A NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE OF MRS. MARY JEMISON, Who was taken by the Indians, in the year 1755, when only about twelveyears of age, and has continued to reside amongst them to the present time. 

CONTAINING

An Account of the Murder of her Father and his Family; her sufferings; hermarriage to two Indians; her troubles with her Children; barbarities ofthe Indians in the French and Revolutionary Wars; the life of her lastHusband, &c. ; and many Historical Facts never before published. _Carefully taken from her own words, Nov. _ 29th, 1823. 

TO WHICH IS ADDED, An APPENDIX, containing an account of the tragedy at the Devil's Hole, in1783, and of Sullivan's Expedition; the Traditions, Manners, Customs, &c. Of the Indians, as believed and practised at the present day, and sinceMrs. Jemison's captivity; together with some Anecdotes, and otherentertaining matter. 

BY JAMES E. SEAVER. 

PREFACE. 

That to biographical writings we are indebted for the greatest and bestfield in which to study mankind, or human nature, is a fact dulyappreciated by a well-informed community. In them we can trace the effectsof mental operations to their proper sources; and by comparing our owncomposition with that of those who have excelled in virtue, or with thatof those who have been sunk in the lowest depths of folly and vice, we areenabled to select a plan of life that will at least affordself-satisfaction, and guide us through the world in paths of morality. 

Without a knowledge of the lives of the vile and abandoned, we should bewholly incompetent to set an appropriate value upon the charms, theexcellence and the worth of those principles which have produced thefinest traits in the character of the most virtuous. 

Biography is a telescope of life, through which we can see the extremesand excesses of the varied properties of the human heart. Wisdom andfolly, refinement and vulgarity, love and hatred, tenderness and cruelty, happiness and misery, piety and infidelity, commingled with every othercardinal virtue or vice, are to be seen on the variegated pages of thehistory of human events, and are eminently deserving the attention ofthose who would learn to walk in the "paths of peace. "

The brazen statue and the sculptured marble, can commemorate the greatnessof heroes, statesmen, philosophers, and blood-stained conquerors, who haverisen to the zenith of human glory and popularity, under the influence ofthe mild sun of prosperity: but it is the faithful page of biography thattransmits to future generations the poverty, pain, wrong, hunger, wretchedness and torment, and every nameless misery that has been enduredby those who have lived in obscurity, and groped their lonely way througha long series of unpropitious events, with but little help besides thelight of nature. While the gilded monument displays in brightest colorsthe vanity of pomp, and the emptiness of nominal greatness, thebiographical page, that lives in every line, is giving lessons offortitude in time of danger, patience in suffering, hope in distress, invention in necessity, and resignation to unavoidable evils. Here alsomay be learned, pity for the bereaved, benevolence for the destitute, andcompassion for the helpless; and at the same time all the sympathies ofthe soul will be naturally excited to sigh at the unfavorable result, orto smile at the fortunate relief. 

In the great inexplicable chain which forms the circle of human events, each individual link is placed on a level with the others, and performs anequal task; but, as the world is partial, it is the situation thatattracts the attention of mankind, and excites the unfortunate vociferouseclat of elevation, that raises the pampered parasite to such an immenseheight in the scale of personal vanity, as, generally, to deprive him ofrespect, before he can return to a state of equilibrium with his fellows, or to the place whence he started. 

Few great men have passed from the stage of action, who have not left inthe history of their lives indelible marks of ambition or folly, whichproduced insurmountable reverses, and rendered the whole a merecaricature, that can be examined only with disgust and regret. Suchpictures, however, are profitable, for "by others' faults wise men correcttheir own. "

The following is a piece of biography, that shows what changes may beeffected in the animal and mental constitution of man; what trials may besurmounted; what cruelties perpetrated, and what pain endured, when sternnecessity holds the reins, and drives the car of fate. 

As books of this kind are sought and read with avidity, especially bychildren, and are well calculated to excite their attention, inform theirunderstanding, and improve them in the art of reading, the greatest carehas been observed to render the style easy, the language comprehensive, and the description natural. Prolixity has been studiously avoided. Theline of distinction between virtue and vice has been rendered distinctlyvisible; and chastity of expression and sentiment have received dueattention. Strict fidelity has been observed in the composition:consequently, no circumstance has been intentionally exaggerated by thepaintings of fancy, nor by fine flashes of rhetoric: neither has thepicture been rendered more dull than the original. Without the aid offiction, what was received as matter of fact, only has been recorded. 

It will be observed that the subject of this narrative has arrived atleast to the advanced age of eighty years; that she is destitute ofeducation; and that her journey of life, throughout its texture, has beeninterwoven with troubles, which ordinarily are calculated to impair thefaculties of the mind; and it will be remembered, that there are but fewold people who can recollect with precision the circumstances of theirlives, (particularly those circumstances which transpired after middleage. ) If, therefore, any error shall be discovered in the narration inrespect to time, it will be overlooked by the kind reader, or charitablyplaced to the narrator's account, and not imputed to neglect, or to thewant of attention in the compiler. 

The appendix is principally taken from the words of Mrs. Jemison'sstatements. Those parts which were not derived from her, are deservingequal credit, having been obtained from authentic sources. 

For the accommodation of the reader, the work has been divided intochapters, and a copious table of contents affixed. The introduction willfacilitate the understanding of what follows; and as it contains matterthat could not be inserted with propriety in any other place, will be readwith interest and satisfaction. 

Having finished my undertaking, the subsequent pages are cheerfullysubmitted to the perusal and approbation or animadversion of a candid, generous and indulgent public. At the same time it is fondly hoped thatthe lessons of distress that are portrayed, may have a direct tendency toincrease our love of liberty; to enlarge our views of the blessings thatare derived from our liberal institutions; and to excite in our breastssentiments of devotion and gratitude to the great Author and finisher ofour happiness. 

THE AUTHOR. 

_Pembroke, March_ 1, 1824. 

INTRODUCTION. 

The Peace of 1783, and the consequent cessation of Indian hostilities andbarbarities, returned to their friends those prisoners, who had escapedthe tomahawk, the gauntlet, and the savage fire, after their having spentmany years in captivity, and restored harmony to society. 

The stories of Indian cruelties which were common in the new settlements, and were calamitous realities previous to that, propitious event;slumbered in the minds that had been constantly agitated by them, and wereonly roused occasionally, to become the fearful topic of the fireside. 

It is presumed that at this time there are but few native Americans thathave arrived to middle age, who cannot distinctly recollect of sitting inthe chimney corner when children, all contracted with fear, and therelistening to their parents or visitors, while they related stories ofIndian conquests, and murders, that would make their flaxen hair nearlystand erect, and almost destroy the power of motion. 

At the close of the Revolutionary war; all that part of the State ofNew-York that lies west of Utica was uninhabited by white people, and fewindeed had ever passed beyond Fort Stanwix, except when engaged in waragainst the Indians, who were numerous, and occupied a number of largetowns Between the Mohawk river and lake Erie. 

Sometime elapsed after this event, before the country about the lakes andon the Genesee river was visited, save by an occasional land speculator, or by defaulters who wished by retreating to what in those days was deemedalmost the end of the earth, to escape the force of civil law. 

At length, the richness and fertility of the soil excited emigration, andhere and there a family settled down and commenced improvements in thecountry which had recently been the property of the aborigines. Those whosettled near the Genesee river, soon became acquainted with "The WhiteWoman, " as Mrs. Jemison is called, whose history they anxiously sought, both as a matter of interest and curiosity. Frankness characterized herconduct, and without reserve she would readily gratify them by relatingsome of the most important periods of her life. 

Although her bosom companion was an ancient Indian warrior, andnotwithstanding her children and associates were all Indians, yet it wasfound that she possessed an uncommon share of hospitality, and that herfriendship was well worth courting and preserving. Her house was thestranger's home; from her table the hungry were refreshed;--she made thenaked as comfortable as her means would admit of; and in all her actions, discovered so much natural goodness of heart, that her admirers increasesin proportion to the extension of her acquaintance, and she becamecelebrated as the friend of the distressed. She was the protectress of thehomeless fugitive, and made welcome the weary wanderer. Many still live tocommemorate her benevolence towards them, when prisoners during the war, and to ascribe their deliverance to the mediation of "The White Woman. "

The settlements increased, and the whole country around her was inhabitedby a rich and respectable people, principally from New-England, as muchdistinguished for their spirit of inquisitiveness as for their habits ofindustry and honesty, who had all heard from one source and another a partof her life in detached pieces, and had obtained an idea that the wholetaken in connection would afford instruction and amusement. 

Many gentlemen of respectability, felt anxious that her narrative might belaid before the public, with a view not only to perpetuate the remembranceof the atrocities of the savages in former times, but to preserve somehistorical facts which they supposed to be intimately connected with herlife, and which otherwise must be lost. 

Forty years had passed since the close of the Revolutionary war, andalmost seventy years had seen Mrs. Jemison with the Indians, when DanielW. Banister, Esq. At the instance of several gentlemen, and prompted byhis own ambition to add something to the accumulating fund of usefulknowledge, resolved, in the autumn of 1823, to embrace that time, whileshe was capable of recollecting and reciting the scenes through which shehad passed, to collect from herself, and to publish to an accurate accountof her life. 

I was employed to collect the materials, and prepare the work for thepress; and accordingly went to the house of Mrs. Jennet Whaley in the townof Castile, Genesee co. N. Y. In company with the publisher, who procuredthe interesting subject of the following narrative, to come to that place(a distance of four miles) and there repeat the story of her eventfullife. She came on foot in company with Mr. Thomas Clute, whom sheconsiders her protector, and tarried almost three days, which time wasbusily occupied in taking a sketch of her narrative as she recited it. 

Her appearance was well calculated to excite a great degree of sympathy ina stranger, who had been partially informed of her origin, when comparingher present situation with what it probably would have been, had she beenpermitted to have remained with her friends, and to have enjoyed theblessings of civilization. 

In stature she is very short, and considerably under the middle size, andstands tolerably erect, with her head bent forward, apparently from herhaving for a long time been accustomed to carrying heavy burdens in astrap placed across her forehead. Her complexion is very white for a womanof her age, and although the wrinkles of fourscore years are deeplyindented in her cheeks, yet the crimson of youth is distinctly visible. Her eyes are light blue, a little faded by age, and naturally brilliantand sparkling. Her sight is quite dim, though she is able to perform hernecessary labor without the assistance of glasses. Her cheek bones arehigh, and rather prominent, and her front teeth, in the lower jaw, aresound and good. When she looks up and is engaged in conversation hercountenance is very expressive; but from her long residence with theIndians, she has acquired the habit of peeping from under eye-brows asthey do with the head inclined downwards. Formerly her hair was of a lightchestnut brown--it is now quite grey, a little curled, of middling lengthand tied in a bunch behind. She informed me that she had never worn a capnor a comb. 

She speaks English plainly and distinctly, with a little of the Irishemphasis, and has the use of words so well as to render herselfintelligible on any subject with which she is acquainted. Her recollectionand memory exceeded my expectation. It cannot be reasonably supposed, thata person of her age has kept the events of seventy years in so complete achain as to be able to assign to each its proper time and place; she, however, made her recital with as few obvious mistakes as might be foundin that of a person of fifty. 

She walks with a quick step without a staff, and I was informed by Mr. Clute, that she could yet cross a stream on a log or pole as steadily asany other person. 

Her passions are easily excited. At a number of periods in her narration, tears trickled down her grief worn cheek, and at the same time, a risingsigh would stop her utterance. 

Industry is a virtue which she has uniformly practised from the day of heradoption to the present. She pounds her samp, cooks for herself, gathersand chops wood, feeds her cattle and poultry, and performs other laboriousservices. Last season she planted, tended and gathered corn--in short sheis always busy. 

Her dress at the time I saw her, was made and worn after, the Indianfashion, and consisted of a shirt, short gown, petticoat, stockings, moccasins, a blanket and a bonnet. The shirt was of cotton and made at thetop, as I was informed, like a man's without collar or sleeves--was openbefore and extended down about midway of the hips. --The petticoat was apiece of broadcloth with the list at the top and bottom and the ends sewedtogether. This was tied on by a string that was passed over it and aroundthe waist, in such a manner as to let the bottom of the petticoat downhalf way between the knee and ankle and leave one-fourth of a yard at thetop to be turned down over the string--the bottom of the shift coming alittle below, and on the outside of the top of the fold so as to leave thelist and two or three inches of the cloth uncovered. The stockings, wereof blue broadcloth, tied, or pinned on, which reached from the knees, intothe mouth of the moccasins. --Around her toes only she had some rags, andover these her buckskin moccasins. Her gown was of undressed flannel, colored brown. It was made in old yankee style, with long sleeves, coveredthe top of the hips, and was tied before in two places with strings ofdeer skin. Over all this, she wore an Indian blanket. On her head she worea piece of old brown woollen cloth made somewhat like a sun bonnet. 

Such was the dress that this woman was contented to wear, and habit hadrendered it convenient and comfortable. She wore it not as a matter of tnecessity, but from choice, for it will be seen in the sequel, that herproperty is sufficient to enable her to dress in the best fashion, and toallow her every comfort of life. 

Her house, in which she lives, is 20 by 28 feet; built of square timber, with a shingled roof, and a framed stoop. In the centre of the house is achimney of stones and sticks, in which there are two fire places. She hasa good framed barn, 26 by 36, well filled, and owns a fine stock of cattleand horses. Besides the buildings above mentioned, she owns a number ofhouses that are occupied by tenants, who work her flats upon shares. Herdwelling, is about one hundred rods north of the Great Slide, a curiositythat, will be described in its proper place, on the west side of theGenesee river. 

Mrs. Jemison, appeared sensible of her ignorance of the manners of thewhite people, and for that reason, was not familiar, except with thosewith whom she was intimately acquainted. In fact she was (to appearance)so jealous of her rights, or that she should say something that would beinjurious to herself or family, that if Mr. Clute had not been present, weshould have been unable to have obtained her history. She, however, soonbecame free and unembarrassed in her conversation, and spoke with degreeof mildness, candor and simplicity, that is calculated to remove alldoubts as to the veracity of the speaker. The vices of the Indians, sheappeared disposed not to aggravate, and seemed to take pride in extolingtheir virtues. A kind of family pride inclined her to withhold whateverwould blot the character of her descendants, and perhaps induced her tokeep back many things that would have been interesting. 

For the life of her last husband, we are indebted to her cousin, Mr. George Jemison, to whom she referred us for information on that subjectgenerally. The thoughts of his deeds, probably chilled her old heart, andmade her dread to rehearse them, and at the same time she well knew theywere no secret, for she had frequently heard him relate the whole, notonly to her cousin, but to others. 

Before she left us she was very sociable, and she resumed her naturallypleasant countenance, enlivened with a smile. 

Her neighbors speak of her as possessing one of the happiest tempers anddisposition, and give her the name of never having done a censurable actto their knowledge. 

Her habits, are those of the Indians--she sleeps on skins without abedstead, sits upon the floor or on a bench, and holds her victuals on herlap, or in her hands. 

Her ideas of religion, correspond in every respect with those of the greatmass of the Senecas. She applauds virtue, and despises vice. She believesin a future state, in which the good will be happy, and the bad miserable;and that the acquisition of that happiness, depends primarily upon humanvolition, and the consequent good deeds of the happy recipient ofblessedness. The doctrines taught in the Christian religion, she is astranger to. 

Her daughters are said to be active and enterprizing women, and hergrandsons, who arrived to manhood, are considered able, decent andrespectable men in their tribe. 

Having in this cursory manner, introduced the subject of the followingpages, I proceed to the narration of a life that has been viewed withattention, for a great number of years by a few, and which will be read bythe public the mixed sensations of pleasure and pain, and with interest, anxiety and satisfaction. 

LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. 

CHAPTER I. 

Nativity of her Parents. --Their removal to America. --Her Birth. --Parentssettle in Pennsylvania. --Omen of her Captivity. 

Although I may have frequently heard the history of my ancestry, myrecollection is too imperfect to enable me to trace it further back thanmy father and mother, whom I have often heard mention the families fromwhence they originated, as having possessed wealth and honorable stationsunder the government of the country in which they resided. 

On the account of the great length of time that has elapsed since I wasseparated from my parents and friends, and having heard the story of theirnativity only in the days of my childhood, I am not able to statepositively, which of the two countries, Ireland or Scotland, was the landof my parents birth and education. It, however, is my impression, thatthey were born and brought up in Ireland. 

My Father's name was Thomas Jemison, and my mother's before her marriagewith him, was Jane Erwin. Their affection for each other was mutual, andof that happy kind which tends directly to sweeten the cup of life; torender connubial sorrows lighter; to assuage every discontentment and topromote not only their own comfort, but that of all who come within thecircle of their acquaintance. Of their happiness I recollect to have heardthem speak; and the remembrance I yet retain of their mildness and perfectagreement in the government of their children, together with their mutualattention to our common education, manners, religious instruction andwants, renders it a fact in my mind, that they were ornaments to themarried state, and examples of connubial love, worthy of imitation. Aftermy remembrance they were strict observers of religious duties; for it wasthe daily practice of my father, morning and evening, to attend, in hisfamily, to the worship of God. 

Resolved to leave the land of their nativity they removed from theirresidence to a port in Ireland, where they lived but a short time beforethey set sail for this country, in the year 1742 or 3 on board the shipMary William, bound to Philadelphia, in the state of Pennsylvania. 

The intestine divisions, civil wars, and ecclesiastical rigidity anddomination that prevailed those days, were the causes of their leavingtheir mother country and a home in the American wilderness, under the mildand temperate government of the descendants of William Penn; where withoutfear they might worship God, and perform their usual avocations. 

In Europe my parents had two sons and one daughter, whose names were John, Thomas and Betsey; with whom, after having put their effects on board, they embarked, leaving a large connexion of relatives and friends, underall those painful sensations, which are only felt when kindred souls givethe parting hand and last farewell to those to whom they are endeared byevery friendly tie. 

In the course of their voyage I was born, to be the sport of fortune andalmost an outcast to civil society; to stem the current of adversitythrough a long chain of vicissitudes, unsupported by the advice of tenderparents, or the hand of an affectionate friend; and even without theenjoyment from others, of any of those tender sympathies that are adaptedto the sweetening of society, except such as naturally flow fromuncultivated minds, that have been calloused by ferocity. 

Excepting my birth, nothing remarkable occurred to my parents on theirpassage, and they were safely landed at Philadelphia. My father being fondof rural life, and having been bred to agricultural pursuits, soon leftthe city, and removed his family to the then frontier settlements ofPennsylvania, to a tract of excellent land lying on Marsh creek. At thatplace he cleared a large farm, and for seven or eight years enjoyed thefruits of his industry. Peace attended their labors; and they had nothingto alarm them, save the midnight howl of the prowling wolf, or theterrifying shriek of the ferocious panther, as they occasionally visitedtheir improvements, to take a lamb or a calf to satisfy their hunger. 

During this period my mother had two sons, between whose ages there was adifference of about three years: the oldest was named Matthew, and theother Robert. 

Health presided on every countenance, and vigor and strength characterizedevery exertion. Our mansion was a little paradise. The morning of mychildish, happy days, will ever stand fresh in my remembrance, notwithstanding the many severe trials through which I have passed, inarriving at my present situation, at so advanced an age. Even at thisremote period, the recollection of my pleasant home at my father's, of myparents, of my brothers and sister, and of the manner in which I wasdeprived of them all at once, affects me so powerfully, that I am almostoverwhelmed with grief, that is seemingly insupportable. Frequently Idream of those happy days: but, alas! they are gone; they have left me tobe carried through a long life, dependent for the little pleasures ofnearly seventy years, upon the tender mercies of the Indians! In thespring of 1752, and through the succeeding seasons, the stories of Indianbarbarities inflicted upon the whites in those days, frequently excited inmy parents the most serious alarm for our safety. 

The next year the storm gathered faster; many murders were committed; andmany captives were exposed to meet death in its most frightful form, byhaving their bodies stuck full of pine splinters, which were immediatelyset on fire, while their tormentors, exulting in their distress, wouldrejoice at their agony!

In 1754, an army for the protection of the settlers, and to drive back theFrench and Indians, was raised from the militia of the colonialgovernments, and placed (secondarily) under the command of Col. GeorgeWashington. In that army I had an uncle, whose name was John Jemison whowas killed at the battle at the Great Meadow or Fort Necessity. His wifehad died some time before this, and left a young child, which my mothernursed in the most tender manner, till its mother's sister took it away, afew months after my uncle's death. The French and Indians, after thesurrender of Fort Necessity by Col. Washington, (which happened the sameseason, and soon after his victory over them at that place, ) grew more andmore terrible. The death of the whites, and plundering and burning theirproperty, was apparently their only object: But as yet we had not heardthe death-yell, nor seen the smoke of a dwelling that had been lit by anIndian's hand. 

The return of a new-year's day found us unmolested; and though we knewthat the enemy was at no great distance from us, my father concluded thathe would continue to occupy his land another season: expecting (probablyfrom the great exertions which the government was then making) that assoon as the troops could commence their operations in the spring, theenemy would be conquered and compelled to agree to a treaty of peace. 

In the preceding autumn my father either moved to another part of hisfarm, or to another neighborhood, a short distance from our former abode. I well recollect moving, and that the barn that was on the place we movedto was built of logs, though the house was a good one. 

The winter of 1754-5 was as mild as a common fall season, and the springpresented a pleasant seed time, and indicated a plenteous harvest. Myfather, with the assistance of his oldest sons, repaired his farm asusual, and was daily preparing the soil for the reception of the seed. Hiscattle and sheep were numerous, and according to the best idea of wealththat I can now form, he was wealthy. 

But alas! how transitory are all human affairs! how fleeting are riches!how brittle the invisible thread on which all earthly comforts aresuspended! Peace in a moment can take an immeasurable flight; health canlose its rosy cheeks; and life will vanish like a vapor at the appearanceof the sun! In one fatal day our prospects were all blasted; and death, bycruel hands, inflicted upon almost the whole of the family. 

On a pleasant day in the spring of 1755, when my father was sowingflax-seed, and my brothers driving the teams, I was sent to a neighbor'shouse, a distance of perhaps a mile, to procure a horse and return with itthe next morning. I went as I was directed. I was out of the house in thebeginning of the evening, and saw a sheet wide spread approaching towardsme, in which I was caught (as I have ever since believed) and deprived ofmy senses! The family soon found me on the ground, almost lifeless, (asthey said, ) took me in, and made use of every remedy in their power for myrecovery, but without effect till day-break, when my senses returned, andI soon found myself in good health, so that I went home with the horsevery early in the morning. 

The appearance of that sheet, I have ever considered as a forerunner ofthe melancholy catastrophe that so soon afterwards happened to our family:and my being caught in it I believe, was ominous of my preservation fromdeath at the time we were captured. 

CHAPTER II. 

Her Education. --Captivity. --Journey to Fort Pitt. --Mother's FarewellAddress. --Murder of her Family. --Preparation of the Scalps. --IndianPrecautions. --Arrival at Fort Pitt, &c. 

My education had received as much attention from my parents, as theirsituation in a new country would admit. I had been at school some, where Ilearned to read in a book that was about half as large as a Bible; and inthe Bible I had read a little. I had also learned the Catechism, which Iused frequently to repeat to my parents, and every night, before I went tobed, I was obliged to stand up before my mother and repeat some words thatI suppose was a prayer. 

My reading, Catechism and prayers, I have long since forgotten; though fora number of the first years that I lived with the Indians, I repeated theprayers as often as I had an opportunity. After the revolutionary war, Iremembered the names of some of the letters when I saw them; but havenever read a word since I was taken prisoner. It is but a few years sincea Missionary kindly gave me a Bible, which I am very fond of hearing myneighbors read to me, and should be pleased to learn to read it myself;but my sight has been for a number of years, so dim that I have not beenable to distinguish one letter from another. 

As I before observed, I got home with the horse very early in the morning, where I found a man that lived in our neighborhood, and his sister-in-lawwho had three children, one son and two daughters. I soon learned thatthey had come there to live a short time; but for what purpose I cannotsay. The woman's husband, however, was at that time in Washington's army, fighting, for his country; and as her brother-in-law had a house she hadlived with him in his absence. Their names I have forgotten. 

Immediately after I got home, the man took the horse to go to his houseafter a bag of grain, and took his gun in his hand for the purpose ofkilling game, if he should chance to see any. --Our family, as usual, wasbusily employed about their common business. Father was shaving anaxe-helve at the side of the house; mother was making preparations forbreakfast;--my two oldest brothers were at work near the barn; and thelittle ones, with myself, and the woman and her three children, were inthe house. 

Breakfast was not yet ready, when we were alarmed by the discharge of anumber of guns, that seemed to be near. Mother and the women beforementioned, almost fainted at the report, and every one trembled with fear. On opening the door, the man and horse lay dead near the house, havingjust been shot by the Indians. 

I was afterwards informed, that the Indians discovered him at his ownhouse with his gun, and pursued him to father's, where they shot him as Ihave related. They first secured my father, and then rushed into thehouse, and without the least resistance made prisoners of my mother, Robert, Matthew, Betsey, the woman and her three children, and myself, andthen commenced plundering. 

My two brothers, Thomas and John, being at the barn, escaped and went toVirginia, where my grandfather Erwin then lived, as I was informed by aMr. Fields, who was at my house about the close of the revolutionary war. 

The party that took us consisted of six Indians and four Frenchmen, whoimmediately commenced plundering, as I just observed, and took what theyconsidered most valuable; consisting principally of bread, meal and meat. Having taken as much provision as they could carry, they set out withtheir prisoners in great haste, for fear of detection, and soon enteredthe woods. On our march that day, an Indian went behind us with a whip, with which he frequently lashed the children to make them keep up. In thismanner we travelled till dark without a mouthful of food or a drop ofwater; although we had not eaten since the night before. Whenever thelittle children cried for water, the Indians would make them drink urineor go thirsty. At night they encamped in the woods without fire andwithout shelter, where we were watched with the greatest vigilance. Extremely fatigued, and very hungry, we were compelled to lie upon theground supperless and without a drop of water to satisfy the cravings ofour appetites. As in the day time, so the little ones were made to drinkurine in the night if they cried for water. Fatigue alone brought us alittle sleep for the refreshment of our weary limbs; and at the dawn ofday we were again started on our march in the same order that we hadproceeded on the day before. About sunrise we were halted, and the Indiansgave us a full breakfast of provision that they had brought from myfather's house. Each of us being very hungry, partook of this bounty ofthe Indians, except father, who was so much overcome with hissituation--so much exhausted by anxiety and grief, that silent despairseemed fastened upon his countenance, and he could not be prevailed uponto refresh his sinking nature by the use of a morsel of food. Our repastbeing finished, we again resumed our march, and, before noon passed asmall fort that I heard my father say was called Fort Canagojigge. 

That was the only time that I heard him speak from the time we were takentill we were finally separated the following night. 

Towards evening we arrived at the border of a dark and dismal swamp, whichwas covered with small hemlocks, or some other evergreen, and otherbushes, into which we were conducted; and having gone a short distance westopped to encamp for the night. 

Here we had some bread and meat for supper: but the dreariness of oursituation, together with the uncertainty under which we all labored, as toour future destiny, almost deprived us of the sense of hunger, anddestroyed our relish for food. 

Mother, from the time we were taken, had manifested a great degree offortitude, and encouraged us to support our troubles without complaining;and by her conversation seemed to make the distance and time shorter, andthe way more smooth. But father lost all his ambition in the beginning ofour trouble, and continued apparently lost to every care--absorbed inmelancholy. Here, as before, she insisted on the necessity of our eating;and we obeyed her, but it was done with heavy hearts. 

