^, 
 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-S) 
 
 2^ 
 
 /^ 
 //^.^^!^ 
 
 .V .^ 
 
 
 ^*^5^ 
 
 «^<j 
 
 ^ 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 1.25 
 
 ISO "f^ H^H 
 
 •^ 1^ 1 2.2 
 
 Lo mil 2.0 
 
 lU 
 
 lU 
 
 II 
 
 1.4 
 
 1.6 
 
 ^ 
 
 V] 
 
 > 
 
 7 
 
 
 y 
 
 /^ 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 Corporation 
 
 ^^^^ 
 
 33 WEST MAIN STRIET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. MS80 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 '^ 
 
A 
 
 4^n 
 
 7a 
 
 M6 
 
 % 
 
 CIHM/ICMH 
 
 Microfiche 
 
 Series. 
 
 CIHM/ICMH 
 Collection de 
 microfiches. 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de mtcroreproductions historlques 
 
Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibiiographiques 
 
 The Institute has attempted to obtain the best 
 originei copy available for filming. Features of this 
 copy which may be bibliogrsphically unique, 
 which may alter any of the images in the 
 reproduction, or which may significantly change 
 the usuai method of fil;ning, are checked below. 
 
 D 
 
 D 
 
 n 
 
 D 
 D 
 
 D 
 
 D 
 
 Coloured covers/ 
 Couverture de couleur 
 
 I I Covers damaged/ 
 
 Couverture endommag^e 
 
 Covers restored and/or laminated/ 
 Couverture restaurde et/ou pellicul^e 
 
 □ Cover title missing/ 
 Le titre de couverture manque 
 
 I I Coloured maps/ 
 
 Cartes gdographiques en couleur 
 
 Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ 
 Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) 
 
 Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ 
 Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur 
 
 Bound with other material/ 
 Relid avec d'autres documents 
 
 Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion 
 along interior margin/ 
 
 La re liure serr6e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la 
 distortion le long de la marge int6rieure 
 
 Blank leaves added during restoration may 
 appear within the text. Whenever possible, these 
 have been omitted from filming/ 
 II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajoutdes 
 iors d'une restauration apparaissent dans ie texte, 
 mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, ces pages n'ont 
 pas 6X6 film^es. 
 
 Additional comments:/ 
 Commentaires suppl^mentaires; 
 
 L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire 
 qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details 
 de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-Atre uniques du 
 point de vuc bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier 
 une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une 
 modification dans la mithode normale de filmage 
 sont indiquds ci-dessous. 
 
 I I Coloured pages/ 
 
 / 
 
 D 
 D 
 
 This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ 
 
 Ce document est film6 au taux de reduction indiqud ci-dessous. 
 
 Pages de couleur 
 
 Pages damaged/ 
 Pages endommag6es 
 
 □ Pages restored and/or laminated/ 
 Pages restaur'Oes et/ou peiliculies 
 
 Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ 
 Pages d6color6es, tachet^es ou piqudes 
 
 □Pages detached/ 
 Pages ddtachdes 
 
 EShowthrough/ 
 Transparence 
 
 □ Quality of print varies/ 
 Qualiti in6gale de I'impression 
 
 ninciudtts supplementary material/ 
 C 
 
 Comprend du materiel suppl^mentaire 
 
 Only edition available/ 
 Seule Edition disponible 
 
 Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata 
 slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to 
 ensure the best possible image/ 
 Les pages totaiement ou partiellement 
 obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, 
 etc., ont 6X6 filmdes & nouveau de fapon 6 
 obtenir la meilleure image possible. 
 
 10X 
 
 
 
 
 14X 
 
 
 
 
 18X 
 
 
 
 
 22X 
 
 
 
 
 26X 
 
 
 
 
 30X 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 12X 
 
 
 
 
 16X 
 
 
 
 
 20X 
 
 
 
 
 24X 
 
 
 
 
 28X 
 
 
 
 
 32X 
 
 1 
 
ilaire 
 8 details 
 ques du 
 It modifier 
 (iger une 
 le filmage 
 
 The copy filmed here hat been reproduced thanks 
 to the generosity of: 
 
 Library of the Public 
 Archives of Canada 
 
 The images appearing here are the best quality 
 possible considering the condition and legibility 
 of the original copy and In keeping with the 
 filming contract specifications. 
 
 L'exemplaire fllmi fut reprodult grflce A la 
 ginirositA de: 
 
 La bibliothdque des Archives 
 publiques du Canada 
 
 Les images suivantes ont 6x6 reprcauites avec le 
 plus grand soin, comptb tenu de la condition et 
 de la netteti de l'exemplaire filmi, et en 
 conformity avec les conditions du contrat de 
 filmage. 
 
 1/ 
 ludes 
 
 Original ccpies in pdnted paper covers are filmed 
 beginning with the front cover and ending on 
 the last page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All 
 other original copies are filmed beginning on the 
 first page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, and ending on the last page with a printed 
 or Illustrated impression. 
 
 Les exemplaires orlglnaux dont la couverture en 
 papier est ImprimAe sont filmAs en commenpant 
 par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la 
 dernlAre page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impresslon ou d'illustration. soit par le second 
 plat, selon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires 
 orlglnaux sont fiimis en commen9ant par la 
 premiere page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impresslon ou d'illustration et en terminant par 
 la dernidre page qui comporte une telle 
 empreinte. 
 
 The last recorded frame on each microfiche 
 shall contain the symbol --^ (meaning "CON- 
 TINUED"), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), 
 whichever applies. 
 
 Un des symboles suivants apparaftra tiur la 
 dernlAre image de cheque microfiche selon le 
 cas: le symbols — «*> signifSe "A SUIVRE". le 
 symbole V signifie "FIN". 
 
 lire 
 
 Maps, plates, charts, etc.. may be filmed at 
 different reduction ratios. Those too large to be 
 entirely included in one exposure are filmed 
 beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to 
 right and top to bottom, as many frames as 
 required. The following diagrams Illustrate the 
 method: 
 
 Les cartes planchos, tableaux, etc., peuvent Atre 
 filmis d des U.ua de reduction diffdrents. 
 Lorsque le document est trop grand pour Atre 
 reprodult en un seul cliche. II est film6 A partir 
 de I'angle supArleur gauche, de gauche A droite. 
 et de haut en bas. en prenant le nombre 
 d'images n6cessalre. Les diagrammes suivants 
 illustrent la mithode. 
 
 ly errata 
 ed to 
 
 ant 
 
 me pelure, 
 
 a9on A 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 32X 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 S 
 
 6 
 
N A RRATIVE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ;t 
 
 CAPTIVITY 
 
 i'^v'' 
 
 >* 
 
 OP 
 
 m 
 
 MRS. JOHNSON, 
 
 I jf 
 
 '^- CONT A IN ING ^ ,i 
 
 •^- ....... . . , , , 
 
 IN ACCOUNT OF HER SUFFERINGS, DURING 
 
 FOUR FEAaS, WITH THE INDIANS 
 
 AND FRENCH. 
 
 
 NEW YORK; 
 1841; 
 
 'V 
 
 
f 
 
 V 
 
 iiiliiMiir'«tia 
 
INTRODUCTIOir. 
 
 NOTICES OP THE WIIXARD FAMILY. 
 
 To trace the progress of families, from 
 their origin to the present day, when per- 
 haps they are spread over the four quarters 
 of the globe, and no memorandums are 
 found except in the uncertain pages of mem- 
 ory, is a task which can be but feebly per- 
 formed. In noticing the name of Willard, 
 which was my family name, I cannot pre- 
 tend to accuracy ; but the information 
 which I have collected, will perhaps be of 
 some service to others, who possess a great- 
 er stock ; and if the various branches of 
 families would contribute their mites, it 
 would be an easy way of remedying the de- 
 ficiency, which at present exists in Ameri- 
 can genealogy. 
 
