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FOR THE LITERARY MAGAZINE.

SKETCHES IN AMERICA,

in the year 1740.

IT is always amusing, and some-
times instructive, to compare the
scene before us with the same ob-
jects, as they appeared in former
times. The contrasts, which are
sometimes thus produced, are very
striking, and, in a country so change-
ful and rapidly progressive as Ame-
rica, these contrasts are peculiarly
interesting. What changes have not
sixty years produced on the Atlantic
coast of this new world!

With these impressions, the fol-
lowing extracts are taken from the
letters of a traveller in the southern
states, in the year 1740. They are
sketches that may not prove alto-
gether unamusing to those who have
had an opportunity of viewing the
same objects, after the lapse of sixty-
five memorable and eventful years.

York-Town, capital of the county
of that name, is situated on a rising
ground, gently descending every way
into a valley, and though but strag-
glingly built, yet makes no inconsi-
derable figure. You perceive a
great air of opulence among the in-

habitants, who have some of them
built themselves houses, equal in
magnificence to many of our superb
ones at St. James's; as those of Mr.
Lightfoot, Nelson, &c. Almost
every considerable man keeps an
equipage, though they have no con-
cern about the different colours of
their coach horses, driving fre-
quently black, white, and chesnut in
the same harness. The taverns are
many here, and much frequented,
and an unbounded licentiousness
seems to taint the morals of the
young gentlemen of this place. The
court-house is the only considerable
public building, and is no unhand-
some structure. The amiable hos-
pitality I have just passed an eulo-
gium upon, on the other side of the
bay, seems on this shore to have
found no great footing: schemes of
gain, or parties of gaming or plea-
sure, muddy too much their souls,
and banish from among them the glo-
rious propensity to doing good. The
most considerable houses are of
brick; some handsome ones of wood,

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all built in the modern taste, and
the lesser sort of plaster. There
are some very pretty garden spots
in the town; and the avenues lead-
ing to Williamsburgh, Norfolk, &c.
are prodigiously agreeable. The
roads are, as I said before, some of
the best I ever saw, and infinitely
superior to most in England. The
country surrounding is thickly over-
spread with plantations, and the
planters live, in a manner, equal to
men of the best fortune, some of
them being possessed of 500 or 1000l.
a year, sterling.

Gloucester, Hampton, and Nor-
folk are towns of near the same
structure, there being little differ-
ence, save that, at the last mention-
ed place, a spirit of trade reigns,
far surpassing that of any other
part of Virginia. A great number
of vessels are fitted out from thence,
to trade to the northward and the
West Indies; and the inhabitants
are, from their great intercourse
with strangers, abundantly more re-
fined. But, before I leave York
entirely, I should just mention the
battery, that is the defence of the
town, which at this time was under
the direction of an awkward engi-
neer, by trade a barber, and is as
despicably contrived for the safety
of the place, as it, no doubt, would
be conducted in a time of danger.
Indeed, Virginia is quite an open
country to the incursions of an ene-
my, having little to resist an attack
by sea but the men of war stationed
there, which are generally two or
three. In a land expedition from
the natives, or French and Spa-
niards, indeed, their numbers, it is
hoped, will always protect them,
seeing that they could assemble, at
the shortest warning, a militia of
18 or 20,000 men. They have also
some forts towards the Apalaches,
which bridle the Indians, and se-
cure the trade with them.

Williamsburgh is a most wretch-
ed contrived affair for the capital
of a country, being near three miles
from the sea, in a bad situation.
There is nothing considerable in it,
but the college, the governor's house,

and one or two more, which are no
bad piles; and the prodigious num-
ber of coaches that crowd the deep,
sandy streets of this little city. It is
very surprising to me, that this
should be preferred to James Town,
Hampton, or some other situations
I could mention. Here the courts
of justice are held, and with a dig-
nity and decorum that would become
them even in Europe. The present
lieutenant-governor Gooch is much
beloved by every one, and, by his
mild and agreeable disposition, dif-
fuses content every where around.
The posts that are most stickled for
here are the office of secretary,
which is said to be worth 900l. per
annum;
and the being naval officers
to the several counties, which are
places of good profit.

