a large body of these cruel savages, clad in moose and deer skins, armed with bows and arrows, tomahawks, and muskets.  The children were questioned concerning the village, the occupation of the inhabitants on that day, and the number of men at home, and they replied correctly and intelligibly.  A consultation was then held among the Indians, which resulted in a determination to attack the village; and forthwith, leaving but one behind to guard the little prisoners, they made a descent on the quiet settlement, burning and ravaging buildings on their way to the church.  But they did not find the body of worshippers unarmed, as they doubtless expected; for, in those days of peril and savage warfare, men worshipped God armed with musket and bayonet, and the hand that was lifted in prayer to heaven would often, at the next moment, draw the gleaming sword from its sheath.  At the meeting-house, the savages met with a warm repulse; and were so surprised and affrighted that they retreated back into the wild woods, after wounding but one or two colonists, among whom was Mr. Wilson, Emma’s and Anna’s father.

The Indians commenced, about dark, a journey to the settlement where they belonged, taking the stolen children with them; they reached their destination early on the second day of their travel.  Rough, indeed, seemed the Indian village to the white children:  the houses were only wigwams, made by placing poles obliquely in the ground, and fastening them at the top, covered on the outside with bark, and lined on the inside with mats; some containing but one family, others a great many.  The furniture consisted of mats for beds, curiously wrought baskets to hold corn, and strings of wampum which served for ornaments.  Into one of the smallest of these wigwams Emma and Anna were carried, and were given to the wife of one of the chief warriors, who had but one child of her own,—­Winona was her name, which signifies the first-born,—­a bright-eyed, pleasant, winning little girl of two years of age.  The mother scrutinized them closely, but the child appeared overjoyed to see them, and wiped away their tears with her little hand, and, jabbering in her unknown language, seemed begging them not to cry.  This interested the mother, and she soon looked more kindly upon them, and set before them food.  But they were too sorrowful to eat, and were glad to be shown a mat, where they were to sleep.  Locked in each others’ arms, cheek pressed to cheek, they lay and wept as if their hearts were broken.

“Let us pray to God,” whispered Emma, after the inmates of the wigwam were reposing in slumber, “and ask Him to bring us again to our father and mother.”

So they rose, and knelt in the dark wigwam, with their arms about one another’s necks, and their tears flowing together, and offered to God their childish prayer: 

“Our Father in Heaven, love us poor children; take care of us; forgive us for doing wrong, and help us be good; take care of our dear parents; comfort them, and bring us again to meet them.”