As soon as I had finished my supper, an Indian took off my shoes andstockings and put a pair of moccasins on my feet, which my motherobserved; and believing that they would spare my life, even if they shoulddestroy the other captives, addressed me as near as I can remember in thefollowing words:--

"My dear little Mary, I fear that the time has arrived when we must beparted forever. Your life, my child, I think will be spared; but we shallprobably be tomahawked here in this lonesome place by the Indians. O! howcan I part with you my darling? What will become of my sweet little Mary?Oh! how can I think of your being continued in captivity without a hope ofyour being rescued? O that death had snatched you from my embraces in yourinfancy; the pain of parting then would have been pleasing to what it nowis; and I should have seen the end of your troubles!--Alas, my dear! myheart bleeds at the thoughts of what awaits you; but, if you leave us, remember my child your own name, and the name of your father and mother. Be careful and not forget your English tongue. If you shall have anopportunity to get away from the Indians, don't try to escape; for if youdo they will find and destroy you. Don't forget, my little daughter, theprayers that I have learned you--say them often; be a good child, and Godwill bless you. May God bless you my child, and make you comfortable andhappy. "

During this time, the Indians stripped the shoes and stockings from thelittle boy that belonged to the woman who was taken with us, and putmoccasins on his feet, as they had done before on mine. I was crying. AnIndian took the little boy and myself by the hand, to lead us off from thecompany, when my mother exclaimed, "Don't cry Mary--don't cry my child. God will bless you! Farewell--farewell!"

The Indian led us some distance into the bushes, or woods, and there laydown with us to spend the night. The recollection of parting with mytender mother kept me awake, while the tears constantly flowed from myeyes. A number of times in the night the little boy begged of me earnestlyto run away with him and get clear of the Indians; but remembering theadvice I had so lately received, and knowing the dangers to which weshould be exposed, in travelling without a path and without a guide, through a wilderness unknown to us, I told him that I would not go, andpersuaded him to lie still till morning. 

Early the next morning the Indians and Frenchmen that we had left thenight before, came to us; but our friends were left behind. It isimpossible for any one to form a correct idea of what my feelings were atthe sight of those savages, whom I supposed had murdered my parents andbrothers, sister, and friends, and left them in the swamp to be devouredby wild beasts! But what could I do? A poor little defenceless girl;without the power or means of escaping; without a home to go to, even if Icould be liberated; without a knowledge of the direction or distance to myformer place of residence; and without a living friend to whom to fly forprotection, I felt a kind of horror, anxiety, and dread, that, to me, seemed insupportable. I durst not cry--I durst not complain; and toinquire of them the fate of my friends (even if I could have musteredresolution) was beyond my ability, as I could not speak their language, nor they understand mine. My only relief was in silent stifled sobs. 

My suspicions as to the fate of my parents proved too true; for soon afterI left them they were killed and scalped, together with Robert, Matthew, Betsey, and the woman and her two children, and mangled in the mostshocking manner. 

Having given the little boy and myself some bread and meat for breakfast, they led us on as fast as we could travel, and one of them went behind andwith a long staff, picked up all the grass and weeds that we trailed downby going over them. By taking that precaution they avoided detection; foreach weed was so nicely placed in its natural position that no one wouldhave suspected that we had passed that way. It is the custom of Indianswhen scouting, or on private expeditions, to step carefully and where noimpression of their feet can be left--shunning wet or muddy ground. Theyseldom take hold of a bush or limb, and never break one; and by observingthose precautions and that of setting up the weeds and grass which theynecessarily lop, they completely elude the sagacity of their pursuers, andescape that punishment which they are conscious they merit from the handof justice. 

After a hard day's march we encamped in a thicket, where the Indians madea shelter of boughs, and then built a good fire to warm and dry ourbenumbed limbs and clothing; for it had rained some through the day. Herewe were again fed as before. When the Indians had finished their supperthey took from their baggage a number of scalps and went about preparingthem for the market, or to keep without spoiling, by straining them oversmall hoops which they prepared for that purpose, and then drying andscraping them by the fire. Having put the scalps, yet wet and bloody, uponthe hoops, and stretched them to their full extent, they held them to thefire till they were partly dried and then with their knives commencedscraping off the flesh; and in that way they continued to work, alternately drying and scraping them, till they were dry and clean. Thatbeing done they combed the hair in the neatest manner, and then painted itand the edges of the scalps yet on the hoops, red. Those scalps I knew atthe time must have been taken from our family by the color of the hair. Mymother's hair was red; and I could easily distinguish my father's and thechildren's from each other. That sight was most appaling; yet, I wasobliged to endure it without complaining. 

In the course of the night they made me to understand that they should nothave killed the family if the whites had not pursued them. 

Mr. Fields, whom I have before mentioned, informed me that at the time wewere taken, he lived in the vicinity of my father; and that on hearing ofour captivity, the whole neighborhood turned out in pursuit of the enemy, and to deliver us if possible: but that their efforts were unavailing. They however pursued us to the dark swamp, where they found my father, hisfamily and companions, stripped and mangled in the most inhuman manner:That from thence the march of the cruel monsters could not be traced inany direction; and that they returned to their homes with the melancholytidings of our misfortunes, supposing that we had all shared in themassacre. 

The next morning we went on; the Indian going behind us and setting up theweeds as on the day before. At night we encamped on the ground in the openair, without a shelter or fire. 

In the morning we again set out early, and travelled as on the two formerdays, though the weather was extremely uncomfortable, from the continualfalling of rain and snow. 

At night the snow fell fast, and the Indians built a shelter of boughs, and a fire, where we rested tolerably dry through that and the twosucceeding nights. 

When we stopped, and before the fire was kindled, I was so much fatiguedfrom running, and so far benumbed by the wet and cold, that I expectedthat I must fail and die before I could get warm and comfortable. Thefire, however, soon restored the circulation, and after I had taken mysupper I felt so that I rested well through the night. 

On account of the storm, we were two days at that place. On one of thosedays, a party consisting of six Indians who had been to the frontiersettlements, came to where we were, and brought with them one prisoner, ayoung white man who was very tired and dejected. His name I have forgotten. 

Misery certainly loves company. I was extremely glad to see him, though Iknew from his appearance, that his situation was as deplorable as mine, and that he could afford me no kind of assistance. In the afternoon theIndians killed a deer, which they dressed, and then roasted it whole;which made them a full meal. We were each allowed a share of theirvenison, and some bread, so that we made a good meal also. 

Having spent three nights and two days at that place, and the storm havingceased, early in the morning the whole company, consisting of twelveIndians, four Frenchmen, the young man, the little boy and myself, movedon at a moderate pace without an Indian behind us to deceive our pursuers. 

In the afternoon we came in sight of Fort Pitt (as it is now called, )where we were halted while the Indians performed some customs upon theirprisoners which they deemed necessary. That fort was then occupied by theFrench and Indians, and was called Fort Du Quesne. It stood at thejunction of the Monongahela, which is said to signify, in some of theIndian languages, the Falling-in-Banks, [Footnote: Navigator. ] and theAlleghany [Footnote: The word Alleghenny, was derived from an ancient raceof Indians called "Tallegawe. " The Delaware Indians, instead of saying"Alleghenny, " say "Allegawe, " or "Allegawenink, " _Western Tour_--p. 455. ] rivers, where the Ohio river begins to take its name. The wordO-hi-o, signifies bloody. 

At the place where we halted, the Indians combed the hair of the youngman, the boy and myself, and then painted our faces and hair red, in thefinest Indian style. We were then conducted into the fort, where wereceived a little bread, and were then shut up and left to tarry alonethrough the night. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER III. 

She is given to two Squaws. --Her Journey down the Ohio. --Passes a Shawaneetown where white men had just been burnt. --Arrives at the Senecatown. --Her Reception. --She is adopted. --Ceremony of Adoption. --IndianCustom. --Address. --She receives a new name. --Her Employment. --Retains herown and learns the Seneca Language. --Situation of the Town, &c. --Indiansgo on a Hunting Tour to Sciota and take her with them. --Returns. --She istaken to Fort Pitt, and then hurried back by her Indian Sisters. --Herhopes of Liberty destroyed. --Second Tour to Sciota. --Return to Wiishto, &c. --Arrival of Prisoners. --Priscilla Ramsay. --Her Chain. --Mary marries aDelaware. --Her Affection for him. --Birth and Death of her firstChild. --Her Sickness and Recovery. --Birth of Thomas Jemison. 

The night was spent in gloomy forebodings. What the result of ourcaptivity would be, it was out of our power to determine or evenimagine. --At times we could almost realize the approach of our masters tobutcher and scalp us;--again we could nearly see the pile of wood kindledon which we were to be roasted; and then we would imagine ourselves atliberty; alone and defenceless in the forest, surrounded by wild beaststhat were ready to devour us. The anxiety of our minds drove sleep fromour eyelids; and it was with a dreadful hope and painful impatience thatwe waited for the morning to determine our fate. 

The morning at length arrived, and our masters came early and let us outof the house, and gave the young man and boy to the French, whoimmediately took them away. Their fate I never learned; as I have not seennor heard of them since. 

I was now left alone in the fort, deprived of my former companions, and ofevery thing that was near or dear to me but life. But it was not longbefore I was in some measure relieved by the appearance of two pleasantlooking squaws of the Seneca tribe, who came and examined me attentivelyfor a short time, and then went out. After a few minutes absence theyreturned with my former masters, who gave me to them to dispose of as theypleased. 

The Indians by whom I was taken were a party of Shawanees, if I rememberright, that lived, when at home, a long distance down the Ohio. 

My former Indian masters, and the two squaws, were soon ready to leave thefort, and accordingly embarked; the Indians in a large canoe, and the twosquaws and myself in a small one, and went down the Ohio. 

When we set off, an Indian in the forward canoe took the scalps of myformer friends, strung them on a pole that he placed upon his shoulder, and in that manner carried them, standing in the stern of the canoe, directly before us as we sailed down the river, to the town where the twosquaws resided. 

On our way we passed a Shawanee town, where I saw a number of heads, arms, legs, and other fragments of the bodies of some white people who had justbeen burnt. The parts that remained were hanging on a pole which wassupported at each end by a crotch stuck in the ground, and were roasted orburnt black as a coal. The fire was yet burning; and the whole appearancesafforded a spectacle so shocking, that, even to this day, my blood almostcurdles in my veins when I think of them!

At night we arrived at a small Seneca Indian town, at the mouth of a smallriver, that was called by the Indians, in the Seneca language, She-nan-jee, [Footnote: That town, according to the geographicaldescription given by Mrs. Jemison, must have stood at the mouth of IndianCross creek, which is about 76 miles by water, below Pittsburgh; or at themouth of Indian Short creek, 87 miles below Pittsburgh, where the town ofWarren now stands: But at which of those places I am unable to determine. _Author_. ] where the two Squaws to whom I belonged resided. There welanded, and the Indians went on; which was the last I ever saw of them. 

Having made fast to the shore, the Squaws left me in the canoe while theywent to their wigwam or house in the town, and returned with a suit ofIndian clothing, all new, and very clean and nice. My clothes, thoughwhole and good when I was taken, were now torn in pieces, so that I wasalmost naked. They first undressed me and threw my rags into the river;then washed me clean and dressed me in the new suit they had just brought, in complete Indian style; and then led me home and seated me in the centerof their wigwam. 

I had been in that situation but a few minutes before all the Squaws inthe town came in to see me. I was soon surrounded by them, and theyimmediately set up a most dismal howling, crying bitterly, and wringingtheir hands in all the agonies of grief for a deceased relative. 

Their tears flowed freely, and they exhibited all the signs of realmourning. At the commencement of this scene, one of their number began, ina voice somewhat between speaking and singing, to recite some words to thefollowing purport, and continued the recitation till the ceremony wasended; the company at the same time varying the appearance of theircountenances, gestures and tone of voice, so as to correspond with thesentiments expressed by their leader:

"Oh our brother! Alas! He is dead--he has gone; he will never return!Friendless he died on the field of the slain, where his bones are yetlying unburied! Oh, who will not mourn his sad fate? No tears droppedaround him; oh, no! No tears of his sisters were there! He fell in hisprime, when his arm was most needed to keep us from danger! Alas! he hasgone! and left us in sorrow, his loss to bewail: Oh where is his spirit?His spirit went naked, and hungry it wanders, and thirsty and wounded itgroans to return! Oh helpless and wretched, our brother has gone! Noblanket nor food to nourish and warm him; nor candles to light him, norweapons of war:--Oh, none of those comforts had he! But well we rememberhis deeds!--The deer he could take on the chase! The panther shrunk backat the sight of his strength! His enemies fell at his feet! He was braveand courageous in war! As the fawn was harmless: his friendship wasardent: his temper was gentle: his pity was great! Oh! our friend, ourcompanion is dead! Our brother, your brother, alas! he is gone! But why dowe grieve for his loss? In the strength of a warrior, undaunted he leftus, to fight by the side of the Chiefs! His war-whoop was shrill! Hisrifle well aimed laid his enemies low: his tomahawk drank of their blood:and his knife flayed their scalps while yet covered with gore! And why dowe mourn? Though he fell on the field of the slain, with glory he fell, and his spirit went up to the land of his fathers in war! Then why do wemourn? With transports of joy they received him, and fed him, and clothedhim, and welcomed him there! Oh friends, he is happy; then dry up yourtears! His spirit has seen our distress, and sent us a helper whom withpleasure we greet. Dickewamis has come: then let us receive her with joy!She is handsome and pleasant! Oh! she is our sister, and gladly we welcomeher here. In the place of our brother she stands in our tribe. With carewe will guard her from trouble; and may she be happy till her spirit shallleave us. "

In the course of that ceremony, from mourning they became serene--joysparkled in their countenances, and they seemed to rejoice over me as overa long lost child. I was made welcome amongst them as a sister to the twoSquaws before mentioned, and was called Dickewamis; which beinginterpreted, signifies a pretty girl, a handsome girl, or a pleasant, goodthing. That is the name by which I have ever since been called by theIndians. 

I afterwards learned that the ceremony I at that time passed through, wasthat of adoption. The two squaws had lost a brother in Washington's war, sometime in the year before and in consequence of his death went up toFort Pitt, on the day on which I arrived there, in order to receive aprisoner or an enemy's scalp, to supply their loss. 

It is a custom of the Indians, when one of their number is slain or takenprisoner in battle, to give to the nearest relative to the dead or absent, a prisoner, if they have chanced to take one, and if not, to give him thescalp of an enemy. On the return of the Indians from conquest, which isalways announced by peculiar shoutings, demonstrations of joy, and theexhibition of some trophy of victory, the mourners come forward and maketheir claims. If they receive a prisoner, it is at their option either tosatiate their vengeance by taking his life in the most cruel manner theycan conceive of; or, to receive and adopt him into the family, in theplace of him whom they have lost. All the prisoners that are taken inbattle and carried to the encampment or town by the Indians, are given tothe bereaved families, till their number is made good. 

And unless the mourners have but just received the news of theirbereavement, and are under the operation of a paroxysm of grief, anger andrevenge; or, unless the prisoner is very old, sickly, or homely, theygenerally save him, and treat him kindly. But if their mental wound isfresh, their loss so great that they deem it irreparable, or if theirprisoner or prisoners do not meet their approbation, no torture, let it beever so cruel, seems sufficient to make them satisfaction. It is family, and not national, sacrifices amongst the Indians, that has given them anindelible stamp as barbarians, and identified their character with theidea which is generally formed of unfeeling ferocity, and the mostabandoned cruelty. 

It was my happy lot to be accepted for adoption; and at the time of theceremony I was received by the two squaws, to supply the place of theirbrother in the family; and I was ever considered and treated by them as areal sister, the same as though I had been born of their mother. 

During my adoption, I sat motionless, nearly terrified to death at theappearance and actions of the company, expecting every moment to feeltheir vengeance, and suffer death on the spot. I was, however, happilydisappointed, when at the close of the ceremony the company retired, andmy sisters went about employing every means for my consolation and comfort. 

Being now settled and provided with a home, I was employed in nursing thechildren, and doing light work about the house. Occasionally I was sentout with the Indian hunters, when they went but a short distance, to helpthem carry their game. 

My situation was easy; I had no particular hardships to endure. But still, the recollection of my parents, my brothers and sisters, my home, and myown captivity, destroyed my happiness, and made me constantly solitary, lonesome and gloomy. 

My sisters would not allow me to speak English in their hearing; butremembering the charge that my dear mother gave me at the time I left her, whenever I chanced to be alone I made a business of repeating my prayer, catechism, or something I had learned in order that I might not forget myown language. By practising in that way I retained it till I came toGenesee flats, where I soon became acquainted with English people withwhom I have been almost daily in the habit of conversing. 

My sisters were diligent in teaching me their language; and to their greatsatisfaction I soon learned so that I could understand it readily, andspeak it fluently. I was very fortunate in falling into their hands; forthey were kind good natured women; peaceable and mild in theirdispositions; temperate and decent in their habits, and very tender andgentle towards me. I have great reason to respect them, though they havebeen dead a great number of years. 

The town where they lived was pleasantly situated on the Ohio, at themouth of the Shenanjee: the land produced good corn; the woods furnished aplenty of game, and the waters abounded with fish. Another river emptieditself into the Ohio, directly opposite the mouth of the Shenanjee. Wespent the summer at that place, where we planted, hoed, and harvested alarge crop of corn, of an excellent quality. 

About the time of corn harvest, Fort Pitt was taken from the French by theEnglish. [Footnote: The above statement is apparently an error; and is tobe attributed solely to the treachery of the old lady's memory; though sheis confident that that event took place at the time above mentioned. It iscertain that Fort Pitt was not evacuated by the French and given up to theEnglish, till sometime in November, 1758. It is possible, however, that anarmistice was agreed upon, and that for a time, between the spring of 1755and 1758, both nations visited that post without fear of molestation. Asthe succeeding part of the narrative corresponds with the true historicalchain of events, the public will overlook this circumstance, which appearsunsupported by history. AUTHOR. ]

The corn being harvested, the Indians took it on horses and in canoes, andproceeded down the Ohio, occasionally stopping to hunt a few days, till wearrived at the mouth of Sciota river; where they established their winterquarters, and continued hunting till the ensuing spring, in the adjacentwilderness. While at that place I went with the other children to assistthe hunters to bring in their game. The forests on the Sciota were wellstocked with elk, deer, and other large animals; and the marshes containedlarge numbers of beaver, muskrat, &c. Which made excellent hunting for theIndians; who depended, for their meat, upon their success in taking elkand deer; and for ammunition and clothing, upon the beaver, muskrat, andother furs that they could take in addition to their peltry. 

The season for hunting being passed, we all returned in the spring to themouth of the river Shenanjee, to the houses and fields we had left in thefall before. There we again planted our corn, squashes, and beans, on thefields that we occupied the preceding summer. 

About planting time, our Indians all went up to Fort Pitt, to make peacewith the British, and took me with them. [Footnote: History is silent asto any treaty having been made between the English, and French andIndians, at that time; though it is possible that a truce was agreed upon, and that the parties met for the purpose of concluding a treaty of peace. ]We landed on the opposite side of the river from the fort, and encampedfor the night. Early the next morning the Indians took me over to the fortto see the white people that were there. It was then that my heart boundedto be liberated from the Indians and to be restored to my friends and mycountry. The white people were surprized to see me with the Indians, enduring the hardships of a savage life, at so early an age, and with sodelicate a constitution as I appeared to possess. They asked me my name;where and when I was taken--and appeared very much interested on mybehalf. They were continuing their inquiries, when my sisters becamealarmed, believing that I should be taken from them, hurried me into theircanoe and recrossed the river--took their bread out of the fire and fledwith me, without stopping, till they arrived at the river Shenanjee. Sogreat was their fear of losing me, or of my being given up in the treaty, that they never once stopped rowing till they got home. 

Shortly after we left the shore opposite the fort, as I was informed byone of my Indian brothers, the white people came over to take me back; butafter considerable inquiry, and having made diligent search to find whereI was hid, they returned with heavy hearts. Although I had then been withthe Indians something over a year, and had become considerably habituatedto their mode of living, and attached to my sisters, the sight of whitepeople who could speak English inspired me with an unspeakable anxiety togo home with them, and share in the blessings of civilization. My suddendeparture and escape from them, seemed like a second captivity, and for along time I brooded the thoughts of my miserable situation with almost asmuch sorrow and dejection as I had done those of my first sufferings. Time, the destroyer of every affection, wore away my unpleasant feelings, and I became as contented as before. 

We tended our cornfields through the summer; and after we had harvestedthe crop, we again went down the river to the hunting ground on theSciota, where we spent the winter, as we had done the winter before. 

Early in the spring we sailed up the Ohio river, to a place that theIndians called Wiishto, [Footnote: Wiishto I suppose was situated near themouth of Indian Guyundat, 327 miles below Pittsburgh, and 73 above BigSciota; or at the mouth of Swan creek, 307 miles below Pittsburgh. ] whereone river emptied into the Ohio on one side, and another on the other. Atthat place the Indians built a town, and we planted corn. 

We lived three summers at Wiishto, and spent each winter on the Sciota. 

The first summer of our living at Wiishto, a party of Delaware Indianscame up the river, took up their residence, and lived in common with us. They brought five white prisoners with them, who by their conversation, made my situation much more agreeable, as they could all speak English. Ihave forgotten the names of all of them except one, which was PriscillaRamsay. She was a very handsome, good natured girl, and was married soonafter she came to Wiishto to Capt. Little Billy's uncle, who went with heron a visit to her friends in the states. Having tarried with them as longas she wished to, she returned with her husband to Can-a-ah-tua, where hedied. She, after his death, married a white man by the name of Nettles, and now lives with him (if she is living) on Grand River, Upper Canada. 

Not long after the Delawares came to live with us, at Wiishto, my sisterstold me that I must go and live with one of them, whose name wasSheninjee. Not daring to cross them, or disobey their commands, with agreat degree of reluctance I went; and Sheninjee and I were marriedaccording to Indian custom. 

Sheninjee was a noble man; large in stature; elegant in his appearance;generous in his conduct; courageous in war; a friend to peace, and a greatlover of justice. He supported a degree of dignity far above his rank, andmerited and received the confidence and friendship of all the tribes withwhom he was acquainted. Yet, Sheninjee was an Indian. The idea of spendingmy days with him, at first seemed perfectly irreconcilable to my feelings:but his good nature, generosity, tenderness, and friendship towards me, soon gained my affection; and, strange as it may seem, I loved him!--Tome he was ever kind in sickness, and always treated me with gentleness; infact, he was an agreeable husband, and a comfortable companion. 

We lived happily together till the time of our final separation, whichhappened two or three years after our marriage, as I shall presentlyrelate. 

In the second summer of my living at Wiishto, I had a child at the timethat the kernels of corn first appeared on the cob. When I was taken sick, Sheninjee was absent, and I was sent to a small shed, on the bank of theriver, which was made of boughs, where I was obliged to stay till myhusband returned. My two sisters, who were my only companions, attendedme, and on the second day of my confinement my child was born but it livedonly two days. It was a girl: and notwithstanding the shortness of thetime that I possessed it, it was a great grief to me to lose it. 

After the birth of my child, I was very sick, but was not allowed to gointo the house for two weeks; when, to my great joy, Sheninjee returned, and I was taken in and as comfortably provided for as our situation wouldadmit of. My disease continued to increase for a number of days; and Ibecame so far reduced that my recovery was despaired of by my friends, andI concluded that my troubles would soon be finished. At length, however, my complaint took a favorable turn, and by the time that the corn was ripeI was able to get about. I continued to gain my health, and in the fallwas able to go to our winter quarters, on the Sciota, with the Indians. 

From that time, nothing remarkable occurred to me till the fourth winterof my captivity, when I had a son born, while I was at Sciota: I had aquick recovery, and my child was healthy. To commemorate the name of mymuch lamented father, I called my son Thomas Jemison. 

CHAPTER IV. 

She leaves Wiishto for Fort Pitt, in company with her Husband. --Herfeelings on setting out. --Contrast between the labor of the white andIndian Women. --Deficiency of Arts amongst the Indians. --Their formerHappiness. --Baneful effects of Civilization, and the introduction ofardent Spirits amongst them, &c. --Journey up the River. --Murder of threeTraders by the Shawnees. --Her Husband stops at a TradingHouse. --Wantonness of the Shawnees. --Moves up the Sandusky. --Meets herBrother from Ge-nish-a-u. --Her Husband goes to Wiishto, and she sets outfor Genishau in company with her Brothers. --They arrive atSandusky. --Occurrences at that place. --Her Journey to Genishau, andReception by her Mother and Friends. 

In the spring, when Thomas was three or four moons [months] old, wereturned from Sciota to Wiishto, and soon after set out to go to FortPitt, to dispose of our fur and skins, that we had taken in the winter, and procure some necessary articles for the use of our family. 

I had then been with the Indians four summers and four winters, and hadbecome so far accustomed to their mode of living, habits and dispositions, that my anxiety to get away, to be set at liberty, and leave them, hadalmost subsided. With them was my home; my family was there, and there Ihad many friends to whom I was warmly attached in consideration of thefavors, affection and friendship with which they had uniformly treated me, from the time of my adoption. Our labor was not severe; and that of oneyear was exactly similar, in almost every respect, to that of the others, without that endless variety that is to be observed in the common labor ofthe white people. Notwithstanding the Indian women have all the fuel andbread to procure, and the cooking to perform, their task is probably notharder than that of white women, who have those articles provided forthem; and their cares certainly are not half as numerous, nor as great. Inthe summer season, we planted, tended and harvested our corn, andgenerally had all our children with us; but had no master to oversee ordrive us, so that we could work as leisurely as we pleased. We had noploughs on the Ohio; but performed the whole process of planting andhoeing with a small tool that resembled, in some respects, a hoe with avery short handle. 

Our cooking consisted in pounding our corn into samp or hommany, boilingthe hommany, making now and then a cake and baking it in the ashes, and inboiling or roasting our venison. As our cooking and eating utensilsconsisted of a hommany block and pestle, a small kettle, a knife or two, and a few vessels of bark or wood, it required but little time to keepthem in order for use. 

Spinning, weaving, sewing, stocking knitting, and the like, are arts whichhave never been practised in the Indian tribes generally. After therevolutionary war, I learned to sew, so that I could make my own clothingafter a poor fashion; but the other domestic arts I have been whollyignorant of the application of, since my captivity. In the season ofhunting, it was our business, in addition to our cooking, to bring homethe game that was taken by the Indians, dress it, and carefully preservethe eatable meat, and prepare or dress the skins. Our clothing wasfastened together with strings of deer skin, and tied on with the same. 

In that manner we lived, without any of those jealousies, quarrels, andrevengeful battles between families and individuals, which have beencommon in the Indian tribes since the introduction of ardent spiritsamongst them. 

The use of ardent spirits amongst the Indians, and the attempts which havebeen made to civilize and christianize them by the white people, hasconstantly made them worse and worse; increased their vices, and robbedthem of many of their virtues; and will ultimately produce theirextermination. I have seen, in a number of instances, the effects ofeducation upon some of our Indians, who were taken when young, from theirfamilies, and placed at school before they had had an opportunity tocontract many Indian habits, and there kept till they arrived to manhood;but I have never seen one of those but what was an Indian in every respectafter he returned. Indians must and will be Indians, In spite of all themeans that can be used for their cultivation in the sciences and arts. 

One thing only marred my happiness, while I lived with them on the Ohio;and that was the recollection that I had once had tender parents, and ahome that I loved. Aside from that consideration, or, if I had been takenin infancy, I should have been contented in my situation. Notwithstandingall that has been said against the Indians, in consequence of theircruelties to their enemies--cruelties that I have witnessed, and hadabundant proof of--it is a fact that they are naturally kind, tender andpeaceable towards their friends, and strictly honest; and that thosecruelties have been practised, only upon their enemies, according to theiridea of justice. 