Golden Quarter is a kind of strag-
gling country village, but the inhabi-
tants of that place and Senepuxon,
though poorer than some of their
neighbours of Maryland, occasioned
by the poverty of their soil, are a
perfectly hospitable, sociable, and
honest set of people, and abound in
every necessary of life, and most
of the conveniences. In short, they
seem to repine only on three ac-
counts, as all this side of the colony
does. The one is the scarcity of
strong liquors; another, the extra-
vagant dues to their clergy, whom
they pay a pretty large quantity of
tobacco yearly to, by way of tithe, for
every head in their families; and
the third is their larger quit-rent
than any of their neighbours under
the king's governors. These things
the poorer sort feel pretty smartly.
The clergy ought to be supported
independently and decently; and
certainly they are an order neces-
sary, while they behave soberly and
uprightly, to the well-being of so-
ciety, and seem no where more so
than in these countries; but there
is little justice in a poor landholder's
being obliged to give him as great
an offering as his opulent neighbour.
But here, as every where, the com-
plaints are very much regulated by
the pastor's behaviour. You seldom
hear any grumbling when he is a

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kind, beneficent, humane, and regu-
lar man, that feels for, and endea-
vours to supply, the mental wants,
as well as the bodily ones, of the
charge entrusted to him; who ne-
ver, from vanity, enthusiasm, or
vain ostentation of learning, puzzles
and distracts his hearers, by leading
them astray from the plain paths of
christianity, into the eternal laby-
rinths of mystery; nor sets up him-
self up for an infallible judge of eve-
ry dispute, and the authoratative de-
cider of every question; nor “daubs
and dresses religion, which is di-
vinely pure, and simple from all
arts, like a common mistress, the ob-
ject of his fancy.”

The rum they generally have
from their stores is the New
England sort, which has so con-
founded a sting, and has so much of
the molasses twang, that it is really
nauseous, and this held up to a very
large price. Sometimes, indeed, a
European vessel lands, to the gen-
tlemen in the neighbourhood, a car-
go of another sort; which, however,
never diffuses itself much to those
beneath them. In other better set-
tled parts of Maryland, indeed, as
about Annapolis, and elsewhere,
you hear no complaints of this
sort, as every thing is in plenty.
What I am speaking of relates
principally to Worcester county and
the parts adjacent, where the num-
ber of merchants or store keepers
is small. You now and then meet
with a cup of good cyder, in the
season, here, though of a thin fret-
ting kind. The beer they brew is
excellent, which they make in great
quantities, of parsimons or molas-
ses; for few of them malt their
corn, of any kind, at which I was
much surprised; as even the In-
dian grain, as I have found experi-
mentally, will produce a wholesome
and generous liquor. The meaner
sort taste little else but water when
their cyder is spent. Mush and
milk, or molasses, hominy, wild
fowl, and fish, are their principal
diet; whilst the water presented to
you, by one of the barefooted family,

in a copious calabash, with an inno-
cent strain of good-breeding and
heartiness, the cake baking on the
hearth, and the cleanliness of every
thing around you, must needs put
you in mind of the golden age, the
times of ancient frugality and purity.
Universal hospitality reigns, with
its full tables and open doors, the
kind salute and the generous deten-
tion. Many planters are immensely
rich, and I think one of them num-
bers on his lands near 1000 wretches,
that tremble with submissive awe
at his nod, besides white servants:
their pastures blessed with increas-
ing flocks, whilst their yards and
closses boast hundreds of tame poul-
try, of every kind, and their hus-
bandry is rewarded with crops equal
to all their ambition.

