brethren in the ministry he loved, and, diffident of himself, and modest in his manners, he in honor preferred others to himself. On every occasion they experienced the kindness of his heart.

For several of the last years of his life he was exercised with many bodily infirmities; but not so as often, or for a long time, to take him off from his stated labors. His increasing infirmities and disorders he viewed with calmness, as harbingers of early death. His pains he bore with firmness of mind, and with patience and resignation, as coming from the hand of GoD. As the time of his departure evidently approached, his hopes were strong and full of immortality.

It is desirable that all his people should hear his dying words. While he manifested a readiness to depart, his only hope was in a crucified Saviour. He said, "I have coveted no man's silver or gold, I have labored with my hands to supply my necessaries, and have had a little to give to the poor, and I gave it cheerfully. But I have no merit. I have endeavored," as he modestly expressed himself, "to convince others, that there is salvation for sinners only in Christ. I have no other hope, and I desire no other way."

Attack of the Indians at Walpole in 1755. [The following interesting article, found in the Cheshire Gazette, published at Walpole, is deemed worthy of preservation.]

History is the grand spy-glass which enables us to take a view of a variety of interesting objects of antiquity at once, and generally the more distant the object, the more wonderful and interesting they appear when brought within the field view of intelligence. Hence it is, that, while the ingenuity of historians has been employed in pry

ing into the most rare foreign productions, on the catalogue of human exploits, many equally worthy the attention of the patriot and philanthropist, in our neighborhood, slumber in the tomb of oblivion unnoticed and unknown. Some of our own forefathers, whose bones quietly repose beneath the sods of our own valleys, and whose achievements live only in the memories of their children can boast of deeds that will be the theme of admiration to historians some thousand years hence.Their hardships, their sufferings, their preservation and prosperity in a wilderness of enemies, their heroic defence against surrounding multitudes of hostile savages, are subjects which excite very little attention among those who are now enjoying the "milk and honey" of the land, but which ought to be enrolled among the deeds of Theban and Spartan valour.

We have made these remarks prefatory to the following sketch of one of the most chivalrous exploits the annals of our country can produce.

In the year 1749, John Kilburn, the hero of the following story, came to Walpole, N. H. The large and fertile meadows at the mouth of Cold River, slightly covered with butternut and elm, presented an inviting prospect to the new settlers, and an easy harvest to the hand of cultivation.Here he built a log hut, and for two years lived in the solitude of the forest without any intercourse with friend or foe. He often sought opportunities to cultivate the friendship of the Indians, but on every occasion they studiously avoided him. During this time his life was one continual scene of danger and hardship, constantly exposed to the inclemencies of the weather and the secret attacks of an insidious foe. And what rendered his situation still more uncomfortable, he was obliged to camp out at different places each night, "the cold earth his bed," with a bear skin for a covering, and

a cartridge box for his pillow, in order to avoid the midnight prowling of the savages, who were watching in concealment for an opportunity to strike the deadly blow, and who often paid their nocturnal visits at his dwelling, and took from him such articles as might contribute to their convenience or the gratification of their wanton disposition. Very different is the situation of those, who are now cultivating the same soil, planting at their leisure the luxuriant corn, and reaping in ease and affluence the fruits of their labors.

In 1751, Col. Benjamin Bellows obtained the charter of Walpole, and began a settlement on the land about a mile south of Kilburn's, the site now occupied by the out buildings of Esq. T. Bellows. There was a fort also at Charlestown, then called Number Four. This addition to the strength of the white settlers, induced the Indians to treat them with more respect. About this time a company came down the river, landed their boats above the falls, and invited Kilburn to trade with them He visited their boats, bought some skins, and made some presents of flints, flour and fish-hooks. From this time the Indians continued to hunt and encamp about the neighborhood, and the report of their guns and the smoke of their wigwams were mingled with the familiar occurrences of life.

The affairs of the settlers continued to prosper till 1758, when the first alarming incident occurred to disturb the happiness and security of the whites. Two men by the name of Twitchell and Flint, who had gone back to the hills about a mile east to procure some ash timber for oars, were shot by the Indians; one of them was scalped, the other they cut open, and took out his heart, cut it in pieces and laid it on his breast.

This was the first christian blood spilt in Walpole. Their bodies were buried near where they were found; and a ridge of land the west side of

the road, about two miles north of Walpole village, towards Drewsville, points out the spot hallowed by the remains of the first victims of Indian massacre. The solemn impression this occurrence made upon the minds of the new settlers was not soon effaced. It is said the guardian spirit of Twitchell continued to hover over his friends, warning them of the wiles and hostile intention of the Indians, as long as his murderers continued to live. A remarkable rock in Connecticut river, where he used to fish with never failing success, was for a long time held in religious veneration; and to this day such is the propitious influence of the presiding spirit, that few of the angling votaries who come to worship on the "Twitchell Rock, " return without taking from the limpid stream a generous fry.

The massacre of Twitchell and Flint was the first harbinger of the rupture of the negociation for peace between England and France, and the commencement of those horrid scenes of Indian barbarity that ensued.

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In the spring of 1755, an Indian by the name of Philip, who had acquired just English enough to be understood, visited Kilburn's house pretending to be on a hunting excursion in want of provisions. He was treated with kindness, and furnished with every thing he wanted, such as flints, flour, &c.Soon after he was gone, it was ascertained that the same Indian had visited all the settlements on Connecticut river about the same time, and with the same plausible pretensions of hunting. Kilburn had already learned a little of the Indian finesse, and suspected, as it proved, that this Philip was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Not long after, the following intelligence was communicated to all the forts, by a friendly Indian, sent by General Shirley, from Albany. He stated that four or five hundred Indians were collected in Canada, whose object it was to butcher the whole white population on Con

necticut river. Judge then of the feelings of a few white settlers, when they learned the impending danger. To desert their soil, cattle and crops of grain, would be leaving their all, and to contend with the countless savages of the Canadian regions, was a hopeless resort. But accustomed to all the hardships and dangers of life, they boldly resolved to defend themselves or die in the cause. Kilburn and his men now strengthened their defence with such fortifications as their rude implements would allow, which consisted in surrounding their habitation with a pallisado of stakes stuck into the ground.

Col. Benjamin Bellows had at this time about 30 men under his command at the fort about a mile south of Kilburn's house, but this could afford Kilburn no protection while attending to his cattle and crops.

They were now daily expecting the appearance of the Indians, but the time of their attack no one could foresee or prevent. Before their arrival perhaps we may have time to describe the situation of Kilburn's house, and the surrounding scenery.

Passing down Connecticut river from Bellows Falls on the east bank, the eye is feasted with an endless variety of the most romantic scenes in nature. On the left, Fall mountain presents his terrific and almost perpendicular front more than five hundred feet high, which threatens to crush the traveller as he follows the narrow pass, or hurl him into the foaming abyss below. On the right, the rolling surges of the angry Connecticut keep up a ceaseless struggle with the stubborn, jagged rocks; it seems a sublime war of the elements.Pass along and view the rent rocks, the huge broken fragments which have been precipitated either by their own weight or some convulsion in nature, quite into the bed of the river; some just adhering to the sloping side of the mountain, some sus

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