At the time we left Wiishto, it was impossible for me to suppress a sighof regret on parting with those who had truly been my friends--with thosewhom I had every reason to respect. On account of a part of our familyliving at Genishau, we thought it doubtful whether we should returndirectly from Pittsburgh, or go from thence on a visit to see them. 

Our company consisted of my husband, my two Indian brothers, my little sonand myself. We embarked in a canoe that was large enough to containourselves, and our effects, and proceeded on our voyage up the river. 

Nothing remarkable occurred to us on our way, till we arrived at the mouthof a creek which Sheninjee and my brother said was the outlet of Sanduskylake; where, as they said, two or three English traders in fur and skinshad kept a trading house but a short time before, though they were thenabsent. We had passed the trading house but a short distance, when we metthree white men floating down the river, with the appearance of havingbeen recently murdered by the Indians, we supposed them to be the bodiesof the traders, whose store we had passed the same day. Sheninjee beingalarmed for fear of being apprehended as one of the murderers, if heshould go on, resolved to put about immediately, and we accordinglyreturned to where the traders had lived, and there landed. 

At the trading house we found a party of Shawnee Indians, who had taken ayoung white man prisoner, and had just begun to torture him for the solepurpose of gratifying their curiosity in exulting at his distress. They atfirst made him stand up, while they slowly pared his ears and split theminto strings; they then made a number of slight incisions in his face; andthen bound him upon the ground, rolled him in the dirt, and rubbed it inhis wounds: some of them at the same time whipping him with small rods!The poor fellow cried for mercy and yelled most piteously. 

The sight of his distress seemed too much for me to endure: I begged ofthem to desist--I entreated them with tears to release him. At length theyattended to my intercessions, and set him at liberty. He was shockinglydisfigured, bled profusely, and appeared to be in great pain: but as soonas he was liberated he made off in haste, which was the last I saw of him. 

We soon learned that the same party of Shawnees had, but a few hoursbefore, massacred the three white traders whom we saw in the river, andhad plundered their store. We, however, were not molested by them, andafter a short stay at that place, moved up the creek about forty miles toa Shawnee town, which the Indians called Gaw-gush-shaw-ga, (which beinginterpreted signifies a mask or a false face. ) The creek that we went upwas called Candusky. 

It was now summer; and having tarried a few days at Gawgushshawga, wemoved on up the creek to a place that was called Yis-kah-wa-na, (meaningin English open mouth. )

As I have before observed, the family to which I belonged was part of atribe of Seneca Indians, who lived, at that time, at a place calledGenishau, from the name of the tribe, that was situated on a river of thesame name which is now called Genesee. The word Genishau signifies ashining, clear or open place. Those of us who lived on the Ohio, hadfrequently received invitations from those at Genishau, by one of mybrothers, who usually went and returned every season, to come and livewith them, and my two sisters had been gone almost two years. 

While we were at Yiskahwana, my brother arrived there from Genishau, andinsisted so strenuously upon our going home (as he called it) with him, that my two brothers concluded to go, and to take me with them. 

By this time the summer was gone, and the time for harvesting corn hadarrived. My brothers, for fear of the rainy season setting in early, thought it best to set out immediately that we might have good travelling. Sheninjee consented to have me go with my brothers; but concluded to godown the river himself with some fur and skins which he had on hand, spendthe winter in hunting with his friends, and come to me in the springfollowing. 

That was accordingly agreed upon, and he set out for Wiishto; and my threebrothers and myself, with my little son on my back, at the same time setout for Genishau. We came on to Upper Sandusky, to an Indian town that wefound deserted by its inhabitants, in consequence of their having recentlymurdered some English traders, who resided amongst them. That town wasowned and had been occupied by Delaware Indians, who, when they left it, buried their provision in the earth, in order to preserve it from theirenemies, or to have a supply for themselves if they should chance toreturn. My brothers understood the customs of the Indians when they wereobliged to fly from their enemies; and suspecting that their corn at leastmust have been hid, made diligent search, and at length found a largequantity of it, together with beans, sugar and honey, so carefully buriedthat it was completely dry and as good as when they left it. As our stockof provision was scanty, we considered ourselves extremely fortunate infinding so seasonable a supply, with so little trouble. Having caught twoor three horses, that we found there, and furnished ourselves with a goodstore of food, we travelled on till we came to the mouth of French Creek, where we hunted two days, and from thence came on to Conowongo Creek, where we were obliged to stay seven or ten days, in consequence of ourhorses having left us and straying into the woods. The horses, however, were found, and we again prepared to resume our journey. During our stayat that place the rain fell fast, and had raised the creek to such aheight that it was seemingly impossible for us to cross it. A number oftimes we ventured in, but were compelled to return, barely escaping withour lives. At length we succeeded in swimming our horses and reached theopposite shore; though I but just escaped with my little boy from beingdrowned. From Sandusky the path that we travelled was crooked and obscure;but was tolerably well understood by my oldest brother, who had travelledit a number of times, when going to and returning from the Cherokee wars. The fall by this time was considerably advanced, and the rains, attendedwith cold winds, continued daily to increase the difficulties oftravelling. From Conowongo we came to a place, called by the IndiansChe-ua-shung-gau-tau, and from that to U-na-waum-gwa, (which means aneddy, not strong), where the early frosts had destroyed the corn so thatthe Indians were in danger of starving for the want of bread. Havingrested ourselves two days at that place, we came on to Caneadea and stayedone day, and then continued our march till we arrived at Genishau. Genishau at that time was a large Seneca town, thickly inhabited, lying onGenesee river, opposite what is now called the Free Ferry, adjoiningFall-Brook, and about south west of the present village of Geneseo, thecounty seat for the county of Livingston, in the state of New-York. 

Those only who have travelled on foot the distance of five or six hundredmiles, through an almost pathless wilderness, can form an idea of thefatigue and sufferings that I endured on that journey. My clothing wasthin and illy calculated to defend me from the continually drenching rainswith which I was daily completely wet, and at night with nothing but mywet blanket to cover me, I had to sleep on the naked ground, and generallywithout a shelter, save such as nature had provided. In addition to allthat, I had to carry my child, then about nine months old, every step ofthe journey on my back, or in my arms, and provide for his comfort andprevent his suffering, as far as my poverty of means would admit. Such wasthe fatigue that I sometimes felt, that I thought it impossible for me togo through, and I would almost abandon the idea of even trying to proceed. My brothers were attentive, and at length, as I have stated, we reachedour place of destination, in good health, and without having experienced aday's sickness from the time we left Yiskahwana. 

We were kindly received by my Indian mother and the other members of thefamily, who appeared to make me welcome; and my two sisters, whom I hadnot seen in two years, received me with every expression of love andfriendship, and that they really felt what they expressed, I have neverhad the least reason to doubt. The warmth of their feelings, the kindreception which I met with, and the continued favors that I received attheir hands, rivetted my affection for them so strongly that I amconstrained to believe that I loved them as I should have loved my ownsister had she lived, and I had been brought up with her. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER V. 

Indians march to Niagara to fight the British. --Return with two Prisoners, &c. --Sacrifice them at Fall-Brook. --Her Indian Mother's Address to herDaughter. --Death of her Husband. --Bounty offered for the Prisoners takenin the last war. --John Van Sice attempts to take her to procure herRansom. --Her Escape. --Edict of the Chiefs. --Old King of the tribedetermines to have her given up. --Her brother threatens her Life. --Hernarrow Escape. --The old King goes off. --Her brother is informed of theplace of her concealment, and conducts her home. --Marriage to her secondHusband. --Names of her Children. 

When we arrived at Genishau, the Indians of that tribe were making activepreparations for joining the French, in order to assist them in retakingFort Ne-a-gaw (as Fort Niagara was called in the Seneca language) from theBritish, who had taken it from the French in the month preceding. Theymarched off the next day after our arrival, painted and accoutred in allthe habiliments of Indian warfare, determined on death or victory; andjoined the army in season to assist in accomplishing a plan that had beenpreviously concerted for the destruction of a part of the British army. The British feeling themselves secure in the possession of Fort Neagaw, and unwilling that their enemies should occupy any of the military postsin that quarter, determined to take Fort Schlosser, lying a few miles upthe river from Neagaw, which they expected to effect with but little loss. Accordingly a detachment of soldiers, sufficiently numerous, as wassupposed, was sent out to take it, leaving a strong garrison in the fort, and marched off, well prepared to effect their object. But on their waythey were surrounded by the French and Indians, who lay in ambush todeceive them, and were driven off the bank of the river into a placecalled the "Devil's Hole, " together with their horses, carriages, artillery, and every thing pertaining to the army. Not a single manescaped being driven off, and of the whole number one only was fortunateenough to escape with his life. [Footnote: For the particulars of thatevent, see Appendix, No. 1. ] Our Indians were absent but a few days, andreturned in triumph, bringing with them two white prisoners, and a numberof oxen. Those were the first neat cattle that were ever brought to theGenesee flats. 

The next day after their return to Genishau, was set apart as a day offeasting and frolicing, at the expence of the lives of their twounfortunate prisoners, on whom they purposed to glut their revenge, andsatisfy their love for retaliation upon their enemies. My sister wasanxious to attend the execution, and to take me with her, to witness thecustoms of the warriors, as it was one of the highest kind of frolics evercelebrated in their tribe, and one that was not often attended with somuch pomp and parade as it was expected that would be. I felt a kind ofanxiety to witness the scene, having never attended an execution, and yetI felt a kind of horrid dread that made my heart revolt, and inclined meto step back rather than support the idea of advancing. On the morning ofthe execution she made her intention of going to the frolic, and taking mewith her, known to our mother, who in the most feeling terms, remonstratedagainst a step at once so rash and unbecoming the true dignity of our sex:

"How, my daughter, (said she, addressing my sister, ) "how can you eventhink of attending the feast and seeing the unspeakable torments thatthose poor unfortunate prisoners must inevitably suffer from the hands ofour warriors? How can you stand and see them writhing in the warriors'fire, in all the agonies of a slow, a lingering death?

How can you think of enduring the sound of their groanings and prayers tothe Great Spirit for sudden deliverance from their enemies, or from life?And how can you think of conducting to that melancholy spot your poorsister Dickewamis, (meaning myself), who has so lately been a prisoner, who has lost her parents and brothers by the hands of the bloody warriors, and who has felt all the horrors of the loss of her freedom, in lonesomecaptivity? Oh! how can you think of making her bleed at the wounds whichnow are but partially healed? The recollection of her former troubleswould deprive us of Dickewamis, and she would depart to the fields of theblessed, where fighting has ceased, and the corn needs no tending--wherehunting is easy, the forests delightful, the summers are pleasant, and thewinters are mild!--O! think once, my daughter, how soon you may have abrave brother made prisoner in battle, and sacrificed to feast theambition of the enemies of his kindred, and leave us to mourn for the lossof a friend, a son and a brother, whose bow brought us venison, andsupplied us with blankets!--Our task is quite easy at home, and ourbusiness needs our attention. With war we have nothing to do: our husbandsand brothers are proud to defend us, and their hearts beat with ardor tomeet our proud foes. Oh! stay then, my daughter; let our warriors aloneperform on their victims their customs of war!"

This speech of our mother had the desired effect; we stayed at home andattended to our domestic concerns. The prisoners, however, were executedby having their heads taken off, their bodies cut in pieces and shockinglymangled, and then burnt to ashes!--They were burnt on the north side ofFall-brook, directly opposite the town which was on the south side, sometime in the month of November, 1759. 

I spent the winter comfortably, and as agreeably as I could have expectedto, in the absence of my kind husband. Spring at length appeared, butSheninjee was yet away; summer came on, but my husband had not found me. Fearful forebodings haunted my imagination; yet I felt confident that hisaffection for me was so great that if he was alive he would follow me andI should again see him. In the course of the summer, however, I receivedintelligence that soon after he left me at Yiskahwana he was taken sickand died at Wiishto. This was a heavy and an unexpected blow. I was now inmy youthful days left a widow, with one son, and entirely dependent onmyself for his and my support. My mother and her family gave me all theconsolation in their power, and in a few months nay grief wore off and Ibecame contented. 

In a year or two after this, according to my best recollection of thetime, the King of England offered a bounty to those who would bring in theprisoners that had been taken in the war, to some military post where theymight be redeemed and set at liberty. 

John Van Sice, a Dutchman, who had frequently been at our place, and waswell acquainted with every prisoner at Genishau, resolved to take me toNiagara, that I might there receive my liberty and he the offered bounty. I was notified of his intention; but as I was fully determined not to beredeemed at that time, especially with his assistance, I carefully watchedhis movements in order to avoid falling into his hands. It so happened, however, that he saw me alone at work in a corn-field, and thinkingprobably that he could secure me easily, ran towards me in great haste. Iespied him at some distance, and well knowing the amount of his errand, run from him with all the speed I was mistress of, and never once stoppedtill I reached Gardow. [Footnote: I have given this orthography, becauseit corresponds with the popular pronunciation. ] He gave up the chase, andreturned: but I, fearing that he might be lying in wait for me, stayedthree days and three nights in an old cabin at Gardow, and then went backtrembling at every step for fear of being apprehended. I got home withoutdifficulty; and soon after, the chiefs in council having learned the causeof my elopement, gave orders that I should not be taken to any militarypost without my consent; and that as it was my choice to stay, I shouldlive amongst them quietly and undisturbed. But, notwithstanding the willof the chiefs, it was but a few days before the old king of our tribe toldone of my Indian brothers that I should be redeemed, and he would take meto Niagara himself. In reply to the old king, my brother said that Ishould not be given up; but that, as it was my wish, I should stay withthe tribe as long as I was pleased to. Upon this a serious quarrel ensuedbetween them, in which my brother frankly told him that sooner than Ishould be taken by force, he would kill me with his own hands!--Highlyenraged at the old king; my brother came to my sister's house, where Iresided, and informed her of all that had passed respecting me; and that, if the old king should attempt to take me, as he firmly believed he would, he would immediately take my life, and hazard the consequences. Hereturned to the old king. As soon as I came in, my sister told me what shehad just heard, and what she expected without doubt would befal me. Fullof pity, and anxious for my preservation, she then directed me to take mychild and go into some high weeds at no great distance from the house, andthere hide myself and lay still till all was silent in the house, for mybrother, she said, would return at evening and let her know the finalconclusion of the matter, of which she promised to inform me in thefollowing manner: If I was to be killed, she said she would bake a smallcake and lay it at the door, on the outside, in a place that she thenpointed out to me. When all was silent in the house, I was to creep softlyto the door, and if the cake could not be found in the place specified, Iwas to go in: but if the cake was there, I was to take my child and; go asfast as I possibly could to a large spring on the south side of Samp'sCreek, (a place that I had often seen, ) and there wait till I should bysome means hear from her. 

Alarmed for my own safety, I instantly followed her advice, and went intothe weeds, where I lay in a state of the greatest anxiety, till all wassilent in the house, when I crept to the door, and there found, to mygreat distress, the little cake! I knew my fate was fixed, unless I couldkeep secreted till the storm was over, and accordingly crept back to theweeds, where my little Thomas lay, took him on my back, and laid my coursefor the spring as fast as my legs would carry me. Thomas was nearly threeyears old, and very large and heavy. I got to the spring early in themorning, almost overcome with fatigue, and at the same time fearing that Imight be pursued and taken, I felt my life an almost insupportableburthen. I sat down with my child at the spring, and he and I made abreakfast of the little cake, and water of the spring, which I dipped andsupped with the only implement which I possessed, my hand. 

In the morning after I fled, as was expected, the old King came to ourhouse in search of me, and to take me off; but, as I was not to be found, he gave me up, and went to Niagara with the prisoners he had already gotinto his possession. 

As soon as the old King was fairly out of the way, my sister told mybrother where he could find me. He immediately set out for the spring, andfound me about noon. The first sight of him made me tremble with the fearof death; but when he came near, so that I could discover his countenance, tears of joy flowed down my cheeks, and I felt such a kind of instantrelief as no one can possibly experience, unless when under the absolutesentence of death he receives an unlimited pardon. We were both rejoicedat the event of the old King's project; and after staying at the springthrough the night, set out together for home early in the morning. When wegot to a cornfield near the town, my brother secreted me till he could goand ascertain how my case stood; and finding that the old King was absent, and that all was peaceable, he returned to me, and I went home joyfully. 

Not long after this, my mother went to Johnstown, on the Mohawk river, with five prisoners, who were redeemed by Sir William Johnson, and set atliberty. 

When my son Thomas was three or four years old, I was married to anIndian, whose name was Hiokatoo, commonly called Gardow, by whom I hadfour daughters and two sons. I named my children, principally, after myrelatives, from whom I was parted, by calling my girls Jane, Nancy, Betseyand Polly, and the boys John and Jesse. Jane died about twenty-nine yearsago, in the month of August, a little before the great Council atBig-Tree, aged about fifteen years. My other daughters are yet living, andhave families. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER VI. 

Peace amongst the Indians. --Celebrations. --Worship. Exercises. --Businessof the Tribes. --Former Happiness of the Indians in time of peaceextolled. --Their Morals; Fidelity; Honesty; Chastity; Temperance. Indianscalled to German Flats. --Treaty with Americans. --They are sent for by theBritish Commissioners, and go to Oswego. --Promises made by thoseCommissioners. --Greatness of the King of England. Reward that was paidthem for joining the British. They make a Treaty. --Bounty offered forScalps. Return richly dressed and equipped. --In 1776 they kill a man atCautega to provoke the Americans. Prisoners taken at Cherry Valley, brought to Beard's Town; redeemed, &c. --Battle at Fort Stanwix. --Indianssuffer a great loss. --Mourning at Beard's Town. --Mrs. Jemison's care ofand services rendered to Butler and Brandt. 

After the conclusion of the French war, our tribe had nothing to troubleit till the commencement of the Revolution. For twelve or fifteen yearsthe use of the implements of war was not known, nor the war-whoop heard, save on days of festivity, when the achievements of former times werecommemorated in a kind of mimic warfare, in which the chiefs and warriorsdisplayed their prowess, and illustrated their former adroitness, bylaying the ambuscade, surprizing their enemies, and performing manyaccurate manoeuvres with the tomahawk and scalping knife; therebypreserving and handing to their children, the theory of Indian warfare. During that period they also pertinaciously observed the religious ritesof their progenitors, by attending with the most scrupulous exactness anda great degree of enthusiasm to the sacrifices, at particular times, toappease the anger of the evil deity, or to excite the commisseration andfriendship of the Great Good Spirit, whom they adored with reverence, asthe author, governor, supporter and disposer of every good thing of whichthey participated. 

They also practised in various athletic games, such as running, wrestling, leaping, and playing ball, with a view that their bodies might be moresupple, or rather that they might not become enervated, and that theymight be enabled to make a proper selection of Chiefs for the councils ofthe nation and leaders for war. 

While the Indians were thus engaged in their round of traditionaryperformances, with the addition of hunting, their women attended toagriculture, their families, and a few domestic concerns of smallconsequence, and attended with but little labor. 

No people can live more happy than the Indians did in times of peace, before the introduction of spirituous liquors amongst them. Their liveswere a continual round of pleasures. Their wants were few, and easilysatisfied; and their cares were only for to-day; the bounds of theircalculations for future comfort not extending to the incalculableuncertainties of to-morrow. If peace ever dwelt with men, it was in formertimes, in the recesses from war, amongst what are now termed barbarians. The moral character of the Indians was (if I may be allowed theexpression) uncontaminated. Their fidelity was perfect, and becameproverbial; they were strictly honest; they despised deception andfalsehood; and chastity was held in high veneration, and a violation of itwas considered sacrilege. They were temperate in their desires, moderatein their passions, and candid and honorable in the expression of theirsentiments on every subject of importance. 

Thus, at peace amongst themselves, and with the neighboring whites, thoughthere were none at that time very near, our Indians lived quietly andpeaceably at home, till a little before the breaking out of therevolutionary war, when they were sent for, together with the Chiefs andmembers of the Six Nations generally, by the people of the States, to goto the German Flats, and there hold a general council, in order that thepeople of the states might ascertain, in good season, who they shouldesteem and treat as enemies, and who as friends, in the great war whichwas then upon the point of breaking out between them and the King ofEngland. 

Our Indians obeyed the call, and the council was holden, at which the pipeof peace was smoked, and a treaty made, in which the Six Nations solemnlyagreed that if a war should eventually break out, they would not take uparms on either side; but that they would observe a strict neutrality. Withthat the people of the states were satisfied, as they had not asked theirassistance, nor did not wish it. The Indians returned to their homes wellpleased that they could live on neutral ground, surrounded by the din ofwar, without being engaged in it. 

About a year passed off, and we, as usual, were enjoying ourselves in theemployments of peaceable times, when a messenger arrived from the BritishCommissioners, requesting all the Indians of our tribe to attend a generalcouncil which was soon to be held at Oswego. The council convened, andbeing opened, the British Commissioners informed the Chiefs that theobject of calling a council of the Six Nations, was, to engage theirassistance in subduing the rebels, the people of the states, who had risenup against the good King, their master, and were about to rob him of agreat part of his possessions and wealth, and added that they would amplyreward them for all their services. 

The Chiefs then arose, and informed the Commissioners of the nature andextent of the treaty which they had entered into with the people of thestates, the year before, and that they should not violate it by taking upthe hatchet against them. 

The Commissioners continued their entreaties without success, till theyaddressed their avarice, by telling our people that the people of thestates were few in number, and easily subdued; and that on the account oftheir disobedience to the King, they justly merited all the punishmentthat it was possible for white men and Indians to inflict upon them; andadded, that the King was rich and powerful, both in money and subjects:That his rum was as plenty as the water in lake Ontario: that his men wereas numerous as the sands upon the lake shore:--and that the Indians, ifthey would assist in the war, and persevere in their friendship to theKing, till it was closed, should never want for money or goods. Upon thisthe Chiefs concluded a treaty with the British Commissioners, in whichthey agreed to take up arms against the rebels, and continue in theservice of his Majesty till they were subdued, in consideration of certainconditions which were stipulated in the treaty to be performed by theBritish government and its agents. 

As soon as the treaty was finished, the Commissioners made a present toeach Indian of a suit of clothes, a brass kettle, a gun and tomahawk, ascalping knife, a quantity of powder and lead a piece of gold, andpromised a bounty on every scalp that should be brought in. Thus richlyclad and equipped, they returned home, after an absence of about twoweeks, full of the fire of war, and anxious to encounter their enemies. Many of the kettles which the Indians received at that time are now in useon the Genesee Flats. 

Hired to commit depredations upon the whites, who had given them nooffence, they waited impatiently to commence their labor, till sometime inthe spring of 1776, when a convenient opportunity offered for them to makean attack. At that time, a party of our Indians were at Cau-te-ga, whoshot a man that was looking after his horse, for the sole purpose, as Iwas informed by my Indian brother, who was present, of commencinghostilities. 

In May following, our Indians were in their first battle with theAmericans; but at what place I am unable to determine. While they wereabsent at that time, my daughter Nancy was born. 

The same year, at Cherry Valley, our Indians took a woman and her threedaughters prisoners, and brought them on, leaving one at Canandaigua, oneat Honeoy, one at Cattaraugus, and one (the woman) at Little Beard's Town, where I resided. The woman told me that she and her daughters might haveescaped, but that they expected the British army only, and therefore madeno effort. Her husband and sons got away. Sometime having elapsed, theywere redeemed at Fort Niagara by Col. Butler, who clothed them well, andsent them home. 

In the same expedition, Joseph Smith was taken prisoner at or near CherryValley, brought to Genesee, and detained till after the revolutionary war. He was then liberated, and the Indians made him a present, in company withHoratio Jones, of 6000 acres of land lying in the present town ofLeicester, in the county of Livingston. 

One of the girls just mentioned, was married to a British officer at FortNiagara, by the name of Johnson, who at the time she was taken, took agold ring from her finger, without any compliments or ceremonies. When hesaw her at Niagara he recognized her features, restored the ring that hehad so impolitely borrowed, and courted and married her. 

Previous to the battle at Fort Stanwix, the British sent for the Indiansto come and see them whip the rebels; and, at the same time stated thatthey did not wish to have them fight, but wanted to have them just sitdown smoke their pipes, and look on. Our Indians went, to a man; butcontrary to their expectation, instead of smoking and looking on, theywere obliged to fight for their lives, and in the end of the battle werecompletely beaten, with a great loss in killed and wounded. Our Indiansalone had thirty-six killed, and a great number wounded. Our townexhibited a scene of real sorrow and distress, when our warriors returnedand recounted their misfortunes, and stated the real loss they hadsustained in the engagement. The mourning was excessive, and was expressedby the most doleful yells, shrieks, and howlings, and by inimitablegesticulations. 

During the revolution, my house was the home of Col's Butler and Brandt, whenever they chanced to come into our neighborhood as they passed to andfrom Fort Niagara, which was the seat of their military operations. Manyand many a night I have pounded samp for them from sun-set till sun-rise, and furnished them with necessary provision and clean clothing for theirjourney. 

CHAPTER VII. 

Gen. Sullivan with a large army arrives at Canandaigua. --Indians'troubles. --Determine to stop their march. --Skirmish at ConnessiusLake. --Circumstances attending the Execution of an Oneida warrior. Escapeof an Indian Prisoner. --Lieut. Boyd and another man takenPrisoners. --Cruelty of Boyd's Execution. --Indians retreat to thewoods. --Sullivan comes on to Genesee Flats and destroys the property ofthe Indians. --Returns. --Indians return. --Mrs. Jemison goes to Gardow. --HerEmployment there. --Attention of an old Negro to her safety, &c. --SevereWinter. --Sufferings of the Indians. --Destruction of Game. --Indians'Expedition to the Mohawk. --Capture old John O'Bail, &c. --Other Prisonerstaken, &c. 

For four or five years we sustained no loss in the war, except in the fewwho had been killed in distant battles; and our tribe, because of theremoteness of its situation, from the enemy, felt secure from an attack. At length, in the fall of 1779, intelligence was received that a large andpowerful army of the rebels, under the command of General Sullivan, wasmaking rapid progress towards our settlement, burning and destroying thehuts and corn-fields; killing the cattle, hogs and horses, and cuttingdown the fruit trees belonging to the Indians throughout the country. 

Our Indians immediately became alarmed, and suffered every thing but deathfrom fear that they should be taken by surprize, and totally destroyed ata single blow. But in order to prevent so great a catastrophe, they sentout a few spies who were to keep themselves at a short distance in frontof the invading army, in order to watch its operations, and giveinformation of its advances and success. 

Sullivan arrived at Canandaigua Lake, and had finished his work ofdestruction there, and it was ascertained that he was about to march toour flats, when our Indians resolved to give him battle on the way, andprevent, if possible, the distresses to which they knew we should besubjected, if he should succeed in reaching our town. Accordingly theysent all their women and children into the woods a little west of LittleBeard's Town, in order that we might make a good retreat if it should benecessary, and then, well armed, set out to face the conquering enemy. Theplace which they fixed upon for their battle ground lay between HoneoyCreek and the head of Connessius Lake. 

