"
The scenes at the little church the morning of the second of April,-
the massacre of God's anointed priests, the desecration of the temple,
the robbery of the sacred vessels and ornaments, the burning of the
edifice-are not those the deeds of beings not human, but infernal? Is
the likeness too vivid or too true? But in the wild banquet of their
triumph, while still holding the sacred vessels, they were checked as
of old was Belshazzer. Those scenes shall never pass, from my memory,
with Freneau I can say
"And long shall timorous fancy see,
The painted chief, the pointed spear;
And reason's self shall bow the knee,
To shadows and delusions here"
Now that I have passed once more over the trying scenes of the sad and
eventful month of April, I will describe some of the dangers of our
position, how we moved, camped, slept, and cooked. I will come to the
transition from wild adventure to calm security, from the dangers of
the wilderness to the safety of civilization. Once free from the toils
of the Indians and back in the bosom of society, I will have but to
describe our trip home, tell of the kindness received, and close this
short sketch, bid "good-bye" to my kind and patient readers and return
to that quiet life, which God in His mercy has reserved for me.
After our escape, we travelled all day long in the same bush, so that
should the Indians discover us, we would seem to be still with them.
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