The New York Herald Newspaper, September 18, 1875, Page 4

‘4 BLOODY BROOK. —_—_-——_—— 'BI-CENTENNIAL OF THE BATTLE. The Massacre of Captain Thomas Lothrop and the “Flower of Essex.” —— ORATION BY HON. GEORGE B, LORING A Rehearsal of the Sad Tale of Savage Slaughter. A Vivid Picture of Colonial Simplicity. The Causes of King Philip’s War. ITS MIGHTY RESULTS. Professor William Everett, Poem by Sours Desrvreuy, Mass., Sept. 17, 1875. This alluvial and thrifty town, one of the pleasantest in the Connecticut Valley and the oldest in Franklin county, has to-day been the scene of an extraordinary celebration. It has not been simply the observance of one of those common centennial events which are now 60 numerous and popular, but it has been the more remarkable occasion of @ bi-centennial, the two hun- dredth anniversary of the famous battle of Bloody Brook, the most terrible massacre of whites tn all the annals of New England. EXERCISES OF THE CELEBRATION. In consequence of a heavy storm last night there were | gloomy anticipations that the weather to-day would not be propitious for the gala occasion, These fears were not realized, however, for, although the day was cool and cloudy, it was nevertheless free from storm. In the early morning crowds commenced pouring into town in all gorts of vehicles, and by noon the special and regu- lar trains bad filled the little village with @ con- course of 10,000 or 12,000 people The late burning up of the hotels was a sad incon- venience, but as this was understood by most of the visitors they generally came prepared for it, The street display was not 60 generous as was anticipated, yet it was very brilliant and creditable, The military embraced, besides the South Deerfield company, companies from Greenfield, Northampton and Holyoke. Three or four local bands furnished music, and, altogether, the display was a remarkable one for this rural district, In the civic part of the procession the Grangers were a prominent feature’ The citizens and visitors generally occupied the earlier portion of the day in visiting the interesting localities in the neighborhood. THES LITERARY PESTIVITIES. ‘These came in the afternoon, and were, of course, the chief feature of the day. There was a welcoming ad- dress by George Sheldon, President of the association, under whose auspices the celebration took place, and then the singing of an ode, which was written for the occasion by E, W. B, Canning, the renowned poet of Stockbridge. After the singing of the ode prayer was said by Rev. C. 8. Brooks, and, after music by the band, Hon. George B. Loring came forward and delivered the oration of the day. ADDRESS OF TON. GEORGER. LORING. Fauiow Crrizexs—Two huadred years ago an event occurred on this spot which, on account of its signifi- cance and its touching details, has passed into that long heroic line over which the mind of man is compelled to pause and ponder. Forminga part of achapterof horror ‘and despair scarcely equalied in the annals ¥ kind, either ancient or modern, it impressed ft ‘at once upon the mind’ and heart of that generation who felt its staggering blow and knew its fearful purport. To us, sitting in the security which two centuries of action and progressive civiliza- tion have accomplished, it still has its terrific fascina- tion, clothed as it is with the sacred mystery which time has shed over it, and set as a central figure in that dark picture of forest gloom and sav darkness and cruelty which attended the early colonial life of our an- cestors. Atthe name of Bloody Brook the men and women and children of New England started and held their breath in horror in that primeval time, when the sickening tidings were borne on the wings of the wind as it were from hamlet to hamlet, and the name Bloody Brook calls forth a sigh thronghout the land in our own day, when by a touch every event is carried from town to town and passes into the daily life of a continent, and when ambush and slaughter have made way for refinement and repose. We have sorrow enough of our own which we must bear, it is true, and we have enough of heroic incident | but the ead event of the 18th of and manly endeavor; September, 1675, calle upon us still to remember the trials through which our fathers passed and to rejoice over that fraternal epirit whch bound them together in thetr day of sorrow and watered the soil of this charming valley with the choicest blood of the sons of Essex, I | stand on ground made snered to you by the sacrific and sufferings of your hardy and devoted progenitors; but I meet here the names of Lothrop, and Stevens, and Hobbs, and Manning, and Dodge, and Kimball, and Trask, and Tufts, and Mudge, and Pickering, of the threescore braves who died that you migit’ possess this goodly land and these pleasant homes 1 share with you, then, the interest which gathers around this spot I join you in every sentiment of gratitude for the heroism and courage which mark our early history. 1 thank God for the manly devotion and the characteristics which they im- planted in the American nationality, for the sturdy powers and for the inheritance of social and civil eleva- tion which we now enjoy. How would they who were familiar with the cruel whose ears had heard the shrieks of the tortured mother mingling with the ans of her dying child, and whose eyes nad beheld her fear, her patience and her despair; whose highway was an Indian trail, and whose home was a frontier blockhouse—how would they rejotce over these sunny fields, thege laughing harvests, these busy towns, these tasteful homes, this cultivated jandscape adorned with these institutions of learning and religion; and how would they count their own euiferings but smal! when compared with the manifold blessings which have de- scended upon the spot made sacred by their blood? THE SIGNIVICANCE OF THE BATTLE. And now, my friends, let us turn to the etgnificance of the event whose anniversary we this day celebrate, and to the relations which it holds to the history of ad- yvancing civilization. It cannot be considered as a decisive conflict; but as an incident in the infancy of a powerful nation, and one occurring at the critical period | of the most important soctal and civil event known | of a free it arrests to man—the founding republic on the Western Continent, the attention of every thonghtful student of history, while it furnishes atheme for the poet anda scene for the writer of romance, The fate of a great and widespread empire rested then in the hands of a few colonists scat- tered along the Atlantic seaboard, dividea in interests and tastes, perishing continually from exposure and want, not all actuated by the highest motives, ‘yt 0 recognizing, as by #5 unerring instinct, fundamental principle ont of which was to grow the American governnient, and all in danger of being exterminated at any time by “the pestilence which walketh in darkness, and the destruction which wasteth at noonday.”” These people had come largely from that “Germanic race most famed for the love of personal independence,” They were not men of high estate; but they were men who pos- sessed an inherent love of land, with all the individual power and freedom which go along with it. They had & high sense of their destiny—a lordly sense of their rights They had @ deep religious sentiment, avd so it has been said them that— “the colonists from Maine to Carolina, the adfenturous companions of Smith, the Puritan felons that freighted the eet of Winthrop, the Quaker out- Jaws that fled from jails, with a Newgate prisoner as their sovereign—ail had faith in God and in the soul,” Impressed, undoubtediy, by the solemnity of the scene around them, subdued by the dangers which con- stantly threatened them, softened by the hardships which continually weighed upon them, they