A frugal supper, and quiet soon reigned within this circle; around each camp-fire the tired forms of the invaders were soon stretched on beds of evergreens--great dark blotches, with luminous centres, on the crystal snow--a sound sleep undisturbed by the relief of sentinels, or replenishment of fires--up at dawn, a hasty breakfast, and onward. The nearer and nearer prospect of blood and plunder added new strength to their limbs, and sent new gleams of ferocity across their swart faces. Dogs with sledges aided to transport the equipage of the camp, and the march was swift. The errand of this horde was to murder the inhabitants and burn the dwellings of an unprotected town; its ultimate purpose was to please the Abenaki Indians of Maine. These Indians had complained to the governor of Canada about some fancied or real wrong done them by the English, and begged for redress. The prayer of the savages, and the policy of the French, were in full accord, and this expedition was sent out to prove to the Indians that the French were their friends and avengers. Its object was accomplished. Leaving the dogs, sledges, and such baggage as suited his purpose, at the mouth of West River, under the shadow of Wantastiquet, De Rouville, with scouts well advanced, pushed forward his eager army on its last day's march with caution and celerity, and reached the bluff overlooking our valley on the night of Feb. 28, 1703-4. Here, behind a low ridge, the packs were unstrapped, the war-paint put on, and final preparations made. Not long before dawn, at the darkest hour of the night, the attack was made on the sleeping town with fire and sword. Many attempts have been made to depict the shocking tragedies of this dreadful morning, but no pen or pencil ever has succeeded in fitly portraying the terrible reality, the ghastly horrors of this crowning event in the life of a frontier town. TRUST. BY J. B. M. WRIGHT. There's a lesson ever hiding Deep within the floweret's cell, Of an endless trust abiding Safe with Him who guideth well. As the flowers are ever gazing To the land above the stars, We, our earnest life upraising, Look beyond life's sunset bars, With our eager footsteps wending, Strive to reach the summits grand, Where, the past and future blending, His own guardian angels stand. ELIZABETH.[E] A ROMANCE OF COLONIAL DAYS. BY FRANCES C. SPARHAWK, Author of "A Lazy Man's Work." CHAPTER XXXII. THE CAPITULATION. It was the fifteenth of June. The expected ships had joined Commodore Warren, and his fleet of eleven men-of-war bore into the harbor. Signals had been agreed upon between the two commanders. The brush was piled upon Green Hill ready to send its columns of flame into the air when the Dutch flag at the mast-head of Warren's ship should announce that he was ready.