their defeat would certainly involve their own destruction, and perhaps that of New England. The invaders at length set fire to the wigwams. As the flames spread the women and children ran out, hampering their defenders with cries of terror and appeals for protection, and at length the Indians were overpowered. Then followed a pitiless massacre of the defeated Indians and their families, hundreds of whom perished in the flames, while many were taken prisoners to be carried off into slavery. Canonchet was slain, and the power of the Narragansetts was broken forever.[1] [1] In the summer of 1883 I represented the Providence _Journal_ at the dedication of Fort Ninigret, a spot set apart from the former Narragansett reservation in memory of the tribe which had given welcome to Roger Williams when he fled from Puritan persecution. I visited at the time the scene of the Great Swamp fight, and also the burying-ground of the latter Narragansett chiefs. The following lines which were suggested by the occasion, may perhaps be of interest to the reader: THE GRAVE OF NINIGRET. A stricken pine--a weed-grown mound On the upland's rugged crest, Point where the hunted Indian found At length a place of rest. Thou withered tree, by lightning riven, Of bark and leaf bereft, With lifeless arms erect to heaven, Of thee a remnant's left; The bolt that broke thy giant pride Yet spared the sapling green; And tall and stately by thy side 'Twill show what thou hast been. But of the Narragansett race Nor kith, nor blood remains; Save that perchance a tainted trace May lurk in servile veins. The mother's shriek, the warrior's yell That rent the midnight air When Christians made yon swamp a hell, No longer echo there. The cedar brake is yet alive-- But not with human tread-- Within its shade the plover thrive, The otter makes its bed. The red fox hath his hiding-place Where ancient foxes ran. How keener than the sportsman's chase The hunt of man by man! H. M.