The next day, they made the forced march as proposed, and had already approached Bushy Run without meeting with any unusual obstructions, or seeing any signs of the enemy. But the Indians, in great force, had formed their ambuscade nearer at hand than had been anticipated. Soon after midday, the advanced guard were fiercely assailed from the woods, and when two companies were ordered forward to aid them, a rapid fire was opened on the whole line from both flanks and the rear. The savages had encircled them, and every tree, bush, and rock sheltered an enemy. But such an event had long been expected, and Bouquet coolly proceeded to execute the plan he had formed. The baggage and horses were brought together in the centre, and the troops were drawn up in lines about them on every side, facing outwards. The fire was then steadily returned, and wherever the Indians seemed to muster strongest, a company dashed forward at that point with charged bayonets, and drove them farther into the woods. While the troops were thus formed, the flight of any portion of them became impossible, except by rushing into the lion's jaws; and the men therefore maintained their ground with the firmness of desperation. Yet they were necessarily much exposed, while their agile foes, leaping from one tree to another, seldom offered a mark for a bullet. The fight thus lasted for seven hours, and the Indians only slackened their fire when it had become too dark for them to see their opponents.

Fearful was the night which followed. Not a drop of water could be had, for the troops were obliged to lie down on their arms where they had fought, and there await the renewal of the battle at the dawn. Sixty of their number were killed or disabled, and nothing could be done for the wounded but to draw them into the centre of the camp, and place flour bags to shield them from the bullets.

could be kindled, lest the light of the flames should guide the aim of their watchful foes, who prowled about them in the darkness, like wolves thirsting for blood. "Throughout the earlier part of the night, they kept up a dropping fire upon the camp, while, at short intervals, a wild whoop from the thick surrounding gloom told with what fierce eagerness they waited to glut their vengeance on the morrow." Bouquet's courage was imperturbable; having stationed his sentinels

and outposts, he coolly sat down and wrote a brief despatch to Sir Jeffrey Amherst, the commander of the British forces in America, to inform him of what had happened thus far, and prepare him for a still gloomier account of the events of the following day. "Whatever our fate may be," he wrote, "I thought it necessary to give Your Excellency this early information, that you may, at all events, take such measures as you will think proper with the Provinces, for their own safety, and the effectual relief of Fort Pitt."

"With the earliest dawn of day, and while the damp, cool forest was still involved in twilight, there rose around the camp a general burst of those horrible cries which form the ordinary prelude of an Indian battle. Instantly, from every side at once, the enemy opened their fire, approaching under cover of the trees and bushes, and levelling with a close and deadly aim. Often, as on the previous day, they would rush up with furious impetuosity, striving to break into the ring of troops. They were repulsed at every point; but the English, though constantly victorious, were beset with undiminished perils, while the violence of the enemy seemed every moment on the increase. True to their favorite tactics, they would never stand their ground when attacked, but vanish at the first gleam of the levelled bayonet, only to appear again the moment the danger was past. The troops, fatigued by the long march and equally long battle of the previous day, were maddened by the torments of thirst, more intolerable, says their commander, than the fire of the enemy. They were fully conscious of the peril in which they stood, of wasting away by slow degrees beneath the shot of assailants at once so daring, so cautious, and so active, and upon whom it was impossible to inflict any decisive injury. The Indians saw their distress, and pressed them closer and closer, redoubling their yells and howlings, while some of them, sheltered behind trees, assailed the troops in bad English, with abuse and derision.

"Meanwhile the interior of the camp was a scene of confusion. The horses, secured in a crowd near the intrenchment which covered the wounded, were often struck by the bullets, and wrought to the height of terror by the mingled din of whoops, shrieks, and firing. They would break away by half scores at a time, burst through the ring of troops and the outer circle of assailants, and scour madly up and down the hill sides; while many of the drivers, overcome by the terrors of a scene in which they could bear no active part, hid themselves among the bushes, and could neither hear nor obey orders.