 The first person by the name of Willard 
 who settled in this country, was Major 
 Willard, whose name is recorded in the ni»- 
 tory of New-England wars. In the year 
 sixteen hundred and seventy five, in the 
 time of ^^Philip's war," a notorious Indian 
 who lived within the present limits of the 
 state of Rhode-Island, Major Willard who 
 then lived in the town of Lancaster in Mas- 
 sachusetts, commanded «i iroop of horse ; 
 and among his vigorous services, he reliev- 
 
 I 'is 
 
 l.t'r- 
 
 ftt. 
 
 t 
 
/ 
 
 / 
 
 i i 
 
 \ 
 
 w 
 
 \ i 
 
 \ i 
 
 4 CAPTIVITT or 
 
 ed the town of Brookfield from the Nipnet 
 Indians, who had burnt every house but one, 
 and had almost reduced that to capitula- 
 tion. When Lancaster was destroyed by 
 the Indians, Major Willard removed to Sa- 
 lem, where he spent the rest of his days. — 
 He had two sons, one of whom was a settled 
 minister in the town of Groton ; which 
 place he was driven from by the Indians, 
 and was afterwards installed in Boston. — 
 His other son, Simon, established himself 
 on Still River, since taken from Lancaster, 
 and incorporated into the town of Harvard. 
 He had nine sons, Simon, Henry, Hezckiah, 
 John, Joseph, Josiah, Samuel, Johnathan 
 and James ; Josiah removed to Winchester 
 in New-Hamshire, and afterwards com- 
 manded Fort Dummer ; the rest inherited 
 the substance of their father, and lived to 
 very advanced ages in the vicinity of their 
 birth. They ail left numerous families, 
 who spread over the United States. His 
 eldest Son, Simon.^ was my f^rand-father ; 
 he had two sons, Aaron and Moses : Aaron 
 lived in Lancaster, and Moses, my father, 
 removed to Lunenburg. I ought to remark 
 that, my grandmother Willard, after the 
 death of her husband, married a person by 
 the name ol Farnsworth, by whom she had 
 three sons, who were the first settlers of 
 Charlestown, No. 4 — one of them was kill- 
 ed by the Indians. 
 
 i 
 
 ■ 
 
 
Nipnet 
 
 )ut one, 
 
 apitula- 
 
 yed by 
 
 1 to Sa- 
 
 days. — 
 
 El settled 
 
 which 
 
 [ndians, 
 
 oston. — 
 
 himself 
 
 mcastery 
 
 larvard. 
 
 ezekiab, 
 
 )hnathan 
 
 inchester 
 
 ds com- 
 
 inherited 
 
 lived to 
 
 of their 
 
 families^ 
 
 tes. His 
 
 :i-father ; 
 
 5 : Aaron 
 
 y father, 
 
 remark 
 after the 
 )erson by 
 
 1 she had 
 ettlers of 
 was kill- 
 
 MRfl. JOHNSON. 5 
 
 My father had twelve children ; he re- 
 moved to Charlestown, No. 4, in 1742, and 
 soon had the pleasure to find his children 
 settled around him : he was killed by the 
 Indians in 1756. My mother died March, 
 1797, and had lived to see twelve children, 
 ninety-two grand children one hundred and 
 twenty-three great grand-children, and four 
 great-great-grand children. The whole 
 that survive are now settled on the Con- 
 necticut River. 
 
 NOTICES OF MR. JAMES JOHNSON. 
 
 In the year 1730,- my great-uncle, Col. Jo- 
 siah Willard, while at Boston, was invited 
 to take a walk on the long-wiiarf, to view 
 some transports who had just landed from 
 Ireland ; a number of gentlemen present 
 were viewing the exercise of some lads who 
 were placed on shore, to exhibit their activ- 
 ity to those who wished to purchase. My 
 uncle spied a boy of some vivacity, of about 
 ten years of age, and who was the only one 
 in the crew who spoke English : he bargain- 
 ed for him. I have never been able to learn 
 the price ; but as he was afterwards my hus- 
 band, I am willing to suppose it a consider- 
 able sura. He questioned the boy respect- 
 ing his parentage and descent. All the in- 
 formation he could get was, that youn^ 
 James, a considerable time previous, went 
 
( 
 
 (( 
 
 . 
 
 i CAPTIYITT or 
 
 to sea with his uncle, who had the appear- 
 ance of a man of property, that this uncle 
 was taken sick at sea and died ; immediate- 
 ly after his death they came in sight of this 
 ship of Irii^h transports, and he was put on 
 board. His being the only one of the crew 
 who spoke English, and other circumstan- 
 ces, have led his friends to conclude that 
 this removal on board the Iiish ship, was 
 done to facilitate the sequestration of his 
 uncle's property. He lived with Col. Wil- 
 lard until he was twenty years old, and then 
 bought the other year of his time. In 17- 
 48 Gov, Shirlev gave him a lieutenant's 
 commission under Edward Hartwell, Esij. 
 
 SITUATION OF THE COUNTRY 
 
 IN 1744. 
 
 It is an old maxim, that after a man is in 
 possession of a small independent property, 
 it is easy for him to acquire a great fortune; 
 just so with countries ; possess them of a 
 few inhabitants, and let those be unmolest- 
 ed by Indians and enemies, the land will 
 soon swarm with inhabitants But when a 
 feeble band only are gathered togeiiier, and 
 obliged to contend with pestilence, famine 
 and the sword, their melancholy numbers 
 will decrease and \vaste away. The situa- 
 tion of our ancestors has often been desrib- 
 fd in language that did honor to the hearts 
 
! appear- 
 is uncle 
 mediate- 
 it of this 
 s put on 
 the crew 
 cumstan- 
 ude that 
 hip, was 
 >n of his 
 moI. Wil- 
 and then 
 In J7- 
 utenant's 
 ?li, Esq. 
 
 NTRY 
 
 man is in 
 property, 
 t fortune; 
 liem of a 
 [inmolest- 
 land will 
 it when a 
 itl>er, and 
 e, famine 
 ' numbers 
 rhe situa- 
 en desrib- 
 the hearts 
 
 II Hi* fORl?BON« 
 
 t 
 
 tliat conceiTed it* The boisteroi» oceu, 
 with unknown shores hemmed them in on 
 one side, and a forest, swarming with saya* 
 ges, yelling for their blood, threatened on 
 the other. Bnt the same undaunted spirit 
 which has defended them in so many perils^ 
 boyed them above despair in their early 
 struggles for safety and liberty. I shall be 
 pardoned for the digression when I observe^ 
 that I have in all my travels felt a degree of 
 pride in recollecting^ tliat I belonged to a 
 country whose valor was distinguished, and 
 whose spirit had never been debased by ser- 
 vile submission. ^ • 
 
 At the age of fourteen, in 1744, 1 made a 
 visit from Leomisnter to Charlstown, to vis- 
 it my parents. Through a long wilderness 
 from Lunenburg to Lower Ashuelot, now 
 Swanzey, we traveled two days ; a solita- 
 ry house was all the mark of cultivation 
 that occurred on the journey. Guided hy 
 marked trees, we travelled cautiously thro' 
 the gloomy forest, where now the well-till- 
 ed farms occupy each rod of ground: from 
 Ashuelot to Charlestown the passage was op- 
 posed, now bv "the hill of difficulty,'* and 
 now by the slough despond. A few solita- 
 ry inhabitants, who appeared the repl*(6liM^ 
 tatives of wretehedness, were scatteredd on 
 the way. « *- 
 
 When I approached the town of Charles- 
 town, the first object that met my eyes was 
 
 
( 
 
 8 CAPTITITT or 
 
 a party of Indians holding a war dance, a 
 cask of rum which the inhabitants had suf- 
 fered them to partake of, had raised their 
 spirits to all the horrid yells, and feats af 
 distortion which characterize the nation. — 
 I was chilled at the sight, and passed trem- 
 blingly by. At this time Charlestown con- 
 tained nine or ten families, who lived in 
 huts not far distant from each other. The 
 Indians were numerous, and associated in a 
 friendly manner with the whiter. It was 
 the most northerly settlement on Conneticut 
 River, and the adjacent country was terri- 
 bly wild. A sawmill was erected, and the 
 first boards were sawed while I was there : 
 the inhabitants commemorated the event 
 with a dance, which took place on the new 
 boards. In those days there was such a 
 mixture on the frontiers, of savages and set- 
 tlersi without established laws to govern 
 them, that the state of society cannot be 
 easily described, and the impending dangers 
 of war, where it was known that the sava- 
 ges would join the enemies of our country, 
 retarded the progress of refinement and cul- 
 tivation. The inhabitants of Charlestown 
 began to erect a fort, atid took some steps 
 towards clearing their farms ; but war soou 
 checked their industry. 
 
MRS. JOHIf»OIf. 
 
 » 
 
 ' dance, a 
 s had suf- 
 sed tbcir 
 d feats af 
 nation. — 
 sed trem- 
 ,own con- 
 lived in 
 ler. The 
 iated in a 
 $. It wasi 
 onneticut 
 was terri- 
 ], and the 
 ras there : 
 the event 
 n the new 
 as such a 
 es and set- 
 to govern 
 [:ahnot be 
 ig dangers 
 i the sava- 
 p country, 
 it and cul- 
 larlestown 
 some s>teps 
 t war %Q^x 
 
 \ 
 
 CHARLESTOWN. 
 
