necticut. These charges are now of no importance, except as they implicate the characters of our venerable forefathers, whose reputation for patriarchal simplicity and inflexible uprightness, is such as to repel such imputations at once, and render a vindication altogether unnecessary. Besides this, he in the very outset of his work maintains, that the people of Connecticut had never a legal title to any of the lands they occupied, and how people can be "cheated" out of what never belonged to them, is quite incomprehensible.

We have one more charge under this head against the historian, and that is, the unhandsome manner in which he speaks of Mr. Smith, the author of the first history of New-York, whose credit is so high as to be sometimes referred to in judicial pleadings. We are aware that historians, any more than people of other trades, cannot be expected to agree, and that the first business of an historical writer is to put down all his predecessors in order that he may have plenty of room; yet still we must seriously protest against this attack upon the credit of the father of our history, whose authority is equally sacred with that of Herodotus, or the father of any history extant.

Having sketched the general divisions of Connecticut, the author proceeds to a more particular description of the principal rivers, towns, remarkable curiosities, &c. interspersing it with notices of various traditions, and relations of remarkable occurrences. Many of these are highly curious, and it is in this portion of the work that we begin to discover those symptoms of the marvellous, which gained the history that distinguishing appellation to which we have formerly alluded.

Speaking of the Connecticut river, he mentions a remarkable fact in natural history, which would certainly stagger any reader not familiar with Titus Livius, Pliny, and other writers, who are considered as authentic by all orthodox scholars. He relates that the water, being compressed between two "unyielding rocks, becomes consolidated without frost, by pressure and by swiftness, to such a degree of induration that no iron crow can be forced into it." Whatever may be thought of this passage, it relates nothing half so remarkable as thousands of stories told by ancient writers, who are still considered good authority notwithstanding these frequent departures from sound matter of fact. Setting aside the numerous tricks played by the ancient

rivers with unsuspicious damsels, all early history is full of strange stories about them. We will content ourselves with instancing two; one related by the most celebrated philosopher, and the other by one of the most famous historians of antiquity. Aristotle mentions a river, called the Elusina, which had a most extraordinary ear for music, insomuch that it would bubble, and dimple, and dance about with evident symptoms of delight whenever any instrument was played on its banks; and Josephus affirms that a river of Judea, whose name he discreetly conceals, pursued its course regularly for six days and stood still on the seventh. From these instances it will appear that the singular compression of Connecticut river is not altogether without a parallel in the unaccountable caprices of other streams, nor our author destitute of the authority of great names to sanction his story.

In running over the list of principal towns, we notice several curious particulars, some of which we shall give to the reader without comment, leaving him to draw his own conclusions with regard to their veracity. Of New London he says, "The people of this town have the credit of inventing tarring and feathering as a punishment for heresy. They first inflicted it on the papists and anabaptists." This fact refutes the conjecture of certain antiquarians, who, with the usual sagacity of that useful race of people, maintain that it was of southern origin, because that region abounds in tar.

The people of the town of Norwich have the following complimentary notice.

"Were I to give," says the historian, "the character of the people of Norwich, I would do it in the words of the famous Mr. George Whitfield, (who was a good judge of mankind,) in his Farewell Sermon to them a short time before his death: 'When I first preached in this magnificent house, above twenty years ago, I told you that you were part beast, part man, and part devil, at which you were offended. I have since thought much about that expression, and confess that for once I was mistaken. I therefore take this opportunity to correct my error. Behold! I now tell you that you are not part man and part beast, but wholly of the devil.'" This was a "farewell" with a vengeance, and such as the good people of Norwich, whatever may be their component parts, probably remember to this day, if there be any truth in the story

This division of man reminds us of that of the Mississippi navigator who affirmed himself to be "all alligator but his head, which was of aqua-fortis."

The town of Windham is distinguished by the following singular occurrence. The author's account of the evening concerts is exceedingly alarming. Aristophanes' chorus of frogs was nothing to them; neither do we ever remember to have seen or heard any thing that would bear a comparison, except in Hogarth's inimitable picture of the Enraged Musician, where, if the beholder's imagination is tolerably active, he may realize something of the kind.