were and well behaved. Of one colony, said “Spota- wood, a royalist, a high churchman, a traveller,” “I have observed here less swearing and profanen lees drunkenness and debauchery, less uncharitable feuds and animosities and less knaveries and villanies than fp iy Be of the world where my lot has been.” ‘animating sentiment was "a church ‘without @ bishop” in religion; ‘a State without a king’ in politics, Of the motives, abd manners and customs of those who settled New England, let me ray a word. ‘They constitated toa great degree that body of dis- senters who under various names settled the colonies warfare of the savage; | NEW YORK HERALD, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 1875—TRIPLE SHEET. conduct by those formal rul which, tm their day, constituted the Puritan’s guide through the world. We are told, as an illustration of their character and manners, that by the laws of the Plymouth colony, in 1651, ‘‘dancing at weddings was forbidden.” In 1660 “one William Walker was imprisoned a month for courting a maid without the leave of her parents.” In 1675, because “there is manifest pride appearing our streets,” the ‘wearing of long bair or periwigs, and also’ “superstitious ribands, to tle up and decorate the hair, were forbidden under severe penalty ;'’ the keeping of Christmas was also ause it was a ish custom,” head “to prevent the profaneness of turn- ing the back upon the public worship before it was fin- ished and the blessing pronounced,” Towns were directed to erect a cage near the farsa house and in this all offenders the sanctity the Sabbath were confined, At time children were directed to be placed 8, particular” part of tne mening house, a by themselves, and rg men were ordered ‘to be chosen, whose uty it should be to take care of them. So strict were they in their observance of the Sabbath that “John Atherton, a soldier of Colonel Tyng’s company,” was fined forty shillings for wetting a piece of an old hat to put into his shoes, which chafed his feet on the march ; and those who neglected to attend meeting for three months were publicly whipped. Bven in Harvard Col- lege students were whipped for tard offences, in the chapel, in the presence of students and professor and prayers were had before and after the infliction of the punishment. As the settlors of Deerfield are de- scribed as being of “sober and orderly conversation,” we may suppose that these laws and customs were here rigidly enforced. THR FOOD OP YANKEE YEOMRN. Porhaps a word upon the subsistence and diet of your ancestors may interest you here, Palfrey tells us that “in the early days of New Isngland, wheaten bread was not so common as it afterwards became ; but its place was largely supplied by preparations of Indian corn. A mixture ng two parts of the meal of this grain with one part of rye has continued, until far into the present century, to furnish the bread of the great body of the people. In the beginning there was but a sparing con- sumption of butcher's meat, The multiplication of flocks, for their wool, and of herds for draught and for milk, was an important care, and they generally bore a high’ money value. Gamo and fish, to a considerable extent, supplied the want of animal food. Next to these, swine and poultry—fowls, ducks, geese and tur- keys—were in common use earlier than other kinds of flesh meat. The New Englander of the present time who, in whatever rank in lite, would be at a loss without his tea or coffee twice at leastin every day, pities the hardships of his ancestors, who, almost universally for century and a half made their morning and evening repast on boiled Indian meal and milk, or on porridge, or broth made of peas or beans and flavored by being boiled with salted beef or pork. Beer, however, which was brewed in families, was accounted a necessary of life, and the orchards soon yielded a bountiful pro- | vision of cider; wine and rum found a ready market as | soon as they were brought from abroad, and tobacco and legislation had a long conflict, in which the latter at last guve way.” INTELLECTUAL VIGOR, The intellectual vigor, the strong common sense, the moral integrity of these early generations of New Eng- land Americans, are so apparent in all their ways as to command our unbounded admiration, Not only did they found schools and cherish their favorite’ college, but they read carefully and persistently the solid litera- ture of their times; and they selected as the guiding and representative men of their towns the clergymen | | who had had the benefit of a liberal education, and who in their elaborate and carefully prepared sermons provided on Sunday the fireside debate of the week, in which the doctrines of “fate, free will, ' fore-knowledge absolute,” all found ardent and devoted advocates, Not only did they consider from a high standpoint the important matters of Church and State, but they applied their most sensible powers to the daily affairs of business; were good farmers, pro- viding well for all household necessities and many lux- uries, and raising on these pastures, then clothed with abundant and nutritious verdure, the cattle which they exported to the profitable markets of the West Indies; were good lumbermen, and brought down the free an swollen streams of spring, an abundant supply of build- ing materials of a quality unkpown in these days of spruce and hemlock, and the second growth of pine; were excellent fishermen, and knew the habits of all the most valuable sea fish, as well as they did the ways of tho game with which "the forests abounded; were good merchants and navigators, and opened new chan- nels of trade and accumulated ample wealth. In a com- munity organized as this was, in which thelabor of the week was carried on oy the entire family, the head of the labor organization being the father, and the mem- bers being the mother with her sturdy sons and fair daughters, it was natural that simplicity should be a prevailing habit, and moral integrity a prevailing vir- tue. Nowhere on the face of the earth, during the periods of the seventeenth and eighteenth cen- turies, when our New England characteris- tics were formmg and maturing, could there ‘be found a more rigid determination to build up society on the principles of justice and equality and to build up the individual character on the foundations of morality, honor and honesty. They may have been dogmatical, but they were well informed and earnest. They may have been economical, but they spared nothing in their | devotion to the public good. They may have been ex- acting in business, but they had high mercantile honor, and they never forgot the lesson taught them by the Pilgrim merchants, to whom the banks of Amsterdam were always freely opened upon their personal respon- sibility alone. That they had their faults is indeed true; bat they were not the faults which weaken and under- mine society, nor were they those which make @ gov- | ernment either corrupt or tyrannical. This was the people who occupied the unexplored and vacant forest domain of North America with their scattered colonial settlements and planted Christian civilization in the Western wilderness. It appeared to them that the wars of conquest were unuecessary, There was no form of civilization here to be displaced in order to make room for their own. They found, it is | true, a few wild and roaming occupants of the’ soil, | without local habitation, without institutions, without either the necessaries or the adornments of life, with- out the public or private qualities which characterize civilized man. In the colonies of Massachusetts and | Plymouth and Connecticut these original occupants | probably numbered about 5,000—in fact the entire In- dian population of the Continent was much less than | 200, A GLANCE AT INDIAN LIPE