the Baron de St. Castine had
peacefully resided for many years, until a new patent was granted to the
Duke of York, the boundaries of which extended beyond the limits of the
lands ceded by the treaty. Oh, those patents! those patents! What wrongs
were perpetrated by those remorseless instruments; what evil councils
prevailed when they were hatched; what corrupt, what base, what knavish
hands formed them; what vile, what ignoble, what ponderous lies has
history assumed to maintain, or to excuse them, and the acts committed
under them?

The first English aggression after the treaty, was but a trifling one in
respect to immediate effects. A quantity of wine having been landed by a
French vessel upon the lands covered by the patent, was seized by the Duke
of York's agents. This, upon a proper representation by the French
ambassador at the court of Charles II., was restored to the rightful
owners. But thereupon a new boundary line was run, _and the whole of
Castine's plantations included within it_. Immediately after this, the
Rose frigate, under the command of Captain Andross, sailed up the
Penobscot, plundered and destroyed Castine's house and fort, and sailed
away with all his arms and goods. Not only this, intruders from other
quarters invaded the lands of the Indians, took possession of the rivers,
and spoiled the fisheries with seines, turned their cattle in to devour
the standing corn of the Abenaquis, and committed other depredations,
which, although complained of, were neither inquired into nor redressed.

Then came reprisals; and first the savages retaliated by killing the
cattle of their enemies. Then followed those fearful and bloody campaigns,
which, under the name of Church's Indian Wars, disgrace the early annals
of New England. Night surprises, butcheries that spared neither age nor
sex, prisoners taken and sold abroad into slavery, after the glut of
revenge was satiated, these to return and bring with them an
inextinguishable hatred against the English, and desire of revenge. Anon a
conspiracy and the surprisal of Dover, accompanied with all the appalling
features of barbaric warfare--Major Waldron being tied down by the Indians
in his own arm-chair, and each one of them drawing a sharp knife across
his breast, says with the stroke, "Thus I cross out my account;" these,
and other atrocities, on either side, constitute the principal records of
a Christian people, who professed to be only pilgrims and sojourn