The planters in Maryland have
been so used by the merchants, and
so great a property has been made
of them in their tobacco contracts,
that a new face seems to be over-
spreading the country; and, like
their more northern neighbours,
they in great numbers have turned
themselves to the raising of grain
and live stock, of which they now
begin to send great quantities to the
West Indies. And it is the blessing
of this country and Virginia, and
fits it extremely for the trade it
carries on, that the planters can
deliver their commodities at their
own back-doors, as the whole colony
is interflowed by the most noble na-
vigable rivers in the world. How-
ever, this good property is attended
with this ill consequence, that, be-
ing so well seated at home, they
have no ambition to fill a metropo-
lis, and associate together. They
require no bourses, or meetings
about trade; a letter will bargain
for them, and the general run of
the market determines the price of
the commodity. For this reason the
capitals, and other towns in these
two colonies, are very slightly peo-
pled, and very badly situated, and
remarkable for little else than the re-
sidence of the governors, and the
meeting of governor, council, and

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assembly. The principal meetings
of the country are at their court-
houses, as they call them; which
are their courts of justice, and where
much idle wrangling is on foot.
The lawyers have an excellent time
here, and if a man is a clever fel-
low that way, it is a sure step to
fortune. It is necessity that has
driven the practitioners of the law
hither, from Europe, and other parts
of America, and I remember few
that had not made it very well
worth their while.

Wherever you travel in Mary-
land, Virginia, or Carolina, you are
astonished at the number of colonels,
majors, and captains. The whole
country seems at first a retreat of
heroes; but, alas! to behold the
musters of their militia would
prompt a man to nauseate a sash,
and hold a sword for ever in deri-
sion. Diversity of weapons and
dresses, unsizeableness of the men,
and want of the least grain of dis-
cipline in their officers or them-
selves, make the whole scene like
this of Dryden's:


And raw in fields the rude militia
    swarms;
Mouths without hands, maintained at
    vast expence,
In peace a charge, in war a weak de-
    fence:
Stout, once a year, they march a blus-
    t'ring band,
And ever, but in times of need, at
    hand;
Of seeming arms they make a short
    essay,
Then hasten to get drunk, the bus'ness
    of the day.

At this time they are alarmed
with an Indian excursion, and num-
bers are marching to defend the
out-settlements. Their government
is much respected by them, and one
may, on the whole, say, they are a
happy people. The negroes live
as easily as any where in America,
and at set times have a pretty deal
of liberty in their quarters, as they
are called. As to their general
usage of their slaves, it is monstrous

and shocking. To be sure, a new
negro
*, if he must be broke, either
from obstinacy or from greatness
of soul, will require harder disci-
pline than a young spaniel. You
would be surprised at their perse-
verance; let a hundred men show
him how to hoe, or drive a wheel-
barrow, he will still take the one
by the bottom, and the other by the
wheel; and they often die before
they can be conquered. They are,
no doubt, great thieves, but this
may flow from their unhappy cir-
cumstances, and not from a natural
bent; and when they have robbed,
you may lash them hours before
they will confess the fact; however,
were they not to look upon every
white man as their tormentor;
were a slight fault to be pardoned
now and then; were their masters,
and those adamantine-hearted over-
seers, to exercise a little more per-
suasion, complacency, tenderness,
and humanity towards them, it
might, perhaps, improve their tem-
pers to a greater degree of tractabi-
lity. Such masters, and such over-
seers, Maryland may with justice
boast; and Mr. Bull, the late lieu-
tenant-governor of Carolina, is an
instance, among many, of this in
that province; but, on the contrary,
I remember an instance of a late
sea officer, then resident in a neigh-
bouring colony, that, for a mere
peccadillo, ordered his slave to be
tied up, and for a whole hour di-
verted himself with the wretch's
groans. Struck at the mournful
sound, with a friend, I hasted to the
noise, where the brute was begin-

  * A negro just purchased from the
Guinea-man. It is really shocking to
be present at a mart of this sort, where
the buyers handle them as the butchers
do beasts in Smithfield, to see if they
are proof in cod, flank, and shoulders.
And the women, who have plantations,
I have seen mighty busy in examining
the limbs, size, and abilities of their in-
tended purchases. I do not speak this
of Maryland; for I never saw a lady
at market there, but have elsewhere in
America.


