, struggled so violently as to
cause the frail bark to dip water, threatening immediate destruction.
All the crew except Captain Ward were so panic-stricken by this sudden
assault, that they threw themselves flat upon their faces in the bottom
of the boat, and attempted no resistance where even the exposure of a
hand would be the target for a hundred rifles.

Fortunately Captain Ward was protected from this shower of bullets by a
post, which for some purpose had been fastened to the gunwale. He
therefore retained his position at the helm, which was an oar, striving
to guide the boat to the other side of the river. As the assailants had
no canoes, they could not attempt to board, but for more than an hour
they ran along the banks yelling and keeping up an almost constant fire.
At length the boat was swept to the other side of the stream, when the
miscreants abandoned the pursuit, and disappeared.

Quite a large party of emigrants were attacked by the Indians near what
is now called Scagg's Creek, and six were instantly killed. A Mrs.
McClure, delirious with terror, fled she knew not where, followed by her
three little children and carrying a little babe in her arms. The cries
of the babe guided the pursuit of the Indians. They cruelly tomahawked
the three oldest children, and took the mother and the babe as captives.
Fortunately the tidings of this outrage speedily reached one of the
settlements. Captain Whitley immediately started in pursuit of the
gang. He overtook them, killed two, wounded two, and rescued the
captives. Such were the scenes enacted during a period of nominal peace
with the Indians.

There has been transmitted to us a very curious document, giving an
account of a speech made by Mr. Dalton, a Government agent, to a council
of Indian chiefs, upon the announcement of peace with Great Britain, and
their reply. Mr. Dalton said:

"MY CHILDREN,--What I have often told you is now come to pass. This day
I received news from my great chief at the Falls of the Ohio. Peace is
made with the enemies of America. The white flesh, the Americans,
French, and Spanish, this day smoked out of the peace-pipe. The tomahawk
is buried, and they are now friends. I am told the Shawanese, the
Delawares, Chickasaws, Cherokees, and all other red flesh, have taken
the Long Knife by the hand. They have given up to them the prisoners
that were in their hands.

"My children on the Wabash, open your ears and let what I tell you sin