elegraph, no
telephone, no electric light, no automobile, and no aeroplane. How they
managed to live at all is a mystery to the twentieth century biped.
Fancy having to cross the street to your neighbor's house when you
wanted to ask him if he was going to the pioneer supper, and just think
of having no "hello girl" to flirt with. The condition seems appalling.
But what they lacked in knowledge and in indolent conveniences we beg to
announce that they made up in foolhardiness which they called bravery.
Well, if it can be called brave to make a needless target of oneself to
a bunch of savage Indians, why then they had the proper derivation of
the term.

From one of Francis Parkman's admirable works we have seized upon the
scene of our story, which was acted out at the beginning of the
eighteenth century, namely, 1725. The Indians seem to have been very
hostile in those early days in the immediate vicinity of the early New
England provinces; and we are convinced some of the white men were very
hostile as well. Of course we, in our day, cannot blame them--they had
no telephones, autos, electricity, "hello girls"--they had to be
something, so they were hostile towards the Indians.

Dunstable was a town on the firing line of Massachusetts, and was
attacked by Indians in the autumn of 1724, and two men were carried off.
Ten others went in pursuit, but fell into an ambush, and nearly all were
killed. But now we will follow the words of Francis Parkman, who has a
delightful way of relating his stories.

"A company of thirty was soon raised." They were to receive two
shillings and sixpence per day each, "out of which he was to maintain
himself";--very little to risk one's life for; but in those days it was
no concern with a man whether he was killed or not. Besides, it was
worth something to get killed and have Francis Parkman write about you
more than a century later. Perhaps they anticipated this perpetuation of
their names and deeds.

However, "Lovewell was chosen captain; Farwell lieutenant, and Robbins,
ensign. They set out towards the end of November, and reappeared at
Dunstable early in January, bringing one prisoner and one scalp." It
does not seem to us to have paid the interest on the investment of two
shillings and sixpence per day, "out of which he was to maintain
himself," and, for anything we know to the contrary, perhaps the captain
was getting more than this--it has not been recorded. "Towards the end
of the