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ning a new scene of barbarity, and
belaboured the creature so long with
a large cane, his overseer being
tired with the cowskin*, that he re-
mained without sense and motion.
Happily he recovered, but, alas! re-
mained a spectacle of horror to his
death. His master died soon after,
and, perhaps, may meet him where
the wicked cease from troubling,
and the weary be at rest;
where

No fiends torment, no christians thirst
for gold.

Another, upon the same spot, when
a girl had been lashed till she con-
fessed a robbery, in mere wanton-
ness continued the persecution, re-
peating, every now and then, “God
damn you, when you go to hell, I
wish God would damn me, that I
might follow you with the cowskin
there.”

The convicts transported hither
sometimes prove worthy, and en-
tirely forsake their former follies;
but the trade has for some time run
in another channel; and so many
volunteer servants come over, espe-
cially Irish, that the other is a
scarce commodity. Several of the
best planters, or their ancestors,
have, in the two colonies, been ori-
ginally convicts, and therefore are
much to be esteemed for forsaking
their old courses. They tell many
stories of these people, one of which
I repeat, as I had it from the very


  * A cowskin is so called, from being
a large thong from the hide of that ani-
mal, twisted into the shape of a swish
horse-whip, and as hard as a bull's piz-
zle. The common method is to tie
them up by the hands to the branch of
a tree, so that their toes can hardly
touch the ground; but, in the West In-
dies, they are so habituated to ill usage,
and their spirits so sunk, that the over-
seer need only bid them cast up their
arms over their heads, which the poor
creatures readily do, and then the tor-
turer, taking a run at him, lashes him;
and this discipline is repeated sometimes
forty times. Hardly a negro but bears
the marks of punishment in large scars
on his back and sides.




person himself, who is the chief in
the story.

About sixty years ago, captain
———, walking through Lincoln's Inn
Fields, beheld a very pretty child,
about six years of age, bewailing
himself for the loss of his father,
whom he had some how or other
strayed from. He soothed the child,
persuaded him to dry his tears, and
told him he had orders from his fa-
ther, who was just set out for the
country, to bring him to him. The
innocent victim, without thought of
harm, followed his deliverer, as he
thought, who carried him in the
stage coach to Bristol, and there
immediately put him on board his
vessel, which sailed a fortnight after
for this part of the world. Still fed
up with hopes of seeing his father,
and that he was going but a small
trip by water, where he was, and
indulged by the captain in all he de-
sired, the time slipped away, till
the brute made appear, by the vilest
actions, his accursed design. The
lad suffered much, but his innocence
rendered him incapable to judge of
the propriety of such actions, and
he was acquiescent. When he ar-
rived at the end of his voyage, be-
ing very ill, he sold him to a plant-
er, for fourteen years, for twelve
guineas. The planter, a man of
great humanity, taking a fancy to
the child, heard his simple tale, and
perceived the villany, but not till
the vessel had sailed. He enquired
his name, and just so much he could
tell him, and sent over to advertise
him in the public papers; but be-
fore this design could be complet-
ed, near two years elapsed, from his
first being kidnapped, when, proba-
bly, his father and mother were
both dead, and, perhaps, the cause
of their death, this accident. In
short, the master liked the youth
more and more, who was sober and
diligent, and married him to an only
daughter, leaving him, at his de-
cease, his whole substance. Thirty
years elapsed, and, though under
great pain for his ignorance of his
parents, yet happy in his family and
affairs, he lived with great content;

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when a ship, with convicts, coming
in, he went to purchase some ser-
vants, and the idea of his barbarous
captain was so impressed on his
mind, that he knew him at first
sight, and bought him eagerly. A
notorious crime had brought him in-
to these circumstances, and entirely
ruined him. As soon as he brought
him home, he carried him into a
private room, and locked himself in
with him; but what words could
express the wretch's confusion and
astonishment, when he understood
whose hands he had fallen into! for
he had no notion before of the gen-
tleman's being the same that, when
a lad, he had used so vilely. Struck
with remorse, and the fear of pu-
nishment, he fell on his knees, and
begged forgiveness. It was in vain
he was interrogated about his mas-
ter's parents; he knew as little of
them as himself. The master, en-
raged, ordered him to be locked into
an upper room, resolving to keep
him to the hard service he deserved
the remainder of his life; but the
next morning he was found stabbed
to the heart, with a knife that had
been incautiously left in the room,
and so, despairingly, finished a
wretched life. The gentleman is
now near 70, and very hearty and
well.