 In the year 1740, the first settlement was 
 made in the town of Charlestown, then 
 known by the name of No 4, by three fam- 
 ilies who emigrated from Lunenburgh, by 
 the name of Farnsworth ; that part of New- 
 Hampshire west of Merimac River was then 
 a trackless wilderness. Within a few years 
 past instances have been known, of new 
 townships totally uninhabited, becoming 
 flourishing and ihick settled villages in the 
 course of six or seven ytars. But in those 
 days, when savages were on our borders 
 and Frenchmen in Canada, population ex- 
 tended with timorous and tardy paces ; in 
 the course of twelve vcars the families in- 
 creased only to twenty two or three. The 
 human race will not flourish unless fostered 
 by the warm sunshine of peace. 
 
 During the first twenty years of its exis- 
 tence as a settled place, until the peace be- 
 tween Great-Britain and France, it suffered 
 all the consternation and ravages of war ; 
 not that warfare which civilized nations 
 wage with each other, but the cruel carnage 
 of savages and Frenchmen. Sometimes en- 
 gaged ^n the duties of the camp, at others 
 sequestering themselves from surrounding 
 enemies, they became familiar with danger, 
 but not with industrious husbandry. 
 
 In the year 1744, the inhabitants began 
 to erect a fort for their safety. When the 
 
f 
 
 MMtWM 
 
 CAPTIVITT OF 
 
 Cape Breton war commenced, the Indians 
 assumed the hatchet and began their depre- 
 dations on Charlestown on the 19tb day of 
 April A. D. 1746, by bi rning the mills, and 
 taking Capt. John Spafford, Isaac Parker, 
 and Stephen Farnsworth prisoners. On the 
 second of May following Seth Putnam was 
 killed. Two days after Capt. Pay oe arriv- 
 ed with a troop of horse from Massachu- 
 setts, to defend the place ; about twenty of 
 his men had the curiosity to view the place 
 where Putnam was killed, and were am- 
 bushed by the Indians. Capt. Stevens, who 
 commanded a few men, rushed out of the 
 fort to their relief ; a sharp combat ensued, 
 in which the Indians were routed : they left 
 some guns and blankets on the field of ac- 
 tion, but they carried their dead off with 
 them which is a policy they never omit. — 
 Ensign Obadiah Sartwell was captured, and 
 Samuel Farnsworth, Elijah Allen, Peter 
 Perin, Aaron Lyon and Joseph Massey fell 
 victims to Indian vengeance. 
 
 On the 19th of June a severe engagement 
 took place. Capt. Brown, from Stow in 
 Massachusetts, had previously arrived with 
 some troops ; a party of his, joined a num- 
 ber of Capt. Stevens' soldiers to go into the 
 meadow after their horsc^s. The dogs discov- 
 ered an ambush, which put them into a pos- 
 ture for action, and gave them the advan- 
 tage of the fir; fire. This disconcerted the 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 11 
 
 the Indians 
 heir depre- 
 I9th day of 
 e mills, and 
 aac Parker, 
 rs. On the 
 Putnam was 
 Pay oe arriv- 
 I Massacliu- 
 it twenty of 
 5w the place 
 id were am- 
 kevens, who I 
 d out of the 
 nbat ensued, 
 d : they left 
 
 field of ac- 
 ead off with 
 jver omit. — 
 aptured, and 
 Allen, Peter 
 
 Massey fell 
 
 engagement 
 om Stow in 
 arrived with 
 )ined a num* 
 ) go into the 
 idogsdiscov- 
 m into a poi- 
 1 the advan- 
 oncerted the 
 
 savages, whd being on higher ground over- 
 jshot, and did but little damage to the En- 
 glish. The enemy were routed, and even 
 seen to drag several dead bodic o after them. 
 They left behind them guns, spears and 
 blankets, which sold at 401 old tenor. Dur- 
 ing the time Capt. Josiah Brown assisted in 
 defending the fort, Jedidiah Winchel was 
 killed, Samuel Stanhope, Cornet Baker and 
 David Parker were wounded. During this 
 summer the fort was entirely blockaded, 
 and all were obliged to take refuge within 
 the pickets. On the 3d day of August one 
 Philips was killed within a few feet of the 
 fort, as he accidentally stepped out ; at 
 night a soldier crept to him with a rope, 
 and he was drawn into the fort and inter- 
 red. In the summer of the year 1746, Capt. 
 Ephraim Brown from Sudbury, arrived 
 with a troop of horse to relieve Capt* Josi- 
 ah Brown. The Sudbury troop tarried a- 
 bout a month, and were relieved by a com- 
 pany commanded by Capt. Winchester, who 
 defended ihe place till autumn, when the 
 inhabitants, fatigued with watching, and 
 weary of the dangers of the forest, desert- 
 ed the place entirely for iibout six months. 
 In the month of August previous to the e- 
 Tacuation, the Indians assisted by their 
 brethren the French, were very troublesome 
 and mischievous ; they destroyed all the 
 horses, hogs and cattle. An aittack was 
 
 
 f 
 
 
 '5. 
 
 t 
 
■_gB|Mam~-v »~— 
 
 ! t.' 
 
 12 
 
 CAPTIVITT or 
 
 made on the fort, which lasted two davs.--^ 
 My father at this time lost ten cattle, but 
 the people were secure behind their wood- 
 en walls, and received but little damage. 
 
 In this recess of ihe settlement of No. 4, 
 the Indians and French were ice-locked in 
 Canada, and the frontiers suffered only in 
 apprehension. In March, 1747. Capt. Phin- 
 ehas Stevens, who commanded a ranging 
 party of about thirty men, marched to No. 
 4, and took possession of the fort. He found 
 it uninjured by the enemy, and an old span- 
 iel and a cat, who had been domesticated 
 before the evacuation, had guarded it safe- 
 ly thro' the winter, and gave the troops a 
 hearty welcome to their tenement. 
 
 Capt. Stevens was of eminent service to 
 the infant settlement. In 1748 he moved 
 his family lo the place, and encouraged the 
 settlers by his fortitude and industry. In 
 the early part of his life, when Rutland 
 suffered by savage vengeance, when the Rev. 
 Mr. Willard was murdered, he was taken 
 prisoner and carried to St. Francis. This 
 informed him of the Indian customs, and 
 iamiliarized him with th( ir mode of war- 
 fare : he was an active, penetrating soldier, 
 and a respectable, worthy citizen. 
 
 In a few days after tiie fort was taken 
 possession of by Capt. Stevens' troops, a 
 party of 600 French and Indians, command- 
 ed by Mens. Debelcie, sallied from their den 
 
 ! 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 13 
 
 two (lavs. — 
 [1 cattle, but 
 their wood- 
 I damage, 
 nt of No. 4, 
 ce-locked in 
 5red only in 
 Capt. Phin- 
 id a ranging 
 ched to No. 
 •t. He found 
 an old span- 
 lomesticated 
 irded it safe- 
 rhe troops a 
 ent. 
 
 it service to 
 8 he moved 
 :ouraged the 
 ridustry. In 
 ben Rutland 
 hen the Rev. 
 le was taken 
 ancis. This 
 customsi and 
 ode of war- 
 Lting soldier, 
 sen. 
 
 't was taken 
 IS* troops, a 
 IS, command- 
 om their den 
 
 in Canada, and made a furious attack on 
 the fore. The battle lasted five days, and 
 every stratagem which French policy or 
 Indian malice could invent, was practiced 
 to reduce the garrison. Sometimes they 
 made an onset by a discharge of musquet- 
 ry, at others they discharged fire arrows, 
 which communicated fire to several parts 
 of the fort. But these were insufficient to 
 daunt the courage of the little band that 
 were assailed. Their next step was to fill a 
 cart with combustibles, and roil it against 
 the walls, to communicate fire ; but the 
 English kept up such a brisk incessant fire 
 that they were defeated in the project. At 
 length the Monsieurs, tired with fighting, 
 beat a parley ; two Indians, formerly ac- 
 quainted with Capt. Stevens, came as nego- 
 ciators, and wished to exchange some furs 
 for corn ; this Capt. Stevens refused^ but 
 oflfered a bushel of corn for each hostage 
 they would leave to be exchar^ged, at some 
 future day. These terms were not com- 
 plied with, and on the fifth day the enemy 
 retreated, at which time the soldiers in the 
 garrison honored them with as brisk a dis- 
 charge as they could aflbrd, to let them 
 know that they were neither disheartened 
 nor exhausted in ammunition. The garri- 
 •on had none killed, and only one, the name 
 of Brown, was wounded. 
 
