Various

Through solid curls of smoke, the bursting fires

Climb in tall pyramids above the spires,

Concentring all the winds; whose forces, driven

With equal rage from every point of heaven,

Whirl into conflict, round the scantling pour

The twisting flames, and through the rafters roar.

Barlow.

Yes, thou must die—there is but one resource,

The last—the worst—if torture were not worse.

Byron.

Several topics of excitement began at this time to prevail in the village of L., in addition to that connected with the haunted rock. One was the projected marriage of Lucy Ellet very shortly to Mr. Elmore, to whom she had been for some time betrothed; another, the reappearance of Messrs. Brooks and Dale in the village, where they took up their abode for a short period; and a third, the threatened incursion of some of the neighboring Indian tribes.

To guard against this last evil, the inhabitants were obliged to appear at all times armed, and prepared for repelling hostilities. A fast was likewise appointed by the governor of the colony, and public worship held daily to offer up prayer in view of the impending danger. At such times, a guard of men, with muskets ready for immediate use, was stationed without the building, to repulse any attack of the savages, and give the word of warning to those engaged within. In this way, as the situation of the village was in itself strong, owing to the hills that surrounded it, the inhabitants trusted that they were fully prepared to resist any sudden attack.

Things were in this state, when, on a certain day, the morning beams had shone on the unpretending spire of L. for five or six hours, and the people had assembled in the building beneath as usual. The lengthy prayer with which the Puritans were wont to commence their exercises had concluded, and, just as every voice was attuned to the melody of a pious psalm, a loud and unusual noise was heard.

The worshipers of that humble meeting-house paused to listen with ears erect and faces filled with boding expectation. It was the terrific yell of the approaching Indians. This was speedily followed by the appointed signal from the soldiery stationed without, and at the instant that the report of the musketry rang in the air, the congregation started from their seats in terror. Each man rushed for his arms, and crowding to the doors and windows, found the building completely surrounded by savages. The females, remaining in the interior, shrieked in the extremity of their alarm.

The scene that followed is not easily described. A fearful struggle, of course, ensued. Heaven, too, at that moment, added its terrors to the scene. A furious thunder-storm arose, and amidst the most vivid flashes of lightning, and awful reverberations, the rain began to descend in torrents. The villagers now yielded themselves completely to terror, and abandoning the conflict, prostrated themselves on their knees, and resorted to prayer. The Indians took fresh courage from this circumstance, and commenced firing the meeting-house. For a little time the rain prevented their efforts from taking effect. But at length, as the strong army of a battle will rout the less powerful, so did the fiercer element dispel the weaker.

The fire was finally triumphant, and spouted in jets of flame out at each window of the consuming building, while huge flakes of burning materials went driving on the wind, and rolling a dark canopy of smoke over the neighborhood. The lurid glow lit up the air, and showed with terrible distinctness the waving crowd that stood around. The rain, however, prevented the progress of devastation further. But the shouts of the Indians resounded far and wide, as they turned to continue their work of destruction by setting fire to the other dwellings in the village.

At this crisis, the villagers, as if animated by a sudden and simultaneous impulse, arose from their knees, and betook themselves again to the defensive. Previously, in their resistance, wild confusion, despair, and frenzied efforts had been blended in such a manner as completely to destroy any thing like unity of action. But now, in concert, and disposed according to the best military arrangements, they advanced a second time upon these invaders.

The Indians, in confidence of their approaching triumph, had uttered the whoop of success, which called their warriors from the adjoining vicinity to behold the approaching scene. In surprise, therefore, notwithstanding this addition to their forces, they found themselves resisted with a power and a skill such as they had never before witnessed. But their previous success had given new spirit to an enemy already sufficiently audacious, and continuing their war-cries with redoubled ferocity, they pursued the attack. The combat raged for about half an hour, when the Indians were utterly defeated, and betook themselves to flight.

At that moment the clouds of heaven suddenly opened, shedding the blessed light of the returning sun upon the village; and it might have been seen that the recent victory had been obtained through the means of a stranger, who had appeared and aroused the people from their panic of fear, assumed the command, arranged and ordered them in the best military manner, and thus enabled them to repel and rout the Indians, and save the village. This person was a man of dignified and majestic bearing, and with an interesting beauty and pallor of countenance.

The parting clouds had scarcely permitted the gleams of renewed sunshine to fall upon the rescued spot, and the inhabitants began to realize their safety, and look around to return thanks to the skillful and unknown commander to whom the rescue was due, ere it was discovered that he had mysteriously vanished. Awe and amazement filled the minds of the spectators, for they were utterly unable to account for the singular arrival and sudden disappearance of this remarkable person. After many unsatisfactory conjectures, the only conclusion they could arrive at was that the Lord had sent an angel to their deliverance.