At length a scouting party from Sullivan's army arrived at the spotselected, when the Indians arose from their ambush with all the fiercenessand terror that it was possible for them to exercise, and directly put theparty upon a retreat. Two Oneida Indians were all the prisoners that weretaken in that skirmish. One of them was a pilot of Gen. Sullivan, and hadbeen very active in the war, rendering to the people of the statesessential services. At the commencement of the revolution he had a brotherolder than himself, who resolved to join the British service, andendeavored by all the art that he was capable of using to persuade hisbrother to accompany him; but his arguments proved abortive. This went tothe British, and that joined the American army. At this critical juncturethey met, one in the capacity of a conqueror, the other in that of aprisoner; and as an Indian seldom forgets a countenance that he has seen, they recognized each other at sight. Envy and revenge glared in thefeatures of the conquering savage, as he advanced to his brother (theprisoner) in all the haughtiness of Indian pride, heightened by a sense ofpower, and addressed him in the following manner:

"Brother, you have merited death! The hatchet or the war-club shall finishyour career!--When I begged of you to follow me in the fortunes of war, you was deaf to my cries--you spurned my entreaties!

"Brother! you have merited death and shall have your deserts! When therebels raised their hatchets to fight their good master, you sharpenedyour knife, you brightened your rifle and led on our foes to the fields ofour fathers'--You have merited death and shall die by our hands! Whenthose rebels had drove us from the fields of our fathers to seek out newhomes, it was you who could dare to step forth as their pilot, and conductthem even to the doors of our wigwams, to butcher our children and put usto death! No crime can be greater!--But though you have merited death andshall die on this spot, my hands shall not be stained in the blood of abrother! _Who will strike_?"

Little Beard, who was standing by, as soon as the speech was ended, struckthe prisoner on the head with his tomahawk, and despatched him at once!

Little Beard then informed the other Indian prisoner that as they were atwar with the whites only, and not with the Indians, they would spare hislife, and after a while give him his liberty in an honorable manner. TheOneida warrior, however, was jealous of Little Beard's fidelity; andsuspecting that he should soon fall by his hands, watched for a favorableopportunity to make his escape; which he soon effected. Two Indians wereleading him, one on each side, when he made a violent effort, threw themupon the ground, and run for his life towards where the main body of theAmerican army was encamped. The Indians pursued him without success; butin their absence they fell in with a small detachment of Sullivan's men, with whom they had a short but severe skirmish, in which they killed anumber of the enemy, took Capt. Or Lieut. William Boyd and one private, prisoners, and brought them to Little Beard's Town, where they were soonafter put to death in the most shocking and cruel manner. Little Beard, inthis, as in all other scenes of cruelty that happened at his town, wasmaster of ceremonies, and principal actor. Poor Boyd was stripped of hisclothing, and then tied to a sapling, where the Indians menaced his lifeby throwing their tomahawks at the tree, directly over his head, brandishing their scalping knives around him in the most frightful manner, and accompanying their ceremonies with terrific shouts of joy. Havingpunished him sufficiently in this way, they made a small opening in hisabdomen, took out an intestine, which they tied to the sapling, and thenunbound him from the tree, and drove him round it till he had drawn outthe whole of his intestines. He was then beheaded, his head was stuck upona pole, and his body left on the ground unburied. 

Thus ended the life of poor William Boyd, who, it was said, had everyappearance of being an active and enterprizing officer, of the firsttalents. The other prisoner was (if I remember distinctly) only beheadedand left near Boyd. 

This tragedy being finished, our Indians again held a short council on theexpediency of giving Sullivan battle, if he should continue to advance, and finally came to the conclusion that they were not strong enough todrive him, nor to prevent his taking possession of their fields: but thatif it was possible they would escape with their own lives, preserve theirfamilies, and leave their possessions to be overrun by the invading army. 

The women and children were then sent on still further towards Buffalo, toa large creek that was called by the Indians Catawba, accompanied by apart of the Indians, while the remainder secreted themselves in the woodsback of Beard's Town, to watch the movements of the army. 

At that time I had three children who went with me on foot, one who rodeon horse back, and one whom I carried on my back. 

Our corn was good that year; a part of which we had gathered and securedfor winter. 

In one or two days after the skirmish at Connissius lake, Sullivan and hisarmy arrived at Genesee river, where they destroyed every article of thefood kind that they could lay their hands on. A pan of our corn theyburnt, and threw the remainder into the river. They burnt our houses, killed what few cattle and horses they could find, destroyed our fruittrees, and left nothing but the bare soil and timber. But the Indians hadeloped and were not to be found. 

Having crossed and recrossed the river, and finished the work ofdestruction, the army marched off to the east. Our Indians saw them moveoff, but suspecting that it was Sullivan's intention to watch our return, and then to take us by surprize, resolved that the main body of our tribeshould hunt where we then were, till Sullivan had gone so far that therewould be no danger of his returning to molest us. 

This being agreed to, we hunted continually till the Indians concludedthat there could be no risk in our once more taking possession of ourlands. Accordingly we all returned; but what were our feelings when wefound that there was not a mouthful of any kind of sustenance left, noteven enough to keep a child one day from perishing with hunger. 

The weather by this time had become cold and stormy; and as we weredestitute of houses and food too, I immediately resolved to take mychildren and look out for myself, without delay. With this intention Itook two of my little ones on my back, bade the other three follow, andthe same night arrived on the Gardow flats, where I have ever sinceresided. 

At that time, two negroes, who had run away from their masters sometimebefore, were the only inhabitants of those flats. They lived in a smallcabin and had planted and raised a large field of corn, which they had notyet harvested. As they were in want of help to secure their crop, I hiredto them to husk corn till the whole was harvested. 

I have laughed a thousand times to myself when I have thought of the goodold negro, who hired me, who fearing that I should get taken or injured bythe Indians, stood by me constantly when I was husking, with a loaded gunin his hand, in order to keep off the enemy, and thereby lost as muchlabor of his own as he received from me, by paying good wages. I, however, was not displeased with his attention; for I knew that I should need allthe corn that I could earn, even if I should husk the whole. I huskedenough for them, to gain for myself, at every tenth string, one hundredstrings of ears, which were equal to twenty-five bushels of shelled corn. This seasonable supply made my family comfortable for samp and cakesthrough the succeeding winter, which was the most severe that I havewitnessed since my remembrance. The snow fell about five feet deep, andremained so for a long time, and the weather was extremely cold; so muchso indeed, that almost all the game upon which the Indians depended forsubsistence, perished, and reduced them almost to a state of starvationthrough that and three or four succeeding years. When the snow melted inthe spring, deer were found dead upon the ground in vast numbers; andother animals, of every description, perished from the cold also, and werefound dead, in multitudes. Many of our people barely escaped with theirlives, and some actually died of hunger and freezing. 

But to return from this digression: Having been completely routed atLittle Beard's Town, deprived of a house, and without the means ofbuilding one in season, after I had finished my husking, and having foundfrom the short acquaintance which I had had with the negroes, that theywere kind and friendly, I concluded, at their request, to take up myresidence with them for a while in their cabin, till I should be able toprovide a hut for myself. I lived more comfortable than I expected tothrough the winter, and the next season made a shelter for myself. 

The negroes continued on my flats two or three years after this, and thenleft them for a place that they expected would suit them much better. Butas that land became my own in a few years, by virtue of a deed from theChiefs of the Six Nations, I have lived there from that to the presenttime. 

My flats were cleared before I saw them; and it was the opinion of theoldest Indians that were at Genishau, at the time that I first went there, that all the flats on the Genesee river were improved before any of theIndian tribes ever saw them. I well remember that soon after I went toLittle Beard's Town, the banks of Fall-Brook were washed off, which left alarge number of human bones uncovered. The Indians then said that thosewere not the bones of Indians, because they had never heard of any oftheir dead being buried there; but that they were the bones of a race ofmen who a great many moons before, cleared that land and lived on theflats. 

The next summer after Sullivan's campaign, our Indians, highly incensed atthe whites for the treatment they had received, and the sufferings whichthey had consequently endured, determined to obtain some redress bydestroying their frontier settlements. Corn Planter, otherwise called JohnO'Bail, led the Indians, and an officer by the name of Johnston commandedthe British in the expedition. The force was large, and so strongly bentupon revenge and vengeance, that seemingly nothing could avert its march, nor prevent its depredations. After leaving Genesee they marched directlyto some of the head waters of the Susquehannah river, and Schoharie Creek, went down that creek to the Mohawk river, thence up that river to FortStanwix, and from thence came home. In their route they burnt a number ofplaces; destroyed all the cattle and other property that fell in theirway; killed a number of white people, and brought home a few prisoners. 

In that expedition, when they came to Fort Plain, on the Mohawk river, Corn Planter and a party of his Indians took old John O'Bail, a white man, and made him a prisoner. Old John O'Bail, in his younger days hadfrequently passed through the Indian settlements that lay between theHudson and Fort Niagara, and in some of his excursions had become enamoredwith a squaw, by whom he had a son that was called Corn Planter. 

Corn Planter, was a chief of considerable eminence; and having beeninformed of his parentage and of the place of his father's residence, tookthe old man at this time, in order that he might make an introductionleisurely, and become acquainted with a man to whom, though a stranger, hewas satisfied that he owed his existence. 

After he had taken the old man, his father, he led him as a prisoner tenor twelve miles up the river, and then stepped before him, faced about, and addressed him in the following terms:--

"My name is John O'Bail, commonly called Corn Planter. I am your son! youare my father! You are now my prisoner, and subject to the customs ofIndian warfare: but you shall not be harmed; you need not fear. I am awarrior! Many are the scalps which I have taken! Many prisoners I havetortured to death! I am your son! I am a warrior! I was anxious to seeyou, and to greet you in friendship. I went to your cabin and took you byforce! But your life shall be spared. Indians love their friends and theirkindred, and treat them with kindness. If now you choose to follow thefortune of your yellow son, and to live with our people, I will cherishyour old age with plenty of venison, and you shall live easy: But if it isyour choice to return to your fields and live with your white children, Iwill send a party of my trusty young men to conduct you back in safety. Irespect you, my father; you have been friendly to Indians, and they areyour friends. "

Old John chose to return. Corn Planter, as good as his word, ordered anescort to attend him home, which they did with the greatest care. 

Amongst the prisoners that were brought to Genesee, was William Newkirk, aman by the name of Price, and two negroes. 

Price lived a while with Little Beard, and afterwards with Jack Berry, anIndian. When he left Jack Berry he went to Niagara, where he now resides. 

Newkirk was brought to Beard's Town, and lived with Little Beard and atFort Niagara about one year, and then enlisted under Butler, and went withhim on an expedition to the Monongahela. 

CHAPTER VIII. 

Life of Ebenezer Allen, a Tory. --He comes to Gardow. --His intimacy with aNanticoke Squaw. --She gives him a Cap. --Her Husband's jealousy. --Crueltyto his Wife. --Hiokatoo's Mandate. --Allen supports her. --Her Husband isreceived into favor. --Allen labors. --Purchases Goods. --Stops the IndianWar. --His troubles with the Indians. --Marries a Squaw. --Is taken andcarried to Quebec. --Acquitted. --Goes to Philadelphia. --Returns to Geneseewith a Store of Goods, &c. --Goes to Farming. --Moves to Allen'sCreek. --Builds Mills at Rochester. --Drowns a Dutchman. --Marries a whiteWife. --Kills an old Man. --Gets a Concubine. --Moves to Mt. Morris. --Marries a third Wife and gets another Concubine. --Receives a tract ofLand. --Sends his Children to other States, &c. --Disposes of hisLand. --Moves to Grand River, where he dies. --His Cruelties. 

Sometime near the close of the revolutionary war, a white man by the nameof Ebenezer Allen, left his people in the state of Pennsylvania on theaccount of some disaffection towards his countrymen, and came to theGenesee river, to reside with the Indians. He tarried at Genishau a fewdays, and came up to Gardow, where I then resided. --He was, apparently, without any business that would support him; but be soon became acquaintedwith my son Thomas, with whom he hunted for a long time, and made his homewith him at my house; winter came on, and he continued his stay. 

When Allen came to my house, I had a white man living on my land, who hada Nanticoke squaw for his wife, with whom he had lived very peaceably; forhe was a moderate man commonly, and she was a kind, gentle, cunningcreature. It so happened that he had no hay for his cattle; so that in thewinter he was obliged to drive them every day, perhaps half a mile fromhis house, to let them feed on rushes, which in those days were sonumerous as to nearly cover the ground. 

Allen having frequently seen the squaw in the fall, took the opportunitywhen her husband was absent with his cows, daily to make her a visit; andin return for his kindnesses she made and gave him a red cap finished anddecorated in the highest Indian style. 

The husband had for some considerable length of time felt a degree ofjealousy that Allen was trespassing upon him with the consent of hissquaw; but when he saw Allen dressed in so fine an Indian cap, and foundthat his dear Nanticoke had presented it to him, his doubts all left him, and he became so violently enraged that he caught her by the hair of herhead, dragged her on the ground to my house, a distance of forty rods, andthrew her in at the door. Hiokatoo, my husband, exasperated at the sightof so much inhumanity, hastily took down his old tomahawk, which forawhile had lain idle, shook it over the cuckold's head, and bade him jogo(i. E. Go off. ) The enraged husband, well knowing that he should feel ablow if he waited to hear the order repeated, instantly retreated, andwent down the river to his cattle. We protected the poor Nanticoke woman, and gave her victuals; and Allen sympathized with her in her misfortunestill spring, when her husband came to her, acknowledged his former errors, and that he had abused her without a cause, promised a reformation, andshe received him with every mark of a renewal of her affection. They wenthome lovingly, and soon after removed to Niagara. 

The same spring, Allen commenced working my flats, and continued to laborthere till after the peace in 1783. He then went to Philadelphia on somebusiness that detained him but a few days, and returned with a horse andsome dry goods, which he carried to a place that is now called MountMorris, where he built or bought a small house. 

The British and Indians on the Niagara frontier, dissatisfied with thetreaty of peace, were determined, at all hazards, to continue theirdepredations upon the white settlements which lay between them and Albany. They actually made ready, and were about setting out on an expedition tothat effect, when Allen (who by this time understood their customs of war)took a belt of wampum, which he had fraudulently procured, and carried itas a token of peace from the Indians to the commander of the nearestAmerican military post. 

The Indians were soon answered by the American officer that the wampum wascordially accepted and, that a continuance of peace was ardently wishedfor. The Indians, at this, were chagrined and disappointed beyond measure;but as they held the wampum to be a sacred thing, they dared not to goagainst the import of its meaning, and immediately buried the hatchet asit respected the people of the United State; and smoked the pipe of peace. They, however, resolved to punish Allen for his officiousness in meddlingwith their national affairs, by presenting the sacred wampum without theirknowledge, and went about devising means for his detection. A party wasaccordingly despatched from Fort Niagara to apprehend him; with orders toconduct him to that post for trial, or for safe keeping, till such time ashis fate should be determined upon in a legal manner. 

The party came on; but before it arrived at Gardow, Allen got news of itsapproach, and fled for safety, leaving the horse and goods that he hadbrought from Philadelphia, an easy prey to his enemies. He had not beenlong absent when they arrived at Gardow, where they made diligent searchfor him till they were satisfied that they could not find him, and thenseized the effects which he had left, and returned to Niagara. My sonThomas, went with them, with Allen's horse, and carried the goods. 

Allen, on finding that his enemies had gone, came back to my house, wherehe lived as before; but of his return they were soon notified at Niagara, and Nettles (who married Priscilla Ramsay) with a small party of Indianscame on to take him. He, however, by some means found that they were near, and gave me his box of money and trinkets to keep safely, till he calledfor it, and again took to the woods. 

Nettles came on determined at all events to take him before he went back;and, in order to accomplish his design, he, with his Indians, hunted inthe day time and lay by at night at my house, and in that way theypractised for a number of days. Allen watched the motion of his pursuers, and every night after they had gone to rest, came home and got some food, and then returned to his retreat. It was in the fall, and the weather wascold and rainy, so that he suffered extremely. Some nights he sat in mychamber till nearly day-break, while his enemies were below, and when thetime arrived I assisted him to escape unnoticed. 

Nettles at length abandoned the chase--went home, and Allen, all intatters, came in. By running in the woods his clothing had become torninto rags, so that he was in a suffering condition, almost naked. Hiokatoogave him a blanket, and a piece of broadcloth for a pair of trowsers. Allen made his trowsers himself, and then built a raft, on which he wentdown the river to his own place at Mount Morris. 

About that time he married a squaw, whose name was Sally. 

The Niagara people finding that he was at his own house, came and took himby surprize when he least expected them, and carried him to Niagara. Fortunately for him, it so happened that just as they arrived at the fort, a house took fire and his keepers all left him to save the building, ifpossible. Allen had supposed his doom to be nearly sealed; but findinghimself at liberty he took to his heels, left his escort to put out thefire, and ran to Tonnawanta. There an Indian gave him some refreshment, and a good gun, with which he hastened on to Little Beard's Town, where hefound his squaw. Not daring to risk himself at that place for fear ofbeing given up, he made her but a short visit, and came immediately toGardow. 

Just as he got to the top of the hill above the Gardow flats, hediscovered a party of British soldiers and Indians in pursuit of him; andin fact they were so near that he was satisfied that they saw him, andconcluded that it would be impossible for him to escape. The love ofliberty, however, added to his natural swiftness, gave him sufficientstrength to make his escape to his former castle of safety. His pursuerscame immediately to my house, where they expected to have found himsecreted, and under my protection. They told me where they had seen himbut a few moments before, and that they were confident that it was withinmy power to put him into their hands. As I was perfectly clear of havinghad any hand in his escape, I told them plainly that I had not seen himsince he was taken to Niagara, and that I could give them no informationat all respecting him. Still unsatisfied, and doubting my veracity, theyadvised my Indian brother to use his influence to draw from me the secretof his concealment, which they had an idea that I considered of greatimportance, not only to him but to myself. I persisted in my ignorance ofhis situation, and finally they left me. 

Although I had not seen Allen, I knew his place of security, and was wellaware that if I told them the place where he had formerly hid himself, they would have no difficulty in making him a prisoner. 

He came to my house in the night, and awoke me with the greatest caution, fearing that some of his enemies might be watching to take him at a timewhen, and in a place where it would be impossible for him to make hisescape. I got up and assured him that he was then safe; but that hisenemies would return early in the morning and search him out if it shouldbe possible. Having given him some victuals, which he received thankfully, I told him to go, but to return the next night to a certain corner of thefence near my house where he would find a quantity of meal that I wouldhave well prepared and deposited there for his use. 

Early the next morning, Nettles and his company came in while I waspounding the meal for Allen, and insisted upon my giving him up. I againtold them that I did not know where he was, and that I could not, neitherwould I, tell them any thing about him. I well knew that Allen consideredhis life in my hands; and although it was my intention not to lie, I wasfully determined to keep his situation a profound secret. They continuedtheir labor and examined (as they supposed) every crevice, gully, tree andhollow log in the neighboring woods, and at last concluded that he hadleft the country, and gave him up for lost, and went home. 

At that time Allen lay in a secret place in the gulph a short distanceabove my flats, in a hole that he accidentally found in the rock near theriver. At night he came and got the meal at the corner of the fence as Ihad directed him, and afterwards lived in the gulph two weeks. Each nighthe came to the pasture and milked one of my cows, without any other vesselin which to receive the milk than his hat, out of which he drank it. Isupplied him with meal, but fearing to build a fire he was obliged to eatit raw and wash it down with the milk. Nettles having left ourneighborhood, and Allen considering himself safe, left his little cave andcame home. I gave him his box of money and trinkets, and he went to hisown house at Mount Morris. It was generally considered by the Indians ofour tribe, that Allen was an innocent man, and that the Niagara peoplewere persecuting him without a just cause. Little Beard, then about to goto the eastward on public business, charged his Indians not to meddle withAllen, but to let him live amongst them peaceably, and enjoy himself withhis family and property if he could. Having the protection of the chief, he felt himself safe, and let his situation be known to the whites fromwhom he suspected no harm. They, however, were more inimical than ourIndians and were easily bribed by Nettles to assist in bringing him tojustice. Nettles came on, and the whites, as they had agreed, gave poorAllen up to him. He was bound and carried to Niagara, where he wasconfined in prison through the winter. In the spring he was taken toMontreal or Quebec for trial, and was honorably acquitted. The crime forwhich he was tried was, for his having carried the wampum to theAmericans, and thereby putting too sudden a stop to their war. 

From the place of his trial he went directly to Philadelphia, andpurchased on credit, a boat load of goods which he brought by water toConhocton, where he left them and came to Mount Morris for assistance toget them brought on. The Indians readily went with horses and brought themto his house, where he disposed of his dry goods; but not daring to letthe Indians begin to drink strong liquor, for fear of the quarrels whichwould naturally follow, he sent his spirits to my place and we sold them. For his goods he received ginseng roots, principally, and a few skins. Ginseng at that time was plenty, and commanded a high price. We preparedthe whole that he received for the market, expecting that he would carrythem to Philadelphia. In that I was disappointed; for when he had disposedof, and got pay for all his goods, he took the ginseng and skins toNiagara, and there sold them and came home. 

Tired of dealing in goods, he planted a large field of corn on or near hisown land, attended to it faithfully, and succeeded in raising a largecrop, which he harvested, loaded into canoes and carried down the river tothe mouth of Allen's Creek, then called by the Indians Gin-is-a-ga, wherehe unloaded it, built him a house, and lived with his family. 

The next season he planted corn at that place and built a grist and sawmill on Genesee Falls, now called Rochester. 

At the time Allen built the mills, he had an old German living with him bythe name of Andrews, whom he sent in a canoe down the river with his millirons. Allen went down at the same time; but before they got to the millsAllen threw the old man overboard and drowned him, as it was thengenerally believed, for he was never seen or heard of afterwards. 

In the course of the season in which Allen built his mills, he becameacquainted with the daughter of a white man, who was moving to Niagara. She was handsome, and Allen soon got into her good graces, so that bemarried and took her home, to be a joint partner with Sally, the squaw, whom she had never heard of till she got home and found her in fullpossession; but it was too late for her to retrace the hasty steps she hadtaken, for her father had left her in the care of a tender husband andgone on. She, however, found that she enjoyed at least an equal half ofher husband's affections, and made herself contented. Her father's name Ihave forgotten, but her's was Lucy. 

Allen was not contented with two wives, for in a short time after he hadmarried Lucy he came up to my house, where he found a young woman who hadan old husband with her. They had been on a long journey, and called at myplace to recruit and rest themselves. She filled Allen's eye, and heaccordingly fixed upon a plan to get her into his possession. He praisedhis situation, enumerated his advantages, and finally persuaded them to gohome and tarry with him a few days at least, and partake of a part of hiscomforts. They accepted his generous invitation and went home with him. But they had been there but two or three days when Allen took the oldgentleman out to view his flats; and as they were deliberately walking onthe bank of the river, pushed him into the water. The old man, almoststrangled, succeeded in getting out; but his fall and exertions had sopowerful an effect upon his system that he died in two or three days, andleft his young widow to the protection of his murderer. She lived with himabout one year in a state of concubinage and then left him. 

How long Allen lived at Allen's Creek I am unable to state; but soon afterthe young widow left him, he removed to his old place at Mount Morris, andbuilt a house, where he made Sally, his squaw, by whom he had twodaughters, a slave to Lucy, by whom he had had one son; still, however, heconsidered Sally to be his wife. 

After Allen came to Mt. Morris at that time, he married a girl by the nameof Morilla Gregory, whose father at the time lived on Genesee Flats. Theceremony being over, he took her home to live in common with his otherwives; but his house was too small for his family; for Sally and Lucy, conceiving that their lawful privileges would be abridged if they receiveda partner, united their strength and whipped poor Morilla so cruelly thathe was obliged to keep her in a small Indian house a short distance fromhis own, or lose her entirely. Morilla, before she left Mt. Morris, hadfour children. 

One of Morilla's sisters lived with Allen about a year after Morilla wasmarried, and then quit him. 

A short time after they all got to living at Mt. Morris, Allen prevailedupon the Chiefs to give to his Indian children, a tract of land four milessquare, where he then resided. The Chiefs gave them the land, but he soartfully contrived the conveyance, that he could apply it to his own use, and by alienating his right, destroy the claim of his children. 

Having secured the land, in that way, to himself, he sent his two Indiangirls to Trenton, (N. J. ) and his white son to Philadelphia, for thepurpose of giving each of them a respectable English education. 

While his children were at school, he went to Philadelphia, and sold hisright to the land which he had begged of the Indians for his children toRobert Morris. After that, he sent for his daughters to come home, whichthey did. 

Having disposed of the whole of his property on the Genesee river, he tookhis two white wives and their children, together with his effects, andremoved to a Delaware town on the river De Trench, in Upper Canada. Whenhe left Mt. Morris, Sally, his squaw, insisted upon going with him, andactually followed him, crying bitterly, and praying for his protectionsome two or three miles, till he absolutely bade her leave him, or hewould punish her with severity. 

At length, finding her case hopeless, she returned to the Indians. 

At the great treaty at Big Tree, one of Allen's daughters claimed the landwhich he had sold to Morris. The claim was examined and decided againsther in favor of Ogden, Trumbull, Rogers and others, who were the creditorsof Robert Morris. Allen yet believed that his daughter had an indisputableright to the land in question, and got me to go with mother Farly, a halfIndian woman, to assist him by interceding with Morris for it, and to urgethe propriety of her claim. We went to Thomas Morris, and having stated tohim our business, he told us plainly that he had no land to give away, andthat as the title was good, he never would allow Allen, nor his heirs, onefoot, or words to that effect. We returned to Allen the answer we hadreceived, and he, conceiving all further attempts to be useless, wenthome. 

He died at the Delaware town, on the river De Trench, in the year 1814 or15, and left two white widows and one squaw, with a number of children, tolament his loss. 

By his last will he gave all his property to his last wife (Morilla, ) andher children, without providing in the least for the support of Lucy, orany of the other members of his family. Lucy, soon after his death, wentwith her children down the Ohio river, to receive assistance from herfriends. 

In the revolutionary war, Allen was a tory, and by that means becameacquainted with our Indians, when they were in the neighborhood of hisnative place, desolating the settlements on the Susquehannah. In thosepredatory battles, he joined them, and (as I have often heard the Indianssay, ) for cruelty was not exceeded by any of his Indian comrades!

At one time, when he was scouting with the Indians in the Susquehannahcountry, he entered a house very early in the morning, where he found aman, his wife, and one child, in bed. The man, as he entered the door, instantly sprang on the floor, for the purpose of defending himself andlittle family; but Allen dispatched him at one blow. He then cut off hishead and threw it bleeding into the bed with the terrified woman; took thelittle infant from its mother's breast, and holding it by its legs, dashedits head against the jamb, and left the unhappy widow and mother to mournalone over her murdered family. It has been said by some, that after hehad killed the child, he opened the fire and buried it under the coals andembers: But of that I am not certain. I have often heard him speak of thattransaction with a great degree of sorrow, and as the foulest crime he hadever committed--one for which I have no doubt he repented. 

CHAPTER IX. 

Mrs. Jemison has liberty to go to her Friends. --Chooses to stay. --HerReasons, &c. --Her Indian Brother makes provision for her Settlement. --Hegoes to Grand River and dies. --Her Love for him, &c. --She is presentedwith the Gardow Reservation. --Is troubled by Speculators. --Description ofthe Soil, &c. Of her Flats. --Indian notions of the ancient Inhabitants ofthis Country. 

Soon after the close of the revolutionary war, my Indian brother, Kau-jises-tau-ge-au (which being interpreted signifies Black Coals, )offered me my liberty, and told me that if it was my choice I might go tomy friends. 

My son, Thomas, was anxious that I should go; and offered to go with meand assist me on the journey, by taking care of the younger children, andproviding food as we travelled through the wilderness. But the Chiefs ofour tribe, suspecting from his appearance, actions, and a few warlikeexploits, that Thomas would be a great warrior, or a good counsellor, refused to let him leave them on any account whatever. 