"Strangers," says our author," are very much terrified at the hideous noise made on a summer evening by vast numbers of frogs in the brooks and ponds adjacent. There are about thirty different voices among them, some of which resemble the bellowing of a bull. The owls and whip-poor-wills complete the rough concert, which may be heard several miles off." "One night in July, 1758, the frogs of an artificial pond about three miles square, and about five miles from Windham, finding the water dried up, left the place in a body and marched, or rather hopped, towards Minnomantic river. They were under the necessity of going through the town, which they entered about midnight. The bull frogs were the leaders, and the pipers followed without number. They filled a road forty yards wide for four miles in length, and were for several hours passing through the town unusually clamorThe inhabitants were equally perplexed and frightened. Some expected to find an army of French and Indians, others feared an earthquake or dissolution of nature. Old and young, male and female, fled hastily from their beds with worse shriekings than those of the frogs. The men, after a flight of half a mile, in which they met with many broken shins, finding no enemies in pursuit of them, made a halt, and summoned resolution enough to return back to their wives and children, when they distinctly heard from the enemy's camp these words, Wight, Helderkin, Dier, Tété. This last they thought meant treaty, and plucking up courage, they sent a triumvirate to capitulate with the supposed French and Indians. These three men approached and begged to speak with the general; but it being dark, and no answer given, they were sorely agitated for some time betwixt hope and fear.

ous.

At length, however, it was found that the dread inimical army was only an army of thirsty frogs going to the river for a little water. Such an incursion," continues the historian, "was never heard of before or since; and yet the people of Windham have been ridiculed for their timidity on this occasion. I verily believe an army under the Duke of Marlborough, would, under the like circumstances, have acted no better than they did."

We fully agree with the author, and think, moreover, that the people of Windham deserve great credit, particularly the intrepid three who went to conclude the treaty. If the conjecture were admissible, we should be inclined to suppose that these frogs, particularly those who bellowed like bulls, were of the breed of Seriphus, so celebrated by Ælian and others for making a prodigious noise whenever they went abroad.

This remarkable story of the frogs has often been brought forward as a proof of our author's singular credulity, or rather of his propensity to exaggerate. Yet it is not without a parallel. Justin relates that the inhabitants of Abdera were once driven out of their country by an incursion of this kind. The people, like those of Windham, were horribly frightened at first; but on discovering their assailants in the morning, they, one and all, fell into a fit of laughing which lasted several days, and, it is said, gradually extended to the extreme borders of Greece, where it spent its force against Mount Ossa in Thessaly. One of these Abderites was Democritus, who never recovered his gravity, but continued laughing on to the end of his life, whereby he attained to great distinction, and was called the laughing philosopher.

A particular description is given in this work of the town of New-Haven, which he considers, with great justice, one of the most beautiful places in the United States. "It is also celebrated," says he, "for having given the name of Pumpkin Heads to all the New-Englanders. It originated in the blue laws, which enjoin every male to have his hair cut round by a cap. When caps were not to be had, they substituted the hard shell of a pumpkin, which being put on the head every Saturday, the hair is cut by the shell all round the head. Whatever virtue may be supposed to be derived from this custom I know not; but there is much prudence in it. First, it prevents the hair from snarling; secondly, it saves the use of combs, bags, and ribands; thirdly, the hair cannot in

commode the eyes by falling over them; and, fourthly, such persous as have lost their eyes for heresy, and other wickednesses, cannot conceal their misfortune and disgrace."

We intended to have extracted a very curious account of a Panwaw held near Litchfield, wherein Mr. Visey, a learned man from New-York, distinguished himself by discomfiting a vast number of the Indian devils; a victory particularly honourable to NewYork, because some of the ablest exorcisers of the eastern states had failed in the same attempt. It was also our intention to treat our readers to the story of the ship seen in the air at NewHaven, and several other curious particulars. But our limits will now only permit us to make a few general observations with respect to the degree of credit which ought to be given to the work under consideration.

That the History of Connecticut contains many things that may startle the timid bashfulness of modern skeptics, we are perfectly aware, but we at the same time aver, that not one of these equals the thousand marvellous stories of Herodotus, Livy, Pliny, and an infinite number, we may say all, the ancient historians of any sort of reputation with the moderns. People who believe the stories which Herodotus fathers upon the Egyptian priests; the account of the Nasamonians which he gives with such gravity; the match at dice between Rhampsinitus and Ceres in the shades; the exploit of Arion of Methymna; or the notable experiment by which the Egyptian king ascertained which was the most ancient nation in the world-all related by the father of history-we had almost said the father of lies-need not affect to doubt the modest relations of our author. When the Roman historians tell us of the ox that cried out in the market of Rome, "Rome take care of thyself;" of the dog that spoke when Tarquin was driven from the throne-of the rook that on seeing the assassination of Domitian exclaimed "well done;" and of the infinite number of miracles and prodigies achieved by the gods in favour of Rome, we believe them because they happened at such a distance, and so long ago, that there is nothing to contradict them except their impossibility. The better sort of readers, indeed, incline to doubt this part of their history, but make atonement by believing all the rest, and we only claim for our author the like VOL. IV. New Series.

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