 Perhaps no place was ever defended with 
 
 
14 
 
 CAPTiVITT 0W 
 
 i 
 
 greater bravery than this fort during thn 
 action ; 30 or 40 men, when attacked by 
 500, must have an uncommon degree af for* 
 titude and vigilance to defend themselves 
 during a siege of five days. But Capi. 
 Stevens was equal to the task, and will be 
 applauded by posterity. Alter the battle 
 he sent an express to Boston with the tt- 
 dings. Gov. Charles Knowles happened 
 then to be at Boston, and rewarded Capt. 
 Stevens with a handsome sword, in grati* 
 tude for which the place was afterwards 
 called Charlestown 
 
 In November 1747, a body of the troops 
 set out from the fort, to return to Massa- 
 chusetts ; they had not proceeded far before 
 the Indians fired on them. Isaac Goodaie 
 and Nathaniel Gould were killed, and one 
 Anderson taken prisoner. From this peri- 
 od until the end of Cape Breton war, the 
 fort was defended by Capt. Stevens, Sol- 
 diers passed and repassed to Canada, bat the 
 inhabitants took sanctuary in the fort, and 
 made but little progress in cultivation* — 
 During the Indian wars, which lasted till 
 the year 1760, Charlestown was noted more 
 for its feats of war, than a place of rapid 
 improvement. Settlers thought it more 
 prudent to remain with their friendi^ in 
 safety, than risk their scalps with savage 
 power. Since that pariod, it has bacome ft 
 flourishing village, and contains all that a 
 
 pi, 
 
MR8. JOHNSON. 
 
 15 
 
 during thn 
 attacked by 
 egrce of for- 
 
 thcmselves 
 
 But Capi. 
 
 and will be 
 r the battle 
 
 with the ti- 
 es happened 
 rarded Capt. 
 ►rd, in grati* 
 kS afterwards 
 
 of the troops 
 urn to Massa- 
 led far before 
 aac Goodale 
 lied, and one 
 om this peri- 
 ton war, the 
 evens. Sol- 
 ada, bat the 
 the fort, and 
 ultivation* — 
 h lasted till 
 s noted more 
 lace of rapid 
 ght it more 
 r friendi? in 
 with savage 
 las become a 
 ins all that a 
 
 rural situation affords of the useful and the 
 pleasant ; numerous farms and stately build- 
 mgs now flourish, where the savage roam- 
 ed the forest. The prosperity of the town 
 was greatly promoted by the Rev. Buckley 
 Olcott, who was a settled minister there a- 
 bout thirty-two years. In the character of 
 this good man was combined the agreeable 
 companion, the industrious citizen, and un- 
 affected christian. During the whole of his 
 inistry, his solicitude for the happiness of 
 is parishioners was as conspicuous, in the 
 enefits they received from his assistance, 
 s in their sincere attachment to his person. 
 s a divine he was pathetic, devout and in- 
 tructive, and may with propriety be said 
 have 
 
 Shewn the path to heaveii; and led the way, 
 
 [e was highly respected through life : in 
 [une, 1793, he died, much lamented. 
 
 REMOVAL TO CHARLESTOWN. 
 
 In May 1749, we received information of 
 le cessation of arms between Great Britain 
 id France. I had then been married about 
 sro years, and Mr. Johnson's enterprising 
 lirit was zealous to remove to Charles- 
 iwn ; in June we undertook the hazard- 
 is and fatiguing journey : we arrived safe 
 fche for% and found five families, who had 
 
 l\ 
 
 
 [■ 
 
 
 ,f 
 
 i-*-" 
 

 ) ' 
 
 
 
 16 
 
 CAFTIVITT OP 
 
 ventured so far into the woods durinsr hos- 
 tilities. But the gloomy forest, and the 
 warlike appearance of the place, soon made 
 me homesick. Two or three days after my 
 arrival, orders came from Massachusetts io 
 withdraw the troops : government placed 
 confidence in the proffered peace of French- 
 men, and withdrew even the appearance of 
 hostility. But French treachery and sav- 
 age malice will ever keep pace with each 
 other. iVithot t even the suspicion of dan- 
 ger, the inhabitants went about their busi- 
 ness of husbandry. The day the soldiers 
 left the fort, Ensign Obadiah Sartwell went 
 to harrow some corn, and took Enos Ste- 
 vens, the fourth son of Phinehas Stevens, 
 Esq. to ride horse ; my father and two| 
 brothers were at work in the meadow 
 early in the afternoon the Indians appeared! 
 and shot Ensign Sartwell and the horse,) 
 and took young Stevens a prisoner. In ad-j 
 dition to this, my father and brothers werel 
 in the meadow, and we supposed they mustl 
 be destroyed. My husband was gone tO| 
 Northfield. In the fort were seven womei 
 and four men : the anxiety and griet we ex^ 
 perienced was tlie highest imaginable. Th( 
 next night we dispatched a post to Boston,, 
 to carry the news of our disaster, but m; 
 father and brothers did not return. The 
 next day but one my husband and five or si) 
 others arrived from Northfield. We kepi 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 17 
 
 (lurinff hoa- 
 st, and the 
 , soon made 
 lys after my 
 achusetts to 
 ment placed 
 e of French- 
 Dpearance of 
 ery and sav- 
 ;e with each 
 icion of dan- 
 at tlieir busi- 
 the soldiers 
 iartwell went 
 ok Enos Ste- 
 ^has Stevens, 
 her and two 
 he meadow ; 
 ians appeared] 
 d the horse, 
 ;oner. In ad- 
 brothers were] 
 sed they must 
 was gone to] 
 seven women[ 
 d griet weex- 
 ginable. The, 
 ost to Boston/ 
 aster, but m;^ 
 return. TW 
 and five or su 
 eld. Wekep 
 
 close in the garrison, suffering every appre- 
 hension for ten or twelve days, when the 
 sentry from the box cried out that troops 
 were coming : joyful at the relief, we all 
 mounted on the top of the fort, and among 
 the rest discovered mv father. He on hear- 
 ing the guns, supposed the fort was destroy- 
 ed, left the team in the meadow, and made 
 the best of his way to Norihiield with my 
 two brothers. The soldiers were about SO 
 in number, and headed by Major Josiah Wil" 
 lard, of Fort Dummer. Enos Stevens was 
 carried to Montreal, but the French com- 
 mander sent him back directly, by the way 
 of Albany. This was the last damage done 
 the frontiers during the Cape Breton war. 
 
 . **a:' J*' ';••■ • 
 
 CURSORY NOTICES. 
 
 A detail of the miseries of a " frontier 
 man," must excite the pity of every child 
 of humanity. The gloominess of the rude 
 forest, the distance from friends and com- 
 petent defence, and the daily inroads and 
 nocturnal yells of liostile Indians, awal^en 
 those keen apprehensions and anxieties which 
 conception only can [)icUire. If tlie peace- 
 ful employment of husbandry'^is pursued, 
 the loaded musket must stand by his side ; 
 if he visits a neighbor, or resorts on Sun- 
 days to the sacred house of prayer, theweap- 
 
 p. 
 
 I 
 
 
 hi 
 
 a? 
 
 
■ ^ 1 ■■■ 
 
 16 
 
 CAPTIVITY OP 
 
 
 on» of war must bear him company ; at 
 home, the distresses of a wife, and the fears 
 of lisping children ofen unman the soul that 
 real danger assailed in vain. Those who 
 can recollect the war that existed between 
 France and England filty years ago, may 
 figure to themselves the unhappy situation 
 of the inhabitants on the fronfiers of New- 
 Hampshire ; the malice of the French in 
 Canada, and the exasperated savages that 
 dwelt in their vicinity, rendered the tedi- 
 ous days and frightful nights a season of un- 
 equalled calamities. The ihiily reports of 
 captured families and slau<j;htered friends, 
 mingled grief with fear. Had there been 
 an organized government, to stretch forth 
 its protecting arm, in any case of danger, 
 the misery might have been in a degree al- 
 leviated. But the infancy of our country 
 did not admit of this blessing. While Gov. 
 ernor Stiirley of Massachusetts, was peti- 
 tioning to England for a Heel and an army, 
 Benning Went worth the suj)ine gov^ernor of 
 New-Hampi«^hire, obeyed implicitly the ad- 
 vice of his friend Shirley, and remained 
 inactively secure at his scat at Portsmouth. I 
 At tlie cominenceuient of the year 1745, the f 
 Quixotic expedition to Lonishtirg was pro- 
 jei'ted, the successof vvhich originated from 
 the merest accident, rather than from mili- 
 tary valor or generalship ; thi> drained the 
 thinly inhabited state of New-Hamp.^hire of 
 
Mns. JOHNSON. 
 
