f Mr. Dustin, near Haverhill, in Massachusetts. When the
frontiersman heard their story, he said:

"You are welcome, my persecuted friends, to the shelter of my roof, so
long as it can afford you any protection; but the war clouds seem to
grow darker and more lowering every moment, and I don't know how long my
roof will afford protection to any one."

Charles Stevens had been so busy with his own cares and griefs, that he
had forgotten that a terrible Indian war was raging on the frontier.
This war was known as King William's war, in which the French joined
with the Indians in bringing fire and sword upon the inhabitants of New
England and New York. The French and English had long been jealous of
each other, and a connected account need not be given here of all the
disastrous occurrences which lead up to the terrible assault on
Haverhill, where the fugitives from Salem were stopping.

We will mention, as first of the principal attacks during the war of
King William, the attack on Schenectady. This was made in pursuance of a
plan adopted by Count Frontenac, then governor of Canada, as a means of
avenging on the English Colonies the treatment of King James, deposed by
William and Mary, which had inflamed the resentment of Frontenac's
master, Louis XIV. While New York was torn with internal strife over
Leisler, the governor of Canada fitted out three expeditions against the
colonies, and in the midst of winter one was sent against New York. The
attack on Schenectady was the fruit of this expedition. It was made by a
party consisting of about two hundred French and fifty Caughnewaga
Indians, under command of Maulet and St. Helene, in 1689 and 1690.

Schenectady was built in the form of an oblong square with a gate at
either extremity. The enemy found one of the gates not only open, but
unguarded. Although the town was impaled and might have been protected,
there was so little thought of danger, that no one deemed it necessary
to close the gate. The weather was very cold, and the English did not
suppose an attack would be made.

It was eleven o'clock and thirty minutes on Saturday night, February
8th, 1690, when the enemy entered, divided their party, waylaid every
portal and began the attack with a terrible war-whoop. Maulet attacked a
garrison, where the only resistance was made. He soon forced the gate,
slew the soldiers and burned the garrison. One of the French officers
was wounded in forcing a house; but St. Helene