IN COLONIAL TIMES. Possessed evidently of a common origin, for “between | the Indians of Florida and Canada the difference was | searcely perceptible,” they were divided into tribes, | | which differed from'each other mainly in their fighting | capacity and the vigor with which they roamed from | | place to place, and they were liable at any time to be | swept off by disease or exterminated by war or absorbed by other and more powerful tribes, In language the | North American Indian was limited by the material | | world, an abstract idea finding no birthplace in his brain and no expression on his tongue, ‘in marriage the Indian abhorred restraint, and from Florida to the St. Lawrence polygamy was permit- | ted.” Divorce meant merely desertion; the wife was a slave, Domestic government was unknown, The Indian youth grew up a warrior, adorned with ver- milion and eagie’s feathers, as fleet of foot as the deer, and as tolerant of hunger as the wolf; the Indian girl grew up @ squaw, degraded and squalid and | servile, The Indian @ government with- | Out laws; a State without institutions; a church | without faith or creed or head; a town without | schoolhouse or meeting house; a punitive system, with- out jails or jibbets; a history based on tradition; a re- dion to the New England colonies, was known as “Philip's war, With the story of this conflict you are all familiar. Alexander, worried out of life by the failure of his in- trigues against the colony, and the exposure of his meanness and his crimes; the ual ent of the worst of passions in the breast of Philip, and bis passage from treachery to war, are all fresh in the memory of all who have traced the hard path which our fathers travelled in the work of settling these shores. he war whieh oe. in Swanzey on the 24th of June, 1675, reached thi Ei) on the 18th of Se) three months of marder aad fire, and all the rors of savage hor- 4 PIOTURE OF PRACE. At the time when the war broke out Deerfield had been settled ten years, or had been deeded for the pur- poses of settiement to John Pynchon that length of time, It was then, as it is now, one of the most de- be gous spots in New England. The very air here told of peace and rest. And ere, in all ‘he luxuriance of that natural beauty and in the wealth of wood and stream, the Indian found his favorite resort, In this town and in the towns of Hadley and Hatfield he mus- ‘tered @ numerous and powerful tribe. And upon these lands, purchased by the settlers, with titles confirmed by the Court, the whites and Indians lived together in peace for years. THE WARCLOUD BREAKS, It is amazing with what rapidity the war, once opened, spread from village to village and from tribe to tribe in this wilderness. The spirit of Philip was borne as if by magnetic force throughout the length and breadth of the land; his warriors and messengers of death traversed these solitudes with a equal to that magic power which bears us now trom the waters of the bay to this shining river in a few evening hours. No sooner had Swanzey been destroyed and Taunton been attacked, and Middleboro and Dartmouth been burned and the whole colony of Plymouth was filled with alarm, than Brookdeld was lain in ruins, and Deerfield was a scene of slaughter. The Pocumtucks had received their orders, and in a day had stepped from the blessing of to the misery of war. Having promised to deliver up their arms on suspicion that they might misuse them, they broke their promise, fled to Sugarloaf Hill, engaged with Cap- tains Beers and Lothrop commanding ‘nglish here, lost twenty-six of their number, and then sought shel tor under the standard of King Philip, The war was now transferred for a season to this valley. Captain Beers, of Watertown; in Lothrop, of Ips- wich; Captain Moseley, of ; and Major of Milford, had repaired thither with their forces to protect the settlements, ‘Hadley was designated a5 a mili post and a place of deposit for supplies,’ and on the 1st of September it was exposed te a sudden and bloody attack. Here it was that a devoted little band of worshippers were driven from their simple placo of worship and took their stand to defend their homes with such bravery and deliberation that the historian has felt compelled to attribute their success to the in- spiring influence of a mysterious stranger who found his retreat here after the bloody days of Charles I. and the Commonwealth. THE MYSTERIOUS OLD MAN. As if those hardy men were not each a hero and an inspiration to himself, the enthusiastic chronicler has dragged Goffe, the regicide, from retirement and placed him in command of a force, every man of which was a commander for himself I ‘am willing that they who doubt the ability of the American pioncers to defend themselves out of their own brave hearts should accept the tradition and believe the romantic tale as told by Scott in “Peveril of the Peak,” and by Hutchinson in his “History of Massachusetts.” For myself, however, 1 do not feel compelled to attribute the success- ful defence of ley on that wymg day to services recorded nowhere in the local annals of the Connecticut River, but found in an “anecdote handed down by Governor Leverett,” and accepted by his friends, The beauty of the tradition I admire; but 1 an: ready to believe that the men of Hadley preserved and detended their own hearthstones. THE BLOODY WORK BEGAN. And now during one autumnal month the valley of the Connecticut from Springfleld to Northtield became a theatre of the most savage warfare. The month of September, 1675—200 years ago—was long remembered as the month of horrors. The work of the harvest was almost entirely suspended; the only reaper busy there was ‘the reaper, eath.”? Early in September ten or twelve of the men of Northtield were waylaid and shot. Captain Beers, with thirty-six men, going to the relief of the remain- ing occupants of the block-house there, was attacked and killed, with twenty of his men, Major Treat having been sent with 100 men to the relief of Northfield, in which Beers had fai jucceeded only after the most perilous adventures, Northfield was abandoned. Deer- field was then attacked, the inhabitants were fired on as they went to public worship, and their houses were burned, Deerfield, too, was abandoned; and the at- tempt to secure @ quantity of wheat which had just been partially threshed by the farmers there be- fore their fight, resulted in the massacre which still thrills men with horror, and the anniversary of which we have met to commemorate, The troops de- tailed to complete the threshing of the grain were ordered out from Hadley, their headquarters, a com- ny of picked men, under the command of Captain othrop. Having succeeded im threshing the grain and loading it in their wagons, they proceeded on their re- turn, leaving Captain Mosely at Deeriield to protect them against sudden surprise from the enemy. They had proceeded a few miles on their way, and on the early morning of the 18th of September they reached the scene of the disaster, Overconfident in their own strength and skill they loitered beneath the tall trees, clad in their first autumnal foliage, and np sea to gather the wild grapes hanging in luxuriant clysters over the little stream which their wagons wewe attng “BRAUTY LURES TO DEATH.” ‘The beauty of the morning was radiant; the air, just relieved of the summer beate, was laden with the fra- grance of the ripened fruit, and breathed an invigorat- ing coolness through the ‘sounding aisles’ of that great cathedral of woods, The men wero betrayed by the beauty of the scene. Their broken ranks gave the savage his long sought opportunity. Baflled through the watches of the night, he rejoiced in the morning light which scattered and exposed his victims, In an instant the forest seemed ablaze, From behind hundreds