"It was now about ten o'clock. Oppressed with heat, fatigue, and

thirst, the distressed troops still maintained a weary and wavering defence, encircling the convoy in a yet unbroken ring. They were fast falling in their ranks, and the strength and spirits of the survivors had begun to flag. If the fortunes of the day were to be retrieved, the effort must be made at once; and happily the mind of the commander was equal to the emergency. In the midst of the confusion, he conceived a stratagem alike novel and masterly. Could the Indians be brought together in a body, and made to stand their ground when attacked, there could be little doubt of the result; and to effect this object, Bouquet determined to increase their confidence, which had already amounted to an audacious pitch. Two companies of infantry, forming a part of the ring which had been exposed to the hottest fire, were ordered to fall back into the interior of the camp, while the troops on either hand joined their files across the vacant space, as if to cover the retreat of their comrades. These orders, given at a favorable moment, were executed with great promptness. The thin line of troops who took possession of the deserted part of the circle, were, from their small numbers, brought closer in towards the centre. The Indians mistook these movements for a retreat. Confident that their time was come, they leaped up on all sides, from behind the trees and bushes, and, with infernal screeches, rushed headlong towards the spot, pouring in a most heavy and galling fire. The shock was too violent to be long endured. The men struggled to maintain their posts, but the Indians seemed on the point of breaking into the heart of the camp, when the aspect of affairs was suddenly reversed. The two companies who had apparently abandoned their position, were in fact destined to begin the attack; and they now sallied out from the circle at the point where a depression in the ground, joined to the thick growth of trees, concealed them from the eyes of the Indians. Making a short detour through the woods, they came round upon the flank of the furious assailants, and discharged a deadly volley into their very midst. Numbers were seen to fall; yet though completely surprised, and utterly at a loss to understand the nature of the attack, the Indians faced about with the greatest intrepidity, and boldly returned the fire. But the Highlanders, with yells as wild as their own, fell on them with the bayonet. The shock was irresistible, and they fled before the charging ranks in a tumultuous throng. Orders had been given to two other companies, occupying a contiguous part of the circle, to support the attack whenever a favorable moment should occur; and they had therefore advanced a little from their position, and lay close crouched in ambush. The fugitive multitude, pressed by the Highland bayonets, passed directly across their front, upon

which they rose and poured upon them a second volley, no less destructive than the former. This completed the rout. The four companies, uniting, drove the flying savages through the woods, giving them no time to rally or reload their empty rifles, killing many, and scattering the rest in hopeless confusion.

"While this took place at one part of the circle, the troops and the savages had still maintained their respective positions at the other; but when the latter perceived the total rout of their comrades, and saw the troops advancing to assail them, they also lost heart, and fled. The discordant outcries which had so long deafened the ears of the English soon ceased altogether, and not a living Indian remained near the spot. About sixty corpses lay scattered over the ground. Among them were found those of several prominent chiefs, while the blood which stained the leaves of the bushes showed that numbers had fled severely wounded from the field. The soldiers took but one prisoner, whom they shot to death like a captive wolf. The loss of the English in the two battles surpassed that of the enemy, amounting to eight officers and one hundred and fifteen men. 362-366.

pp.

We cannot follow the story of the war to its conclusion, and are conscious that the imperfect abstract already given of a portion of Mr. Parkman's work gives but a feeble idea of the spirit and fidelity with which he has executed his task. Our purpose is answered, however, if the passages here copied from it should direct general attention to a book which seems to furnish a more perfect sketch of the habits and character of the aborigines of this continent, and of a remarkable epoch in their history, than has yet appeared in print. As the curious materials which the author has amassed with so much industry and zeal cannot yet be exhausted, we hope soon to learn that he is engaged upon the preparation of another and more elaborate work, to which the present one may be regarded only as an introduction.

1.- A History of the Town of Union, in the County of Lincoln, Maine, to the Middle of the Nineteenth Century; with a Family Register of the Settlers before the Year 1800, and of their Descendants. By JOHN LANGDON SIBLEY, Member of the Massachusetts Historical Society. B. B. Mussey & Co. 1851. 12mo. pp. 540.

Boston:

MR. SIBLEY has been known for many years, by all the frequenters of Harvard College Library, as a zealous bibliographer and antiquarian. He now appears before the public as the author of a local history, a history of his native town, Union, in the State of Maine. It is one of those towns that have grown up within the memory of man, and, in a single life, have witnessed the progress and the changes which, in other countries, slowly take place in the course of many centuries. Their foundations are shrouded in no mists of fable and antiquity. The hard realities of the early settler's condition are still remembered by living persons, who shared them. Every field, hill, and river, every tree, rock, and shrub, has, not its legend, but its history; every house and public building, and their builders, are known to everybody. This absolute certainty in our origines gentium forms the most striking peculiarity of the American Annals. Towns, cities, and sovereign States alike stand out in the light of positive fact and well authenticated history. Towns are the germs of larger communities; town organizations train the people to manage more comprehensive affairs; until a whole nation, with its infinitely complicated politics, becomes a distinct subject of contemplation to the citizen in the remotest border hamlet. Thus the history of the early settlements becomes an important element in the history of the matured nation. It is fortunate for future annalists that so much attention is already given to these local minutiæ. Our literature is enriched by many valuable and deeply interest. ing contributions of this kind.

Of the town of Union nothing is to be said that can distinguish it particularly from hundreds of other towns in our land. But Mr. Sibley has wrought from its sober annals a history of a very attractive character. The caritas ipsius soli, doubtless, has sustained him in the wearisome toil and protracted investigations to which he was subjected in his labor of love. The vividness of early recollections and youthful associations has given liveli ness to his narrative and picturesqueness to his descriptions. Nothing relating to the early fortunes of his native place has