thrown into some commotion by these events.
The dangerous wound of so prominent a person as the Assistant, and the
capture of the renowned Indian sachem--not to speak of the lady--could
not fail to occasion a lively interest. As soon as the results of the
night expedition were known, (and the news flew with wonted celerity,)
every body was in the streets, giving and receiving information, or
what purported to be such, and making and listening to comments
thereupon. We cannot, however, remain to hear the conversation of the
grave citizens at the corners, but must follow those whose particular
fortunes we have undertaken to portray.

The unfortunate Spikeman, unable to suppress his groans at the pain
occasioned by the motions of his bearers--his clothing saturated with
blood, which kept oozing from the orifices of the wound--was borne to
his dwelling, and delivered to the weeping household. It would be
absurd to suppose that any great grief was felt by Dame Spikeman, and
hers was partly the feeling arising from early associations and long
familiarity; but it is impossible for the most stoical to contemplate,
without emotion, one in the condition of the suffering man, and the
tears of Eveline and of Prudence were mingled with those of the dame.

It happened that Dr. Samuel Fuller, of the Plymouth colony, who had
come over with the first Pilgrims was in Boston at the time. He was
immediately brought to the wounded man, and was soon followed by
Governor Winthrop, Mr. Eliot, and other friends. The corselet had been
removed, and a portion of the clothing cut away, and Spikeman lay on
his side, spasmodically breathing. Yet had resolution not entirely
deserted him. His strong character still spoke in his face, and he
looked like one who, though conquered, was not subdued.

Doctor Puller approached the couch and gently touched the arrow, but
it produced such a spasm that he did not repeat the experiment. The
eyes of Spikeman were fastened on the countenance of the surgeon, and
read therein his doom.

"There is no hope?" he gasped.

"I humbly trust," said the doctor, who was "not only useful in his
faculty, but otherwise, as he was a godly man, and served Christ in
the office of a deacon in the Church for many years, and forward to do
good in his place" according to an old chronicle--"I humbly trust that
a crown of glory awaits thee in the other world whither thou art
hastening."

A groan, which shook the couch whereon he