 19 
 
 nfipany ; at 
 iiul the fears 
 the soul that 
 Those who 
 steel between 
 irs ago, may 
 )py situation 
 lers of New- 
 le French in 
 savages that 
 reel the tedi- 
 season of un- 
 ity reports of 
 erecl friends, 
 d there been 
 stretch forth 
 se of danger, 
 [\ a degree al- 
 ' our country 
 While Gov. 
 ts, was peti- 
 \nd an army, 
 e cTovernor of 
 icitly the ad- 
 md remained 
 Portsmouth, 
 ear 1745, the 
 )Mrg was pro- 
 igiuatedlrom 
 
 lan from mili- 
 is drained the 
 Uamp^^hire of I 
 
 most of its effective men. From that peri- 
 od till the peace, which took place in the 
 year 1749, the visionary schemes of Shir- 
 ley kept the best soldiers emboilied in some 
 remote place, as a force to execute some im- 
 politic project. The conquest of Canada, 
 and the attack upon Crown-point, are re- 
 corded as specimens of the wild projects 
 which were to employ the infant forces of 
 New-England. During this time, the fron- 
 tiers sustained additional miseries, by hav- 
 ing the smidl forces of the state deducted 
 for purposes which could be of no immedir 
 ate service to them. The savages commit- 
 ted frequent depredations on the defenceless 
 inhabitants, and the ease with which they 
 gained their prey, encouraii;ed their bold- 
 ness, and by scattering in small parties, they 
 were able to infest the wiiole Irontier of 
 New-Hauipsiiire, from fort Dummer on 
 Connecticut river, to the lowe;;t settlement 
 on Merrimack, Durino^ this war, which is 
 known by the name of Cape Breton war, the 
 town of No. 4 coidd ha»'dlv be said to be in- 
 habited ; some adventurers had made a be- 
 ginninSi but few were considered as belong- 
 ing to the town. Capt. Stevens, wh(seviu- 
 or is recorded as an instance of consummate 
 generalsiiip, part of the time kept the fort, 
 which afforded a shelter to trie enterprizing 
 settlers in times of emminent dan<ier. But 
 even his vii:[ildnce did not i^ave the town 
 
 Hi 
 
 >''■: 
 
 
 ^m 
 
20 
 
 CAPTITITT OP 
 
 i 
 
 from numerous scenes of carnage. At the 
 commencement of the oeace, in 1749, tlie en- 
 terprising spirit of Nc England rose supe- 
 rior to the dangers of tiie forest, and they 
 began to venture innovation. The Indians, 
 still thirsty for plunder and rapine, and re- 
 gardless of the peace which their masters the 
 ^ French, had concluded, kept up a flying 
 ' warfare, and committed severel outrages up- 
 on lives and property; this kept the increas- 
 ing inhabitants in a state of alarm; for three 
 or four years ; most of the time they per- 
 formed their daily work without molesta- 
 tion, but retreatded to the fort each return- 
 ing night. 
 
 Our country has so long been exposed to 
 Indian wars, that recitals of exploits and suf- 
 ferings, of escapes and deliverances, have be- 
 come both numerous and trite. The air of 
 novelty will not be attempted in the follow- 
 ing pages ; simple facts, unadorn3d, is what 
 the reader must expect ; pity for my suffer- 
 ings, and admiration at my safe return, is all 
 that my history can excite. The aged man, 
 while perusihg; will prob?ibly turn his atten- 
 tion to the period when the facts took place, 
 his memory will be refre-hed with sad ti- 
 dings of his sufferings, which gave a daily 
 wound to his leelings, between the years 
 1740 and 1760; by contrasting those days 
 with the present, he may rejoice that he 
 witnesses those times vrhich many have 
 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 21 
 
 <' waited for, but^died without a sight." 
 Those " in early life," while ihey commis- 
 t>rate the sufferings which their parents and 
 ancestors endured, may felicitate themselves 
 that their lines fell in a land of peace, where 
 neither savages nor neighboring wars molest 
 their happiness. 
 
 1 
 
 C H A P . I . 
 
 SITUATION UNTIL AUGUST 31, 1764. 
 
 Some of the Soldiers who arrived with 
 Major Willard, with the inhabitants who 
 hore arms, were commanded by Capt. Ste- 
 vens the rest of the year 1749, and part of 
 the foilovving" spring ; after which the in- 
 habitants resided pretty much in the fort, 
 until the spring or fall of the year 1752. — 
 They cultivaied their lands in some degree, 
 Dui they put but little confidence in the 
 savages. 
 
 The continuation of peace began by de- 
 grees to appease the resentment of the In- 
 dians, and tney appeared to discover a wish 
 for friendly intercourse. The inhabitants 
 in No. 4, and its vicinity, relaxed their 
 watchfulness, and ventured more boldly in- 
 to their fields. Every appearance of hos- 
 tility at length vanished — the Indians ex- 
 pressed a wish to trafic^ the inhabitants laid 
 
 •■ 
 
 fr 
 
 ■ I' a 
 
Y / 
 
 I 
 
 1 1 
 
 2S 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 by their fears, and thought no more of tom- 
 ahawks, nor scalpinij-knives. Mr. Johnson 
 now thought himself justified in removing 
 to his farm, an hundred rods distant from 
 the fort, which was then the uppermost set- 
 tlement on Connecticut River, he pursued 
 his occupation of trade, and the Indians 
 made frequent visits to trafic their furs for 
 his mercliandize. He frequently credited 
 them for blankets and other necessaries, and 
 in most instances they were punctual in 
 payment. During the year 1753, all was 
 harmony and safety — settlements increased 
 with tolerable rapidity, and the new coun- 
 try began to assume the appearance of cul- 
 tivation. 
 
 Tlie commencement of the year 1754 be- 
 gan to threaten another rupture between the 
 French and English, and as the dividing 
 line between Canada and the English Colo- 
 nies was the object of contention, it was 
 readily seen that the frontier towns would 
 be in imminent danger. But as immediate 
 war was not expected, Mr. Johnson thought 
 that he mi^lit risk the safetv of his family, 
 while he made a tour to Connecticut, for 
 trade. He sat out the last of May, and hi& 
 absence of three months was a tedious and 
 a bitter season to me. Soon after his de- 
 parture every body was ''tremblingly alive" 
 with fear. The Indians were reported to 
 be on their inarch for our destruction, and 
 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 23 
 
 lore af tom- 
 Ir. Johnson 
 n removing 
 listant from 
 permost set- 
 he pursued 
 tlie Indians 
 heir furs for 
 tly credited 
 gssaries, and 
 punctual in 
 753, all was 
 its increased 
 e new coun- 
 ance of cul- 
 
 ear 1754 be« 
 between the 
 he dividing 
 nglish Colo- 
 tion, it was 
 owns would 
 LS immediate 
 ison thought 
 f his family, 
 mecticut, for 
 May, and his 
 tedious and 
 after his de- 
 ilingly alive" 
 J reported to 
 traction, and 
 
 our distance from sources of information 
 gave full latitude for exaggeration of news, 
 before it reached our ears. The fears of 
 the night were horrible beyond description 
 and even tlie light of day was far from dis- 
 pelling painful anxiety. While looking from 
 the windows of my log-house, and seeing 
 my neiglibors tread cautiously by each hedge 
 and hillock, lest some secreted savage might 
 start forth to take their scalp, my fears 
 would baffle description. Alarmsgrew loud- 
 er, till our apprehensions were too strong- 
 ly confirmed by the news of tiie capture of 
 Mr. Malloon's family, on Merrimack Riv- 
 cr ; this reached us about the 20th of Au- 
 gust. Imagination now saw and heard a 
 thousand Indians ; and I never went round 
 my own house, without first looking with 
 trembling caution by each corner, to see if 
 a tomahawk was not raised for mv destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 On the 24th of August I was relieved from 
 all my fears by the arrival of my husband. 
 He brought intelligence from Connecticut 
 that a war was expected the next spring, 
 but that no immediate danger was contem- 
 plated. He had made preparations to re- 
 move to Northfield, as soon as our stock of 
 hay was consumed, and our dozen of swine 
 had demolished our ample stores of grain, 
 which would secure his family and proper- 
 ty from the miseries and ravages of war. — 
 
 If 
 
 X-,\ 
 
ispsstm 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 u ; 
 
 24 
 
 CAPTIVITT or 
 
 Oar eldest son, Sylvanus, who was six years 
 old, was in the mean time to be put to school 
 at Springfield. Mr. Johnson brought home 
 a large addition to his stores, and the neigh- 
 bors made frequent parties at our house,~to 
 express their joy for his return, and time 
 passed merily off, by the aid of spirit and 
 a ripe yard of melons. As I was in the last 
 days of pregnancy, I could not join so heart- 
 ily in their good cheer as I otherwise might. 
 Yet in a new country, pleasure is often de- 
 rived from sources unknown to those less 
 accustomed to the woods. The return of 
 my husband, the relief from danger, and 
 the crowds of happy friends, combined to 
 render my situation peculiarly agreeable. 
 I now boasted with exultation, that I should, 
 with husband, friends and luxuries, live 
 happy in spite of the fear of savages. 
 
