seventy miles. The tradition of his
strange habits, feats of strength, and wicked practical jokes is still
common in his native town. On the morning of the 29th of the eighth
month he was engaged in taking home his horse, which, according to his
custom, he had turned into his neighbor's rich clover field the evening
previous. By the gray light of dawn he saw a long file of men marching
silently towards the town. He hurried back to the village and gave the
alarm by firing a gun. Previous to this, however, a young man belonging
to a neighboring town, who had been spending the night with a young woman
of the village, had met the advance of the war-party, and, turning back
in extreme terror and confusion, thought only of the safety of his
betrothed, and passed silently through a considerable part of the village
to her dwelling. After he had effectually concealed her he ran out to
give the alarm. But it was too late. Keezar's gun was answered by the
terrific yells, whistling, and whooping of the Indians. House after
house was assailed and captured. Men, women, and children were
massacred. The minister of the town was killed by a shot through his
door. Two of his children were saved by the courage and sagacity of his
negro slave Hagar. She carried them into the cellar and covered them
with tubs, and then crouched behind a barrel of meat just in time to
escape the vigilant eyes of the enemy, who entered the cellar and
plundered it. She saw them pass and repass the tubs under which the
children lay and take meat from the very barrel which concealed herself.
Three soldiers were quartered in the house; but they made no defence, and
were killed while begging for quarter.

The wife of Thomas Hartshorne, after her husband and three sons had
fallen, took her younger children into the cellar, leaving an infant on a
bed in the garret, fearful that its cries would betray her place of
concealment if she took it with her. The Indians entered the garret and
tossed the child out of the window upon a pile of clapboards, where it
was afterwards found stunned and insensible. It recovered, nevertheless,
and became a man of remarkable strength and stature; and it used to be a
standing joke with his friends that he had been stinted by the Indians
when they threw him out of the window. Goodwife Swan, armed with a long
spit, successfully defended her door against two Indians. While the
massacre went on, the priest who accompanied t