At my arrival at Snowhill, I took
up quarters at an ordinary, and
found them very good. The parson
of the parish, who has the only brick
house in town, was a good conversa-
ble man, as was also the presbyte-
rian minister, a Scotsman, of which
nation great numbers are settled
hereabouts. The church and all the
houses are built of wood, but some
of them have brick stacks of chim-
neys; some have their foundations
in the ground, others are built on
puncheons or logs, a foot or two from
the earth, which is more airy, and
a defence against vermin. The wo-
men are pretty, and the men oblig-
ing enough. The town is very irre-
gular, and has much the aspect of a
country fair, most of the houses dif-
fering very little from booths.

I staid here only one day, and the

next set forward with hired horses,
not being able to buy any in the
town. The hire was a shilling ster-
ling per day for each horse, and a
shilling per day for a guide. They
are good serviceable little creatures,
and travel at a great rate. The
next night we got to the line that
divides Maryland from Virginia, be-
ing about thirty miles, through a
road whose delightful scenes con-
stantly refreshed the senses with
new and beauteous objects.

There cannot be a greater griev-
ance to a traveller, from one colony
to another, than the different va-
lues their paper money bears; for
if he does not get rid of the money
of one place before he arrives at
another, he is sure to be a consider-
able loser. The New England mo-
ney, for instance, which is exces-
sively bad, and where, to pay a six-
pence or three-pence, they tear a
shilling bill to pieces, is much be-
neath the New York money in va-
lue, and will hardly be got off there
without some person is going into
the first-named province. New
York and Pennsylvania often differ
about the dignity of their bills, and
they fall and rise in the different
circulations they take. The Mary-
land money is generally pretty good,
but of a low value; and this, again,
is not taken on the western shore of
Chesapeake, where only gold and
silver is current. North Carolina
is still lower than Maryland, and
South Carolina worst of all; for
their money there is so low as seven
for one sterling, so that it makes a
prodigious sound; and not only so,
but even private traders there coin
money, if I may use the expression,
and give out small printed, or writ-
ten circulating notes, from six-pence
to a pound, and upwards, in which
they are, no doubt, considerable gain-
ers, not only by the currency of so
much ready money, without much
expence in making it, but also by
loss, wearing out, or other accidents.
In Georgia, again, this money never
passes, for all their bills are of ster-
ling value, and will pass all over
America as well as bank notes.

 image pending 409

There is, I find, considerable stock-
jobbing in America, by issuing out,
and calling in, their new and old
bills.

There are considerable numbers
of Roman catholics in Maryland,
particularly about the borders of
Pennsylvania; but the bulk of the
colony is episcopal, with a mixture
of other sects. The women are
handsome, in general, and notable
housewives.

They have some seminaries of
learning in the two colonies; but
Williamsburg college, in Virginia, is
the resort of all the children whose
parents can afford it; and there
they live in an academical manner;
and, really, the masters are men of
great knowledge and discretion,
though it cannot yet vic with those
excellent universities of the Massa-
chusetts; for the youth of these
more luxurious settlements partake
pretty much of the petit maitre, and
are pampered much more than their
neighbours more northward. Those
that cannot afford to send their chil-
dren to the better schools, send them
to the country school-masters, who
are generally servants, who, after
serving their terms out, set up for
themselves, and pick up a livelihood
by that, and writing letters, and
keeping books, for their illiterate
neighbours, Often a clever servant
or convict, that can write and read
tolerably, and is of no handicraft bu-
siness, is indented to some planter,
who has a number of children, as a
school-master, and then, to be sure,
he is a tip-top man in his parts, and
the servant is used with particular
indulgence.