of trees the savages poured their deadly tire, At the first volley many were kiljed, and the remainder were panic gtricken. In their sense of security they had laid down their arms, which they could not regain; they bad broken their ranks, which they could not reform; Lothrop, “a godly and courageous commander,” was among the first 10 fall The savages, numbering near 700, rushed upon the defenceless men, and the worl of slaughter was soon complete, But six or seven Englishmen escaped to tell the tale, of whom one had been shot and tomahawked and left for dead, and an- other forced his way through the yelling rauks of the | savages with the butt of his musket. “The cruel fate of these unfortunate young men,’? says Mr, Everett, whose eloquent and touching oration, delivered on this spot and on this anviversary forty years ago, has connected his name with this sad event of our history, as it is connected with so many of the stirring scenes of our national heroism by those sub- lime efforts with which he charmed and elevated his countrymen for half a century; ‘the cruel fute of these unfortunate men did not remain long unavenged. While the Indians were employed in mangling, scalping and stripping the dying and the dead, Captain Mosely, who, as has been observed, was ranging the woods, hearing the report of mueketry, hastened by forced march to the relief of his brethren, The Indians, confiding in their superior numbera, taunted him as he ligion based on superstition; he was ignorant of the ownership of land, and knew nothing of asystem ot | inheritance. As in peace he was an idler—so in war | he was marauder. An organized army was to him | | unknown. He fought in small bands, seldom over fifty | in number, to surprise and slaughter. He pursued, and | killed and scaiped. He had neither commissariat nor | hospital. He fought his enemy in the rear and in am- | bush; and he tortured and roasted and devoured his | captives, These were the national characteristics which our fathers found on this Continent. Nor did their attempts to modify and humanize and | | Christianize them meet with much success. The Indian | could be tamed—but he was the Indian still. He might | learn the language of the Church, but he was out of | | place there; he might become familiar with the school- room, but he was impatient of its restraint and forget- ful of ite lessons, Bancroft says:—‘Jesuit, Franciscan and Puritan, the Church of England, the Moravian, the | benevolent founders of schools, academies and colleges, | all have endeavored to change the habits of the rising generations among the Indians; and the results, in ev- | ery instance, varying in degree of influence exerted by the missionaries, have varied in litde else. Woman, too, with her gentleness and the winning en- | | thusiasm of her self-sacrificing benevolence, has | attempted their instruction and has attempted it in | vain. St. Mary of the Incarnation succeeded as little | | as Jonathan Edwards or Brainerd. The Jesuit, Stephen | de Carbeil, revered for his genius, as well as for his | | zeal, was for more than sixty years, in the seventeenth and’ eighteenth centuries, @ missionary among the Muron-lroquois tribes, Ho spoke their dialects with as much facility and elegance as though they bad been his mother tongue; yet the fruits of his diligence were | inconsiderable, Neither John Eliot nor Roger Williams | was able to change essentially the habits and character of the New England tribes, The Quakers came among the Delnwares in the spirit of peace and brotherly love, and with sincerest wishes to benefit the Indian; but the | Quaker Succeeded no better than the Puritans—not | early as well as the Jesuits,” INRVITABLE CONCLUSIONS, . That astruggie would ultimately arise between these two forms of nationality which 1 have described no observant colonist probably ever doubted. The safety, | vincial commissioners, Lothrop and Boers bad fallei in fact, of the early setti ness and their dependenc the aborigines. coloniste, and for more than haifacentury the quiet Eng- lishman and the unsuspecting and confident Indian dwelt side by side in versies, it ix true, but no wars and no apparent necessity for wars, It was not until the colonists began to grow strong and formidable that serious difficulties arose, It cannot be said that our fathers dispossessed tho Indians of their lands, and thus drove them to war of revenge and extermination. The land they occupied upon the tender mercies of for the chase and war was alinost as broad as the Con Unent. The trowble lay deeper. Indian discovered an irreconcilable difference between himself and the stranger, From the venchings of the missionaries he learned nothing more than the goUiations with the colonial governments world-wide difference between « legislative ball or | & cabinet and @ council fire, When he entered the home of | fireside could never be found in the group squattmg be- “Maasac! The} 6, It of Pye ae nie pote they ten sorb neath the shelter of the wigwain. He felt the antago- true, vo enjoy religions ton the rlaht cfevery tren to | UisM, and his soul burned within him, The strife was pepbelben, oops os st under which be lives, In | BOt for land; for the land had been purchased, honest! sharte ‘all the towns granted by the general | paid for and voluntarily transferred by title deed. It the charters of dea ‘to pro. | Was for supremacy, And as revenge fs stronger than court, It was prove minister | ambition, and have is stronger than avarice, #o the war cure and maintain among them,” and “to build a meeting house within three years.” This was their motive. INTERESTING REMINISCENCRS. raged with unspeakable fury, and was as cruel a8 tho | passions of a desperate savage could make it, Tho | jd contest which grew out of this antagoniam and | Tasted more than a year, anabated either by the heat of In all their customs they were obliged to exercise the | summer or the frosts ‘of winuw. threatening dextruc- ‘vimost simplicity. and they voluntarily reculated tha: he natives had no fear of the starving | ‘Sconsisted in their feeble: | | | | Thero wore small coatro- | was narrow; the jand unoccupied and free to the savage | strength by exposure and anxiety and “died before the Year after year the | great | gulf fixed between himself and his teacher. From his ne- | he learned the jg’ the settler he discovered that the joys of the | only a | deserted to the k advanced and dared him to the contest, Movely came on with firmness, repeatedly charged through them and cestroyed a large number, with the loss on his side of but two killed and’ eleven wounded. His lieutenants, Savage and Pickering, greatly dis- tinguished’ themselves on this occasion He was, however, so greatly outnumbered, that though he sgstained the action from eleven o'clock until even- ing, he did not succeed in driving the enemy from the field, At this juncture, Major Treat arrived with 100 soldiers and sixty Mohegan Indians, and, joining his forces with Captain Moseley’e, drove the taemy from | the field of the hard fought and murderous action, They fled across the brook about two miles, to the west ward, closely pursued by the American force, and bere the action was probably suspended by the night, A quantity of bones lately found in that quarter is very probably the remains of the Indians wio fell there at the close of the action. “BLOODY BROOK,” The stream on whose banks they fell, and whose waters ran red with their blood, has been called from that day, in memory of the disaster, ‘Bloody Brook.” For a time the war ceased in this valley, where the destruction and desolation were complete. “Of the three English captains placed in command here by the pro- and of the towns planted he Northampton and Hatfield alo: War-stricken and despairing. THE END OF KING PHILIP'S WAR. The war was now transferred to another sphere. Rhode Island furnished the battle ground for the late autamn and the early winter months, and the bloody conflict of the Narragansett fort had entirely broken the military strength of that formidable tribe. De- feated on their own bunting grounds the warriors of Philip commenced their attacks on those towns which constituted the wi rh and porth boundary of the | Massachusetts Bay settieme' and at Lancaster the | heartrending tragedy of Mrs.’ Rowlandson and her child was enacted; Sudbury and Chelmsford were Springtield, Hadley, remained, and these attacked; Medtieid and Mendon and Brovkield were burned; Marlboro was utterly destroyed; “Wrentham, Seekonk, Plymouth, Andover, Chelmsiord, Sudbury, Scituate, Bridgewater and Middleboro, were wholly or partly sacked and burued.” In March, 1676, Captain Pierce and his Plymouth men were ambushed and slain at Pawtuxet, and Plymouth county suffered the severest disaster of the war. In Apri! Capiain Wads- The peaceful death of Massasoit at a good old age, after a long line of friendly relations with the Pl eo aed Massachusetts Bay colonies; the sadder of his son | way. Atone of the points likely to be passed by the Seen eee had stationed om Englishman and a friendly Indian, named Alderman, who presently saw ple grey em, dressed and running at full 6) The Englishman’s gun missed fire, The In- dian’s took effect, one bullet ing through the heart of the chief and another lodging in his shoulder, He fell upon his face in the mud and water, with his gun under him.” Philip's war was ended, ‘The war left the colonies of Plymouth and Massa- chusetts Bay in a sad and stricken condition. At least thirteen towns were seep destroyed; more than 600 stalwart and brave men of the colonists fell on the bat- tle field; many of the survivors wore disabled by received in the comes and bloody encoun- ters; almost every family a sufferer; more than 600 buildings were consumed by and the feeblo and exhausted colonies, poor indeed before the war, but Poverty stricken after it, were left with a burdensome war debt, When, on the 12th of August, 1676, Philip fell and the war ended, a land bowed down with and DURE SST Lane with the drapery of woe, turned prayerfully to God, and entered once more upon the work of peace and progress. WHAT THS SONS OF BRAVE MEN CAN DO. While we turn with, pride to the high and honorable Indian wars in their early heroic days and performed faithfully their part in the Revolutionary struggle, we are filled with the tenderest emotions as we rehearse the lant deeds performed by our sons and brothers in jefence of the fag during the trials and hardships of the civil war for freedom, and into which thoy brought the nerve and energy of old. The events of this impos- ing chapter in our national history have passed before our very eyes, We have seen in our own day the con- summation of that heroism whose career commenced in these forest campaigns 200 years ago, and as we ponder upon the names of the “Flower of Essex,” who fell here on that fatal morning, we are reminded that the honorable career of Pickering and Mudge and Tufts and Stevens, all distinguished, some immortali: in our late wars, began in the very morning hours o! our existence as @ people. And so of these towns which they defended, I indeed congratulate them on the part they formed in the great drama of this Continent—} of this age, rfleld and Hadley, Northampton, Springfield and Hatfeld, the four that survived the destruction of the ancient border war- fare—what an admirable and instructive story they can tell of their services in war! How devoutly they stood for that country which was secured for them at such acost. How true were they to the valor of the fathers! You who sit here cannot have forgotten the prompt and ready responso from those who enrolled themselves for active service, al- most before the sun which rose on the first day of the conflict reached mid heaven; those who started forth without counting the cost, obedient to @ proud sense of patriotic duty; ,those who first taught foreign and do- mestic foes that the Union had its defenders, and who saved the capital of our country until the armies of the war could be brought into the field. Year after yoar the call was made, and year after year the same response was given. ‘Three thousand nine hun- rod and twenty-nine men were enrolled from these towns, Deerfield furnishing 320, Hadley Hatfield 146, Northampton 739 and Springfield 2,500—nearly four times as many men as could be called from the three most important New England colonies at the breaking out of Philip’s war. "g@ sums were ex- pended in bounties to the soldiers, partly contributed by private liberality and partly drawn from the treasury of the towns. Individual and associated offort was unremitting in smoothing the rugged pathway of the soldier, in providing for thoso whom he had left behind, and in alleviating his toil on the field and his sufferings in hospital and camp, From. your firesides to every battle field was stretched the Bilver cord of affection and solicitude, bringing home close to your hearts the great events of the war, aud binding your familiar and household names to every far-olf Spot in our land which the war clothed with immortal renown; for your sons were on every field, your blood was spilled in almost every coutlict, Of this long chapter of heroism here what an awful and impressive beginning have I placed before you; what a radiant close! Isee them now, those earnest and manly sons of Puritan warriors and teachers, who had filled the pulpits and town houses and armies of our land during a century of protest ana trial and self sacri- fice and defiance, rising higher and higher in their in- dignant sense of duty as the flerce periods of our pop- ular declarations were launched forth 4 an approving American mind. And can you not {eel with them the hot blood coursing through their veins as the ardent appeals went on! The memory of long and weary trials in the cause of civilization here in tho wilderness, of the precepts of those old teachers who were gone, of the bloody seas through which they had been prongs to their great assertions, of the wrongs of the past, this, and their glowing understanding of the promise’ of the present hour and of the future, all inspired their minds with wis- dom and their hearts with courage for the occasion. From their humble houses they had stepped forth not to follow but to lead, not to listen but to speak, not only to be taught, but to teach man- kind to be true to the highest demands of a free and in- dependent spirit. It was to. the voice of public assem- Dlies like these that our fathers of the Revolution listened; it was the wisdom of such assemblies that guided their councils and gave the American people their greatoess, It was this spirit that made these towns heroic when the first shot was fired at Lexing- ton—and true and patrotic when the first gun was aimed at Sumter. THE END. To us, my friends, and to those who come after us, it remains that the blessings created by the stern purpose of the fathers, and secured at such a cost of blood and treasure, should be preserved in all their purity and strength. If the characteristics which distinguish the early days of anation’s existence are preserved until the close, and shape and mould its varied career, what con- fidence and assurance can we draw from our own? If intellectual ambition, high moral purpose, earnest devotion, honesty and fidelity in public service and patriotic resolution are virtues which, taking early root, endure, we have reason to rejoice in what lies before us and to be unceasing in our en- deavor, The men who planted these towns and de- fended,them with their lives were the heroes, not