t Indian plantation bondage. The
Narraganset Indian who owned Mrs. Rowlandson soon sold her to a
celebrated chieftain named Quinnapin, a Narraganset sachem, who had
married, for one of his three wives, Wetamoo, of whom we have
heretofore spoken. Quinnapin is represented as a "young, lusty sachem,
and a very great rogue." It will be remembered that Wetamoo, queen of
the Pocasset Indians, was the widow of Alexander and sister of
Wootonekanuske, the wife of Philip. The English clergyman's wife was
assigned to Queen Wetamoo as her dressing-maid. The Indian
slaveholders paid but little regard to family relations. Mrs.
Rowlandson's daughter Mary was sold for a gun by a _praying Indian_,
who first chanced to grasp her. The Christian Indians joined in this
war against the whites, and shared in all the emoluments of the slave
traffic which it introduced. Mary was ten years of age, a child of
cultured mind and lovely character. She was purchased by an Indian who
resided in the town where the Indian army was now encamped. When the
poor slave mother met her slave child, Mary was so overwhelmed with
anguish as to move even the sympathies of her stoical masters; their
several owners consequently forbade their meeting any more.

After a few days, the warriors scattered on various expeditions of
devastation and blood. Mrs. Rowlandson was left at Wenimesset. Her
days and nights were passed in lamentations, tears, and prayers. One
morning, quite to her surprise, her son William entered her wigwam,
where she was employed by her mistress in menial services. He belonged
to a master who resided at a small plantation of Indians about six
miles distant. His master had gone with a war party to make an attack
upon Medfield, and his mistress, with woman's tender heart, had
brought him to see his mother. The interview was short and full of
anguish.

The next day the Indians returned from the destruction of Medfield.
Their approach through the forest was heralded by the most demoniac
roaring and whooping, as the whole savage band thus announced their
victory. All the Indians in the little village assembled to meet them.
The warriors had slain twenty of the English, and brought home several
captives and many scalps. Each one told his story, and recapitulated
the numbers of the slain; and, at the close of each narrative, the
whole multitude, with the most frantic gestures, set up a shout which
echoed far and wide over mountain and valley.

There