of the days that were to precede the day of general doom. The Indians were instructed to burn in each town one of these pieces of wood every day, and on the day that they burnt the last they were simultaneously to fall on the French, and leave not one alive. As usual, the success of the conspiracy was defeated by the compassion of an individual. The wife, or mother, of the great chief of the Natchez had a son by a Frenchman, and from this son she learned the secret of the plot. She warned the French commandant of the circumstance, but he treated her warning with indifference. Finding, therefore, that she could not succeed in putting the French on their guard against a people they had now come to despise, she resolved that, if she could not avert the fate of the whole, she would at least afford a chance of safety to a part. The bits of wood were deposited in the temple of the sun, and her rank gave her access to the temple. She abstracted a number of the bits of wood, and thus precipitated the day of rising in that province. The Natchez, on the burning of the last piece, fell on the French, and, out of two hundred and twenty-two French, massacred two hundred,—men, women, and children. The remainder were women, whom they retained as prisoners.
The Natchez, having accomplished this destruction, were astonished to find that not one of their allies had stirred; and the allies were equally astonished at the rising of the Natchez, whilst they had yet several pieces of wood remaining. The French, however, in the other parts of the country, were saved; fresh reinforcements arrived from Europe, and the unfortunate Natchez felt all the fury of their vengeance. Part