To go myself, and leave him, was more than I felt able to do; for he hadbeen kind to me, and was one on whom I placed great dependence. The Chiefsrefusing to let him go, was one reason for my resolving to stay; butanother, more powerful, if possible, was, that I had got a large family ofIndian children, that I must take with me; and that if I should be sofortunate as to find my relatives, they would despise them, if not myself;and treat us as enemies; or, at least with a degree of cold indifference, which I thought I could not endure. 

Accordingly, after I had duly considered the matter, I told my brotherthat it was my choice to stay and spend the remainder of my days with myIndian friends, and live with my family as I had heretofore done. Heappeared well pleased with my resolution, and informed me, that as thatwas my choice, I should have a piece of land that I could call my own, where I could live unmolested, and have something at my decease to leavefor the benefit of my children. 

In a short time he made himself ready to go to Upper Canada; but before heleft us, he told me that he would speak to some of the Chiefs at Buffalo, to attend the great Council, which he expected would convene in a fewyears at farthest, and convey to me such a tract of land as I shouldselect. My brother left us, as he had proposed, and soon after died atGrand River. 

Kaujisestaugeau, was an excellent man, and ever treated me with kindness. Perhaps no one of his tribe at any time exceeded him in natural mildnessof temper, and warmth and tenderness of affection. If he had taken my lifeat the time when the avarice of the old King inclined him to procure myemancipation, it would have been done with a pure heart and from goodmotives. He loved his friends; and was generally beloved. During the timethat I lived in the family with him, he never offered the most triflingabuse; on the contrary, his whole conduct towards me was strictlyhonorable. I mourned his loss as that of a tender brother, and shallrecollect him through life with emotions of friendship and gratitude. 

I lived undisturbed, without hearing a word on the subject of my land, till the great Council was held at Big Tree, in 1797, when Farmer'sBrother, whose Indian name is Ho-na-ye-wus, sent for me to attend thecouncil. When I got there, he told me that my brother had spoken to him tosee that I had a piece of land reserved for my use; and that then was thetime for me to receive it. --He requested that I would choose for myselfand describe the bounds of a piece that would suit me. I accordingly toldhim the place of beginning, and then went round a tract that I judgedwould be sufficient for my purpose, (knowing that it would include theGardow Flats, ) by stating certain bounds with which I was acquainted. 

When the Council was opened, and the business afforded a properopportunity, Farmer's Brother presented my claim, and rehearsed therequest of my brother. Red Jacket, whose Indian name is Sagu-yu-what-hah, which interpreted, as Keeper-awake, opposed me or my claim with all hisinfluence and eloquence. Farmer's Brother insisted upon the necessity, propriety and expediency of his proposition, and got the land granted. Thedeed was made and signed, securing to me the title to all the land I haddescribed; under the same restrictions and regulations that other Indianlands are subject to. 

That land has ever since been known by the name of the Gardow Tract. 

Red Jacket not only opposed my claim at the Council, but he withheld mymoney two or three years, on the account of my lands having been grantedwithout his consent. Parrish and Jones at length convinced him that it wasthe white people, and not the Indians who had given me the land, andcompelled him to pay over all the money which he had retained on myaccount. 

My land derived its name, Gardow, from a hill that is within its limits, which is called in the Seneca language Kau-tam. Kautam when interpretedsignifies up and down, or down and up, and is applied to a hill that youwill ascend and descend in passing it; or to a valley. It has been saidthat Gardow was the name of my husband Hiokatoo, and that my land derivedits name from him; that however was a mistake, for the old man alwaysconsidered Gardow a nickname, and was uniformly offended when called by it. 

About three hundred acres of my land, when I first saw it, was open flats, lying on the Genesee River, which it is supposed was cleared by a race ofinhabitants who preceded the first Indian settlements in this part of thecountry. The Indians are confident that many parts of this country weresettled and for a number of years occupied by people of whom their fathersnever had any tradition, as they never had seen them. Whence those peopleoriginated, and whither they went, I have never heard one of our oldestand wisest Indians pretend to guess. When I first came to Genishau, thebank of Fall Brook had just slid off and exposed a large number of humanbones, which the Indians said were buried there long before their fathersever saw the place; and that they did not know what kind of people theywere. It however was and is believed by our people, that they were notIndians. 

My flats were extremely fertile; but needed more labor than my daughtersand myself were able to perform, to produce a sufficient quantity of grainand other necessary productions of the earth, for the consumption of ourfamily. The land had lain uncultivated so long that it was thickly coveredwith weeds of almost every description. In order that we might live moreeasy, Mr. Parrish, with the consent of the chiefs, gave me liberty tolease or my land to white people to till on shares. I accordingly let itout, and have continued to do so, which makes my task less burthensome, while at the same time I am more comfortably supplied with the means ofsupport. 

CHAPTER X. 

Happy situation of her Family. --Disagreement between her sons Thomas andJohn. --Her Advice to them, &c. --John kills Thomas;--HerAffliction. --Council. Decision of the Chiefs, &c. --Life of Thomas. --HisWives, Children; &c. --Cause of his Death, &c. 

I have frequently heard it asserted by white people, and can truly sayfrom my own experience that the time at which parents take the mostsatisfaction and comfort with their families is when their children areyoung, incapable of providing for their own wants, and are about thefireside, where they can be daily observed and instructed. 

Few mothers, perhaps, have had less trouble with their children duringtheir minority than myself. In general, my children were friendly to eachother, and it was very seldom that I knew them to have the leastdifference or quarrel: so far, indeed, were they from rendering themselvesor me uncomfortable, that I considered myself happy--more so than commonlyfalls to the lot of parents, especially to women. 

My happiness in this respect, however, was not without alloy; for my sonThomas, from some cause unknown to me, from the time he was a small lad, always called his brother John, a witch, which was the cause, as they grewtowards manhood, of frequent and severe quarrels between them, and gave memuch trouble and anxiety for their safety. After Thomas and John arrivedto manhood, in addition to the former charge, John got two wives, withwhom he lived till the time of his death. Although polygamy was toleratedin our tribe, Thomas considered it a violation of good and wholesome rulesin society, and tending directly to destroy that friendly socialintercourse and love, that ought to be the happy result of matrimony andchastity. Consequently, he frequently reprimanded John, by telling himthat his conduct was beneath the dignity, and inconsistent with theprinciples of good Indians; indecent and unbecoming a gentleman; and, ashe never could reconcile himself to it, he was frequently, almostconstantly, when they were together, talking to him on the same subject. John always resented such reprimand, and reproof, with a great degree ofpassion, though they never quarrelled, unless Thomas was intoxicated. 

In his fits of drunkenness, Thomas seemed to lose all his natural reason, and to conduct like a wild or crazy man, without regard to relatives, decency or propriety. At such times he often threatened to take my lifefor having raised a witch, (as he called John, ) and has gone so far as toraise his tomahawk to split my head. He, however, never struck me; but onJohn's account he struck Hiokatoo, and thereby excited in John a highdegree of indignation, which was extinguished only by blood. 

For a number of years their difficulties, and consequent unhappiness, continued and rather increased, continually exciting in my breast the mostfearful apprehensions, and greatest anxiety for their safety. With tearsin my eyes, I advised them to become reconciled to each other, and to befriendly; told them the consequences of their continuing to cherish somuch malignity and malice, that it would end in their destruction, thedisgrace of their families, and bring me down to the grave. No one canconceive of the constant trouble that I daily endured on their account--onthe account of my two oldest sons, whom I loved equally, and with all thefeelings and affection of a tender mother, stimulated by an anxiousconcern for their fate. Parents, mothers especially, will love theirchildren, though ever so unkind and disobedient. Their eyes of compassion, of real sentimental affection, will be involuntarily extended after them, in their greatest excesses of iniquity; and those fine filaments ofconsanguinity, which gently entwine themselves around the heart wherefilial love and parental care is equal, will be lengthened, and enlargedto cords seemingly of sufficient strength to reach and reclaim thewanderer. I know that such exercises are frequently unavailing; but, notwithstanding their ultimate failure, it still remains true, and everwill, that the love of a parent for a disobedient child, will increase, and grow more and more ardent, so long as a hope of its reformation iscapable of stimulating a disappointed breast. 

My advice and expostulations with my sons were abortive; and year afteryear their disaffection for each other increased. At length, Thomas cameto my house on the 1st day of July, 1811, in my absence, somewhatintoxicated, where he found John, with whom he immediately commenced aquarrel on their old subjects of difference. --John's anger becamedesperate. He caught Thomas by the hair of his head, dragged him out atthe door and there killed him, by a blow which he gave him on the headwith his tomahawk!

I returned soon after, and found my son lifeless at the door, on the spotwhere he was killed! No one can judge of my feelings on seeing thismournful spectacle; and what greatly added to my distress, was the factthat he had fallen by the murderous hand of his brother! I felt mysituation unsupportable. Having passed through various scenes of troubleof the most cruel and trying kind, I had hoped to spend my few remainingdays in quietude, and to die in peace, surrounded by my family. This fatalevent, however, seemed to be a stream of woe poured into my cup ofafflictions, filling it even to overflowing, and blasting all my prospects. 

As soon as I had recovered a little from the shock which I felt at thesight of my departed son, and some of my neighbors had come in to assistin taking care of the corpse, I hired Shanks, an Indian, to go to Buffalo, and carry the sorrowful news of Thomas' death, to our friends at thatplace, and request the Chiefs to hold a Council, and dispose of John asthey should think proper. Shanks set out on his errand immediately, --andJohn, fearing that he should be apprehended and punished for the crime hehad committed, at the same time went off towards Caneadea. 

Thomas was decently interred in a style corresponding with his rank. 

The Chiefs soon assembled in council on the trial of John, and afterhaving seriously examined the matter according to their laws, justifiedhis conduct, and acquitted him. They considered Thomas to have been thefirst transgressor, and that for the abuses which he had offered, he hadmerited from John the treatment that he had received. 

John, on learning the decision of the council, returned to his family. 

Thomas (except when intoxicated, which was not frequent, ) was a kind andtender child, willing to assist me in my labor, and to remove everyobstacle to my comfort. His natural abilities were said to be of asuperior cast, and he soared above the trifling subjects of revenge, whichare common amongst Indians, as being far beneath his attention. In hischildish and boyish days, his natural turn was to practise in the art ofwar, though he despised the cruelties that the warriors inflicted upontheir subjugated enemies. He was manly in his deportment, courageous and, active; and commanded respect. Though he appeared well pleased with peace, he was cunning in Indian warfare, and succeeded to admiration in theexecution of his plans. 

At the age of fourteen or fifteen years, he went into the war with manlyfortitude, armed with a tomahawk and scalping knife; and when he returned, brought one white man a prisoner, whom he had taken with his own hands, onthe west branch of the Susquehannah river. It so happened, that as he waslooking out for his enemies, he discovered two men boiling sap in thewoods. He watched them unperceived, till dark when he advanced with anoiseless step to where they were standing, caught one of them before theywere apprized of danger, and conducted him to the camp. He was welltreated while a prisoner, and redeemed at the close of the war. 

At the time Kaujisestaugeau gave me my liberty to go to my friends, Thomaswas anxious to go with me; but as I have before observed, the Chiefs wouldnot suffer him to leave them on the account of his courage and skill inwar: expecting that they should need his assistance. He was a greatCounsellor and a Chief when quite young; and in the last capacity, wenttwo or three times to Philadelphia to assist in making treaties with thepeople of the states. 

Thomas had four wives, by whom he had eight children. Jacob Jemison, hissecond son by his last wife, who is at this time twenty-seven ortwenty-eight years of age, went to Dartmouth college, in the spring of1816, for the purpose of receiving a good education, where it was saidthat he was an industrious scholar, and made great proficiency in thestudy of the different branches to which he attended. Having spent twoyears at that Institution, he returned in the winter of 1818, and is nowat Buffalo; where I have understood that he contemplates commencing thestudy of medicine, as a profession. 

Thomas, at the time he was killed, was a few moons over fifty-two yearsold, and John was forty-eight. As he was naturally good natured, andpossessed a friendly disposition, he would not have come to so untimely anend, had it not been far his intemperance. He fell a victim to the use ofardent spirits--a poison that will soon exterminate the Indian tribes inthis part of the country, and leave their names without a root or branch. The thought is melancholy; but no arguments, no examples, howeverpersuasive or impressive, are sufficient to deter an Indian for an hourfrom taking the potent draught, which he knows at the time will derangehis faculties, reduce him to a level with the beasts, or deprive him oflife!

CHAPTER XI. 

Death of Hiokatoo. --Biography. --His Birth--Education. --Goes against theCherokees, &c. --Bloody Battle, &c. --His success and cruelties in theFrench War. --Battle at Fort Freeland. --Capts. Dougherty and Boonkilled. --His Cruelties in the neighborhood of Cherry Valley, &c. --Indiansremove their general Encampment. --In 1782, Col. Crawford is sent todestroy them, &c. --Is met by a Traitor, --Battle. --Crawford's Mensurprized. --Irregular Retreat. --Crawford and Doct. Nighttaken. --Council. --Crawford Condemned and Burnt. --AggravatingCircumstances. --Night is sentenced to be Burnt. --Is Painted byHiokatoo. --Is conducted off, &c. --His fortunate Escape. --Hiokatoo in theFrench War takes Col. Canton. --His Sentence. --Is bound on a wild Colt thatruns loose three days. --Returns Alive. --Is made to run the Gauntlet. --Getsknocked down, &c. --Is Redeemed and sent Home. --Hiokatoo's Enmity to theCherokees, &c. --His Height--Strength--Speed, &c. 

In the month of November 1811, my husband Hiokatoo, who had been sick fouryears of the consumption, died at the advanced age of one hundred andthree years, as nearly as the time could be estimated. He was the lastthat remained to me of our family connection, or rather of my old friendswith whom I was adopted, except a part of one family, which now lives atTonewanta. 

Hiokatoo was buried decently, and had all the insignia of a veteranwarrior buried with him; consisting of a war club, tomahawk and scalpingknife, a powder-flask, flint, a piece of spunk, a small cake and a cup;and in his best clothing. 

Hiokatoo was an old man when I first saw him; but he was by no meansenervated. During the term of nearly fifty years that I lived with him, Ireceived, according to Indian customs, all the kindness and attention thatwas my due as his wife. --Although war was his trade from his youth tillold age and decrepitude stopt his career, he uniformly treated me withtenderness, and never offered an insult. 

I have frequently heard him repeat the history of his life from hischildhood; and when he came to that part which related to his actions, hisbravery and his valor in war; when he spoke of the ambush, the combat, thespoiling of his enemies and the sacrifice of the victims, his nervesseemed strung with youthful ardor, the warmth of the able warrior seemedto animate his frame, and to produce the heated gestures which he hadpractised in middle age. He was a man of tender feelings to his friends, ready and willing to assist them in distress, yet, as a warrior, hiscruelties to his enemies perhaps were unparalleled, and will not admit aword of palliation. 

Hiokatoo, was born in one of the tribes of the Six Nations that inhabitedthe banks of the Susquehannah; or, rather he belonged to a tribe of theSenecas that made, at the time of the great Indian treaty, a part of thosenations. He was own cousin to Farmer's Brother, a Chief who has beenjustly celebrated for his worth. Their mothers were sisters, and it wasthrough the influence of Farmer's Brother, that I became Hiokatoo's wife. 

In early life, Hiokatoo showed signs of thirst for blood, by attendingonly to the art of war, in the use of the tomahawk and scalping knife; andin practising cruelties upon every thing that chanced to fall into hishands, which was susceptible of pain. In that way he learned to use hisimplements of war effectually, and at the same time blunted all those finefeelings and tender sympathies that are naturally excited, by hearing orseeing, a fellow being in distress. He could inflict the most excruciatingtortures upon his enemies, and prided himself upon his fortitude, inhaving performed the most barbarous ceremonies and tortures, without theleast degree of pity or remorse. Thus qualified, when very young he wasinitiated into scenes of carnage, by being engaged in the wars thatprevailed amongst the Indian tribes. 

In the year 1731, he was appointed a runner, to assist in collecting anarmy to go against the Cotawpes, Cherokees and other southern Indians. Alarge army was collected, and after a long and fatiguing march, met itsenemies in what was then called the "low, dark and bloody lands, " near themouth of Red River, in what is now called the state of Kentucky. [Footnote: Those powerful armies met near the place that is now calledClarksville, which is situated at the fork where Red River joins theCumberland, a few miles above the line between Kentucky and Tennessee. ]The Cotawpes [Footnote: The Author acknowledges himself unacquainted, fromIndian history, with a nation of this name; but as 90 years have elapsedsince the date of this occurrence, it is highly probable that such anation did exist, and that it was absolutely exterminated at that eventfulperiod. ] and their associates, had, by some means, been apprized of theirapproach, and lay in ambush to take them at once, when they should comewithin their reach, and destroy the whole army. The northern Indians, withtheir usual sagacity, discovered the situation of their enemies, rushedupon the ambuscade and massacred 1200 on the spot. The battle continuedfor two days and two nights, with the utmost severity, in which thenorthern Indians were victorious, and so far succeeded in destroying theCotawpes that they at that time ceased to be a nation. The victorssuffered an immense loss in killed; but gained the hunting ground, whichwas their grand object, though the Cherokees would not give it up in atreaty, or consent to make peace. Bows and arrows, at that time were ingeneral use, though a few guns were employed. 

From that time he was engaged in a number of battles in which Indians onlywere engaged, and that made fighting his business, till the commencementof the French war. In those battles he took a number of Indians prisoners, whom he killed by tying them to trees and then setting small Indian boysto shooting at them with arrows, till death finished the misery of thesufferers; a process that frequently took two days for its completion!

During the French war he was in every battle that was fought on theSusquehannah and Ohio rivers; and was so fortunate as never to have beentaken prisoner. 

At Braddock's defeat he took two white prisoners, and burnt them alive ina fire of his own kindling. 

In 1777, he was in the battle at Fort Freeland, in Northumberland county, Penn. The fort contained a great number of women and children, and wasdefended only by a small garrison. The force that went against itconsisted of 100 British regulars, commanded by a Col. McDonald, and 300Indians under Hiokatoo. After a short but bloody engagement, the fort wassurrendered; the women and children were sent under an escort to the nextfort below, and the men and boys taken off by a party of British to thegeneral Indian encampment. As soon as the fort had capitulated and thefiring had ceased, Hiokatoo with the help of a few Indians tomahawkedevery wounded American while earnestly begging with uplifted hands forquarters. 

The massacre was but just finished when Capts. Dougherty and Boon arrivedwith a reinforcement to assist the garrison. On their arriving in sight ofthe fort they saw that it had surrendered, and that an Indian was holdingthe flag. This so much inflamed Capt. Dougherty that he left his command, stept forward and shot the Indian at the first fire. Another took theflag, and had no sooner got it erected than Dougherty dropt him as he hadthe first. A third presumed to hold it, who was also shot down byDougherty. Hiokatoo, exasperated at the sight of such bravery, sallied outwith a party of his Indians, and killed Capts. Dougherty, Boon, andfourteen men, at the first fire. The remainder of the two companiesescaped by taking to flight, and soon arrived at the fort which they hadleft but a few hours before. 

In an expedition that went out against Cherry Valley and the neighboringsettlements, Captain David, a Mohawk Indian, was first, and Hiokatoo thesecond in command. The force consisted of several hundred Indians, whowere determined on mischief, and the destruction of the whites. Acontinued series of wantonness and barbarity characterized their career, for they plundered and burnt every thing that came in their way, andkilled a number of persons, among whom were several infants, whom Hiokatoobutchered or dashed upon the stones with his own hands. Besides theinstances which have been mentioned, he was in a number of parties duringthe revolutionary war, where he ever acted a conspicuous part. 

The Indians having removed the seat of their depredations and war to thefrontiers of Pennsylvania, Ohio, Kentucky and the neighboring territories, assembled a large force at Upper Sandusky, their place of generalrendezvous, from whence they went out to the various places which theydesigned to sacrifice. 

Tired of the desolating scenes that were so often witnessed, and feeling aconfidence that the savages might be subdued, and an end put to theircrimes, the American government raised a regiment, consisting of 300volunteers, for the purpose of dislodging them from their cantonment andpreventing further barbarities. Col. William Crawford and Lieut. Col. David Williamson, men who had been thoroughly tried and approved, werecommissioned by Gen. Washington to take the command of a service thatseemed all-important to the welfare of the country. In the month of July, 1782, well-armed and provided with a sufficient quantity of provision, this regiment made an expeditious march through the wilderness to UpperSandusky, where, as had been anticipated, they found the Indians assembledin full force at their encampment, prepared to receive an attack. 

As Col. Crawford and his brave band advanced, and when they had got withina short distance from the town, they were met by a white man, with a flagof truce from the Indians, who proposed to Col. Crawford that if he wouldsurrender himself and his men to the Indians, their lives should bespared; but, that if they persisted in their undertaking, and attacked thetown, they should all be massacred to a man. 

Crawford, while hearing the proposition, attentively surveyed its bearer, and recognized in his features one of his former schoolmates andcompanions, with whom he was perfectly acquainted, by the name of SimonGurty. Gurty, but a short time before this, had been a soldier in theAmerican army, in the same regiment with Crawford; but on the account ofhis not having received the promotion that he expected, he becamedisaffected--swore an eternal war with his countrymen, fled to theIndians, and joined them, as a leader well qualified to conduct them towhere they could satiate their thirst for blood, upon the innocent, unoffending and defenceless settlers. 

Crawford sternly inquired of the traitor if his name was not Simon Gurty;and being answered in the affirmative, he informed him that he despisedthe offer which he had made; and that he would not surrender his armyunless he should be compelled to do so, by a superior force. 

Gurty returned, and Crawford immediately commenced an engagement thatlasted till night, without the appearance of victory on either side, whenthe firing ceased, and the combatants on both sides retired to takerefreshment, and to rest through the night. Crawford encamped in the woodsnear half a mile from the town, where, after the centinels were placed, and each had taken his ration, they slept on their arms, that they mightbe instantly ready in case they should be attacked. The stillness of deathhovered over the little army, and sleep relieved the whole, except thewakeful centinels who vigilantly attended to their duty. --But what wastheir surprise, when they found late in the night, that they weresurrounded by the Indians on every side, except a narrow space betweenthem and the town? Every man was under arms, and the officers instantlyconsulted each other on the best method of escaping; for they saw that tofight, would be useless, and that to surrender, would be death. 

Crawford proposed a retreat through the ranks of the enemy in an oppositedirection from the town, as being the most sure course to take. Lt. Col. Williamson advised to march directly through the town, where thereappeared to be no Indians, and the fires were yet burning. 

There was no time or place for debates: Col. Crawford, with sixtyfollowers retreated on the route that he had proposed by attempting torush through the enemy; but they had no sooner got amongst the Indians, than every man was killed or taken prisoner! Amongst the prisoners, wereCol. Crawford, and Doct. Night, surgeon of the regiment. 

Lt. Col. Williamson, with the remainder of the regiment, together with thewounded, set out at the same time that Crawford did, went through the townwithout losing a man, and by the help of good guides arrived at theirhomes in safety. 

The next day after the engagement the Indians disposed of all theirprisoners to the different tribes, except Col. Crawford and Doct. Night;but those unfortunate men were reserved for a more cruel destiny. Acouncil was immediately held on Sandusky plains, consisting of all theChiefs and warriors, ranged in their customary order, in a circular form;and Crawford and Night were brought forward and seated in the centre ofthe circle. 

The council being opened, the Chiefs began to examine Crawford on varioussubjects relative to the war. At length they enquired who conducted themilitary operations of the American army on the Ohio and Susquehannahrivers, during the year before; and who had led that army against themwith so much skill and so uniform success? Crawford very honestly andwithout suspecting any harm from his reply promptly answered that he wasthe man who had led his countrymen to victory, who had driven the enemyfrom the settlements, and by that means had procured a great degree ofhappiness to many of his fellow-citizens. Upon hearing this, a Chief, whohad lost a son in the year before, in a battle where Colonel Crawfordcommanded, left his station in the council, stepped to Crawford, blackedhis face, and at the same time told him that the next day he should beburnt. 

The council was immediately dissolved on its hearing the sentence from theChief, and the prisoners were taken off the ground, and kept in custodythrough the night. Crawford now viewed his fate as sealed; and despairingof ever returning to his home or his country, only dreaded the tediousnessof death, as commonly inflicted by the savages, and earnestly hoped thathe might be despatched at a single blow. 

Early the next morning, the Indians assembled at the place of execution, and Crawford was led to the post--the goal of savage torture, to which hewas fastened. The post was a stick of timber placed firmly in the ground, having an arm framed in at the top, and extending some six or eight feetfrom it, like the arm of a sign post. A pile of wood containing about twocords, lay a few feet from the place where he stood, which he was informedwas to be kindled into a fire that would burn him alive, as many had beenburnt on the same spot, who had been much less deserving than himself. 

Gurty stood and supposedly looked on the preparations that were making forthe funeral of one his former playmates; a hero by whose side he hadfought; of a man whose valor had won laurels which, if he could havereturned, would have been strewed upon his grave, by his gratefulcountrymen. Dreading the agony that he saw he was about to feel, Crawfordused every argument which his perilous situation could suggest to prevailupon Gurty to ransom him at any price, and deliver him (as it was in hispower, ) from the savages, and their torments. Gurty heard his prayers, andexpostulations, and saw his tears with indifference, and finally told theforsaken victim that he would not procure him a moment's respite, norafford him the most trifling assistance. 

The Col. Was then bound, stripped naked and tied by his wrists to the arm, which extended horizontally from the post, in such a manner that his armswere extended over his head, with his feet just standing upon the ground. This being done, the savages placed the wood in a circle around him at thedistance of a few feet, in order that his misery might be protracted tothe greatest length, and then kindled it in a number of places at the sametime. The flames arose and the scorching heat became almost insupportable. Again he prayed to Gurty in all the anguish of his torment, to rescue himfrom the fire, or shoot him dead upon the spot. A demoniac smile suffusedthe countenance of Gurty, while he calmly replied to the dying suppliant, that he had no pity for his sufferings; but that he was then satisfyingthat spirit of revenge, which for a long time he had hoped to have anopportunity to wreak upon him. Nature now almost exhausted from theintensity of the heat, he settled down a little, when a squaw threw coalsof fire and embers upon him, which made him groan most piteously, whilethe whole camp rung with exultation. During the execution they manifestedall the exstacy of a complete triumph. Poor Crawford soon died and wasentirely consumed. 

Thus ended the life of a patriot and hero, who had been an intimate withGen. Washington, and who shared in an eminent degree the confidence ofthat great, good man, to whom, in the time of revolutionary perils, thesons of legitimate freedom looked with a degree of faith in his mentalresources, unequalled in the history of the world. 

That tragedy being ended, Doct. Night was informed that on the next day heshould be burnt in the same manner that his comrade Crawford had been, atLower Sandusky. Hiokatoo, who out had been a leading chief in the battlewith, and in the execution of Crawford, painted Doct. Night's face black, and then bound and gave him up to two able bodied Indians to conduct tothe place of execution. 

They set off with him immediately, and travelled till towards evening, when they halted to encamp till morning. The afternoon had been veryrainy, and the storm still continued, which rendered it very difficult forthe Indians to kindle a fire. Night observing the difficulty under whichthey labored, made them to understand by signs, that if they would unbindhim, he would assist them. --They, accordingly unbound him, and he soonsucceeded in making a fire by the application of small dry stuff which hewas at considerable trouble to procure. While the Indians were warmingthemselves, the Doct. Continued to gather wood to last through the night, and in doing this, he found a club which he placed in a situation fromwhence he could take it conveniently whenever an opportunity shouldpresent itself in which he could use it effectually. The Indians continuedwarming, till at length the Doct. Saw that they had placed themselves in afavorable position for the execution of his design, when, stimulated bythe love of life, he cautiously took his club and at two blows knockedthem both down. Determined to finish the work of death which he had sowell begun, he drew one of their scalping knives, with which he beheadedand scalped them both! He then took a rifle, tomahawk, and someammunition, and directed his course for home, where he arrived withouthaving experienced any difficulty on his journey. 

