much reduced as never afterwards to offer any serious resistance to the
whites, who have since converted the whole of their ancient
hunting-grounds into the abodes of civilized man. Metacom, Miantonimoh,
and Conanchet, with their warriors, have become the heroes of song and
legend, while the descendants of those who laid waste their dominions, and
destroyed their race, are yielding a tardy tribute to the high daring and
savage grandeur of their characters.





The Wept of Wish-Ton-Wish




Chapter I.



"I may disjoin my hand, but not my faith."

Shakespeare.


The incidents of this tale must be sought in a remote period of the annals
of America. A colony of self-devoted and pious refugees from religious
persecution had landed on the rock of Plymouth, less than half a century
before the time at which the narrative commences; and they, and their