of the wars alone, but of all the culture and refinement of peace. They believed in courage, but they beheved also in those mental and moral attributes which elevate apeople above the most brilliant conquests and all the acquirement of wealth and power. I cannot, then, despair; and, pointing to the example of those whose memones rise before us on this occasion, I call upon you who are assembled here to imitate their virtues, to keep their faith and to preserve their institutions. So shall they not have lived and toiled and suffered and died in vain. After Mr. Loring’s oration a collation was served, the band the while discoursing patriotic music. The firstevent after the gastronomic exercises was the poem, read by Professor William Everett, of Cam- bridge:— MR. EVERETT’S POEM. L Hush! This is holy ground! Be stilled the bustling voices of the hour, The engine’s thundering sound; ‘The lightning, slave and goad to human power; ‘Traiiic, whose headlong pride Contemns the homely trophies of the past; Splendor, that dares deride The plain, stern men of old, on whom was cast The thankless labor of that elaer day, When first arose our star Guiding with half-seen, flickering light, their way ‘fo make us what we are. 2 There breathes a fresher gale— A deeper note is rippling from the stream— Rich with a sacred tale, Kindled with flashes of a heavenly beam, Back comes the forest glade— ‘The uncouth dwellings, clustering low and weak About yon rough stockade, And that rude temple, where the yeomen seek A blessing on the store, which stubborn wil, As God and love decreed, Have wrung from cold New England’s churlish soil Children and wife to feed. a What need of fort or fence? What foe could make such poverty afraid? Nor gold nor jewels thence Could haughtiest monarch tear with gory blade. Yet as I gaze, there come Strange sounds of battle trom the thicket green, ‘The tramp of foot, the dram, ‘The onset cry, the rattling shot between, ‘Then groans, and silent all; but now the brook ‘That from the forest glides, Swells with a crimson tlood, an angry look, And bloody are its “oak Aye, round those bulwarks rude, Month after month, must ring the deadliest fray That e’er with blood imbrued Our woodland streams; for from Aquidneck’s bay ‘To lone Wachusett’s peak, | And from the rock, where rst our fathers stept, ‘To yonder silvery streak Unseen, yet felt, the trackless savage crept, ‘Till, hike'a meteor flash, his brands he threw, And turned, with hideous yell, To ashes house and field, to red'yon blue, And this-our home to hell, 6 ‘And he, the arch flend, whose name By kings of old as flerce and crafty worn, ‘Had won a purer hey By Christ's apostie and his preacher borne— ‘What spectres round him troop Dark, deadly wasting; as from height to height Her with fire and whoop, worth, of Milton, with seventy men, was cut to pieces at Marlboro, and pearly the entire force was cither slain on the Held or murdered with the most cruel tortures. ‘As spring advanced, Northampton, Hatfield and Hadley once more became the scene of savage warfare, Captain ‘Turner lost his hfe in an attempt to @xive the Indians from the falls of the Connecti which now bear his name in honor of his memory, and Captain Holy- oke, in the prime of his manhood, broke down his winter,” The straggling warriors now roamed from place to place, without apparent method or well defined design, aud sm midsutomer it was evident that the con- test ‘was no longer a war, butachase,”” Captain Church and his men were the pursuers and it was they who were destined to be in at the . With @ small band of followers Philip bad come back to his aucient home, Holding the isthmus, which was the nue for his escape by land, the English pressed him closer every day of the tribe, professing wo haye been offende 1¢ murder of his brother, who was killed by for advising submission, wiieh « ed to guide them to the place of the sachem’s retroat. Church, when the news reached Rhode Island, hastened over to Bristol neck, where bo arrived at midnigut. He marched a party to the neighborhood of ti ignated spot, and there be- fore dawn they lay down in tue bushes, When day broke, the Indians perceiving themselves to be closely beset, rushed from their hiding place in w disorderly Strong men to death and slaughter; drove at night ‘The wife to slavory's march through sheeted suow, Torn by the builet’s smart, Whereof the self-same stroke was draining slow Her wailing iniant’s heart! 6 ‘Yet that long year of woe, ‘When week for week fresh nets of horror drew, Feit not a deadlier blow, Nor moment fraught with keener anguish knew, Than when, through Deerficld’s glen, At siarying Haley's call, her food to share, Marched Lathrop and his men, And fell unwitting on that ghastly snare, When swarming forth from out their yine clad hive The infernal bornets came, And sting on eting made all the copse alive With darts and wounds and flame 7. O, what true heartstrings burst That on their dying pangs should gloat in glee, . ‘The dusky crew accurst, And probe and taunt the white man’s agony! O, what rich currents gave ‘Their ruby Unctare to the carpet green And bade for aye the wave Be Sangumetto for our Thrasimene! And from that stain that spread its awful hue O'er streamlet and o'er sod, What stainless spirits broke their way and flew manger under @ heavy fire of those who stovved the ‘Trjumoling to their God} record of these border towna, which met the fury of the |, & For from Atlantic's tide ‘To brave old Essex rang a warning tone: “No more in ships al But arm thy manhood for the forest lone. Dif se a gare ; ir jers cross my floods with On mountain as on strand? hil for axe and oars? One task for sail and Child of the malar mikes my bounty share | ed for all? a Oh trne and bravely done! Weill gery: 4 the sons of Essex in that hour; Pair, at the conting sun, On our high places fell the Eastern flower! entieeee n oy ni the might ‘Above thelr graves the luton ete TMs Whereto the Bard of Essex deigns to sin; Yet No! Iwere sin with themes of and death His harmonies to stain Whose tones are echoing with responsive breath ‘The angels’ tranquil strain! 10, Ah, feebly may we feel Tho toils and terrors which that legion bore, ‘We, who on wings of steel Rush, like the hurricane, from shore to shore, Less near this glade to them Than now from Essex to the Golden Gate; More work yon flood to stem ocean’s careless travellers now await:— And how by us, whose words the nations belt With instantaneous zone, Shall their long tedious agony be felt, Ere Lathrop’s fate was known? 1 But shame on all who gauge By length or number tinea historic springs! Woe worth tho inflated ago ‘That hath despised the day of little things! They that with Lathrop bled, Or tracked with Church the serpent to his lair, Left with the race they bred Tho soul to suffer and the will to darot ‘Those that on Louisbourg in winter burst, Or left their bones to pe By red Havana, had their boyhood nursed On tales of Deerileld’s march. 12, Then, when their full orbed course An hundred years from this dark hour had run, With sceptre-breaking foros e dawn the shots of Lexington! ‘True to their grand old creed, «No march too long, no toil too hard to save Bees brother Sy need"— a smpire’s: New England corpses pave! ‘When Massachusetts, by our sainted rire Her post unflincling took, She but renewed the lesson, sharp and brief, Learnt here at Bloody Brook! 13, ‘Three generations pass; Again the cry, “Help, brothers, or we sink!’