 On the evening of the 29th of August our 
 house was visited by a party of neighbors, 
 who spent the time very cheerfully with 
 watermellons and flip, till midnight ; they 
 all then retired in high spirits, except a 
 spruce young spark, who tarried to keep 
 company with my sister. We then went to 
 bed with feelings well tuned for sleep, and 
 rested with fine composure, till midway be- 
 tween daybreak and sunrise, when we were 
 roused by neighbor Larrabee's knocking at 
 the door, who had shouldered his ax to do 
 a day's work for my husband. Mr. John- 
 
 ':»;^;s 
 
•i'%' 
 
 MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 25 
 
 was SIX vears? 
 e put ta school 
 brought home 
 and the neigh- 
 ; our house, to 
 turn, and tmie 
 i of spirit and 
 was in the last 
 t join so heart- 
 lerwise miglit. 
 ire is often de- 
 
 1 to those less 
 The return of 
 1 danger, and 
 , combined to 
 rly agreeable. 
 , that I should, 
 luxuries, live 
 savages. 
 
 of August our 
 of neighbors, 
 heerfully with 
 idnight ; they 
 irits, except a 
 irried to keep 
 e then went to 
 for sleep, and 
 ill midway be- 
 when we were 
 's knocking at 
 id his ax to do 
 d. Mr. John- 
 
 ieon flipped on his jacket and trowsers, and 
 stepped to the door to let him in. But by 
 k)pening iho door he opened a scene — terri- 
 ble to describe ! ! Indians ' Indians were 
 ;the first words I heard, he sprang to his 
 0uns, but Larrabee, heedleess of danger, in- 
 jstead of closing the door to keep them out, 
 jbegan to rally our hired men up stairs, for 
 |iot rising earlier. But in an instant a crowd 
 )f savages, fixed horribly for war, rushed 
 luriouLly in. I screamed and begged my 
 friends to ask for quarter ; by this time 
 :hey were all over the house; some upstairs, 
 jome hauling my sister out of bed, another 
 iad hold of me, and one was approaching 
 ^Ir. Johnson, who stood in the, middle of 
 the floor to deliver himself up ; but the In- 
 ilian, supposinir that he would make resist- 
 mce, and be more than i*is match, went to 
 ;he door and brought three of his comrades, 
 md the four hound him. I was led to the 
 loor, fainting and trembling ; there stood 
 ly friend Larabee, bound; Ebenezer Farns- 
 vorth, whom they found up chamber, they 
 vere putting in the same situation, and to 
 complete the shocking scene, my three lit- 
 tle children were driven naked to the place 
 tvhere I stood. On viewing mysell I found 
 that I too was naked. An Indian had plun- 
 iered three gowns, who, on seeing my situ- 
 ttion, gave me the whole. I asked another 
 >r a petticoat, but he refused it. After 
 
 jiJ 
 
 ■* 
 
f 
 
 : '"• ' 
 
 II r 
 
 !| 
 
 26 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 what little plunder their hnrry would allow^he 
 them to get, was confusedly bundled up, we l)f 1 
 were ordered to march. After going about^ha 
 20 rods we fell behind a rising ground, llVh 
 where we halted to pack the things in a bet- 
 ter manner ; while there, a sava^je went 
 back as we supposed to fire the buildings. 
 Farnsworth proposed to my husband to goi, 
 back with him, to get a quantity of pork 
 from the cellar, to help us on our journey ; 
 but Mr. Johnson prudently replied, that by 
 that means, the Indians miglit find the rum, 
 and in a fit of intoxication kill us all. The 
 Indian presently returned with marks of 
 fear in his countenance, and we were hur- 
 ried on with all violence. This, as we af- 
 terwards found, was occasioned bv his meet- 
 ing Mr. Osmer at the door of the house, 
 who lodged in the chamber, and had secre- 
 ted him:?elf behind a box, and was then ma-lthe 
 king his escape. He run directly to thelwe 
 fort, and the alarm guns were fired, Mvjhoi 
 father, Mr. Moses Willard, was then secondlnai 
 in command. CajU. Stevens was for sally-lStc 
 ing out with a party for our relief; but my|ten 
 fathei begged him !o desist, as the IndianjiMr 
 made it an invariable practice to kill theirito 
 prisoners when attacked. Two savages laidlsw 
 hold of each of mv arms, and hurried m 
 through thornv thickets in a most unmcrci 
 ful manner. I lost a shoe and suffered ei 
 cccdingly. We heard the alarm guns fro 
 
 am 
 er^ 
 up 
 Jul 
 o\ 
 
 y 
 
 nd 
 ist 
 
 es' 
 
 OSi 
 
 yi 
 
 he 
 
 OS 
 
 a^ 
 of 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 »« 
 
 f would allow 
 mcUed up, we 
 T going about^ 
 ising ground,; 
 hings in a bet-; 
 
 savage went 
 the buildings, 
 lusband to gO' 
 ntity of pork 
 
 our journey ; 
 ^plied, that by 
 I find the rum, 
 1 us all. The 
 ith marks of 
 we were hur- 
 . his, as we af- 
 ?d hv his meet-j 
 
 of the house,j 
 and had secre- 
 1 was then ma 
 lirectly to the 
 sre fired, M\1 
 as then secon 
 ; was for sallv 
 relief; but my 
 as tlie Indian: 
 e to kill thei 
 wo savages laii 
 id hurried m< 
 most unmcrci 
 nd suffered ei 
 irm guns fro 
 
 the fort. This added new speed to the flight ^ 
 >f the savages. They were apprehensive 
 that soldiers might be sent for our relief.- — 
 hen we had got a mile and a half, my 
 faintness obliged me to sit. This being ob- 
 lerved by an Indian, he drew his knife, as I 
 lupposed, to put an end to my existence.— 
 ut he only cut some band, with which my 
 gown was tied, and then pushed me on.-— 
 ^y little children were cryino^, my husband 
 and the other two men were bound, and my 
 sister and myself were obliged to make the 
 l)est of our way, with all our might. The 
 ;loss of my shoe rendered travelling extreme- 
 ly painful. At the distance of three miles 
 here was a general halt ; the savages, Siip- 
 osing that we, as well as themselves, might 
 ave an appetite for braakfast, gave us a loaf 
 [of bread, some raisins and apples, which 
 :hev had taken from the house. Whih we 
 ere forcmg down our scanty breakfast, a 
 [horse came in sight, known to us all by the 
 name of Scoggin, belonging to Phinehas 
 Stevens, Esquire. One of the Indians at- 
 tempted to shoot him, but was prevented by 
 Mr. Johnson. They then expressed a wish 
 [to catch him, saying, by poiniing to me, for 
 iwaw to ride ; my husband had previously 
 [been unbound to assist the children, he^ 
 ith two Indians, caught the horse on the 
 [banks of the river. By this time my legs 
 md feet were covered with blood, which 
 
 -/■ 
 
 i 
 
CAPTIVITT OP 
 
 being noticed by Mr. Larrabee, he, with 
 that humanity which never forsook him, 
 took his own stockings and presented them 
 to me, and the Indians gave me a pair of 
 moccasons. Bags and blankets were thrown 
 over scoggin, and I mounted on the top of 
 them, and on we jogged about seven miles, 
 to the upper end of Wilcott's Island, We 
 there halted and, prepared to cross the riv- 
 er ; rafts were made of dry limber — two In- 
 dians and Farnsworth crossed first, Labar- 
 ree, by signs, got permission to swim the 
 horse, and Mr. Johnson was allowed to 
 S'vim by the raft that 1 was on, to push it 
 along. We all arrived safe on the other side 
 of the river, about four o'clock in the after- 
 noon ; a fire was kindled, and some of their 
 stolen kettles were hung over it, and filled 
 with porridge. The savages took delight 
 in viewinoj their spoil, which amounted to 
 forty or fifty pounds in value. They then, 
 with a true savage yell, gave the war whoop, 
 and bid defiance to danger. As our tarry in 
 this place lasted an hour, I had time to re- 
 flect on our miserable condition. Captives, 
 in the power of unmerciful savages, with- 
 out provision, and almost without clothes, 
 in a wilderness where we must sojourn as 
 long as the children of Israel did, for ought 
 we knew, and what added to our distress, 
 not one of our savage masters could under- 
 stand a word of English. Here, after be- 
 
MRS. JOHNSOM. 
 
