the dust of Pomperaug, the last man
of his tribe. The spot where that chief drew his breath was a small
and level valley, surrounded by lofty and thickly wooded hills, with a
cool, clear, bright, little stream, rippling through its green and
flowery meadows. When he first saw the light of the great star, this
spot was not divested of its trees; my countrymen, from the distant
regions over the great waters, came with their sharp axes and lithe
arms, and swept away the loved retreats of the red inhabitants of the
land. The beautiful trees which hung over the quiet little river of
Pomperaug and his people, like a mother bending over her sleeping
infant, fell before them like a field of corn bowed to the earth by a
tempest of wind. And very soon was the tribe itself swept away by the
same resistless torrent which divested their land of its sylvan
adornments. The Great Sachem of the East, who dwelt on the lofty
Haup, having engaged in a war with my brethren, the Pomperaugs took
part with the king of the Pequods, and a large part of them shared in
his destruction. The chief fell, pierced by the arrow of the Great
King. His son, still a boy, with a remnant of his father's people,
when the war was finished by the death of the warlike and cunning
Sachem of Haup, returned to their native valley: and, submitting
themselves to their conquerors, sat down by the beloved river, and,
apparently were content to toil for the white man in the fields which
had once been their own. Yet it was with a deep remembrance of their
wrongs, and a determination, at a convenient opportunity, to take a
deep and bloody revenge. The period had now arrived when the young
chief had reached the age of manhood. He took, as was the custom of
his fathers, the name of his tribe, and was accordingly called
Pomperaug. A nobler youth was never seen, either red or white. He was
tall, and finely formed, with an eye that gleamed like the flashes of
the diamond, and a brow, upon which were stamped the greatness of his
mind, the lofty and honourable feelings which filled his soul. He was
such a one as the Indian contemplates with delight, and gazes upon
with idolatry. His foot was swift as that of the deer; his arrow was
sure as the pursuit of the eagle; his sagacity penetrating as the
light of the sun. The maidens of his own tribe looked upon him with
eyes of love; and there were not a few among the maidens of my own
colour who confessed that he was "beautiful, and no