? ‘And now, in solid ras, Like Erie’s waters, rolling to the brink Of the isle-sundered fall, ‘New England’s heroes co the self same race That marched at Hadloy’s call, But thousands now, who to that'seed may trace Their blood, their fire, their spirit—and the tramp Of this memorial glen Has grown to leagues on leagues, from camp to camp, ‘Trod by our valley’s men! 14, . Looked they not back, our sires, To days gone by for sireiigth, as we to them; Days when the bigot’s tres Roared round the soldiers of Jerusalem ? Roll back an hundred years From Hadley’s murder, aud her visage grim ‘Tho haughty princess rears ‘That drove God's flock from home to worship Him; And gallant Henry bids on false Lorraine i8 mailed squadrons pour In vengeance of that ghastly day, when Seine Blushed with the martyrs’ gore. 15, So cheered, they fought alone; No aid nor treasure came from o'er the sea; Charles moved not on his throne, Pillowed on sloth and lapped in harlotry. What sorrow should he feel At tales of savage war across the foam, Before whose scourge of steel ‘The friends of God and freedom quailed at home? Alone they fought; save for the feeble aia The stanch Mohegan lent Child of the prayers which yet from Natick’s shade Our white-haired Eliot sent. 16. Alone—No! Heaven supplies One captain yet to lead its troops to war, Rising in ghosily guise As erst, in Spain, the entombed Campeador. ‘When broke the Indian storm On leaguered Hadley, and her bravest shrank, Lo, yon gaunt, grizzled torm Spurs to the front anew her wavering rank, From that God-fearing, man-defying band, Which heaven had willed to fling ‘The blasting thunders of an outraged land To crush a perjured king. 1. Sayst thou ’twas legend all ? A nursery tale, whereat the — may scoff? That Hadley's siege-girt wal Ne’er saw the sword, nor heard the shouts of Goffe! Amen! Thi is not rise * One flesh-robed Soul‘from stern judgment seat, ‘At Lathrop’s foul surprise 4 thousand Cromwells started to their feet! Aye! by the blood that in our bosoms run ‘Drawn from his ironsides, Let God so order, and New England’s sons Shall all be regicides! 18. ‘The sacred vision fades! Back to their graves the centuries roll again; Gone are the greenwood glades, The lowly dwellings and the vermeil stain, Yet this memorial hour Still o’er the bustling present shall prevail To sway with tender power Our hearts and eyes, as breathes its mournful tale. So shall the sons uphold the father’s name, ‘The pilgrims from afar, ‘Who conquered wood and savage, frost and flame, And made us what we are! ‘After the reading of the poem an ode was sung by the Quartet Club and the bi-ceatennial celebration of the battle of Bloody Brook was at an end, HENRY WARD BEECHER. THE PASTOR OF PLYMOUTH CHURCH DECLINES A PUBLIC WELCOME—INTERESTING CORRE- SPONDENCE. The friends and admirers of Rev. Henry Ward Beecher, who are not included in the membership of Plymouth church, recently proffered him @ public re- ception and welcome, to be given him on his return to Brooklyn. Mr. Beecher declines the proposed compli- ment The following ts the correspondence upon the subject :— THE OFFER. Buooxtyn, Sept. 10, 1875. Rev. Henry Wann Prrcnrr:— Drak Sin—The undersigned, © committee appointed in behalf of a large number of the clergy and other citizens of Brooklyn, not connected with Plymouth chureh, proffer to Zou, ® public reception and welcome on your return to your official duties, us an expression of thoir for your Sonal character and of grateful recognition of your long and acta services in the cause of religion and hu- manity. ‘We deem such an expression appropriate at this time from people among whom you have so long been known and honored, and who cherish with Just pride the reputation you have deservedly won in your own and in foreign lands as far 4s Christian efvilization extends, ‘You nre respectfully invited to-be present at a pablie mect- ing to be held tor this purpose, at the Academy of Music, on the evening of Wednesday, the 29th day of the prosent month, Very respectfully yours, ‘A. W. Tenney, ‘Thoraas J. Conant, Tames L, Hodge, Joseph F, Knapp, Stewart L. Woodford, ‘Alex. R. Thompson, W. R. Di Aug. E. ‘Thomas Sulllvan, 8, 8 Powell, John A. Nichols, Homer B. Sprague, Samuel Booth, John Halsey, Chas. Hall Everest, H. R. Nye, Chas. R. Baker, D. B. Halstead, §. M. Pettengill, Camden G. Dike, Michael Snow, Stephen H. Camp, Alfred ©. Barnes, James Haslehur: Amos G. Hnil, Edwin Atkins, Chas. B, Schulte, B. E. 2, P. Higgins win, H, Hunting, ‘Win. Edsail, Chas. Corey, . H. Houghtailing, 8. L, Parsons, A. B. Richardson, iS NA. ‘Boyntou. MR. BERCHER’S RESPONSE, Twix Movwtaix Housx, N. H., Sept. 13, 1875. RNTLEMEN—Tho letter of “a committes cige se J in ‘yd G half of a large number of the clergy and other citizens o! Brooklyn,” has just been received, and I hasten to reply. I cannot be indifferent to the kindness which it ts return home from the mountains to Brook- Iyn. So much of my tife has been spent there, the thins fearest to me being centred there, my experience in that notable city a8 a pastor and pronchér during the lifetime of whole generation, make the approval and affection of my fole low citizens very dear tome. ‘That the members of my 0 flock should greet my return cordially was to be 6: a after the heroic conduct of the past. two years, an example Pileh has givon a new glory 4o church life throughout Chis indo, But, that my fellow citizens not belonging to Plymonth church, from among all parties and of aero sects, should desire to express their contidence and affection, is peculiarly gratifying, and itis with regret that I am obliged to differ ‘with you on the desirableness of such # movement, It would tend to keep alive feelings that ought to subside, to renew discussions of painful public transactions which should never have hb: yn existence and which it were ron to show me on m both for public and rivate good, to have remov to forgetfainess at least to obscurity. . ‘Too many hi bleed, too much of sorrow and seorch- {ng excitemons iva fallen npén kind and sympathising hearts to make it wise to renew public demonstrations which might ‘be misinterpreted and which might excite animosities which every “ood citizen should reek to heal. I ask that I may be allowed to take my place again asa citizen in the exercine of Py life long vocation. 1 am deeply and gratefully sensible of the kinduess and honor which you have done me by your action, But that the unwholesome excitement of the past year may not be prolonged, I trast that you will allow mo to, ac- cept your honorable thtentions rather than any public dem- onstration, With sentiments of high esteem, I am gratefully you eh ety WARD. BEECHER, Ton. A. W. Tenney, Rev. Dr, Thomas J, Conant, James L, Hodge, D. D., and others. To, the e Among the clergymen who signed the invitation :—Rev, T. J. Conant, D. D., Baptist; Rev. James D. D. Baptiet, pastor of Tr.nity church; Rov. R. Davis, Methodist, Pastor of simpson church; Rey. C. B. Shultz, pastor of the Moravian church; Kev. W. H. Reid, pastor of Reformed Episcopal Church; Rev. B. E. Hale, Clinton Avenue Congregational church; Roy. C. H. Everest, pastor of the Puritan Cougrega- tionalists’ chureh ; Rev. ©. R. Baker, rector Church of th Messiah; Rev. H.'R. Nye. pastor Church of Our Father, ot Rev. 8 H. Camp, pastor of the Third Unitarian are L Ww. ‘MR. BEECHER ON HIS WAY HOME TO HIS FARM AT PEEKSKILL. Boston, Sept. 11, 1875. The Rey. Henry Ward Beocher this morning, at half- past nine o'clock, lef} the Twin Mountain House, New Hampshire, for New York, via New Lon- don on his way to Peekskill, where he will remain until the close of his vacation, He was accom- panied by a arty of some twenty of his Brooklyn friends. A palace car was pro- vided for the special use of the party. It is expected that the party will reach New York to- morrow morning by the New London boat, at about seven o’clock, when Mr, Beecher will proceed at once to his farm, SHOOTING AT CREEDMOOR, SUPPLEMENTARY TARGET PRACTICE OF THE NATIONAL GUARD. Mixed detachments from the Third brigade, First division, N.G.S.N.Y., wore out yesterday on the ranges of