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those of
Connecticut charged their sufferings upon
Philip; and those who had been his allies, became suppliants for peace.
Some surrendered to escape starvation.
In the progress of the year, between two and three thousand Indians were killed or submitted.
Church, the most famous partisan warrior, went out to hunt down parties of fugitives.
Some of the tribes wandered away to the north, and were blended with the tribes of
Canada.
Did they there nourish the spirit of revenge, and remember their ancient haunts, that they might one day pilot fresh hordes of invaders from the north, to renew the work of devastation?
Philip himself, a man of no ordinary elevation of character, was chased from one hiding-place to another.
He had vainly sought to engage the Mohawks in the contest; now that hope was at an end, he still refused to hear of peace, and struck dead the warrior who proposed it. At length, after the absence of a year, he resolved, as it were, to meet his destiny; and returned to the beautiful land where were the graves of his forefathers, the cradle of his infancy, and the nestling-place of his tribe.
Once he escaped narrowly,
leaving his wife and only son as prisoners.
‘My heart breaks,’ cried the tattooed chieftain, in the agony of his grief; ‘now I am ready to die.’
His own followers began to plot against him, to make better terms for themselves, and in a few days he was shot by a faithless Indian.
The captive orphan was transported.
So perished the princes of the Pokanokets.
Sad to them had been their acquaintance with civilization.
The first ship that came on their coast, kidnapped men of their kindred; and now the harmless boy, that had been cherished as an only child, and the future sachem of their tribes, the last of the family of
Massasoit, was sold into