In the month of August of the year 1756, a small post on the borders of Pennsylvania, called Fort Granville, was surprised by a party of French and Indians, and the garrison carried into captivity. At the same time, the Moravian savages from the banks of the Ohio, rejoicing in the opportunity afforded by the contentions of the white men, suddenly burst upon the English western frontier, and massacred no less than 1000 of the scattered settlers. Then the thirst of vengeance burned among the hardy colonists. Infuriated rather than appalled by this horrid butchery, 280 men hastily assembled, and with untiring energy pushed on toward the rugged Alleganies to an Indian town called Kittaning, the rendezvous of the fierce marauders. The road was rude and difficult, the distance 150 miles, but the furious hatred of the pursuers spurred them forward, and on the morning of the fifth day the foremost scouts brought word that the Indian murderers were close at hand, celebrating their bloody triumph in songs and dances. When morning light first chased away the darkness of the forest, the English Provincials burst upon the Indian camp. Armstrong, their leader, offered quarter, but the savages, conscious of their unpardonable cruelties, dared not submit. Then ensued a terrible slaughter; the Indians were beaten down in furious rage, or shot in attempting to fly, or shut up in their wooden huts and burned to death; some were seized and scalped, in horrible imitation of their own ferocity, and not a few were blown up and destroyed by the stores of ammunition they had collected during their late incursion. Terrible as was this vengeance, it availed but little. On almost every other part of the British frontiers, parties of the Indians, and their almost equally savage French allies, swarmed among the woods, concealed in ambush during the day, and by night busied in their bloody work. In the mean time, the season had become too far advanced for the commencement of any important enterprise; the English colonies were divided in spirit, and all efforts for the general good were perpetually thwarted by jealousy and parsimony. Lord Loudon, with his armament, had not reached New York till the end of July; by that time little remained practicable but to strengthen some frontier forts, and push forward parties of observation into the French territories. Thus closed the campaign of 1756. England had a sorry account of her wasted blood and treasure in these Western wars; opportunities had been neglected, resources wasted, laurels lost.[83] The Indian trade and the commerce of the great lakes had been forfeited by the surrender of Oswego. To us only remained the barren boast of Bradstreet's gallant victory. The Indians were not slow to perceive the weakness of British councils, and Sir William Johnson's powerful influence was barely sufficient to restrain the politic Iroquois from openly declaring for the enemy. [Footnote 62: See Appendix, No. LXIII.]