eful state of affairs which existed in Virginia
in the morning of March 22, 1622. There was not a cloud in the social
sky, nothing to show that the Indians were other than the devoted allies
and servants of the whites.

On that morning, as often before, many of the savages came to take their
breakfast with their white friends, some of them bringing deer, turkeys,
fish, or fruit, which, as usual, they offered for sale. Others of them
borrowed the boats of the settlers to cross the rivers and visit the
outlying plantations. By many a hearth the pipe of peace was smoked, the
hand of friendship extended, the voice of harmony raised.

Such was the aspect of affairs when the hour of noontide struck on that
fatal day. In an instant, as if this were the signal of death, the scene
changed from peace to terror. Knives and tomahawks were drawn and many
of those with whom the savages had been quietly conversing a moment
before were stretched in death at their feet. Neither sex nor age was
spared. Wives were felled, weltering in blood, before the eyes of their
horrified husbands. The tender infant was snatched from its mother's
arms to be ruthlessly slain. The old, the sick, the helpless were struck
down as mercilessly as the young and strong. As if by magic, the savages
appeared at every point, yelling like demons of death, and slaughtering
all they met. The men in the fields were killed with their own hoes and
hatchets. Those in the houses were murdered on their own hearth-stones.
So unlooked-for and terrible was the assault that in that day of blood
three hundred and forty-seven men, women, and children fell victims to
their merciless foes. Not content with their work of death, the savage
murderers mutilated the bodies of their victims in the most revolting
manner and revelled shamelessly in their crimes.

Yet with all their treacherous rage, they showed themselves cowardly.
Wherever they were opposed they fled. One old soldier, who had served
under Captain John Smith, was severely wounded by his savage assailants.
He clove the skull of one of them with an axe, and the others at once
took to flight. In the same way a Mr. Baldwin, whose wife lay bleeding
from many wounds before his eyes, drove away a throng of murderers by
one well-aimed discharge from his musket. A number of fugitive settlers
obtained a few muskets from a ship that was lying in a stream near
their homes, and with these they routed and dispersed the Indians for a