_Savage Barbarity._--Mrs. Helm, the wife of Lieutenant Helm, who escaped from the butchery of Chicauga by the assistance of a humane Indian, has arrived at this place [Buffaloe]. The account of her sufferings during three months' slavery among the Indians and three months' imprisonment among their allies, would make a most interesting volume. One circumstance alone will I mention. During five days after she was taken prisoner she had not the least sustenance, and was compelled to drag a canoe (barefooted and wading along the stream) in which there were some squaws, and when she demanded food, some flesh of her murdered countrymen and a piece of Col. Wells' heart was offered her. She knows the fact that Col. Proctor, the British commander at Maiden, bought the scalps of our murdered garrison of Chicauga, and thanks to her noble spirit, she boldly charged him with his infamy in his own house. She knows further, from the tribe with whom she was a prisoner, and who were the perpetrators of those murders, that they intended to remain true, but that they received orders from the British to cut off our garrison, whom they were to escort. Oh, spirits of the murdered Americans! can ye not rouse your countrymen, your friends, your relations, to take ample vengeance on those worse than savage bloodhounds? An Officer. March 18th, 1813. This is manifestly written to "fire the patriotic heart" of the country to rally to the defence of "Buffaloe," a frontier town in deadly fear of its Canadian neighbors, in sight beyond the Niagara River. Mrs. Helm herself must have learned with surprise that while she, with the rest of the Kinzie family, was hospitably entertained at "Parc-aux-vaches," on the St. Joseph, she was suffering "three months' slavery among the Indians;" and later, while living in Detroit, she was enduring "three months' imprisonment among their allies," the English. Also that during the five days after the massacre, when she tells us she was, with much discomfort and more alarm, living in the Kinzie mansion with her relatives, she was really dragging a canoe, barefooted, wading along the stream, deprived of all sustenance except the flesh of her murdered countrymen, especially poor Wells's carved-up and bleeding heart--which, by the way, she had only heard of; never seen! Such things serve very well to prove to us that, as creators of imaginative fiction, newspaper correspondents of those days were equal even to those of our own.