It was on the evening of the day on which this attack took place, that Frank Stanley was proceeding on his second errand to the rock. As he walked on, he pondered deeply upon the discovery he had that morning made. The recent scene of excitement in the village had banished the thoughts of it throughout the day from his mind. But now his curiosity recurred to the subject with all the strength with which that feeling fixes upon a mystery but partially solved. The stranger who had so singularly appeared during the conflict with the Indians and put them to flight, seemed somehow associated in the boy’s mind with the Lady of the Rock, and he could no more join with the villagers in believing the one an angel of the Lord, than he could now in supposing the other an evil spirit.

The more perplexed the more he reflected, Stanley one moment resolved at all hazards to penetrate the singular mystery, to overcome on his present errand the internal and undefinable feelings which would restrain him from accosting the lady, and offering her any further assistance in his power, and discovering the place of her retreat. Yet to press himself on her confidence might be impertinence, and as she had in the morning disappeared without noticing his presence, it was evident that she did not mean voluntarily to make him her confident, and probably she was involved in no difficulties where he might be useful. The next instant, therefore, he resolved to suppress all desire to penetrate the secret, dismiss his disquieting and fruitless conjectures, and without attempting to invade the manner and place of the sudden disappearance of the fair but living vision, await the period when time should throw light upon the subject.

He was thus divided in his own determinations when he reached the woods at the foot of the hill where his purposed visit lay. At that moment he became startled from his reflections by the rustling of leaves. Remembering the assault from the Indians in the morning, the youth paused, and leaned forward to listen, holding his breath, and condensing every faculty in the single sense of hearing. Silence, however, seemed restored to the disturbed foliage, and reigned as completely as though it had previously been unbroken. The boy pursued his course, supposing the noise he had heard simply to have been occasioned by a sudden gust of wind. But he had not proceeded many steps when the sound was distinctly perceptible of approaching voices, speaking in the deep tones of the savages. He turned, and ere many minutes elapsed, the forms of three Indians were visible. “Dog of the pale faces!” was their exclamation, as they rushed upon him. The youth was entirely alone—cheered by no friendly eye, emboldened by no encouraging voice, and so sudden had been the event that his mind was wholly unprepared for the emergency. Yet, perceiving at once his danger, and determined to make one bold effort for his life, he burst from them ere they were aware of his purpose, and bounded off with the swiftness and alertness of a deer. There was but one breathless moment, the Indians raised the cry of alarm, and pursued hotly after him. As soon as a favorable instant presented itself, he darted through an opening and ascended the hill. A bullet grazed his clothes, and several branches from the bushes at his side, but not one harmed him.

Stanley knew too well the nature of the struggle in which he was engaged to lose one of the precious moments. Accordingly, he kept his way up the acclivity, which, though neither very high nor very steep, was yet sufficiently toilsome to one contending for life to render it painfully oppressive. There, however, he was obliged to slacken his speed to recover breath. The violence with which his heart beat showed how great had been his exertions. He must proceed again, however, for the footsteps of his pursuers were near.

He started off a second time, but his strength was exhausted, and ere he had gained the summit of the second hill, he fell prostrate upon the ground. He rose, proceeded again for a few moments at his former swift pace. By degrees this slackened—the Indians were within a few yards of him. He had a loaded pistol in his pocket—but he knew it could only destroy one of his enemies, and there would still remain two to contend with. Generously, therefore, he refrained from using it, and prepared to resign himself into their hands, and yielded himself up a prisoner with a dignity that was remarkable for his years.

Dragging him to a glen which intervened between the two hills, they bound him tightly, and then turned apparently to make some consultations respecting the manner of his fate. The prospect of death is terrible at every period of life; but in the first spring-tide of youth, with all the capacities of pleasure astir and eager for gratification, to be forcibly snatched from the untasted banquet is peculiarly trying, even when the change comes in the form of a natural death-bed. But to sit, like young Stanley, in horrid uncertainty in regard to the mode in which life was to be extinguished, was a situation to break the boldest spirit; and the unhappy captive could not restrain the tears which flowed from his eyes. We have seen that although he was a brave youth in any danger which could be met by action, yet withal, he was strongly imaginative and apt to be led away by the exaggerations of fancy—exaggerations likely to act more or less upon the soul of any one who is in suspense and passively awaiting an approaching calamity. This agony of mind continued until the feelings of the youth arose almost to a state of frenzy. He started up, and struggled so violently to become freed from his bonds, that it almost seemed that they should have burst by the force of his strength, as did the withes of Sampson. But the cords were of too firm a texture, and, after an unavailing struggle, the boy fell back exhausted.

The Indians were evidently now preparing some torture, which would put the sufferer to severe bodily anguish. As Stanley lay and looked on, overcome with his late violent exertions, the scene swam before him. At this instant he became aware of an interruption to the preparations of the savages, and had just time to recognize the mysterious stranger of the morning, to whom the preservation of his native village was due, and behold him fall upon the enemy, when he became insensible.

——