warriors of various tribes, and that of the Colonists to about one thousand.[8] Bacon earnestly desired to spare the effusion of human blood, and hazardous as the Indians were as neighbours, either professing friendship or enmity, he resolved to send them a flag of truce and propose a permanent peace upon condition of their abandoning the Peninsula for ever. He knew that they understood the sacred rights and privileges of that peaceful banner, for it had already been recognised among some of their own tribes. Accordingly a young and promising officer was thrust up to the top of the palisade. He waved his flag and laid his hand upon his heart in token of friendship, and grounded his sword in order to convince them that he came upon a peaceful errand, but instead of sending out their interpreter or prophet, he was treacherously murdered by a tomahawk—thrown some twenty yards by the hand of a warrior, and buried in his brain. All hopes of peace were now abandoned, and Bacon determined to complete the victory which he had commenced, and won thus far at the expense of so many valued lives.

Orders were again issued for tearing down the palisade, while a chosen band of prompt and expert marksmen were stationed at the distance of some thirty yards, to shoot down the savages as they should show their heads above the breastwork. Instead of the infantry being stationed to protect the miners as before, the cavalry formed a column flanking the marksmen, so that they could at a moment's warning, rush in between the descending hordes and the corps engaged in pulling down the barricade.

Again the trees composing the palisade were seized by the projecting limbs, and a sudden wrench brought the earth piled against its outer side tumbling into the ditch beneath, and shook the whole fabric to its foundation. Again an ominous and inexplicable silence prevailed within the enclosure, which was the more remarkable, as there was left no known method of escape, and by their own treachery to the officer who had borne the flag of truce, they were reduced to the alternative of dying in their ditches or desperately cutting their way through the solid phalanx which enclosed them on every side. Hitherto the marksmen stationed in front for the purpose of clearing the terrace of the savages, as they should mount the breastwork from the inside, had little to do. At length a group of savages displayed their painted faces above the barrier, apparently endeavouring to drag some unwieldy burden to the top of the works. They were instantly shot down, but their places were as speedily supplied by others. A faint but piercing shriek rent the air, which promptly arrested the attention of Bacon, Dudley, and young Harrison, who sat upon their horses superintending the operations of the miners, and holding an occasional discourse among themselves. The voice came evidently from a female, and reminded Bacon that he had once before during the night heard a like sound from the same direction. He waved his sword to the marksmen stationed on his left, to withhold their fire, while his own attention and that of his two associates were intently rivetted to the occupation of the group ascending the wall from the other side. At this moment the large tree which the troops in front had been some time shaking loose, came crashing over upon its limbs, and bringing with it those which had been piled above, thus exposing to view the interior of the fort, but not yet affording an uninterrupted passage for the besiegers. The battalions of foot, however, were tumultuously rushing toward the breach, reckless of the interposing branches and trunks of the prostrate trees, when Bacon, in a voice of thunder commanded them to halt! The very moment the fort gave way a sight was revealed to his eyes, and those of his two comrades, which made the hair rise on end upon their heads, and the blood in their veins run cold with horror. The Indians, who had so long struggled to ascend the fort some twenty or thirty yards from the breach, had at length succeeded, bearing one of the objects which so powerfully arrested the attention of the officers on horseback. Two grim warriors supported between them the body of a woman of the European race, while a third stood behind her, on the top of the palisade with uplifted tomahawk. With one hand he held the weapon suspended over the head of the drooping victim, while with the other, he pointed to the neighbouring breach in the breastwork, with a look and gesture that seemed to say, "advance, and her fate is sealed!" Although the light from the smouldering fires was dim and unsteady, enough was caught of the outlines of this figure to thrill to the very heart-strings of the three spectators; she was upheld on either side by the mere strength of her guards—her feet seemed to have sunk from under her—but her head was erect and turning with wonderful rapidity from side to side, as she gazed with wild and glaring eyes upon the scene around her. Her fair silken tresses fell unrestrained upon her shoulders or were blown about in fluttering streams, as the unsteady light fell now in broad masses, and then in dim and shadowy rays. Her dress was white, and fell in ample folds around all that was left of a once symmetrical figure. Her features were ashy pale and attenuated to the last degree of human wretchedness, her eye shot forth the wild flashes of a frenzied mind. She was entirely unconscious of her danger, and though she seemed to examine the wild scene around, it was not with fear and trembling. A sickly smile played upon her death-like features, as if she rather took pleasure than suffered pain in these unusual sights, or saw embodied before her in palpable form somewhat of the fleeting phantasmagoria which had so long eluded her senses, yet she was speechless—and so were the late combatants.

A profound and solemn silence prevailed throughout the ranks of both parties. The fate of battle, or the life of an individual, was suspended upon the results of the moment. It was soon interrupted, wildly, fearfully interrupted! The threatened victim burst into a convulsion of frantic laughter, the wild unguided tones of a voice once rich and musical, were borne along the still night air, and resounded through the dark forest like some unearthly mockery of human merriment. As if a thunderbolt from heaven had instantaneously stricken her dumb she ceased. The sounds of her own voice startled and astonished her; perhaps some dim rememberance of its former tones, as it rose and fell upon the air, floated darkly through her mind. The grim old warriors who supported her, were impressed with awe and fear, and the very executioner was almost overcome with his native superstitious reverence. The events we have just described occupied but a few moments of time,—far less than we have taken to describe them. At this juncture, and while the three stern Indians maintained their posts, Wyanokee sprang upon the terrace, struck the tomahawk from the hands of the ready executioner—pushed him backward over the palisade, and threw herself recklessly upon the unfortunate lady, encircling her with her arms. At the same instant her two astounded countrymen fell lifeless from the terrace, pierced to the heart by the unerring balls of the sharp shooters.