The next morning, the Indians took the track of their victim and hisattendants, to go to Lower Sandusky, and there execute the sentence whichthey had pronounced upon him. But what was their surprise anddisappointment, when they arrived at the place of encampment, where theyfound their trusty friends scalped and decapitated, and that theirprisoner had made his escape?--Chagrined beyond measure, they immediatelyseparated, and went in every direction in pursuit of their prey; but afterhaving spent a number of days unsuccessfully, they gave up the chase, andreturned to their encampment. [Footnote: I have understood, (fromunauthenticated sources however, ) that soon after the revolutionary war, Doct. Night published a pamphlet, containing an account of the battle atSandusky, and of his own sufferings. My information on this subject, wasderived from a different quarter. 

The subject of this narrative in giving the account of her last husband, Hiokatoo, referred us to Mr. George Jemison, who, (as it will be noticed)lived on her land a number of years, and who had frequently heard the oldChief relate the story of his life; particularly that part which relatedto his military career. Mr. Jemison; on being enquired of, gave theforegoing account, partly from his own personal knowledge, and theremainder, from the account given by Hiokatoo. 

Mr. Jemison was in the battle, was personally acquainted with Col. Crawford, and one that escaped with Lt. Col. Williamson. We have no doubtof the truth of the statement, and have therefore inserted the wholeaccount, as an addition to the historical facts which are daily cominginto a state of preservation, in relation to the American Revolution. 

AUTHOR. ]

In the time of the French war, in an engagement that took place on theOhio river, Hiokatoo took a British Col. By the name of Simon Canton, whomhe carried to the Indian encampment. A council was held, and the Col. Wassentenced to suffer death, by being tied on a wild colt, with his facetowards its tail, and then having the colt turned loose to run where itpleased. He was accordingly tied on, and the colt let loose, agreeable tothe sentence. The colt run two days, and then returned with its rider yetalive. The Indians, thinking that he would never die in that way, took himoff, and made him run the gauntlet three times; but in the last race asquaw knocked him down, and he was supposed to have been dead. He, however, recovered, and was sold for fifty dollars to a Frenchman, whosent him as a prisoner to Detroit. On the return of the Frenchman toDetroit, the Col. Besought him to ransom him, and give, or set him atliberty, with so much warmth, and promised with so much solemnity, toreward him as one of the best of benefactors, if he would let him go, thatthe Frenchman took his word, and sent him home to his family. The Col. Remembered his promise, and in a short time sent his deliverer one hundredand fifty dollars, as a reward for his generosity. 

Since the commencement of the revolutionary war, Hiokatoo has been inseventeen campaigns, four of which were in the Cherokee war. He was sogreat an enemy to the Cherokees, and so fully determined upon theirsubjugation, that on his march to their country, he raised his own armyfor those four campaigns, and commanded it; and also superintended itssubsistence. In one of those campaigns, which continued two whole yearswithout intermission, he attacked his enemies on the Mobile, drove them tothe country of the Creek Nation, where he continued to harrass them, tillbeing tired of war, he returned to his family. He brought home a greatnumber of scalps, which he had taken from the enemy, and ever seemed topossess an unconquerable will that the Cherokees might be utterlydestroyed. Towards the close of his last fighting in that country, he tooktwo squaws, whom he sold on his way home for money to defray the expenseof his journey. 

Hiokatoo was about six feet four or five inches high, large boned, andrather inclined to leanness. He was very stout and active, for a man ofhis size, for it was said by himself and others, that he had never foundan Indian who could keep up with him on a race, or throw him at wrestling. His eye was quick and penetrating; and his voice was of that harsh andpowerful kind, which, amongst, Indians, always commands attention. Hishealth had been uniformly good. He never was confined by sickness, till hewas attacked with the consumption, four years before his death. And, although he had, from his earliest days, been inured to almost constantfatigue, and exposure to every inclemency of the weather, in the open airhe seemed to lose the vigor of the prime of life only by the natural decayoccasioned by old age. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XII. 

Her Troubles Renewed. --John's Jealousy towards his brotherJesse. --Circumstances attending the Murder of Jesse Jemison. --HerGrief. --His Funeral--Age--Filial Kindness, &c. 

Being now left a widow in my old age, to mourn the loss of a husband, whohad treated me well and with whom I had raised five children, and havingsuffered the loss of an affectionate son, I fondly fostered the hope thatmy melancholy vicissitudes had ended, and that the remainder of my timewould be characterized by nothing unpropitious. My children, dutiful andkind, lived near me, and apparently nothing obstructed our happiness. 

But a short time, however, elapsed after my husband's death, before mytroubles were renewed with redoubled severity. 

John's hands having been once stained in the blood of a brother, it wasnot strange that after his acquital, every person of his acquaintanceshould shun him, from a fear of his repeating upon them the same ceremonythat he had practised upon Thomas. My son Jesse, went to Mt. Morris, a fewmiles from home, on business, in the winter after the death of his father;and it so happened that his brother John was there, who requested Jesse tocome home with him. Jesse, fearing that John would commence a quarrel withhim on the way, declined the invitation, and tarried over night. 

From that time John conceived himself despised by Jesse, and was highlyenraged at the treatment which he had received. Very little was said, however, and it all passed off, apparently, till sometime in the month ofMay, 1812, at which time Mr. Robert Whaley, who lived in the town ofCastile, within four miles of me, came to my house early on Mondaymorning, to hire George Chongo, my son-in-law, and John and Jesse, to gothat day and help him slide a quantity of boards from the top of the hillto the river, where he calculated to build a raft of them for market. 

They all concluded to go with Mr. Whaley, and made ready as soon aspossible. But before they set out I charged them not to drink any whiskey;for I was confident that if they did, they would surely have a quarrel inconsequence of it. They went and worked till almost night, when a quarrelensued between Chongo and Jesse, in consequence of the whiskey that theyhad drank through the day, which terminated in a battle, and Chongo gotwhipped. 

When Jesse had got through with Chongo, he told Mr. Whaley that he wouldgo home, and directly went off. He, however, went but a few rods before hestopped and lay down by the side of a log to wait, (as was supposed, ) forcompany. John, as soon as Jesse was gone, went to Mr. Whaley with hisknife in his hand and bade him jogo (i. E. Be gone, ) at the same timetelling him that Jesse was a bad man. Mr. Whaley, seeing that hiscountenance was changed, and that he was determined upon somethingdesperate, was alarmed for his own safety, and turned towards home, leaving Chongo on the ground drunk, near to where Jesse had lain, who bythis time had got up, and was advancing towards John. Mr. Whaley was soonout of hearing of them; but some of his workmen staid till it was dark. Jesse came up to John, and said to him, you want more whiskey, and morefighting, and after a few words went at him, to try in the first place toget away his knife. In this he did not succeed, and they parted. By thistime the night had come on, and it was dark. Again they clenched and atlength in their struggle they both fell. John, having his knife in hishand, came under, and in that situation gave Jesse a fatal stab with hisknife, and repeated the blows till Jesse cried out, brother, you havekilled me, quit his hold and settled back upon the ground. Upon hearingthis, John left him and came to Thomas' widow's house, told them that hehad been fighting with their uncle, whom he had killed, and showed themhis knife. 

Next morning as soon as it was light, Thomas' and John's children came andtold me that Jesse was dead in the woods, and also informed me how he cameby his death. John soon followed them and informed me himself of all thathad taken place between him and his brother, and seemed to be somewhatsorrowful for his conduct. You can better imagine what my feelings werethan I can describe them. My darling son, my youngest child, him on whom Idepended, was dead; and I in my old age left destitute of a helping hand!

As soon as it was consistent for me, I got Mr. George Jemison, (of whom Ishall have occasion to speak, ) to go with his sleigh to where Jesse was, and bring him home, a distance of 3 or 4 miles. My daughter Polly arrivedat the fatal spot first: we got there soon after her; though I went thewhole distance on foot. By this time, Chongo, (who was left on the grounddrunk the night before, ) had become sober and sensible of the greatmisfortune which had happened to our family. 

I was overcome with grief at the sight of my murdered son, and so far lostthe command of myself as to be almost frantic; and those who were presentwere obliged to hold me from going near him. 

On examining the body it was found that it had received eighteen wounds sodeep and large that it was believed that either of them would have provedmortal. The corpse was carried to my house, and kept till the Thursdayfollowing, when it was buried after the manner of burying white people. 

Jesse was twenty-seven or eight years old when he was killed. His temperhad been uniformly very mild and friendly; and he was inclined to copyafter the white people; both in his manners and dress. Although he wasnaturally temperate, he occasionally became intoxicated; but never wasquarrelsome or mischievous. With the white people he was intimate, andlearned from them their habits of industry, which he was fond ofpractising, especially when my comfort demanded his labor. As I haveobserved, it is the custom amongst the Indians, for the women to performall the labor in, and out of doors, and I had the whole to do, with thehelp of my daughters, till Jesse arrived to a sufficient age to assist us. He was disposed to labor in the cornfield, to chop my wood, milk my cows, and attend to any kind of business that would make my task the lighter. Onthe account of his having been my youngest child, and so willing to helpme, I am sensible that I loved him better than I did either of my otherchildren. After he began to understand my situation, and the means ofrendering it more easy, I never wanted for anything that was in his powerto bestow; but since his death, as I have had all my labor to performalone, I have constantly seen hard times. 

Jesse shunned the company of his brothers, and the Indians generally; andnever attended their frolics; and it was supposed that this, together withmy partiality for him, were the causes which excited in John so great adegree of envy, that nothing short of death would satisfy it. 

 * * * * *

CHAPTER XIII. 

Mrs. Jemison is informed that she has a Cousin in the Neighborhood, by thename of George Jemison. --His Poverty. --Her Kindness. --HisIngratitude. --Her Trouble from Land Speculation. --Her Cousin moves off. 

A year or two before the death of my husband, Capt. H. Jones sent me wordthat a cousin of mine was then living in Leicester, (a few miles fromGardow, ) by the name of George Jemison, and as he was very poor, thoughtit advisable for me to go and see him, and take him home to live with meon my land. My Indian friends were pleased to hear that one of myrelatives was so near, and also advised me to send for him and his familyimmediately. I accordingly had him and his family moved into one of myhouses, in the month of March, 1810. 

He said that he was my father's brother's son--that his father did notleave Europe, till after the French war in America, and that when he didcome over, he settled in Pennsylvania, where he died. George had nopersonal knowledge of my father; but from information, was confident thatthe relationship which he claimed between himself and me, actuallyexisted. Although I had never before heard of my father having had but onebrother, (him who was killed at Fort Necessity, ) yet I knew that he mighthave had others, and, as the story of George carried with it a probabilitythat it was true, I received him as a kinsman, and treated him withevery degree of friendship which his situation demanded. [Footnote: Mrs. Jemison is now confident that George Jemison is not her cousin, and thinksthat he claimed the relationship, only to gain assistance: But the oldgentleman, who is now living, is certain that his and her father werebrothers, as before stated. ]

I found that he was destitute of the means of subsistence, and in debt tothe amount of seventy dollars, without the ability to pay one cent. He hadno cow, and finally, was completely poor, I paid his debts to the amountof seventy-two dollars, and bought him a cow, for which I paid twentydollars, and a sow and pigs, that I paid eight dollars for. I also paidsixteen dollars for pork that I gave him, and furnished him with otherprovisions and furniture; so that his family was comfortable. As he wasdestitute of a team, I furnished him with one, and also supplied him withtools for farming. In addition to all this, I let him have one of Thomas'cows, for two seasons. 

My only object in mentioning his poverty, and the articles with which Isupplied him, is to show how ungrateful a person can be for favors, andhow soon a kind benefactor will, to all appearance, be forgotten. 

Thus furnished with the necessary implements of husbandry, a good team, and as much land as he could till, he commenced farming on my flats, andfor some time labored well. At length, however, he got an idea that if hecould become the owner of a part of my reservation, he could live moreeasy, and certainly be more rich, and accordingly set himself about layinga plan to obtain it, in the easiest manner possible. 

I supported Jemison and his family eight years, and probably should havecontinued to have done so to this day, had it not been for the occurrenceof the following circumstance. 

When he had lived with me some six or seven years, a friend of mine toldme that as Jemison was my cousin, and very poor, I ought to give him apiece of land that he might have something whereon to live, that he wouldcall his own. My friend and Jemison were then together at my house, prepared to complete a bargain. I asked how much land he wanted? Jemisonsaid that he should be glad to receive his old field (as he called it)containing about fourteen acres, and a new one that contained twenty-six. 

I observed to them that as I was incapable of transacting business of thatnature, I would wait till Mr. Thomas Clute, (a neighbor on whom Idepended, ) should return from Albany, before I should do any thing aboutit. To this Jemison replied that if I waited till Mr. Clute returned, heshould not get the land at all, and appeared very anxious to have thebusiness closed without delay. On my part, I felt disposed to give himsome land, but knowing my ignorance of writing, feared to do it alone, lest they might include as much land they pleased, without my knowledge. 

They then read the deed which my friend had prepared before he came fromhome, describing a piece of land by certain bounds that were a specifiednumber of chains and links from each other. Not understanding the lengthof a chain or link, I described the bounds of a piece of land that Iintended Jemison should have, which they said was just the same that thedeed contained and no more. I told them that the deed must not include alot that was called the Steele place, and they assured me that it did not. Upon this, putting confidence in them both, I signed the deed to GeorgeJemison, containing, and conveying to him as I supposed, forty acres ofland. The deed being completed they charged me never to mention thebargain which I had then made to any person; because if I did, they saidit would spoil the contract. The whole matter was afterwards disclosed;when it was found that that deed instead of containing only forty acres, contained four hundred, and that one half of it actually belonged to myfriend, as it had been given to him by Jemison as a reward for his troublein procuring the deed, in the fraudulent manner above mentioned. 

My friend, however, by the advice of some well disposed people, awhileafterwards gave up his claim; but Jemison held his till he sold it for atrifle to a gentleman in the south part of Genesee county. 

Sometime after the death of my son Thomas, one of his sons went to Jemisonto get the cow that I had let him have two years; but Jemison refused tolet her go, and struck the boy so violent a blow as to almost kill him. Jemison then run to Jellis Clute, Esq. To procure a warrant to take theboy; but Young King, an Indian Chief, went down to Squawky hill to Esq. Clute's, and settled the affair by Jemison's agreeing never to use thatclub again. Having satisfactorily found out the friendly disposition of mycousin towards me, I got him off my premises as soon as possible. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Another Family Affliction. --Her son John's Occupation. --He goes toBuffalo--Returns. --Great Slide by him considered Ominous--Trouble, &c. --Hegoes to Squawky Hill--Quarrels--Is murdered by two Indians. --HisFuneral--Mourners, &c. --His Disposition. --Ominous Dream. --Black Chief'sAdvice, &c. --His Widows and Family. --His Age. --His Murderers flee. --HerAdvice to them. --They set out to leave their Country. --Their Uncle'sSpeech to them on parting. --They return. --Jack proposes to Doctor to killeach other. --Doctor's Speech in Reply. --Jack's Suicide. --Doctor's Death. 

Trouble seldom comes single. While George Jemison was busily engaged inhis pursuit of wealth at my expence, another event of a much more seriousnature occurred, which added greatly to my afflictions, and consequentlydestroyed, at least a part of the happiness that I had anticipated waslaid up in the archives of Providence, to be dispensed on my old age. 

My son John, was a doctor, considerably celebrated amongst the Indians ofvarious tribes, for his skill in curing their diseases, by theadministration of roots and herbs, which he gathered in the forests, andother places where they had been planted by the hand of nature. 

In the month of April, or first of May, 1817, he was called upon to go toBuffalo, Cattaraugus and Allegany, to cure some who were sick. He went, and was absent about two months. When he returned, he observed the GreatSlide of the bank of Genesee river, a short distance above my house, whichhad taken place during his absence; and conceiving that circumstance to beominous of his own death, called at his sister Nancy's, told her that heshould live but a few days, and wept bitterly at the near approach of hisdissolution. Nancy endeavored to persuade him that his trouble wasimaginary, and that he ought not to be affected by a fancy which wasvisionary. Her arguments were ineffectual, and afforded no alleviation tohis mental sufferings. From his sister's, he went to his own house, wherehe stayed only two nights, and then went to Squawky Hill to procure money, with which to purchase flour for the use of his family. 

While at Squawky Hill he got into the company of two Squawky Hill Indians, whose names were Doctor and Jack, with whom he drank freely, and in theafternoon had a desperate quarrel, in which his opponents, (as it wasafterwards understood, ) agreed to kill him. The quarrel ended, and eachappeared to be friendly. John bought some spirits, of which they alldrank, and then set out for home. John and an Allegany Indian were onhorseback, and Doctor and Jack were on foot. It was dark when they setout. They had not proceeded far, when Doctor and Jack commenced anotherquarrel with John, clenched and dragged him off his horse, and then with astone gave him so severe a blow on his head, that some of his brains weredischarged from the wound. The Allegany Indian, fearing that his turnwould come next, fled for safety as fast as possible. 

John recovered a little from the shock he had received, and endeavored toget to an old hut that stood near; but they caught him, and with an axecut his throat, and beat out his brains, so that when he was found thecontents of his skull were lying on his arms. 

Some squaws, who heard the uproar, ran to find out the cause of it; butbefore they had time to offer their assistance, the murderers drove theminto a house, and threatened to take their lives if they did not staythere, or if they made any noise. 

Next morning, Esq. Clute sent me word that John was dead, and alsoinformed me of the means by which his life was taken. A number of peoplewent from Gardow to where the body lay, and Doct. Levi Brundridge broughtit up home, where the funeral was attended after the manner of the whitepeople. Mr. Benjamin Luther, and Mr. William Wiles, preached a sermon, andperformed the funeral services; and myself and family followed the corpseto the grave as mourners. I had now buried my three sons, who had beensnatched from me by the hands of violence, when I least expected it. 

Although John had taken the life of his two brothers, and caused meunspeakable trouble and grief, his death made a solemn impression upon mymind, and seemed, in addition to my former misfortunes, enough to bringdown my grey hairs with sorrow to the grave. Yet, on a second thought, Icould not mourn for him as I had for my other sons, because I knew thathis death was just, and what he had deserved for a long time, from thehand of justice. 

John's vices were so great and so aggravated, that I have nothing to sayin his favor: yet, as a mother, I pitied him while he lived, and have everfelt a great degree of sorrow for him, because of his bad conduct. 

From his childhood, he carried something in his features indicative of anevil disposition, that would result in the perpetration of enormities ofsome kind; and it was the opinion and saying of Ebenezer Allen, that hewould be a bad man, and be guilty of some crime deserving of death. Thereis no doubt but what the thoughts of murder rankled in his breast, anddisturbed his mind even in his sleep; for he dreamed that he had killedThomas for a trifling offence, and thereby forfeited his own life. Alarmedat the revelation, and fearing that he might in some unguarded momentdestroy his brother, he went to the Black Chief, to whom he told thedream, and expressed his fears that the vision would be verified. Havingrelated the dream, together with his feelings on the subject, he asked forthe best advice that his old friend was capable of giving, to prevent sosad an event. The Black Chief, with his usual promptitude, told him, thatfrom the nature of the dream, he was fearful that something serious wouldtake place between him and Thomas; and advised him by all means to governhis temper, and avoid any quarrel which in future he might see arising, especially if Thomas was a party. John, however, did not keep the goodcounsel of the Chief; for soon after he killed Thomas, as I have related. 

John left two wives with whom he had lived at the same time, and raisednine children. His widows are now living at Caneadea with their father, and keep their children with, and near them. His children are tolerablywhite, and have got light colored hair. John died about the last day ofJune, 1817, aged 54 years. 

Doctor and Jack, having finished their murderous design, fled before theycould be apprehended, and lay six weeks in the woods back of Canisteo. They then returned and sent me some wampum by Chongo, (my son-in-law, ) andSun-ge-waw (that is Big Kettle) expecting that I would pardon them, andsuffer them to live as they had done with their tribe. I however, wouldnot accept their wampum, but returned it with a request, that, rather thanhave them killed, they would run away and keep out of danger. 

On their receiving back the wampum, they took my advice, and prepared toleave their country and people immediately. Their relatives accompaniedthem a short distance on their journey, and when about to part, their olduncle, the Tall Chief, addressed them in the following pathetic andsentimental speech:

"Friends, hear my voice!--When the Great Spirit made Indians, he made themall good, and gave them good corn-fields; good rivers, well stored withfish; good forests, filled with game and good bows and arrows. But verysoon each wanted more than his share, and Indians quarrelled with Indians, and some were killed, and others were wounded. Then the Great Spirit madea very good word, and put it in every Indians breast, to tell us when wehave done good, or when we have done bad; and that word has never told alie. 

"Friends! whenever you have stole, or got drunk, or lied, that good wordhas told you that you were bad Indians, and made you afraid of goodIndians; and made you ashamed and look down. 

"Friends! your crime is greater than all those:--you have killed an Indianin a time of peace; and made the wind hear his groans, and the earth drinkhis blood. You are bad Indians! Yes, you are very bad Indians; and whatcan you do? If you go into the woods to live alone, the ghost of JohnJemison will follow you, crying, blood! blood! and will give you no peace!If you go to the land of your nation, there that ghost will attend you, and say to your relatives, see my murderers! If you plant, it will blastyour corn; if you hunt, it will scare your game; and when you are asleep, its groans, and the sight of an avenging tomahawk, will awake you! Whatcan you do? Deserving of death, you cannot live here; and to fly from yourcountry, to leave all your relatives, and to abandon all that you haveknown to be pleasant and dear, must be keener than an arrow, more bitterthan gall, more terrible than death! And how must we feel?--Your path willbe muddy; the woods will be dark; the lightnings will glance down thetrees by your side, and you will start at every sound! peace has left you, and you must be wretched. 

"Friends, hear me, and take my advice. Return with us to your homes. Offerto the Great Spirit your best wampum, and try to be good Indians! And, ifthose whom you have bereaved shall claim your lives as their onlysatisfaction, surrender them cheerfully, and die like good Indians. And--"Here Jack, highly incensed, interrupted the old man, and bade him stopspeaking or he would take his life. Affrighted at the appearance of somuch desperation, the company hastened towards home, and left Doctor andJack to consult their own feelings. 

As soon as they were alone, Jack said to Doctor, "I had rather die here, than leave my country and friends! Put the muzzle of your rifle into mymouth, and I will put the muzzle of mine into yours, and at a given signalwe will discharge them, and rid ourselves at once of all the troublesunder which we now labor, and satisfy the claims which justice holdsagainst us. "

Doctor heard the proposition, and after a moment's pause, made thefollowing reply:--"I am as sensible as you can be of the unhappy situationin which we have placed ourselves. We are bad Indians. We have forfeitedour lives, and must expect in some way to atone for our crime: but, because we are bad and miserable, shall we make ourselves worse? If wewere now innocent, and in a calm reflecting moment should kill ourselves, that act would make us bad, and deprive us of our share of the goodhunting in the land where our fathers have gone! What would Little Beard[Footnote: Little Bears was a Chief who died in 1806. ] say to us on ourarrival at his cabin? He would say, 'Bad Indians! Cowards! You were afraidto wait till we wanted your help! Go (Jogo) to where snakes will lie inyour path; where the panthers will starve you, by devouring the venison;and where you will be naked and suffer with the cold! Jogo, (go, ) none butthe brave and good Indians live here!' I cannot think of performing an actthat will add to my wretchedness. It is hard enough for me to suffer here, and have good hunting hereafter--worse to lose the whole. "

Upon this, Jack withdrew his proposal. They went on about two miles, andthen turned about and came home. Guilty and uneasy, they lurked aboutSquawky Hill near a fortnight, and then went to Cattaraugus, and were gonesix weeks. When they came back, Jack's wife earnestly requested him toremove his family to Tonnewonta; but he remonstrated against her project, and utterly declined going. His wife and family, however, tired of thetumult by which they were surrounded, packed up their effects in spite ofwhat he could say, and went off. 

Jack deliberated a short time upon the proper course for himself topursue, and finally, rather than leave his old home, he ate a largequantity of muskrat root, and died in 10 or 12 hours. His family beingimmediately notified of his death, returned to attend the burial, and isyet living at Squawky Hill. 

Nothing was ever done with Doctor, who continued to live quietly atSquawky Hill till sometime in the year 1819, when he died of Consumption. 

CHAPTER XV. 

Micah Brooks, Esq. Volunteers to get the Title to her Land confirmed toherself. --She is Naturalized. --Great Council of Chiefs, &c. In Sept. 1823. --She Disposes of her Reservation. --Reserves a Tract 2 miles long, and 1 mile wide, &c. --The Consideration how Paid, &c. 

In 1816, Micah Brooks, Esq. Of Bloomfield, Ontario county, was recommendedto me (as it was said) by a Mr. Ingles, to be a man of candor, honesty andintegrity, who would by no means cheat me out of a cent. Mr. Brooks soonafter, came to my house and informed me that he was disposed to assist mein regard to my land, by procuring a legislative act that would invest mewith full power to dispose of it for my own benefit, and give as ample atitle as could be given by any citizen of the state. He observed that asit was then situated, it was of but little value, because it was not in mypower to dispose of it, let my necessities be ever so great. He thenproposed to take the agency of the business upon himself, and to get thetitle of one half of my reservation vested in me personally, upon thecondition that, as a reward for his services, I would give him the otherhalf. 

I sent for my son John, who on being consulted, objected to my going intoany bargain with Mr. Brooks, without the advice and consent of Mr. ThomasClute, who then lived on my land and near me. Mr. Clute was accordinglycalled on, to whom Mr. Brooks repeated his former statement, and added, that he would get an act passed in the Congress of the United States, thatwould invest me with all the rights and immunities of a citizen, so far asit respected my property. Mr. Clute, suspecting that some plan was inoperation that would deprive me of my possessions, advised me to havenothing to say on the subject to Mr. Brooks, till I had seen EsquireClute, of Squawky Hill. Soon after this Thomas Clute saw Esq. Clute, whoinformed him that the petition for my naturalization would be presented tothe Legislature of this State, instead of being sent to Congress; and thatthe object would succeed to his and my satisfaction. Mr. Clute thenobserved to his brother, Esq. Clute, that as the sale of Indian lands, which had been reserved, belonged exclusively to the United States, an actof the Legislature of New-York could have no effect in securing to me atitle to my reservation, or in depriving me of my property. They finallyagreed that I should sign a petition to Congress, praying for mynaturalization, and for the confirmation of the title of my land to me, myheirs, &c. 

Mr. Brooks came with the petition: I signed it, and it was witnessed byThomas Clute, and two others, and then returned to Mr. Brooks, whopresented it to the Legislature of this state at its session in the winterof 1816-17. On the 19th of April, 1817, an act was passed for mynaturalization, and ratifying and confirming the title of my land, agreeable to the tenor of the petition, which act Mr. Brooks presented tome on the first day of May following. 

Thomas Clute having examined the law, told me that it would probablyanswer, though it was not according to the agreement made by Mr. Brooks, and Esq. Clute and himself, for me. I then executed to Micah Brooks andJellis Clute, a deed of all my land lying east of the picket line on theGardow reservation, containing about 7000 acres. 

