In the autumn of the year 1675, a little army of brave men hadassembled at the town of Hadley on the banks of the Connecticutriver, to defend that place and the neighboring hamIets from theattacks of the Indians, who, banded together under the commandof the brave Phillip, had committed many and seriousdepredations along the valley of that river. Among other townswhich had suffered from the malignant hate of the savages, wasDeerfield, a few miles above Hadley. This place had beenpartially burned, and the inhabitants scattered, during theprevious summer, and there yet remained in the fields some threethousand bushels of wheat, in stacks, just as the husbandman hadleft it when driven from his home. It was desirable, not only toobtain this for the use of the little army and the numerousfamilies who had assembled at Hadley for protection, but also tokeep it from faIling into the hands of the Indians, and it wasdecided to send a party to thresh it out, and transport it toheadquarters. Captain Lathrop was appointed to command thedetail of sixty-six men and eighteen teamsters, who had beenselected for the expedition. It was made up of young men, thevery "flower of the country," who burned to distinguishthemselves in aid of the cause which they were assembled todefend-the sanctity of their homes and firesides. Many a cheek was wet as they took up their march towards theirdestination, and many a maiden heaved a deep-drawn sigh as herlover disappeared from her sight; for, although no immediatedanger was apprehended, yet none knew, in those troublous times,where the storm might break upon their devoted heads, andoverwhelm them in its fury. The departure of so considerable abody of their choicest men, therefore, gave cause of uneasinessto all, and unnumbered prayers were offered to Heaven for theirsafe return. Arriving in safety at Deerfield, the men commenced with a willthe performance of their work, and the grain was threshed out,the teams loaded, and with light hearts they started to returnto their expectant friends. The savage enemy had, however,through their numerous spies, obtained intelligence of theexpedition, and determined to cut it off. Collecting a body ofbetween six and seven hundred warriors Phillip* narrowly watchedthe movements of Captain Lathrop and his party, and when theystarted to return, he planned an ambuscade at a spot which inevery way was suited to his purpose. * History makes no mention of Phillip as connected with thisbattle. But from well-authenticated Indian tradition, as well asfrom the fact that he is known to have been absent from MountHope - his residence at the time, it almost certain that heplanned and led the attack. After leaving Deerfield, for some three miles the road rannearly parallel with the Connecticut river, through a levelcountry; it then diverged, and for half a mile ran along theedge of a morass, which it crossed, and took a southerlydirection towards Sugar-Loaf bill, across what are now the "homelots," to the eastward of the village of South Deerfield. Themorass was covered with a thick growth of underbrush, whichafforded concealment for the savage foe, who, with nostrilsdilated, and eyes glaring with deadly hate, lay in waiting, likea couchant tiger, trembling in their eagerness to spring upontheir unsuspecting victims. Little dreaming of the danger whichlurked in their path, the little company of brave hearts cameonward to their fate. With lamentable carelessness, Lathropfailed to throw out flankers on his front and flanks, butmarched blindfold into the snare laid for hint by the cunningPhillip. Crossing the morass without suspecting the proximity oftheir foe, the little band reached the banks of a small streamor rivulet, which crossed the road, rear which, traditioninforms us, grew great quantities of the luscious wild grape,which were ripening in the sun, and the tempting bunches hung inprofusion from among the branches of the surrounding trees. While waiting for the teams to draw their heavy loads throughthe morass, they carelessly piled their arms and hastened topartake of the tempting repast so bountifully spread. Now wasthe opportunity for the savage foe, and, quick as fire fromsmitten steel, a volley was poured upon the devoted youths,which laid low many a promising form. Cool and calm under allcircumstances, and as brave as cool, they rallied at the word,and, seizing their arms, dealt back upon their fiend-like enemya shower of balls which made many a warrior bite the dust. Asecond, and a third, aimed with a clear eye and steady nerves,told so well that the savages began to waver. A gleam of hopebroke through the fearful prospect, and for a moment theydreamed of victory. But now appears the savage form of theWampanoag chief, and in thunder-tones he cheers on his band. Thedusky warriors rally at the sound of his thrilling voice, and,surrounding the brave pale-faced youths, they deal death onevery side. With half their number slain, the heroic little band perceivenow the hopelessness of their situation, and the certainty oftheir fate. Not a nerve thrilled with fear; not a heart faltered; but calmly they determined to sell their lives at fearful costto the foe. One by one they fall, a gory harvest, to theirmother earth, and the crimson lifeblood, from their stillbeating hearts, finds its way, in many a ril, to the neighboringstream, and, mixing with its waters, christens it "BloodyBrook." Early in the action, their brave leader was shot down whilecheering on his men; and now, falling faster, as their numbersdecrease, a solitary few are all that are left to contendagainst the overwhelming force of the enemy. The foremost ofthese, turning to encourage his comrades, finds but sevenremaining of all that goodly company. Finding that furtherresistance will only add to the scalps of the victors, theydashed through their enemy's line, and ran for the Deerfieldriver, pursued by two hundred savage warriors. Two only lived toreach its bank. One attempted to swim the stream, but sunk,pierced by a dozen halls; the other managed to slide silentlyinto the water, where he lay screened by a fallen tree and therank grass, until the Indians gave up the search, and returnedto the bloody field to secure the scalps of the dead and dying.When all was still, and during the darkness of the night, heswam across the river, and, stiff and cold, began his march forHadley, where he arrived on the following day, the last and onlysurvivor of the Battle of Bloody Brook. Returning to the ensanguined field, the savages commenced tostrip the much coveted trophies from the still warm bodies oftheir victims. Not satisfied with this, they severed the headsfrom their trunks, in their infernal joy, and, raising them uponthe points of poles, danced around them in fiendish glee, whilefresh streams of blood added their purple tint to the littlebrook, which for days ran red with the richest tide that everrivulet bore. Their savage revelry was suddenly stopped,however, by the appearance of a party under command of CaptainMosely, who, having heard the firing, had hastened to Lathrop'srelief alas! too late. Fired with vengeance at the sight oftheir mangled comrades, they broke through the savage foe andcharging back and forth cut down all within range of their shot.After several hours of hard fighting, and Captain Treat comingup with additional force, the indians were compelled to retreatwith the loss of ninety-six warriors. Mosely lost only twokilled. The dead were collected and buried, and within a fewyears a marble monument has been erected over the spot wherethey fought and fell.