The young fellows are not much
burdened with study, nor are their
manners vastly polite; but the old
gentlemen are, generally, a most
agreeable set, and possess a pretty
deal of knowledge; nay, I know
some of the better sort, whose share
of learning and reading would really
surprise you, considering their edu-
cation; but this, to be sure, must be
an after improvement. Their chil-
dren, when young, they suffer too
much to prowl among the young ne-

groes, which insensibly causes them
to imbibe their manners and broken
speech. The girls, under such good
mothers, generally have twice the
sense and discretion of the boys;
their dress is neat and clean.

It is an odd sight, that, except
some of the very elevated sort, few
persons wear perukes, so that you
would imagine they were all sick, or
going to bed. Common people wear
woollen and yarn caps, but the bet-
ter ones wear white Holland, or
cotton. Thus they travel fifty miles
from home. It may be cooler, for
ought I know; but, methinks, it is
very ridiculous.

They are all great horsemen, and
have so much value for the saddle,
that, rather than walk to church
five miles, they will go eight to catch
their horses, and ride there; so that
you would think their churches look-
ed like the out-skirts of a country
horse-fair; but then, as some ex-
cuse, it may be said, that their
churches are often very distant from
their habitations.

Mirth and glee reign in Mary-
land, among all ranks; and, at set
times, nothing but jollity and feast-
ing go forward. Music and danc-
ing are the everlasting delights of
the lads and lasses, and some very
odd
customs they have at these
merry-makings. You would think
all care was then thrown aside, and
that every misfortune was buried
in oblivion. In short, my spirits
have been sometimes raised so much,
that I have almost forgotten I was
of another clime, and have wished
myself for ever amongst them.



CAPTAIN STANDISH was a
famous warrior among the primi-
tive settlers of New England. He
was descended from a family of dis-
tinction, and was heir apparent to a
great estate unjustly detained from
him, which compelled him to de-

 image pending 410

pend on himself for support. He
was small in stature, but of an active
spirit, a sanguine temper, and strong
constitution. These qualities led him
to the profession of arms. Having
been in the service of queen Eliza-
beth, in aid of the Dutch, after the
truce, he settled with Mr. Robinson's
people in Leyden. He was in the
first company who came over to
America, in 1620; he commanded
the first detachment for making dis-
coveries after their arrival; he was
chosen military commander on the
first settlement of their military con-
cerns. Generally, in the subsequent
excursions and interviews with the
natives, he was the first to meet
them, accompanied by a small num-
ber of his own choosing. During the
terrible sickness of the first winter,
when two or three died in a day, and
the living were scarcely able to bury
the dead, captain Standish retained
his health, and kindly nursed the sick.
On the 29th of January he was called
to see his beloved wife expire.

When Corbitant, one of the petty
sachems of Massasoit, meditated a
revolt, captain Standish, with four-
teen men, surrounded his house in
Swanzey, but he being absent, they
informed his people that they
should destroy him, if he persisted
in his rebellion. This so alarmed
the chief, that he intreated the me-
diation of Massasoit, and according-
ly was admitted, with eight other
chiefs, to subscribe his submission to
the English.

In 1622, when he had fortified
Plymouth, he divided his men into
four squadrons, appointing every in-
dividual his post. In case of fire, a
select company mounted guard, with
their backs to the fire, to watch for
approaching enemies. Being sent
on a trading voyage to Matachiest,
between Barnstable and Yarmouth,
in February, 1623, a severe storm
compelled him to leave his vessel,
and sleep in a hut of the Indians.
Being impressed with an idea of
their design to kill him, he made his
people keep guard all night, by
which he escaped the snare they
had laid for him. In the morning it

was found that goods had been stol-
en in the night from the shallop; he,
with his party, surrounded the house
of the sachem, and the things were
restored.