the National Rifle Association for rifle practice. The regiments which had men before tho butts were the Seventh, Kighth, Ninth and Fifty-fifth. The troops turned out im shell dress, with arms and accoutrements. Each man was supposed to be provided with a day’s rations and twenty rounds of ball cartridge ammunition. The sev- eral detachments, under command of the senior off- cers, marched out of their respective armories ata sufficiently early hour to take the 9:35 A. M. train from Hunter's Point to Creedmoor. The detachments were organized for field service, and Lieutenant Colonel Montgomery, being detailed for duty as chief officer of the day, took command of the whole, Major D. OD. Wylie, who was present as brigade inspector of rifle practice, directed the firing along the line, and Assistant Surgeon Tucker, of the Ninth regiment, appeared as medical staff officer. THR TROOPS ON THE FIELD. The forces out from the regiments at practice were as follows:—Seventh regiment, 175 officers, non-commis- sioned officers and rank and file from companies F, G, H, Land K, under command of Major Smith; Captain Robbins acting as regimental instructor of rifle practice. Of this number ninety-five men qualified to pass from the third to second class practice. The “yg eb reg ment had out 190 men, from B, F, G, H and | compa- niea Captain Davenport was in command and Lieuten- ant Hofele autores the duties of inspector of rifle iirc One hundred and sixty men were sent back ym the third to second class targets, Considering the number of men engaged and the state of the weather this ts the best practice put on record during the present season. The Ninth regi- ment placed 218 men from F, G, H, 1 and K companies before the targets. Ninety were sent back from the third to the second class butts. Lieutenant Colonel Montgome was in charge of the whole and Captain Harding, who left the field at an early hour, was sup- posed to act as inspector of rifle practice. ' The Fifty- fifth regiment mustered seventy-two men of all ranks from C, D, F and I companies. Major Zuschling had charge’ of the detachment, and at the same time di- rected the pacer of his men. Thirty-four won the privilege of shooting at the second clas8 butts, THE PRACTICE, After making the usual details necessary for the security of the practice ground by mounting a guard at the gate and placing sentries along the fences, firing commenced at eleven o'clock, before the 100 yards butts, The practice was finished at this and the 150 yards targets (both third class) by half-past one o'clock. At this hour the troops went to rations and resumed firing soon after three. The shooting was finished at the 600 and 400 yards butts (second class targets) at a quarter after six o'clock. During the day a chilly and raw wind blew in fitfal gusts from the northwest, and it was not without some difficulty that the men could keep themselves comfort- ably warm. As the weather was cloudy but the at- mosphere clear, a good light showed the targets in their true position, undisturbed by the distorting influence of refraction which sometimes prevails in sultry days. A very desirable change was noticed yesterday in the method of keeping records of firings; it consisted in this, that the scores of the different regiments were kept by men detailed for this purpose from some other corps. Itis tobe hoped that this system will be ad- hered to in future. Itisa remarkable circumstance that out of thirty- four men which were sent from the Fifty-fifth regiment to shoot at the second class targets, only a solitary one of them, Major Zuschling, was able to make at the 300 and 400 yards ranges the minimum of twenty-five points out of a possible fifty, to entitle him to compete tor the marksman’s badge. There is some- thing wrong here which ought to be seen to by tho officers of the regiment. The men waat to be taught in their armory the theory of rifle shooting. SCORES OF TIE 8 5 300 400 | = Names. Yards. Yards. |*| 4 Private Beebee.... 545 0344 5/16) 39 Corporal Dominick .. 545 025 4 2l131.34 Sergeant Lane. soeeee (2444 0444 3)15) 3 Private Bush 452 3/4520 4/15) 33 Sergeant Chauncy . 3532 6\0 5 5 8 Bi 16) 3B Private Flash. . 0452 325 34/17! 32 Private Brashen 3 48 0 3/13/23 4 4 5/18) BL Private Hersey oe 435 0 24 2 5/13) 3h Private Dominick 4323 53 42 3 3/15) 30 Private McCready. 4.5 3 4 3/19/34 0 2 2)11) 30 Private Som 5584 40040) 8| 30 Sergeant Bacon. , 343 5 5/204 0 0 3 3)10) 30 Private Cumisky 04244144 3 6 0 4/16) 30 Private Lawe.. 244451940024 10 2 Private Kewhum 0 25 44,153 243 2/14) 29 Private Montgomery, 30004) 7/5 33 4 5/20) a7 Corporal Matthews 5 0 22 0) 93 4 5 3 3/18) 2T Private Carrington 242 5)18)0 4202) 3| 26 Sergeant Coughtrey . 2322 2/1113 443 Old SCORES OF THE RIGHTH REGENT. 3| 3 200 400 {Sl a Names. Yards. Yards. |*| 5 Private Hurt... 4425 4/1912 5 5 5 5/22) 40 Lieutenant Hofele, 4263 dis|4 44 4 521) 39 Private Carns... 5 5 6 4 3/22/50 5 4 3)17| 30 Private Murphy 5 84.5 5/20/43 3 4 2I16] 38 Lieutenant Gee 4 46 4 5[22[3 2 4 2 d|lal 96 Captain Young 34444190 442 5/15) 38 Private Davis.. 5 5 6 4|23/5 3 3 0 olll| at Private Keenan 536 811913 35 3 0114) 33 Colonel G. D. Scost ...--]2 5 3 4 4/1810 3 2 3 5/13) BL Private Clark.. 340-4 B)14|5 2 3 5 2/17) 31 Sergeant O’Brien 33.08 2/11/58 5 4 2/19] 30 Private Seers 0.25 4 Blislo d 4 2 5li4] 28 Corporal Roscoe 05 6 2 4/16l0 8 3 8 B{1| 27 Private Pinchon 4525 4/2012 0420) 8| 28 Private Campbell 0.0.03 0] 3/5 5 5 5 4/24] OF Sergeant Nichoias., 3000] 5/45 4 5 Blzil 26 Private Shirley. 384 Of10l2 33 3 5/16) 26 Private O'Brien. 404 4 3/15|0 5 08 2|10| 25 SCORES OF THK NINTH REGIMENT, 400 Yards. Private C. 434 Private Walter, Vail 344 Sergeant F. G. Toeliner, o44 with a very serious accident in front of the 150 yards firing pomt, where his regiment was practising. He took hold of a signal flag and used the staf of it to practice pole leaping. The wood snapped in two and threw the unfortunate man with the whole weight of his body against the sharp end which projected out of the ground. The wood entered about the groin, aud tore a deep, ugly and dangerous wound in the lower part of the abdomen. Surgeon Tucker was at once called in, and after more than an hour's careful operation succeeded in stitching the wound so that the injured man was able to walk for a short way, but was finally conveyed to a tent and sent home under proper care, The troops returned home on a special train that had been waiting for them, and which started from Creed- moor to Hunter's Point soon after six o'clock, ——————— A CHARGE OF ABDUCTION. STRANGE CONDUCT OF A BROOKLYN GIRL. William Hart, twenty-three years of age, a picture dealer in Fulton Market, was arrested Thursday night by adetective of the Tenth Brooklyn precinct on the charge of abducting Mary Harris, aged twenty years, from the residence of her mother, No, 668 Baltic street. It was subsequently ascertained by Superintendent Campbeli that the girl was {n Charleston, 8. ©. There appeared to be no evidence against Hart, Ho stated that the girl had asked him to direct her to a Charleston steamer, as she was going to visit some friends because of the ill treatment of her nta, He did 80, and bad not seen her since, TI accused was thore! discharged by Justice Morse, Hart alleges that he was subjected to cruel treatment and denied proper food while in custody of the authori- ties. EMBEZZLEMENT BY A YOUTH. William Dean, employed tn the office of Kenward Buxton, No. 44 Court street, Brooklyn, was hold to await the action of the Grand Jury, upon examination before Justice Walsh yesterday, on a charge of em- beazlement He was sent to deposit $900 in the Mechanics’ Bank on June 5, 1875. He put $700 in the bank, and the balance ($200) im his pocket, after which he left the city. Dean is only nineteen years of age be