The sun, beaming from the cloudless sky upon the scene, seemed a benediction of peace.

The whispering breeze on this delightful twelfth of June swept about the eaves of the church without a hint of danger.
The worshippers at the proper hour were seen thronging to the meeting-house, carrying their guns, swords or pistols with them.

It seemed useless to go armed, when there was not a whisper of danger; but scarcely had the worship begun, when a terrible warwhoop broke the stillness.

Immediately all was confusion.

Children shrieked, some women trembled, and men, pale and stern, began to fire upon the savages, who, seven hundred strong, rushed on the place.
They fought stubbornly, driving away the enemy; but their great lack of discipline promised in the end to defeat them.
"We are lost! We are lost!" some of the weak-hearted were beginning to cry, when suddenly there appeared among them, from they knew not where, a tall, venerable personage, with white flowing beard, clad in a white robe, and carrying a glittering sword in his hand.
"You are not lost, if you follow me!" he cried.
"Who is he ?" was the general query, which no one could answer save: "He is an angel sent by God to deliver us." It soon became quite apparent that this celestial being was well posted in military tactics.