It is proper in this place to observe, in relation to Mr. Thomas Clute, that my son John, a few months before his death, advised me to take himfor my guardian, (as I had become old and incapable of managing myproperty, ) and to compensate him for his trouble by giving him a lot ofland on the west side of my reservation where he should choose it. Iaccordingly took my son's advice, and Mr. Clute has ever since beenfaithful and honest in all his advice and dealings with, and for, myselfand family. 

In the month of August, 1817, Mr. Brooks and Esq. Clute again came to mewith a request that I would give them a lease of the land which I hadalready deeded to them, together with the other part of my reservation, excepting and reserving to myself only about 4000 acres. 

At this time I informed Thomas Clute of what John had advised, andrecommended me to do, and that I had consulted my daughters on thesubject, who had approved of the measure. He readily agreed to assist me;whereupon I told him he was entitled to a lot of land, and might select asJohn had mentioned. He accordingly at that time took such a piece as hechose, and the same has ever since been reserved for him in all the landcontracts which I have made. 

On the 24th of August, 1817, I leased to Micah Brooks and Jellis Clute, the whole of my original reservation, except 4000 acres, and ThomasClute's lot. Finding their title still incomplete, on account of theUnited States government and Seneca Chiefs not having sanctioned my acts, they solicited me to renew the contract, and have the conveyance made tothem in such a manner as that they should thereby be constituted soleproprietors of the soil. 

In the winter of 1822-3, I agreed with them, that if they would get thechiefs of our nation, and a United States Commissioner of Indian Lands, tomeet in council at Moscow, Livingston county, N. Y. And there concur in myagreement, that I would sell to them all my right and title to the Gardowreservation, with the exception of a tract for my own benefit, two mileslong, and one mile wide, lying on the river where I should choose it; andalso reserving Thomas Clute's lot. This arrangement was agreed upon, andthe council assembled at the place appointed, on the 3d or 4th day ofSeptember, 1823. 

That council consisted of Major Carrol, who had been appointed by thePresident to dispose of my lands, Judge Howell and N. Gorham, ofCanandaigua, (who acted in concert with Maj. Carrol, ) Jasper Parrish, Indian Agent, Horatio Jones, Interpreter, and a great number of Chiefs. 

The bargain was assented to unanimously, and a deed given to H. B. Gibson, Micah Brooks and Jellis Clute, of the whole Gardow tract, excepting thelast mentioned reservations, which was signed by myself and upwards oftwenty Chiefs. 

The land which I now own, is bounded as follows:--Beginning at the centerof the Great Slide [Footnote: The Great Slide of the bank of Genesee riveris a curiosity worthy of the attention of the traveller. In the month ofMay, 1817, a portion of land thickly covered with timber, situated at theupper end of the Gardow flats, on the west side of the river, all of asudden gave way, and with a tremendous crash, slid into the bed of theriver, which it so completely filled, that the stream formed a new passageon the east side of it, where it continues to run, without overflowing theslide. This slide, as it now lies, contains 22 acres, and has aconsiderable share of the timber that formerly covered it, still standingerect upon it, and growing. ] and running west one mile, thence north twomiles, thence east about one mile to Genesee river, thence south on thewest bank of Genesee river to the place of beginning. 

In consideration of the above sale, the purchasers have bound themselves, their heirs, assigns, &c. To pay to me, my heirs or successors, threehundred dollars a year forever. 

Whenever the land which I have reserved, shall be sold, the income of itis to be equally divided amongst the members of the Seneca nation, withoutany reference to tribes or families. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

Conclusion. --Review of her Life. --Reflections on the loss ofLiberty. --Care she took to preserve her Health. --Indians' abstemiousnessin Drinking, after the French War. --Care of their Lives, &c. --General useof Spirits--Her natural Strength. --Purchase of her first Cow. --Means bywhich she has been supplied with Food. --Suspicions of her having been aWitch. --Her Constancy. --Number of Children. --Number Living. --TheirResidence. --Closing Reflection. 

When I review my life, the privations that I have suffered, the hardshipsI have endured, the vicissitudes I have passed, and the completerevolution that I have experienced in my manner of living; when I considermy reduction from a civilized to a savage state, and the various steps bywhich that process has been effected, and that my life has been prolonged, and my health and reason spared, it seems a miracle that I am unable toaccount for, and is a tragical medley that I hope will never be repeated. 

The bare loss of liberty is but a mere trifle when compared with thecircumstances that necessarily attend, and are inseparably connected withit. It is the recollection of what we once were, of the friends, the home, and the pleasures that we have left or lost; the anticipation of misery, the appearance of wretchedness, the anxiety for freedom, the hope ofrelease, the devising of means of escaping, and the vigilance with whichwe watch our keepers, that constitute the nauseous dregs of the bitter cupof slavery. I am sensible, however, that no one can pass from a state offreedom to that of slavery, and in the last situation rest perfectlycontented; but as every one knows that great exertions of the mind tenddirectly to debilitate the body, it will appear obvious that we ought, when confined, to exert all our faculties to promote our present comfort, and let future days provide their own sacrifices. In regard to ourselves, just as we feel, we are. 

For the preservation of my life to the present time I am indebted to anexcellent constitution, with which I have been blessed in as great adegree as any other person. After I arrived to years of understanding, thecare of my own health was one of my principal studies; and by avoidingexposures to wet and cold, by temperance in eating, abstaining from theuse of spirits, and shunning the excesses to which I was frequentlyexposed, I effected my object beyond what I expected. I have never oncebeen sick till within a year or two, only as I have related. Spirits andtobacco I have never used, and I have never once attended an Indianfrolic. When I was taken prisoner, and for sometime after that, spiritswas not known; and when it was first introduced, it was in smallquantities, and used only by the Indians; so that it was a long timebefore the Indian women begun to even taste it. 

After the French war, for a number of years, it was the practice of theIndians of our tribe to send to Niagara and get two or three kegs of rum, (in all six or eight gallons, ) and hold a frolic as long as it lasted. When the rum was brought to the town, all the Indians collected, andbefore a drop was drank, gave all their knives, tomahawks, guns, and otherinstruments of war, to one Indian, whose business it was to bury them in aprivate place, keep them concealed, and remain perfectly sober till thefrolic was ended. Having thus divested themselves, they commenceddrinking, and continued their frolic till every drop was consumed, If anyof them became quarrelsome, or got to fighting, those who were soberenough bound them upon the ground, where they were obliged to lie tillthey got sober, and then were unbound. When the fumes of the spirits hadleft the company, the sober Indian returned to each the instruments withwhich they had entrusted him, and all went home satisfied. A frolic ofthat kind was held but once a year, and that at the time the Indians quittheir hunting, and come in with their deer-skins. 

In those frolics the women never participated. Soon after therevolutionary war, however, spirits became common in our tribe, and hasbeen used indiscriminately by both sexes; though there are not so frequentinstances of intoxication amongst the squaws as amongst the Indians. 

To the introduction and use or that baneful article, which has made suchdevastation in our tribes, and threatens the extinction of our people, (the Indians, ) I can with the greatest propriety impute the whole of mymisfortune in losing my three sons. But as I have before observed, noteven the love of life will restrain an Indian from sipping the poison thathe knows will destroy him. The voice of nature, the rebukes of reason, theadvice of parents, the expostulations of friends, and the numerousinstances of sudden death, are all insufficient to reclaim an Indian, whohas once experienced the exhilarating and inebriating effects of spirits, from seeking his grave in the bottom of his bottle!

My strength has been great for a woman of my size, otherwise I must longago have died under the burdens which I was obliged to carry. I learned tocarry loads on my back, in a strap placed across my forehead, soon aftermy captivity; and continue to carry in the same way. Upwards of thirtyyears ago, with the help of my young children, I backed all the boardsthat were used about my house from Allen's mill at the outlet of SilverLake, a distance of five miles. I have planted, hoed, and harvested cornevery season but one since I was taken prisoner. Even this present fall(1823) I have husked my corn and backed it into the house. 

The first cow that I ever owned, I bought of a squaw sometime after therevolution. It had been stolen from the enemy. I had owned it but a fewdays when it fell into a hole, and almost died before we could get it out. After this, the squaw wanted to be recanted, but as I would not give upthe cow, I gave her money enough to make, when added to the sum which Ipaid her at first, thirty-five dollars. Cows were plenty on the Ohio, whenI lived there, and of good quality. 

For provisions I have never suffered since I came upon the flats; nor haveI ever been in debt to any other hands than my own for the plenty that Ihave shared. 

My vices, that have been suspected, have been but few. It was believed fora long time, by some of our people, that I was a great witch; but theywere unable to prove my guilt, and consequently I escaped the certain doomof those who are convicted of that crime, which, by Indians, is consideredas heinous as murder. Some of my children had light brown hair, andtolerable fair skin, which used to make some say that I stole them; yet asI was ever conscious of my own constancy, I never thought that any onereally believed that I was guilty of adultery. 

I have been the mother of eight children; three of whom are now living, and I have at this time thirty-nine grand children, and fourteengreat-grand children, all living in the neighborhood of Genesee River, andat Buffalo. 

I live in my own house, and on my own land with my youngest daughter, Polly, who is married to George Chongo, and has three children. 

My daughter Nancy, who is married to Billy Green, lives about 80 rodssouth of my house, and has seven children. 

My other, daughter, Betsey, is married to John Green, has seven children, and resides 80 rods north of my house. 

Thus situated in the midst of my children, I expect I shall soon leave theworld, and make room for the rising generation. I feel the weight of yearswith which I am loaded, and am sensible of my daily failure in seeing, hearing and strength; but my only anxiety is for my family. If my familywill live happily, and I can be exempted from trouble while I have tostay, I feel as though I could lay down in peace a life that has beenchecked in almost every hour, with troubles of a deeper dye, than arecommonly experienced by mortals. 

APPENDIX. 

An account of the destruction of a part of the British Army, by theIndians, at a place called the Devil's Hole, on the Niagara River, in theyear 1763. 

It is to be regretted that an event of so tragical a nature as thefollowing, should have escaped the pens of American Historians, and havebeen suffered to slide down the current of time, to the verge of oblivion, without having been snatched almost from the vortex of forgetfulness, andplaced on the faithful page, as a memorial of premeditated cruelties, which, in former times, were practised upon the white people, by the NorthAmerican Savages. 

Modern History, perhaps, cannot furnish a parallel so atrocious in designand execution, as the one before us, and it may be questioned, even if thehistory of ancient times, when men fought hand to hand, and disgracedtheir nature by inventing engines of torture, can more than produce itsequal. 

It will be observed in the preceding narrative, that the affair at theDevil's Hole is said to have happened in November, 1759. That Mrs. Jemisonarrived at Genesee about that time, is rendered certain from a number ofcircumstances; and that a battle was fought on the Niagara in Nov. 1759, in which two prisoners and some oxen were taken, and brought to Genesee, as she has stated, is altogether probable. But it is equally certain thatthe event which is the subject of this article, did not take place tillthe year 1763. 

In the time of the French war, the neighborhood of Forts Niagara andSclusser, (or Schlosser, as it was formerly written, ) on the Niagarariver, was a general battle-ground, and for this reason, Mrs. Jemison'smemory ought not to be charged with treachery, for not having been able todistinguish accurately, after the lapse of sixty years, between thecircumstances of one engagement and those of another. She resided on theGenesee at the time when the warriors of that tribe marched off to assistin laying the ambush at the Devil's Hole; and no one will doubt her havingheard them rehearse the story of the event of that nefarious campaign, after they returned. 

Chronology and history concur in stating that Fort Niagara was taken fromthe French, by the British, and that Gen. Prideaux was killed on the 25thof July, 1759. 

Having obtained from Mrs. Jemison a kind of introduction to the story, Iconcluded that if it yet remained possible to procure a correct account ofthe circumstances which led to and attended that transaction, it would behighly gratifying to the American public, I accordingly directed a letterto Mr. Linus S. Everett, of Buffalo, whose ministerial labor, I well knew, frequently called him to Lewiston, requesting him to furnish me with aparticular account of the destruction of the British, at the time andplace before mentioned. He obligingly complied with my request, and gaveme the result of his inquiries on that subject, in the following letter:--

Copy of a letter from Mr. Linus S. Everett, dated Fort Sclusser, 29thDecember, 1823. 

_Respected and dear friend_, I hasten, with much pleasure, to comply with your request, in regard tothe affair at the Devil's Hole. I have often wondered that no authenticaccount has ever been given of that bloody and tragical scene. 

I have made all the inquiries that appear to be of any use, and proceed togive you the result. 

At this place, (Fort Sclusser, ) an old gentleman now resides, to whom I amindebted for the best account of the affair that can be easily obtained. His name is Jesse Ware--his age about 74. Although he was not a residentof this part of the country at the time of the event, yet from hisintimate acquaintance with one of the survivors, he is able to give muchinformation, which otherwise could not be obtained. 

The account that he gives is as follows:--In July, 1759, the British, under Sir William Johnston, took possession of Forts Niagara and Sclusser, which had before been in the hands of the French. At this time, the SenecaIndians, (which were a numerous and powerful nation, ) were hostile to theBritish, and warmly allied to the French. These two posts, (viz. ) Niagaraand Sclusser, were of great importance to the British, on the account ofaffording the means of communication with the posts above, or on the upperlakes. In 1760, a contract was made between Sir William Johnston and a Mr. Stedman, to construct a portage road from Queenston landing to FortSclusser, a distance of eight miles, in order to facilitate thetransportation of provision, ammunition, &c. From one place to the other. In conformity to this agreement, on the 20th of June, 1763, Stedman hadcompleted his road, and appeared at Queenston Landing, (now Lewiston, )with twenty-five portage wagons, and one hundred horses and oxen, totransport to Fort Sclusser the king's stores. 

At this time Sir William Johnston was suspicious of the intentions of theSenecas; for after the surrender of the forts by the French, they hadappeared uneasy and hostile. In order to prevent the teams, drivers andgoods, receiving injury, he detached 300 troops to guard them across theportage. The teams, under this escort, started from Queenstonlanding--Stedman, who had the charge of the whole, was on horse back, androde between the troops and teams; all the troops being in front. On asmall hill near the Devil's Hole, at that time, was a redoubt of twelvemen, which served as a kind of guard on ordinary occasions, against thedepredations of the savages. "On the arrival of the troops and teams atthe Devil's Hole, " says a manuscript in the hands of my informant, "thesachems, chiefs and warriors of the Seneca Indians, sallied from theadjoining woods, by thousands, (where they had been concealed for sometime before, for that nefarious purpose, ) and falling upon the troops, teams and drivers, and the guard of twelve men before mentioned, theykilled all the men but three on the spot, or by driving them, togetherwith the teams, down the precipice, which was about seventy or eightyfeet! The Indians seized Stedman's horse by the bridle, while he was onhim, designing, no doubt, to make his sufferings more lasting than that ofhis companions: but while the bloody scene was acting, the attention ofthe Indian who held the horse of Stedman being arrested, he cut the reinsof his bridle--clapped spurs to his horse, and rode over the dead anddying, into the adjacent woods, without receiving injury from the enemy'sfiring. Thus he escaped; and besides him two others--one a drummer, whofell among the trees, was caught by his drum strap, and escaped unhurt;the other, one who fell down the precipice and broke his thigh, butcrawled to the landing or garrison down the river. " The followingSeptember, the Indians gave Stedman a piece of land, as a reward for hisbravery. 

With sentiments of respect, I remain, sir, your sincere friend, L. S. EVERETT. 

_Mr. J. E. Seaver_. 

 * * * * *

A particular account of General Sullivan's Expedition against the Indians, in the western part of the State of New-York, in 1779. 

It has been thought expedient to publish in this volume, the followingaccount of Gen. Sullivan's expedition, in addition to the facts related byMrs. Jemison, of the barbarities which were perpetrated upon Lieut. Boyd, and two others, who were taken, and who formed a part of his army, etc. Adetailed account of this expedition has never been in the hands of thepublic; and as it is now produced from a source deserving implicit credit, it is presumed that it will be received with satisfaction. 

John Salmon, Esq. To whom we are happy to acknowledge our indebtedness forthe subjoined account, is an old gentleman of respectability and goodstanding in society; and is at this time a resident in the town ofGroveland, Livingston county, New-York. He was a hero in the American warfor independence; fought in the battles of his country under thecelebrated Morgan; survived the blast of British oppression; and now, inthe decline of life, sits under his own well earned vine and fig-tree, near the grave of his unfortunate countrymen, who fell gloriously, whilefighting the ruthless savages, under the command of the gallant Boyd. 

In the autumn after the battle at Monmouth, (1778, ) Morgan's riflemen, towhich corps I belonged, marched to Schoharie, in this state of New-York, and there went into winter quarters. The company to which I was attached, was commanded by Capt. Michael Simpson; and Thomas Boyd, of Northumberlandcounty, Pennsylvania, was our Lieutenant. 

In the following spring, our corps, together with the whole body of troopsunder the command of Gen. Clinton, to the amount of about 1500, embarkedin boats at Schenectady, and ascended the Mohawk as far as German Flats. Thence we took a direction to Otsego lake, descended the Susquehanna, andwithout any remarkable occurrence, arrived at Tioga Point, where ourtroops united with an army of 1500 men under the command of Gen. Sullivan, who had marched through a part of New-Jersey, and had reached that placeby the way of Wyoming, some days before us. 

That part of the army under Gen. Sullivan, had, on their arrival at TiogaPoint, found the Indians in some force there, with whom they had had someunimportant skirmishes before our arrival. Upon the junction of these twobodies of troops, Gen. Sullivan assumed the command of the whole, andproceeded up the Tioga. When within a few miles of the place now calledNewtown, we were met by a body of Indians, and a number of troops wellknown in those times by the name of Butler's Rangers, who had thrown up, hastily, a breastwork of logs, trees, &c. They were, however, easilydriven from their works, with considerable loss on their part, and withoutany injury to our troops. The enemy fled with so much precipitation, thatthey left behind them some stores and camp equippage. They retreated but ashort distance before they made a stand, and built another breastwork ofconsiderable length, in the woods, near a small opening. Sullivan was soonapprized of their situation, divided his army, and attempted to surround, by sending one half to the right and the other to the left, withdirections to meet on the opposite side of the enemies. In order toprevent their retreating, he directed bomb-shells to be thrown over them, which was done: but on the shells bursting, the Indians suspected that apowerful army had opened a heavy fire upon them on that side, and fledwith the utmost precipitation through one wing of the surrounding army. Agreat number of the enemy were killed, and our army suffered considerably. 

The Indians having, in this manner, escaped, they went up the river to aplace called the Narrows, where they were attacked by our men, who killedthem in great numbers, so that the sides of the rocks next the riverappeared as though blood had been poured on them by pailfulls. The Indiansthrew their dead into the river, and escaped the best way they could. 

From Newtown our army went directly to the head of the Seneca lake; thencedown that lake to its mouth, where we found the Indian village at thatplace evacuated, except by a single inhabitant--a male child about sevenor eight years of age, who was found asleep in one of the Indian huts. Itsfate I have never ascertained. It was taken into the care of an officer ofthe army, who, on account of ill health, was not on duty, and who took thechild with him, as I have since understood, to his residence on or nearthe North river. 

From the mouth of Seneca lake we proceeded, without the occurrence of anything of importance, by the outlets of the Canandaigua, Honeoye, andHemlock lakes, to the head of Connissius lake, where the army encamped onthe ground that is now called Henderson's Flats. 

Soon after the army had encamped, at the dusk of the evening, a party oftwenty-one men, under the command of Lieut. Boyd, was detached from therifle corps, and sent out for the purpose of reconnoitering the groundnear the Genesee river, at a place now called Williamsburg, at a distancefrom the camp of about seven miles, under the guidance of a faithfulIndian pilot. That place was then the site of an Indian village, and itwas apprehended that the Indians and Rangers might be there or in thatvicinity in considerable force. 

On the arrival of the party at Williamsburg, they found that the Indianvillage had been recently deserted, as the fires in the huts were stillburning. The night was so far spent when they got to their place ofdestination, that Lieutenant Boyd, considering the fatigue of his men, concluded to remain during the night near the village, and to send two menmessengers with a report to the camp in the morning. Accordingly, a littlebefore daybreak, he despatched two men to the main body of the army, withinformation that the enemy had not been discovered. 

After day-light, Lieut. Boyd cautiously crept from the place of hisconcealment, and upon getting a view of the village, discovered twoIndians hovering about the settlement: one of whom was immediately shotand scalped by one of the riflemen, whose name was Murphy. Supposing thatif there were Indians in that vicinity, or near the village, they would beinstantly alarmed by this occurrence, Lieut. Boyd thought it most prudentto retire, and make the best of his way to the general encampment of ourarmy. They accordingly set out and retraced the steps which they had takenthe day before, till they were intercepted by the enemy. 

On their arriving within about one mile and a half of the main army, theywere surprized by the sudden appearance of a body of Indians, to theamount of five hundred, under the command of the celebrated Brandt, andthe same number of Rangers, commanded by the infamous Butler, who hadsecreted themselves in a ravine of considerable extent, which lay acrossthe track that Lieut. Boyd had pursued. 

Upon discovering the enemy, and knowing that the only chance for escapewas by breaking through their line, (one of the most desperate enterprizesever undertaken, ) Lieut. Boyd, after a few words of encouragement, led hismen to the attempt. As extraordinary as it may seem, the first onset, though unsuccessful, was made without the loss of a man on the part of theheroic band, though several of the enemy were killed. Two attempts morewere made, which were equally unsuccessful, and in which the whole partyfell, except Lieut. Boyd, and eight others. Lieut. Boyd and a soldier bythe name of Parker, were taken prisoners on the spot, a part of theremainder fled, and a part fell on the ground, apparently dead, and wereoverlooked by the Indians, who were too much engaged in pursuing thefugitives to notice those who fell. 

When Lieut. Boyd found himself a prisoner, he solicited an interview withBrandt, whom he well knew commanded the Indians. This Chief, who was atthat moment near, immediately presented himself, when Lieut. Boyd, by oneof those appeals which are known only by those who have been initiated andinstructed in certain mysteries, and which never fail to bring succor to a"distressed brother, " addressed him as the only source from which he couldexpect a respite from cruel punishment or death. The appeal wasrecognized, and Brandt immediately, and in the strongest language, assuredhim that his life should be spared. 

Lieut. Boyd, and his fellow-prisoner, Parker, were immediately conductedby a party of the Indians to the Indian village called Beard's Town, onthe west side of Genesee river, in what is now called Leicester. Aftertheir arrival at Beard's Town, Brandt, their generous preserver, beingcalled on service which required a few hours absence, left them in thecare of the British Col. Butler, of the Rangers; who, as soon as Brandthad left them, commenced an interrogation, to obtain from the prisoners astatement of the number, situation and intentions of the army under Gen. Sullivan; and threatened them, in case they hesitated or prevaricated intheir answers, to deliver them up immediately to be massacred by theIndians, who, in Brandt's absence, and with the encouragement of theirmore savage commander, Butler, were ready to commit the greatestcruelties. Relying, probably, on the promises which Brandt had made them, and which he undoubtedly meant to fulfil, they refused to give Butler thedesired information. Butler, upon this, hastened to put his threat intoexecution. They were delivered to some of their most ferocious enemies, who, after having put them to very severe torture, killed them by severingtheir heads from their bodies. 

The main army, immediately after hearing of the situation of Lieut. Boyd'sdetachment, moved on towards Genesee river, and finding the bodies ofthose who were slain in Boyd's heroic attempt to penetrate through theenemy's line, buried them in what is now the town of Groveland, where thegrave is to be seen at this day. 

Upon their arrival at the Genesee river, they crossed over, scoured thecountry for some distance on the river, burnt the Indian villages on theGenesee flats, and destroyed all their corn and other means of subsistence. 

The bodies of Lieut. Boyd and Parker were found and buried near the bankof Beard's creek, under a bunch of wild plum-trees, on the road, as it nowruns, from Moscow to Geneseo. I was one of those who committed to theearth the remains of my friend and companion in arms, the gallant Boyd. 

Immediately after these events the army commenced its march back, by thesame route that it came, to Tioga Point; thence down the Susquehanna toWyoming; and thence across the country to Morristown, New-Jersey, where wewent into winter quarters. 

Gen. Sullivan's bravery is unimpeachable. He was unacquainted, however, with fighting the Indians, and made use of the best means to keep them atsuch a distance that they could not be brought into an engagement. It washis practice, morning and evening, to have cannon fired in or near thecamp, by which the Indians were notified of their speed in marching, andof his situation, and were enabled to make a seasonable retreat. 

The foregoing account, according to the best of my recollection isstrictly correct. 

JOHN SALMON. 

Groveland, January 24, 1824. 

Esq. Salmon was formerly from Northumberland county, Pennsylvania, and wasfirst Serjeant in Capt. Simpson's and Lieut. Boyd's company. 

Tradition of the Origin of the Seneca Nation. --Their Preservation fromutter extinction. --The Means by which the People who preceded the Senecaswere destroyed--and the Cause of the different Indian Languages. 

The tradition of the Seneca Indians, in regard to their origin, as we areassured by Capt. Horatio Jones, who was a prisoner five years amongstthem, and for many years since has been an interpreter, and agent for thepayment of their annuities, is that they broke out of the earth from alarge mountain at the head of Canandaigua Lake, and that mountain theystill venerate as the place of their birth; thence they derive their name, "Ge-nun-de-wah, " [Footnote: This by some is spoken Ge-nun-de-wah-gauh. ] orGreat Hill, and are called "The Great Hill People, " which is the truedefinition of the word Seneca. 

The great hill at the head of Canandaigua lake, from whence they sprung, is called Genundewah, and has for a long time past been the place wherethe Indians of that nation have met in council, to hold great talks, andto offer up prayers to the Great Spirit, on account of its having beentheir birth place; and also in consequence of the destruction of a serpentat that place, in ancient time, in a most miraculous manner, whichthreatened the destruction of the whole of the Senecas, and barely sparedenough to commence replenishing the earth. 

The Indians say, says Capt. Jones, that the fort on the big hill, orGenundewah, near the head of Canandaigua lake, was surrounded by amonstrous serpent, whose head and tail came together at the gate. A longtime it lay there, confounding the people with its breath. At length theyattempted to make their escape, some with their hommany-blocks, and otherswith different implements of household furniture; and in marching out ofthe fort walked down the throat of the serpent. Two orphan children, whohad escaped this general destruction by being left some time before on theoutside of the fort, were informed by an oracle of the means by which theycould get rid of their formidable enemy--which was, to take a small bowand a poisoned arrow, made of a kind of willow, and with that shoot theserpent under its scales. This they did, and the arrow proved effectual;for on its penetrating the skin, the serpent became sick, and extendingitself rolled down the hill, destroying all the timber that was in itsway, disgorging itself and breaking wind greatly as it went. At everymotion, a human head was discharged, and rolled down the hill into thelake, where they lie at this day, in a petrified state, having thehardness and appearance of stones. 

To this day the Indians visit that sacred place, to mourn the loss oftheir friends, and to celebrate some rites that are peculiar tothemselves. To the knowledge of white people there has been no timber onthe great hill since it was first discovered by them, though it layapparently in a state of nature for a great number of years, withoutcultivation. Stones in the shape of Indians' heads may be seen lying inthe lake in great plenty, which are said to be the same that weredeposited there at the death of the serpent. 

The Senecas have a tradition, that previous to, and for some time after, their origin at Genundewah, this country, especially about the lakes, wasthickly inhabited by a race of civil, enterprizing and industrious people, who were totally destroyed by the great serpent, that afterwardssurrounded the great hill fort, with the assistance of others of the samespecies; and that they (the Senecas) went into possession of theimprovements that were left. 

