her that she must not call him that, and spoke to her very
respectfully as Lady Rebecca, she covered her face with her hands and
began to weep. She had always called him father, she said, and he had
called her child, and she meant to do so still. They had told her he was
dead, and she was very glad to learn that this was false, for she loved
him as a father and would always do so.

That was her last meeting with Captain Smith. In less than a year
afterward she was taken sick and died, just as she was about to return
to her beloved Virginia.

_THE INDIAN MASSACRE IN VIRGINIA._

Friday, the 22d of March, of the year 1622, dawned brightly over a
peaceful domain in Virginia. In the fifteen years that had passed since
the first settlers landed and built themselves homes at Jamestown the
dominion of the whites had spread, until there were nearly eighty
settlements, while scattered plantations rose over a space of several
hundred square miles. Powhatan, the Indian emperor, as he was called,
had long shown himself the friend of the whites, and friendly relations
grew up between the new-comers and the old owners of the soil that
continued unbroken for years.

Everywhere peace and tranquillity now prevailed. The English had settled
on the fertile lands along the bay and up the many rivers, the musket
had largely given place to the plough and the sword to the sickle and
the hoe, and trustful industry had succeeded the old martial vigilance.
The friendliest intercourse existed between the settlers and the
natives. These were admitted freely to their houses, often supplied with
fire-arms, employed in hunting and fishing, and looked upon as faithful
allies, many of whom had accepted the Christian faith.

But in 1618 the mild-tempered Powhatan had died, and Opechancanough, a
warrior of very different character, had taken his place as chief of the
confederacy of tribes. We have met with this savage before, in the
adventurous career of Captain John Smith. He was a true Indian leader,
shrewd, cunning, cruel in disposition, patient in suffering, skilled in
deceit, and possessed of that ready eloquence which always had so strong
an influence over the savage mind. Jealous of the progress of the
whites, he nourished treacherous designs against them, but these were
hidden deep in his savage soul, and he vowed that the heavens should
fall before he would lift a hand in war against his white friends. Such
was the tranquil and peac