Between thirty and forty Indians, who had been shot or bayoneted as they attempted to run from one tree to another, were found dead on the field by the American army. It is supposed that many more were killed, but the fact of the matter could never be ascertained by them: a profound silence was observed on the subject by the Indians, so that I never could learn accurately how many of them had fallen; that however is an immaterial circumstance; suffice it to say that the engagement soon induced the Indians to sue for a peace. Commissioners were deputed by the government of the United States to meet their chiefs; the preliminaries were soon arranged, and a treaty was concluded, by which the Indians relinquished a very considerable part of their territory, bordering upon that of the United States. [Sidenote: INDIAN PEACE.] The last and principal ceremony observed by the Indians in concluding a peace, is that of burying the hatchet. When this ceremony came to be performed, one of the chiefs arose, and lamenting that the last peace concluded between them and the people of the States had remained unbroken for so short a time, and expressing his desire that this one should be more lasting, he proposed the tearing up of a large oak that grew before them, and the burying of the hatchet under it, where it would for ever remain at rest. Another chief said, that trees were liable to be levelled by the storms; that at any rate they would decay; and that as they were desirous that a perpetual peace should be established between them and their late enemies, he conceived it would be better to bury the hatchet under the tall mountain which arose behind the wood. A third chief in turn addressed the assembly: “As for me,” said he, “I am but a man, and I have not the strength of the great spirit to tear up the trees of the forest by the roots, or to remove mountains, under which to bury the hatchet; but I propose that the hatchet may be thrown into the deep lake, where no mortal can ever find it, and where it will remain buried for ever.” This proposal was joyfully accepted by the assembly, and the hatchet was in consequence cast with great solemnity into the water. The Indians now tell you, in their figurative language, that there must be peace for ever. “On former times,” say they, “when the hatchet was buried, it was only slightly covered with a little earth and a few leaves, and being always a very troublesome restless creature, it soon contrived to find its way aboveground, where it never failed to occasion great confusion between us and our white brethren, and to knock a great many good people on the head; but now that it has been thrown into the deep lake, it can never do any more mischief amongst us; for it cannot rise of itself to the surface of the lake, and no one can go to the bottom to look for it.” And that there would be a permanent peace between them I have no doubt, provided that the people of the States would observe the articles of the