In those days the Indians throughout the whole country, as the Senecassay, spoke one language; but having become considerably numerous, thebefore mentioned great serpent, by an unknown influence, confounded theirlanguage, so that they could not understand each other; which was thecause of their division into nations, as the Mohawks, Oneidas, &c. At thattime, however, the Senecas retained their original language, and continuedto occupy their mother hill, on which they fortified themselves againsttheir enemies, and lived peaceably, till having offended the serpent, [Footnote: The pagans of the Senecas believe that all the little snakeswere made of the blood of the great serpent, after it rolled into thelake. ] they were cut off as before stated. 

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OF THEIR RELIGION--FEASTS--AND GREAT SACRIFICE. 

Perhaps no people are more exact observers of religious duties than thoseIndians among the Senecas, who are denominated pagans, incontradistinction from those, who, having renounced some of their formersuperstitious notions, have obtained the name of Christians. Thetraditionary faith of their fathers, having been orally transmitted tothem from time immemorial, is implicitly believed, scrupulously adheredto, and rigidly practised. They are agreed in their sentiments--are all ofone order, and have individual and public good, especially amongthemselves, for the great motive which excites them to attend to thosemoral virtues that are directed and explained by all their rules, and inall their ceremonies. 

Many years have elapsed since the introduction of Christian Missionariesamong them, whom they have heard, and very generally understand thepurport of the message they were sent to deliver. They say that it ishighly probable that Jesus Christ came into the world in old times, toestablish a religion that would promote the happiness of the white people, on the other side of the great water, (meaning the sea, ) and that he diedfor the sins of his people, as the missionaries have informed them: But, they say that Jesus Christ had nothing to do with them, and that theChristian religion was not designed for their benefit; but rather, shouldthey embrace it, they are confident it would make them worse, andconsequently do them an injury. They say, also, that the Great Good Spiritgave them their religion; and that it is better adapted to theircircumstances, situation and habits, and to the promotion of their presentcomfort and ultimate happiness, than any system that ever has or can bedevised. They, however, believe, that the Christian religion is bettercalculated for the good of white people than theirs is; and wonder thatthose who have embraced it, do not attend more strictly to its precepts, and feel more engaged for its support and diffusion among themselves. Atthe present time, they are opposed to preachers or schoolmasters beingsent or coming among them; and appear determined by all means to adhere totheir ancient customs. 

They believe in a Great Good Spirit, (whom they call in the Senecalanguage Nau-wan-e-u, ) as the Creator of the world, and of every goodthing--that he made men, and all inoffensive animals; that he supplies menwith all the comforts of life; and that he is particularly partial to theIndians, whom they say are his peculiar people. They also believe that heis pleased in giving them (the Indians) good gifts; and that he is highlygratified with their good conduct--that he abhors their vices, and that heis willing to punish them for their bad conduct, not only in this world, but in a future state of existence. His residence, they suppose, lies at agreat distance from them, in a country that is perfectly pleasant, whereplenty abounds, even to profusion. That there the soil is completelyfertile, and the seasons so mild that the corn never fails to begood--that the deer, elk, buffalo, turkies, and other useful animals, arenumerous, and that the forests are well calculated to facilitate theirhunting them with success--that the streams are pure, and abound withfish: and that nothing is wanting, to render fruition complete. Over thisterritory they say Nauwaneu presides as an all-powerful king; and thatwithout counsel he admits to his pleasures all whom he considers to beworthy of enjoying so great a state of blessedness. 

To this being they address prayers, offer sacrifices, give thanks forfavors, and perform many acts of devotion and reverence. 

They likewise believe that Nauwaneu has a brother that is less powerfulthan himself, and who is opposed to him, and to every one that is orwishes to be good: that this bad Spirit made all evil things, snakes, wolves, catamounts, and all other poisonous or noxious animals and beastsof prey, except the bear, which, on the account of the excellence of itsmeat for food, and skin for clothing, they say was made by Nauwaneu. Besides all this they say he makes and sends them their diseases, badweather and bad crops, and that he makes and supports witches. He owns alarge country adjoining that of his brother, with whom he is continuallyat variance. His fields are unproductive; thick clouds intercept the raysof the sun, and consequently destructive frosts are frequent; game is veryscarce, and not easily taken; ravenous beasts are numerous; reptiles ofevery poisoned tooth lie in the path of the traveller; streams are muddy, and hunger, nakedness and general misery, are severely felt by those whounfortunately become his tenants. He takes pleasure in afflicting theIndians here, and after their death receives all those into his drearydominions, who in their life time have been so vile as to be rejected byNauwaneu, under whose eye they are continued in an uncomfortable stateforever. To this source of evil they offer some oblations to abate hisvengeance, and render him propitious. They, however, believe him to be, ina degree, under subjection to his brother, and incapable of executing hisplans only by his high permission. 

Public religious duties are attended to in the celebration of particularfestivals and sacrifices, which are observed with circumspection andattended with decorum. 

In each year they have five feasts, or stated times for assembling intheir tribes, and giving thanks to Nauwaneu, for the blessings which theyhave received from his kind and liberal and provident hand; and also toconverse upon the best means of meriting a continuance of his favors. Thefirst of these feasts is immediately after they have finished sugaring, atwhich time they give thanks for the favorable weather and great quantityof sap they have had, and for the sugar that they have been allowed tomake for the benefit of their families. At this, as at all the succeedingfeasts, the Chiefs arise singly, and address the audience in a kind ofexhortation, in which they express their own thankfulness, urge thenecessity and propriety of general gratitude, and point out the coursewhich ought to be pursued by each individual, in order that Nauwaneu maycontinue to bless them, and that the evil spirit may be defeated. 

On these occasions the Chiefs describe a perfectly straight line, half aninch wide, and perhaps ten miles long, which they direct their people totravel upon by placing one foot before the other, with the heel of onefoot to the toe of the other, and so on till they arrive at the end. Themeaning of which is, that they must not turn aside to the right hand or tothe left into the paths of vice, but keep straight ahead in the way ofwell doing, that will lead them to the paradise of Nauwaneu. 

The second feast is after planting; when they render thanks for thepleasantness of the season--for the good time they have had for preparingtheir ground and planting their corn; and are instructed by their Chiefs, by what means to merit a good harvest. 

When the green corn becomes fit for use, they hold their third, or greencorn feast. Their fourth is celebrated after corn harvest; and the fifthat the close of their year, and is always celebrated at the time of theold moon in the last of January or first of February. This last deserves aparticular description. 

The Indians having returned, from hunting, and having brought in all thevenison and skins that they have taken, a committee is appointed, saysMrs. Jemison, consisting of from ten to twenty active men, to superintendthe festivities of the great sacrifice and thanksgiving that is to beimmediately celebrated. This being done, preparations are made at thecouncil-house, or place of meeting, for the reception and accommodation ofthe whole tribe; and then the ceremonies are commenced, and the whole isconducted with a great degree of order and harmony, under the direction ofthe committee. 

Two white dogs, [Footnote: This was the practice in former times; but atpresent I am informed that only one dog is sacrificed. ] without spot orblemish, are selected (if such can be found, and if not, two that have thefewest spots) from those belonging to the tribe, and killed near the doorof the council-house, by being strangled. A wound on the animal or aneffusion of blood, would spoil the victim, and render the sacrificeuseless. The dogs are then painted red on their faces, edges of theirears, and on various parts of their bodies, and are curiously decoratedwith ribbons of different colors, and fine feathers, which are tied andfastened on in such a manner as to make the most elegant appearance. Theyare then hung on a post near the door of the council-house, at the heightof twenty feet from the ground. 

This being done, the frolic is commenced by those who are present, whilethe committee run through the tribe or town, and hurry the people toassemble, by knocking on their houses. At this time the committee arenaked, (wearing only a breech-clout, ) and each carries a paddle, withwhich he takes up ashes and scatters them about the house in everydirection. In the course of the ceremonies, all the fire is extinguishedin every hut throughout the tribe, and new fire, struck from the flint oneach hearth, is kindled, after having removed the whole of the ashes, oldcoals, &c. Having done this, and discharged one or two guns, they go on, and in this manner they proceed till they have visited every house in thetribe. This finishes the business of the first day. 

On the second day the committee dance, go through the town with bear-skinon their legs, and at every time they start they fire a gun. They also begthrough the tribe, each carrying a basket in which to receive whatever maybe bestowed. The alms consist of Indian tobacco, and other articles thatare used for incense at the sacrifice. Each manager at this time carries adried tortoise or turtle shell, containing a few beans, which hefrequently rubs on the walls of the houses, both inside and out. This kindof manoeuvering by the committee continues two or three days, during whichtime the people at the council-house recreate themselves by dancing. 

On the fourth or fifth day the committee make false faces of husks, inwhich they run about, making a frightful but ludicrous appearance. In thisdress, (still wearing the bear-skin, ) they run to the council-house, smearing themselves with dirt, and bedaub every one who refuses tocontribute something towards filling the baskets of incense, which theycontinue to carry, soliciting alms. During all this time they collect theevil spirit, or drive it off entirely, for the present, and alsoconcentrate within themselves all the sins of their tribe, howevernumerous or heinous. 

On the eighth or ninth day, the committee having received all the sin, asbefore observed, into their own bodies, they take down the dogs, and afterhaving transfused the whole of it into one of their own number, he, by apeculiar slight of hand, or kind of magic, works it all out of himselfinto the dogs. The dogs, thus loaded with all the sins of the people, areplaced upon a pile of wood that is directly set on fire. Here they areburnt, together with the sins with which they were loaded, surrounded bythe multitude, who throw incense of tobacco or the like into the fire, thescent of which they say, goes up to Nauwaneu, to whom it is pleasant andacceptable. 

This feast continues nine days, [Footnote: At present, as I have beeninformed, this feast is not commonly held more than from five to sevendays. In former times, and till within a few years, nine days wereparticularly observed. ] and during that time the Chiefs review thenational affairs of the year past; agree upon the best plan to be pursuedthrough the next year, and attend to all internal regulations. 

On the last day, the whole company partake of an elegant dinner, consisting of meat, corn and beans, boiled together in large kettles, andstirred till the whole is completely mixed and soft. This mess is devouredwithout much ceremony--some eat with a spoon, by dipping out of thekettles; others serve themselves in small dippers; some in one way, andsome in another, till the whole is consumed. After this they perform thewar dance, the peace dance, and smoke the pipe of peace; and then, freefrom iniquity, each repairs to his place of abode, prepared to commencethe business of a new year. In this feast, temperance is observed, andcommonly, order prevails in a greater degree than would naturally beexpected. 

They are fond of the company of spectators who are disposed to be decent, and treat them politely in their way; but having been frequently imposedupon by the whites, they treat them generally with indifference. 

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OF THEIR DANCES. 

Of these, two only will be noticed. The war dance is said to haveoriginated about the time that the Six Nations, or Northern Indians, commenced the old war with the Cherokees and other Southern IndianNations, about one hundred years ago. 

When a tribe, or number of tribes of the Six Nations, had assembled forthe purpose of going to battle with their enemies, the Chiefs sung thissong, and accompanied the music with dancing, and gestures thatcorresponded with the sentiments expressed, as a kind of stimulant toincrease their courage, and anxiety to march forward to the place ofcarnage. 

Those days having passed away, the Indians at this day sing the 'warsong, ' to commemorate the achievements of their fathers, and as a kind ofamusement. When they perform it, they arm themselves with a war-club, tomahawk and knife, and commence singing with firm voice, and a stern, resolute countenance: but before they get through they exhibit in theirfeatures and actions the most shocking appearance of anger, fury andvengeance, that can be imagined: No exhibition of the kind can be moreterrifying to a stranger. 

The song requires a number of repetitions in the tune, and has a chorusthat is sung at the end of each verse. I have not presumed to arrange itin metre; but the following is the substance: "We are assembled in thehabiliments of war, and will go in quest of our enemies. We will march totheir land and spoil their possessions. We will take their women andchildren, and lead them into captivity. The warriors shall fall by ourwar-clubs--we will give them no quarter. Our tomahawks we will dip intheir brains! with our scalping knives we will scalp them. " At each periodcomes on the chorus, which consists of one monosyllable only, that issounded a number of times, and articulated like a faint, stifled groan. This word is "eh, " and signifies "we will, " or "we will go, " or "we willdo. " While singing, they perform the ceremony of killing and scalping, with a great degree of dexterity. 

The peace dance is performed to a tune without words, by both sexes. TheIndians stand erect in one place, and strike the floor with the heel andtoes of one foot, and then of the other, (the heels and toes all the whilenearly level, ) without changing their position in the least. The squaws atthe same time perform it by keeping the feet close together, and withoutraising them from the ground, move a short distance to the right, and thento the left, by first moving their toes and then their heels. This danceis beautiful, and is generally attended with decency. 

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OF THEIR GOVERNMENT. 

Their government is an oligarchy of a mixed nature; and is administered byChiefs, a part of whose offices are hereditary, and a part elective. Thenation is divided into tribes, and each tribe commonly has two Chiefs. Oneof these inherits his office from his father. He superintends all civilaffairs in the tribe; attends the national council, of which he is amember; assents to all conveyances of land, and is consulted on everysubject of importance. The other is elected by the tribe, and can beremoved at the pleasure of his constituents for malconduct. He also is amember of the national council: but his principal business is tosuperintend the military concerns of his tribe, and in war to lead hiswarriors to battle. He acts in concert with the other Chief, and theirword is implicitly relied on, as the law by which they must be governed. That which they prohibit, is not meddled with. The Indian laws are few, and easily expounded. Their business of a public nature is transacted incouncil, where every decision is final. They meet in general council oncea year, and sometimes oftener. The administration of their government isnot attended with expense. They have no national revenue, and consequentlyhave no taxes. 

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THE EXTENT AND NUMBER OF THE SIX NATIONS. 

The Six Nations in the state of New-York are located upon severalreservations, from the Oneida Lake to the Cattaraugus and Allegany rivers. 

A part of those nations live on the Sandusky, in the state of Ohio, viz--380 Cayugas, 300 Senecas, 64 Mohawks, 64 Oneidas, and 80 Onondagas. The bulk of the Mohawks are on Grand River, Upper Canada, together withsome Senecas, Tuscaroras, Cayugas, Oneidas, and Onondagas. 

In the state of New-York there are 5000, and in the state of Ohio 688, aswe are assured by Capt. Horatio Jones, agent for paying their annuities, making in the whole, in both states, 5688. 

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OF THEIR COURTSHIPS, &c. 

When an Indian sees a squaw whom he fancies, he sends a present to hermother or parents, who on receiving it consult with his parents, hisfriends, and each other, on the propriety and expediency of the proposedconnexion. If it is not agreeable, the present is returned; but if it is, the lover is informed of his good fortune, and immediately goes to livewith her, or takes her to a hut of his own preparing. 

Polygamy is practised in a few instances, and is not prohibited. 

Divorces are frequent. If a difficulty of importance arises between amarried couple, they agree to separate. They divide their property andchildren; the squaw takes the girls, the Indian the boys, and both are atliberty to marry again. 

They have no marriage ceremony, nor form of divorcement, other than whathas been mentioned. 

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OF FAMILY GOVERNMENT. 

In their families, parents are very mild, and the mother superintends thechildren. The word of the Indian father, however, is law, and must beobeyed by the whole that are under his authority. 

One thing respecting the Indian women is worthy of attention, and perhapsof imitation, although it is now a days considered beneath the dignity ofthe ladies, especially those who are the most refined; and that is, theyare under a becoming subjection to their husbands. It is a rule, inculcated in all the Indian tribes, and practised throughout theirgenerations, that a squaw shall not walk before her Indian, nor pretend totake the lead in his business. And for this reason we never can see aparty on the march to or from hunting and the like, in which the squawsare not directly in the rear of their partners. 

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OF THEIR FUNERALS. 

The deceased having been laid out in his best clothing, is put into acoffin of boards or bark, and with him is deposited, in every instance, asmall cup and a cake. Generally two or three candles are also put into thecoffin, and in a few instances, at the burial of a great man, all hisimplements of war are buried by the side of the body. The coffin is thenclosed and carried to the grave. On its being let down, the person whotakes the lead of the solemn transaction, or a Chief, addresses the deadin a short speech, in which he charges him not to be troubled abouthimself in his new situation, nor on his journey, and not to trouble hisfriends, wife or children, whom he has left. Tells him that if he meetswith strangers on his way, he must inform them what tribe he belongs to, who his relatives are, the situation in which he left them, and thathaving done this, he must keep on till he arrives at the good fields inthe country of Nauwaneu. That when he arrives there he will see all hisancestors and personal friends that have gone before him; who, togetherwith all the Chiefs of celebrity, will receive him joyfully, and furnishhim with every article of perpetual happiness. 

The grave is now filled and left till evening, when some of the nearestrelatives of the dead build a fire at the head of it, near which they settill morning. In this way they continue to practise nine successivenights, when, believing that their departed friend has arrived at the endof his journey, they discontinue their attention. During this time therelatives of the dead are not allowed to dance. 

Formerly, frolics were held, after the expiration of nine days, for thedead, at which all the squaws got drunk, and those were the only occasionson which they were intoxicated: but lately those are discontinued, andsquaws feel no delicacy in getting inebriated. 

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OF THEIR CREDULITY. 

As ignorance is the parent of credulity, it is not a thing to be wonderedat that the Indians should possess it in a great degree, and even sufferthemselves to be dictated and governed by it in many of the most importanttransactions of their lives. 

They place great confidence in dreams, attach some sign to every uncommoncircumstance, and believe in charms, spirits, and many supernatural thingsthat never existed, only in minds enslaved to ignorance and tradition: butin no instance is their credulity so conspicuous, as in their unalterablebelief in witches. 

They believe there are many of these, and that next to the author of evil, they are the greatest scourge to their people. The term witch, by them, isused both in the masculine and feminine gender, and denotes a person towhom the evil deity has delegated power to inflict diseases, cause death, blast corn, bring bad weather, and in short to cause almost any calamityto which they are liable. With this impression, and believing that it istheir actual duty to destroy, as far as lies in their power, every sourceof unhappiness, it has been a custom among them from time immemorial, todestroy every one that they could convict of so heinous a crime; and infact there is no reprieve from the sentence. 

Mrs. Jemison informed us that more or less who had been charged with beingwitches, had been executed in almost every year since she has lived on theGenesee. Many, on being suspected, made their escape: while others, beforethey were aware of being implicated, have been apprehended and brought totrial. She says that a number of years ago, an Indian chased a squaw, nearBeard's Town, and caught her; but on the account of her great strength shegot away. The Indian, vexed and disappointed, went home, and the next dayreported that he saw her have fire in her mouth, and that she was a witch. Upon this she was apprehended and killed immediately. She was Big-tree'scousin, Mrs. Jemison says she was present at the execution. She also sawone other killed and thrown into the river. 

Col. Jeremiah Smith, of Leicester, near Beard's Town, saw an Indian killedby his five brothers, who struck him on the head with their tomahawks atone time. He was charged with being a witch, because of his having beenfortunate enough, when on a hunting party, to kill a number of deer, whilehis comrades failed of taking any. 

Col. Smith also saw a squaw, who had been convicted of being a witch, killed by having small green whips burnt till they were red hot, but notquite coaled, and thrust down her throat. From such trifling causesthousands have lost their lives, and notwithstanding the means that areused for their reformation, the pagans will not suffer "a witch to live. "

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OF THE MANNER OF FARMING, AS PRACTISED BY THE INDIAN WOMEN. 

It is well known that the squaws have all the labor of the field toperform, and almost every other kind of hard service, which, in civilsociety, is performed by the men. In order to expedite their business, andat the same time enjoy each other's company, they all work together in onefield, or at whatever job they may have on hand. In the spring they choosean old active squaw to be their driver and overseer when at labor, for theensuing year. She accepts the honor, and they consider themselves bound toobey her. 

When the time for planting arrives, and the soil is prepared, the squawsare assembled in the morning, and conducted into a field, where eachplants one row. They then go into the next field, plant once across, andso on till they have gone through the tribe. If any remains to be planted, they again commence where they did at first, (in the same field, ) and sokeep on till the whole is finished. By this rule they perform their laborof every kind, and every jealousy of one having done more or less thananother, is effectually avoided. 

Each squaw cuts her own wood; but it is all brought to the house under thedirection of the overseer--each bringing one back load. 

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OF THEIR METHOD OF COMPUTING TIME, AND KEEPING THEIR RECORDS. 

This is done by moons and winters: a moon is a month, and the time fromthe end of one winter to that of another, a year. 

From sunset till sunrise, they say that the sun is asleep. In the old ofthe moon, when it does not shine in the night, they say it is dead. Theyrejoice greatly at the sight of the new moon. 

In order to commemorate great events, and preserve the chronology of them, the war Chief in each tribe keeps a war post. This post is a peeled stickof timber, 10 or 12 feet high, that is erected in the town. For a campaignthey make, or rather the Chief makes, a perpendicular red mark, aboutthree inches long and half an inch wide; on the opposite side from this, for a scalp, they make a red cross, thus, +; on another side, for aprisoner taken, they make a red cross in this manner, X', with a head ordot, and by placing such significant hireoglyphics in so conspicuous asituation, they are enabled to ascertain with great certainty the time andcircumstances of past events. 

Hiokatoo had a war-post, on which was recorded his military exploits, andother things that he tho't worth preserving. 

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ANECDOTES. 

Hiokatoo used to say that when he was a young man, there lived in the sametribe with him an old Indian warrior, who was a great counsellor, by thename of Buck-in-je-hil-lish. Buckinjehillish having, with great fatigue, attended the council when it was deliberating upon war, declared that nonebut the ignorant made war, but that the wise men and the warriors had todo the fighting. This speech exasperated his countrymen to such a degreethat he was apprehended and tried for being a witch, on the account of hishaving lived to so advanced an age; and because he could not show somereason why he had not died before, he was sentenced to be tomahawked by aboy on the spot, which was accordingly done. 

In the last war, (1814, ) an Indian who had been on fatigue, called at acommissary's and begged some bread. He was sent for a pail of water beforehe received it, and while he was absent an officer told the commissary toput a piece of money into the bread, and observe the event. He did so. TheIndian took the bread and went off: but on the next day having ate hisbread and found the money, he came to the commissary and gave him thesame, as the officer had anticipated. 

Little Beard, a celebrated Indian Chief, having arrived to a very advancedage, died at his town on the Genesee river about the first of June, 1806, and was buried after the manner of burying chiefs. In his life time he hadbeen quite arbitrary, and had made some enemies whom he hated, probably, and was not loved by them. The grave, however, deprives envy of itsmalignity, and revenge of its keenness. 

Little Beard had been dead but a few days when the great eclipse of thesun took place, on the sixteenth of June, which excited in the Indians agreat degree of astonishment; for as they were ignorant of astronomy, theywere totally unqualified to account for so extraordinary a phenomenon. Thecrisis was alarming, and something effectual must he done, without delay, to remove, if possible, the cause of such coldness and darkness, which itwas expected would increase. They accordingly ran together in the threetowns near the Genesee river, and after a short consultation agreed thatLittle Beard, on the account of some old grudge which he yet cherishedtowards them, had placed himself between them and the sun, in order thattheir corn might not grow, and so reduce them to a state of starvation. Having thus found the cause, the next thing was to remove it, which couldonly be done the use of powder and ball. Upon this, every gun and riflewas loaded, and a firing commenced, that continued without cessation tillthe old fellow left his seat, and the obscurity was entirely removed, tothe great joy of the ingenious and fortunate Indians. 

In the month of February, 1824, Corn Planter, a learned pagan Chief atTonnewonta, died of common sickness. He had received a liberal education, and was held in high estimation in his town and tribe, by both parties;but the pagans more particularly mourned his loss deeply, and seemedentirely unreconciled. They imputed his death to witchcraft, and chargedan Indian by the name of Prompit, with the crime. 

Mr. Prompit is a Christian Indian, of the Tuscarora nation, who has livedat Tonnewonta a number of years, where he has built a saw-mill himself, which he owns, and is considered a decent, respectable man. 

About two weeks after the death of Corn Planter, Mr. Prompit happened incompany where the author was present, and immediately begun to converseupon that subject. He said that the old fashioned Indians called him awitch--believed that he had killed Corn Planter, and had said that theywould kill him. But, said he, all good people know that I am not a witch, and that I am clear of the charge. Likely enough they will kill me; but ifthey do, my hands are clean, my conscience is clear, and I shall go up toGod. I will not run nor hide from them, and they may kill me if theychoose to--I am innocent. When Jesus Christ's enemies, said he, wanted tokill him, he did not run away from them, but let them kill him; and whyshould I run away from my enemies?

How the affair will terminate, we are unable to decide. 

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DESCRIPTION OF GENESEE RIVER AND ITS BANKS, FROM MOUNT MORRIS TO THE UPPERFALLS. 

From Mount Morris the banks of the Genesee are from two to four hundredfeet in height, with narrow flats on one side of the river or the other, till you arrive at the tract called Gardow, or Cross Hills. Here you cometo Mrs. Jemison's flats, which are two miles and a quarter long, and fromeighty to one hundred and twenty rods wide, lying mostly on the west sideof the river. 

Near the upper end of these flats is the Great Slide. Directly above this, the banks (still retaining their before mentioned height) approach so neareach other as to admit of but thirty acres of flat on one side of theriver only, and above this the perpendicular rock comes down to the water. 

From Gardow you ascend the river five miles to the lower falls, which areninety-three feet perpendicular. These falls are twenty rods wide, andhave the greatest channel on the east side. From Wolf creek to these fallsthe banks are covered with elegant white and Norway pine. 

Above the lower falls the banks for about two miles are of perpendicularrock, and retain their height of between two and four hundred feet. Havingtravelled this distance you reach the middle falls, which are anuninterrupted sheet of water fifteen rods wide, and one hundred and tenfeet in perpendicular height. This natural curiosity is not exceeded byany thing of the kind in the western country, except the cataract atNiagara. 

From the middle falls the banks gradually rise, till you ascend the riverhalf a mile, when you come to the upper falls, which are somewhat rolling, 66 feet, in the shape of a harrow. Above this the banks are of moderateheight. The timber from the lower to the upper falls is principally pine. Just above the middle falls a saw-mill was erected this season (1823) byMessrs. Ziba Hurd and Alva Palmer. 

HUNTING ANECDOTE. 

In November, 1822, Capt. Stephen Rolph and Mr. Alva Palmer drove a deerinto Genesee river, a short distance above the middle falls, where thebanks were so steep and the current so impetuous, that it could not regainthe shore, and consequently was precipitated over the falls, one hundredand ten feet, into the gulph below. The hunters ran along the bank belowthe falls, to watch the fate of the animal, expecting it would be dashedin pieces. But to their great astonishment it came up alive, and byswimming across a small eddy, reached the bank almost under the falls; andas it stood in that situation, Capt. Ralph, who was on the top of thebank, shot it. This being done, the next thing to be considered was, howto get their prize. The rock being perpendicular, upwards of one hundredfeet, would not admit of their climbing down to it, and there was no way, apparently, for them to get at it, short of going down the river twomiles, to the lower falls, and then by creeping between the water and theprecipice, they might possibly reach their game. This process would be tootedious. At length Mr. Palmer proposed to Capt. Rolph and Mr. HemanMerwin, who had joined them, that if they would make a windlas and fastenit to a couple of saplings that stood near, and then procure some ropes, he would be let down and get the deer. The apparatus was prepared; therope was tied round Palmer's body, and he was let down. On arriving at thebottom he unloosed himself, fastened the rope round the deer, which theydrew up, and then threw down the rope, in which he fastened himself, andwas drawn up, without having sustained any injury. From the top to thebottom of the rock, where he was let down, was exactly one hundred andtwenty feet. 

FINIS