 29 
 
 
 ing hurried from home with such rapidity, 
 ' have leisure to inlorm the reader respect- 
 ing our Indian masters. They were eleven 
 in number, men of middle age, except one, 
 
 youth of sixteen, who in our journey dis- 
 lovered a very mischievous and trouble- 
 ;ome disposition.. Mr. Labarree is very 
 lositive, and 1 think Mr. Johnson was of 
 ;he same opinion, that seventeen Indians at- 
 tacked the house ; the other six might have 
 ►een a scouting party, that watched till we 
 
 rere out of danger and then took another 
 'oute. ^ 
 
 According to their national practice, he 
 
 'ho first laid hands on a prisoner, consid- 
 ered him as his property. My master, who 
 
 ^as the one that took my hand when I sat 
 in the bed, was as clever an Indian as I ev- 
 er saw ; he e ven evinced, at numerous times 
 disposition that shewed he was by no 
 
 leans void of compassion. The four, who 
 ook my husband, claimed him as their prop- 
 Tty, and my sister, three children^ Labar- 
 ree and Farnsworth, had each a master. — 
 hen the time came for us to prepare to 
 
 larch, I almost expired at the thought. — 
 
 'o leave my a<>e(l parents, brothers, sisters 
 Lud friends, and travel with savages through 
 
 dismal forest to unknown regions, in the 
 ilarming situation I then was in, with three 
 imall children, tlie eldest, Sylvanus, who 
 
 as but six years old. My eldest daughter, 
 
 i!^ '■ 
 
30 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 Susanna, was four, and Polly, the other, 
 two. My sister Miriam was fourteen. My 
 husband was barefoot, and otherwise thinly 
 clothed ; his master had taken his jacket, 
 and nothin^T but his shirt and trowsers re- 
 mained. Mv two daughters had nothing 
 but their shifts, and I only the gown that 
 was handed me by the savages. In addition 
 to the sufferings which arose from my own 
 deplorable condition, I could not but feel 
 for my friend Labarree ; he had left a wife 
 and four small children behind, to lament 
 his loss, and to render his situation extreme- 
 ly unhappy. With all these misfortunes 
 lying heavily upon me, the reader can ima- 
 gine my situation. The Indians pronounced 
 the dreadful word ''munch," march, and 
 on we miist go. I was put on the horse, 
 Mr. Johnson took one daughter, and Mr. 
 Labarree, beinu' unbound, took the other ; 
 we went six or eight miles and stopped for 
 the night. The men were made secure, by 
 havinor their legs put in split sticks, some- 
 what like stocks, and tied with cords which 
 were tif^l lo the limbs uf trees too hicrh to 
 be readied My sister, much lo her morti- 
 fication, must lie between two Indians, with 
 a cord thrown over her, and passing under 
 ^cach of thciU ; the little chilJren had blank- 
 ets, and I was allowed one for my use. Thus 
 we took lodiiing for the night, with the sky 
 for a covering and the ground for a pillow. 
 
 t.\ 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 31 
 
 The fatisues of the preceding day obliged 
 me to sleep several hours, in spite of the 
 horrors which surrounded me. The Indians 
 observed ^reat silence, and never spoke but 
 when really necessary, and all the prisoners 
 were di^posed to say but little ; my children 
 were much more peaceable than could be 
 imagiiicd, gloomy fear imposed a deadly 
 silence. 
 
 
 J: 
 
 CHAP. 11. 
 
 History of our journey through the wilderness, till we came 
 to the waters that enter into Lake Champlain. 
 
 In the morning we were roused before 
 sunrise, the Indians struck up a fire, hung on 
 their stolen kettles, and made us some wa- 
 ter gruel for breakfast. After a few sips of 
 this meagre fare, I was again put on the 
 horse, with my husbnnd by my side, to hold 
 me on. My twp fellow prisoners took the 
 liltle girls, and we marched sorrowfully on 
 for an hour cr two, when a keener distress 
 was added to my multiplied afflictions ; — I 
 was taken with tlie pangs of child-birth. — 
 The Indians sio-nified to us that we must 20 
 on to a brook. When we ^ot there, they 
 shewed some humanity, by makiuij a booth 
 for me Here the compassionate reader will 
 drop a fressh tear, for my inexpressible dis- 
 tress ; filteen or twenty miles from the abodt 
 
 I 
 
33 
 
 CAPTIVITY OP 
 
 ill: 
 
 of any civilized being, in the open wilder- 
 ness, rendered cold by a rainy day — in one 
 of the most perilous hours, and nnsupplied 
 with the least necessary, that could yield 
 convenience in the hazardous moment. My 
 children were crying at a distance, where 
 they were held by their masters, and o.^ly 
 my husband and sister to attend me : none 
 but mothers can figure to themselves my 
 unhappy situation. The Indians kept aloof 
 the whole time. About ten o'clock adaugh- 
 ter was born. They then brought me some 
 articles of clothing for the child, which 
 they had taken from the house. My master 
 looked into the booth, and clapped his 
 hands with joy, crying two monies for me, 
 two monies for me. 1 was permitted to rest 
 the remainder of the day. The Indians 
 were employed in making a bier for the 
 prisoners lo carry me on, and another booth 
 for my lodging during night. They brought 
 a needle and two pins, and some barke to 
 tie the child's clothes, which they gave my 
 sister, and a large wooden spoon to feed it 
 with ; at dusk they made some porridge, 
 and brought a cup to steep some roots in, 
 which Mr. Labaree had provided. In the 
 evening I was removed to the new booth. 
 For supper, they made more porridge and 
 some johnny cakes. My portion was brought 
 me in a little bark. I slept that night far 
 beyond expectation. 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 3$ 
 
 1 wilder- 
 — in one 
 isiipplied 
 Lild yield 
 mt. My 
 e, where 
 and o.^ly 
 ne : none 
 elves my 
 ;ept aloof 
 iadaugh- 
 : me some 
 l1, which 
 iy master 
 pped his 
 IS for me, 
 ed to rest 
 Indians 
 r for the 
 her booth 
 brought 
 barke to 
 gave my 
 to feed it 
 porridge, 
 roots in, 
 In the 
 w booth, 
 ridge and 
 s brought 
 night far 
 
 In the morning we were summoned for 
 the journey, after the usual breakfast, of^ 
 meal and water. I, with my infant in my 
 arms was laid on the litter, which was sup- 
 ported alternately by Mr. Johnson, Labar- 
 ree and Farnsworth. My sister and sou 
 were jmt upon Scoggin, and the two little 
 girls rode on their master's backs. Thus 
 we proceeded two miles, when my carriers 
 grew too faint to proceed any further. — 
 This beinjj observed by our sable masters, 
 a general halt was called, and they embod- 
 ied themselves lor council. My master soon 
 made signs to Mr. Johnson, that if I could 
 ride on the horse 1 might proceed other- 
 wise 1 miifet l>c left behind. Here I observed 
 marks o( pity in his countenance, but this 
 might arise from the fear of lo^sing his two 
 monies. I preferred an attempt lo ride on 
 the hor.'^e, rather than to j)erish miserablj 
 alone. Mr. Lt^barree took the infant, and 
 every ^\e\) of the horse almo>t deprived me 
 of lile. My weak and hel|)less condition 
 rendered me, in a degree*, insensible to ev- 
 ery thiii^r ; my poor child couhl have no 
 sustenance from my breast, and was sup- 
 ported entirely l>y water gruel. My other 
 little ( biblren, rendered peevish by an un« 
 easy mode of ri in^, often hnr>t into cries, 
 but a sm ly I heck Irom their masters soon 
 silciueil them. We proceeded on with a ' 
 «low, mo arnful pace. My weakness was too 
 
 i 
 
a 
 
 CAPTiTiir or 
 
 i 
 
 I iM 
 
 .^i'. 
 
 severe to allow me to sit on the horse long 
 at a time ; every hour I was taken off, and 
 laid on the ground to rest. This preserved 
 my life during the third clay. At night we 
 found ourselves at the head of Black River 
 Pond. Here we prepared to spend the 
 night, our supper consisted of gruel and the 
 broth of a Lawk, they had killed the pre- 
 ceding day. The prisoners were secured, 
 as usual, a booth was made for me, and all 
 went to rest. After encampment, we enter- 
 ed into a shore conversation. My sister 
 observed, that if I could have been left be- 
 hind, our trouble would have been seem- 
 ingly nothing. My husband hoped, by the 
 assistance of providence, we should all be 
 preserved. Mr. Labarree pitied his pobr 
 family — and Fa»'nsworth summed the whole 
 of his wishes, by saying, that if he could 
 have got a layer of pork from the cellar, we 
 should not be in fear of starvation. The 
 night was uncommonly dark, and passed 
 tediouslv off. 
 
 In ihe morning, half chilled with a cold 
 fog, we were ordered from our places of 
 rest, were offered the lean fare of meal and 
 water, and then j)repared for the journey ; 
 every thing resembled a funeral procession. 
 The savages preserved their gloomy sad- 
 ness — the prisoners, bowed down with grief 
 and fatigue, felt little disposition to talk ; 
 and the unevenness of the country, some- 
 
 X 
 
MRS. JOHNSOn. 
 
