Still, unawed by terror or tempest, the Moravian missionaries lifted the white flag of the Gospel's peace, and Zinzendorff labored to teach the ignorant natives of the forest the lore of a Redeemer.
The bitter strife between the New-England settlers and the Pennsylvanians, between the loyalists and the sons of liberty, in our war of revolution, and the fearful massacre, which made the few survivors of the valley fugitives, are too well known, and too painful, to be here recapitulated. Yet, whatever prompted the call to arms, whether the defence of home or country, or the blind ardor of a mistaken cause, the men of Wyoming were always the bravest of the brave.
Utter desolation and desertion came upon the Valley, after the battle of 1778. Its defenders had fallen, and the bereaved families took their flight, to whatever place of refuge might be open to them. Some even travelled on foot to Connecticut, and implored shelter in the clime of their ancestors.
After the restoration of peace, the fugitives gathered themselves together, and returned to their beloved and desolated Wyoming. Their first sacred duty was to search for, and deposit the mutilated remains of their relatives and friends, beneath the soil that they had so nobly defended. But the lapse of years had silently reduced those green mounds to the level of the surrounding verdure, until nothing remained to designate the exact spot of interment, save general locality, and the tenacity of tradition. When prosperity once