Often was a singular providence
conspicuous in his preservation. The
next month, at Manomet, a creek in
Sandwich, where he went for corn,
he was not received with their usu-
al cordiality; two Indians from Mas-
sachusetts were there; one had an
iron dagger, and derided the Euro-
peans, because he had seen them,
when dying, “cry, and make sour
faces, like children.” An Indian of
the place, who had formerly been
his friend, appearing now very
friendly, invited the captain to sleep
with him, because the weather was
cold. Standish accepted his hospi-
tality, and passed the night by his
fire; but sleep had departed from
his eyes; he was restless, and in
motion, all night, though his host
seemed solicitous for his comfort,
and “earnestly pressed him to take
his rest.” It was afterward disco-
vered that this Indian intended to
kill him if he had fallen asleep.

Weston's people, who settled at
Wessagusset, lived without religion
or law. This rendered them con-
temptible in the view of savages,
who soon began to insult and abuse
them. The company pretended to
satisfy the Indians for a theft, not by
punishing the thief, but by hanging
a decrepid old man, who had be-
come burdensome to them. This
settlement was composed of a set of
needy adventurers. But before this
company knew their own danger,
the governor of Plymouth had learn-
ed from Massasoit the plot of the
natives for their destruction, and
sent captain Standish to their relief.
He had made choice of eight men,
refusing to take more. Arriving at
Wessagusset, now Weymouth, he
found the people scattered, and in
imminent danger, yet stupidly in-
sensible to the destruction ready to
burst upon them. Standish was care-
ful not to excite the jealousy of the
natives till he could assemble the
people of the plantation. An Indian

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brought him some furs, whom he
treated “smoothly,” yet the Indian
reported that he “saw by the cap-
tain's eyes that he was angry in his
heart.” This induced Pecksuot, a
chief of courage, to tell Hobbamock,
Standish's Indian guide and inter-
preter, that he “understood the
captain was come to kill him, and
the rest of the savages there; but
tell him,” said he, “we know it,
but fear him not; neither will we
shun him, let him begin when he
dare, he shall not take us at una-
wares.” Others whet their knives
before him, using insulting gestures
and speeches. Among the rest, Wit-
tuwamat, a daring son of war, whose
head the government had ordered
Standish to bring to Plymouth, boast-
ed of the excellence of his knife, on
the handle of which was a woman's
face. “But,” said he, “I have an-
other at home, with which I have
killed both French and English;
that has a man's face; by and by
these two must be married.” Fur-
ther said he of his knife, “By and
by it shall see, by and by it shall eat,
but not speak.”

Pecksuot, being a man of great sta-
ture, said to Standish, “though you
are a great captain, yet you are but a
little man, and though I be no sa-
chem, yet I am a man of great
strength and courage.” The cap-
tain had formed his plan, and was
therefore silent. The next day, see-
ing he could get no more of them
together, Pecksuot and Wittuwa-
mat, and his brother, a young man
of eighteen, and one Indian more
being together, and having about as
many of his own men in the room,
he gave the word; the door was
fast; he seized Pecksuot, snatched
his knife from him, and killed him
with it; the rest killed Wittuwamat
and the other Indian. The youth
they took and hanged. Dreadful
was the scene; incredible the num-
ber of wounds they bore; without
any noise, catching at the weapons,
struggling and striving till death.
At another place, he and his men
killed one more. Captain Standish

then returned to Plymouth, carrying
the head of Wittuwamat, which
was set up on the fort. The news
of this exploit spread terror through
the surrounding tribes; amazed and
terrified, they fled to swamps and
desert places, which brought on dis-
eases and death to many. One of
the sachems said, “The God of the
English was offended with them, and
would destroy them in his anger.”

Some reflected on captain Stand-
ish, as being more of a hero than a
christian, in this affair; but if there
were any fault, it certainly rested
with the good magistrates of Ply-
mouth; Standish only obeyed their
orders; they deliberately and coolly
sanctioned the most bloody part of
his conduct, by setting up the head
of Wittuwamat as a public spectacle.
All military exploits are dreadful.