The Colonial army now broke tumultuously into the fort. Here another threatened victim had been held as a suspended pledge over their fires, for the safety of this their last strong hold, but so intense had been the interest excited in behalf of the unfortunate Mrs. Fairfax, that little attention was bestowed upon him. It was none other than Brian O'Reily. When the breach was made in the fort, he was discovered in the centre of the area, tied fast to a stake driven into the ground. A quantity of resinous pine wood was built high up around his body, and half a dozen torch-bearers stood ready to apply the flame. The report of the muskets had no sooner announced the death of their comrades on the wall, than this pile was fired in a a hundred places. Already the victim began to writhe as the intolerable heat scorched his flesh, and the smoke rushed into his eyes and throat. As the soldiers entered through the breach with Dudley, who had dismounted, at their head, he rushed toward the suffering victim, and, assisted by his followers, hurled the burning brands upon the heads of those who kindled them.

Meanwhile Bacon had also dismounted. He saw that the contest would now be short, and giving his orders to Dudley, he leaped upon the palisade where Wyanokee was vainly endeavouring to support and restrain his former patroness, who had repeatedly and fruitlessly endeavoured to stand erect, and as often had fallen back into the arms of the Indian maiden. As Bacon approached, his whole soul agitated with deep and thrilling emotions, she was sitting upon the wall, forcing herself farther and farther back, like a frighted infant, into the arms of her protectress. Her eyes stared wildly upon the approaching youth, and the lids fell not over the painfully distended orbs. She did not recognise him, even when he approached within a few paces and kindly and soothingly addressed her. At one moment she seemed about to make some reply, but the half formed words died upon her lips—they moved as though she held the desired discourse, but no sound was audible. The wild noise and confusion of the onset, breaking upon her ears, she started up and cried "Hah! see you not that the king's troops put those of the commonwealth to the sword? Behold his giant form weltering in gore! 'Tis gone! It was not he! No, no; I saw not the bloody hand. It was merely one of these puppet warriors dressed out to frighten babes. He lives! did he not tell me so, with his own lips? Do the dead tell the living lies? That were a trick of the devil indeed." Again she burst into a horrible and appalling laugh, fell back into the arms of Wyanokee, and her mortal pains and sorrows were for ever ended.

The long-disputed contest was now drawing to a close; the Indians fought desperately, as long as there was a hope left of repulsing the troops which rushed in at the breach, burning with ardour and roused to indignation by their wanton cruelties; but the superior arms and skill of the Colonists rendered the contest in a short time utterly desperate on the part of the besieged. When farther resistance was put out of their power, by the besiegers closing in upon them on every side, and thus confining their exertions within a narrow space in the centre of the fort, the stern warriors threw away their tomahawks and war-clubs, and fell prostrate on their faces. It was a moving sight to behold these hardy veterans of a hundred battles, gradually encompassed by a more skilful and powerful enemy, until they were forced to surrender this last foothold upon the land of their fathers. Their prostrate attitude was by no means intended to express an abject petition for mercy; it was the custom established by their people, and its impulse was utter desperation. They neither desired nor expected quarter, but threw themselves upon the earth, to signify their willingness to meet the tortures of their enemies. When placed under the vigilance of the troops appointed to guard them until dawn, they sat like statues, not a muscle or feature expressing emotion of any kind.

Bacon stood over the body of his late kind and unfortunate patroness, as still and motionless as his own prisoners, contemplating the sad change which a few short days had made upon her mild and benignant features, until reminded by Dudley that he had other duties to perform. The latter approached and informed him that the garrison had surrendered. He heeded him not. He repeated his information, and touched the general upon the shoulder. Bacon started wildly for an instant, but seeing who spoke, a meaningless smile flitted across his features while he answered, "True, true, Dudley, I will attend you in a moment;" and was about to relapse into his former mood, but rousing himself, he issued orders for pitching his own marquÉe, and then directed that the dead body of Mrs. Fairfax should be borne thither and deposited under its shelter with all due respect. Till now, Wyanokee had sat near the cold and lifeless form. Not a tear was shed nor any other indication given that she had lost a friend, esteemed by her one of the first of the earth. There was, perhaps, just a perceptible expression of wildness and mystery in her steady and abstracted gaze on vacancy, as if in thought she was following the departed spirit to the verdant forests and blossoming meadows of the happy hunting-ground beyond the sky. It is true that she had been somewhat instructed in the doctrines of our religion, but he has made little progress in the study of mankind who does not know that the peculiar opinions—the forms of worship, whether of superstition or religion, which have been infused into the mind in the tender years of infancy, will ever after give a tinge to the views of the recipient. But Wyanokee had by no means renounced the doctrines of her father's worship, and however much her mind may have been worked upon while under the influence of the whites, and of the imposing form and ceremonies of the Established Church, since her abjuration of their friendship, she had imperceptibly lapsed into most of her aboriginal notions.

When the body of Mrs. Fairfax was laid out under the marquÉe of the commander in chief, and a line of sentinels was established around its limits, Wyanokee was the sole living tenant of the apartment. She sat by the corpse, in precisely the same state which we have before described.

In a very short time from that in which Dudley announced the termination of the conflict to his commanding officer, profound quietness reigned over the fort and brow of the hill, so lately the scene of bloodshed and strife, save where it was disturbed by the movements of those engaged in burying the dead, and rescuing the wounded who lay suffering under the weight of their dead comrades.

Never had such a battle been fought in Virginia, either as regarded the number of Indians engaged, the consequences depending on the result, or the sanguinary nature of the conflict itself. It was the last struggle for supremacy between the whites and the Indians in the Peninsula.