In 1625 he was sent an agent for
the company to England. The plague
was raging in London, and he met
with difficulty in accomplishing his
business; but the next year he re-
turned with goods for the colony,
bringing the melancholy news, that
Mr. Cushman and Mr. Robinson
were numbered with the dead.

A company of the baser sort had
set down at Quincy; under one
Morton, they had deposed their
commander, sold arms to the na-
tives, and invited fugitives from
other places. Captain Endicott,
from Salem, gave them a small
check, and cut down their liberty
pole.
Captain Standish subdued
them. Being sent for the purpose,
and finding reasoning vain, he took
them prisoners, and carried them to
Plymouth; thence they were sent to
England. Previous to this, in 1624,
the people of Plymouth had erected
fishing slakes at Cape Ann. A com-
pany from the west of England, the
next year, took possession of them.
Captain Standish was sent to obtain
justice. His threats were serious,
and the people of Cape Ann assured
the company they were dead men,
unless they satified the captain, for
he was always punctual to his word.
The company then built another

 image pending 412

stage, or flake, in a more advanta-
geous situation, which the Plymouth
people accepted: thus harmony was
restored.

A tradition in the family says,
that a friendly native once came and
told the captain, that a particular
Indian intended to kill him; that
the next time he visited the wig-
wam he would give him some water,
and, while he should be drinking,
the Indian would kill him with his
knife. The next time the captain
had occasion to go to the place, he
remembered his trusty sword. He
found a number of savages together,
and soon had reason to believe the
information which had been given
him. It was not long before the sus-
pected Indian brought him some
drink; the captain receiving it,
kept his eye fixed on him while
drinking. The Indian was taking
his knife to make the deadly stab,
when Standish instantly drew his
sword, and cut off his head at one
stroke. Amazed and terrified, the
savages fled, and left our warrior
alone.

After the year 1628, we hear no
more of the military exploits of this
valorous commander. Whether a
constant series of vigorous exertions,
for so many years, had impaired his
health, and rendered him unfit for
active service, as it is said he was
afflicted with the stone and stran-
gury in his advanced years; or
whether he became tired of such
dreary, dangerous excursions, it is,
perhaps, impossible now to ascer-
tain. Certain it is, he did not, in the
least degree, lose the confidence of
the people. During his whole life,
which was prolonged almost thirty
years after this, he was constantly
elected one of the principal officers
of the growing commonwealth; he
was one of the magistrates or judg-
es of the superior court of the colo-
ny as long as he lived. When, “in
regard of many appearances of dan-
ger towards the country,” a council
of war was appointed in 1652, vested
with full power “to issue warrants
to press men, and to give commis-
sions to chief officers,” the venera-

ble Standish was among “the first
three.” In 1653, we find him acting
in this council; and once more we
may see him clothed in his coat of
mail. In 1654, Cromwell called on
New England for troops, to subdue
the Dutch of New York. Massa-
chusetts ordered 500 to be furnish-
ed. Captain Standish received the
command of those raised in Ply-
mouth colony. A part of his com-
mission, probably his last, was in
these words: “We, having raised
some forces, over which we do con-
stitute our well-beloved friend, cap-
tain Miles Standish, their leader and
commander in chief; of whose ap-
proved fidelity and ability we have
had long experience.”

He was now probably 70 years of
age. He had been engaged in the
wars in the Netherlands, which
ended about 1609. It is not proba-
ble that he left his native country
before he was 21; how long he con-
tinued in the army we know not.
but probably he was 25 when he
joined Mr. Robinson's congregation,
after the peace: it is not probable
that a younger man would have been
made military commander in 1620;
this will make him just seventy. He
lived two years after this, dying in
1656, at Duxbury, where he had a
tract of land, which is now known
by the name of the Captain's Hill.
He had one son, Alexander, who
died in Duxbury; a grandson of his,
Joseph Standish, settled in Norwich,
Connecticut. A house of the latter
was burned, in which was destroy-
ed the sword of the captain, which
fought the first battles of New Eng-
land. Those are certainly deceived
who imagine they have it in posses-
sion. His name will be long vene-
rated in New England.


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