 98 
 
 se long 
 off, and 
 eserved 
 ight we 
 k River 
 jnd the 
 and the 
 the pre- 
 secured, 
 , and all 
 ve enter- 
 [y sister 
 i left be- 
 ,n seem- 
 l, by the 
 Id all be 
 lis pot)r 
 le whole 
 Ihe could 
 ellar, we 
 n. The 
 Id passed 
 
 Ith a cold 
 places of 
 
 lineal and 
 
 Ijoiiniey ; 
 o cession. 
 
 joiny sad- 
 
 /ith s»'i^f 
 
 to talk ; 
 
 \y, some- 
 
 tunes lying in miry plains, at others rising 
 into steep and broken hills, rendered aur 
 passage hazardous and painful. Mr. Lab- 
 arree kept the infant in his arms, and pre- 
 served its life. The fifth clay's journey was 
 an unvaried scene of latigue. The Indians 
 sent out two or three hunting parties, who 
 returned without rame. As we had in the 
 morning consumed the last morsel of our 
 meal, every one now began to be seriously 
 alarmed ; and hunger, with all its horrors 
 looked us earnestly in the face. At night, 
 we found the waters that run into Lake 
 Champlain, which was over the height of 
 land ; before dark we halted, and the In- 
 dians, by the help of their punk, which they 
 carried in horns, made a fire. They soon 
 adopted a plan to relieve their hunger. — 
 The horse was shot, and his flesh was in a 
 few moinerits broiling on embers, and they, 
 with native gluttony ^ satiated their cravmg 
 appetites. To use the term politeness, in 
 the management of this repast, may be 
 thought a burlesque, yet their offering the 
 prisoners the best parts of the horse, cer- 
 tainly bordered on civility; an epici re could 
 not have cartered nicer slices, nor in that 
 «ituatioa served them up with more ueat- 
 ness. Appetite is said to be the best sauce, 
 yet our. abundance of it did not render sa- 
 vory this novel steak. My children, how- 
 ever, eat too much, which made them very 
 
 , 
 
 I 
 
 \ 1 
 
 
 rPfi 
 
 y 1.^ ] 
 
 ,1 
 
 *-' 
 
 
S6 
 
 CAPTIYITT or 
 
 I ill 
 
 III i > 
 
 s I 
 
 ■V 
 
 unwel for a number of days. Broth wai 
 made for me and my child which was ren- 
 dered almost a luxury by the seasoning of 
 roots. After supper, countenances began to 
 brighten ; those who had relished the meal 
 exhibited new strengtii, and those who had 
 only snuffed its effluvia, confessed them- 
 selves regaled ; the evening was employed 
 in drying and smoking what lemained, for 
 future u^e. The night was a scene of dis- 
 tressing fears to me, and my extreme weak- 
 ness had affected my mind to such a degree, 
 that every difficulty appeared doubly terri- 
 ble. By the assistance of Scoggin, I had 
 been brought so far, yet so great was my de- 
 bility, tliat every hour I was taken off and 
 laid on the ground, to keep me from expir^ 
 ing. But now, alas ! this conveyance was 
 no wove 'I o walk was impos>ible. Inev- 
 itable death, m the midst of woods, one 
 hundred miles wide, appeared my only por- 
 tion. 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Continuation, till our a riv il at East Bay in Lake Champlain 
 
 In the niorninor of the J?ixtli day, tiie In- 
 dians excruul themselves I o prepare one of 
 their gre.ite^t dainties. The marrow bones 
 of obt Scogiiin were pounded lor a soup, 
 mid every root, hoih sweet and bitter, that 
 
 the 
 
 it a 
 
 as h: 
 
 then 
 
 we I 
 
 unki 
 
 and 
 
 pose 
 
 orde 
 
 stren 
 
 with 
 
 rest 
 
 then 
 
 drop 
 
 an Ii 
 
 whih 
 
 go, f 
 
 last t 
 
 in th 
 
 masi( 
 
 who 
 
 tures 
 
 not a 
 
 by ai 
 
 broth 
 
 Mv 
 
 comp 
 
 suit 
 
 walk 
 
 hedi 
 
 overj 
 
 less a 
 
 ^ V 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 57 
 
 ■^ 
 
 irolh was 
 i was ren- 
 ^soning of 
 s began to 
 i the meal 
 I who had 
 ?ecl them- 
 employed 
 laiiied, for 
 ;ne of dis- 
 nue weak- 
 i a degree, 
 nbly terri- 
 gin, I had 
 vas my de- 
 Len off and 
 rom expir- 
 yance was 
 )le. Inev- 
 voods, one 
 ? only por- 
 
 ,ke Champlaln 
 
 ay, the In- 
 )iire one of 
 row bones 
 or a soup, 
 >itter, that 
 
 the woods aflforded, was thrown in to give 
 it a flavor. Each one partook of as muoh 
 as his feelings would allow. The war whoop 
 then resounded, with an infernal yell, and 
 we began lo fix for a march. My fate was 
 unknown, till my master brought some bark 
 and tied my petticoats, as high as he sup- 
 posed would be convenient for walking, and 
 ordered me to *' munch." With scarce 
 strength to stand alone, I went on half a mile 
 with mv little son and three Indians. The 
 rest were advanced. My power to move 
 then failed, the world grew dark, and I 
 dropped down. 1 had sight enough to see 
 an Indian lift his hatchet over my head, 
 while my little son screamed, '' Ma'am do 
 go, for they will kill you". As I fainted, my 
 last thought was, that I should presently be 
 in the world of spirits. When I awoke, my 
 master was talking angrily with the savage, 
 who had threatened my life. By his ges- 
 tures I could learn, that he charged him with 
 not acting the honorable part of a warrior, 
 by an attempt to destroy the prize of a 
 brother. A whoop was given for a halt. — 
 My master helped me lo the rest of the 
 company, where a council was held, the re- 
 sult of which was, that my husband should 
 walk by my side, and help me along. This 
 he did for some hours, but faintness then 
 overpowered me, and Mr Johnson's tender- 
 ness and solicitude, was unequal to the task^ 
 
 ■'1 
 
S8 
 
 CAPTIVITY OP 
 
 h m t 
 
 1 !i 
 
 h: 
 
 of aidinor me further ; another council was 
 held — while in debate, as I lay on the ground 
 gasping for breath, my master sprang to- 
 wards me, with his hatchet. My husband 
 and fellow prisoners grew j)ale at the sight, 
 suspecting that he by a single blow, would 
 rid themselves of so great a burthen as my- 
 self. But he had yet too much esteem for 
 his "two monies." His object was to get 
 bark from a tree, to make a pack-saddle, for 
 my conveyance on the back of my husband. 
 He took me up, and we marched in that 
 form the rest of the day. Mr. Labarree 
 ^till kept my infant, Farnsworth carried one 
 of the little girls^ and the other rode with 
 her master ; they were extremely sick and 
 weak, owing to the large portion of the 
 horse, which they eat ; but if they uttered 
 a murmuring word, a menacing frown from 
 the savages, soon imposed silence. None of 
 the Indians were disposed to shew insults of 
 any nature, except the \oungest, which i 
 have before mentioned. He often delighted 
 himself, by tormenting my sister, pulling 
 her hair, treading on her gown, and numer- 
 ous other boyish pranks, which were pro- 
 voking and troublesome. We moved on, 
 xaint and wearily, till night ; the Indians 
 then yelled their war whoop, built a fire, 
 and hung over their horse broth. After 
 supper, my booth was built, as usual, and 
 
MRS. .tOHNSON. 
 
 39 
 
 
 uncil was 
 he ground 
 sprang to- 
 y husfDand 
 the sight, 
 vv, would 
 I en as iny- 
 esteem for 
 was to get 
 saddlo, for 
 r husband, 
 ed in that 
 Labarree 
 arried one 
 rode with 
 y sick and 
 ion of the 
 ey uttered 
 own from 
 None of 
 insults of 
 , which I 
 delighted 
 r, pulling 
 ad numer- 
 were pro- 
 noved on, 
 he Indians 
 uilt a fire, 
 th. After 
 usual, and 
 
 I reposed much better than I had the pre- 
 ceding nights. 
 
 In the morning, I found myself greatly 
 restored. Without the aid of physicians, or 
 physic, nature had began the cure of that 
 weakness, to which she had reduced me, 
 but a few days before. The reader will be 
 tired of the repetion of the same materials 
 for our meals ; but if my feelings can be re- 
 alized, no one will turn with disgust from a 
 breakfast o( steaks, which were cut from th6 
 thigh of a horse. After which, Mr. John- 
 son was ordered to take the infant, and go 
 forward with part of the company. I 
 ^'munched" in the rear till we came to a 
 beaver pond, which was formed in a. branch 
 of Otter Creek, Here I was obliged to 
 w ade ; when half way over, up to the mid- 
 dle in cold water, my little strength failed, 
 and my power to speak or see left me. — 
 While motionless and stiffened, in the mid- 
 dle of the pond, I was perceived from the 
 other side, by Mr. Johnson, who laid down 
 the infant, and came to my assistanae ; he 
 took me in. his arms, and when ihe oppo- 
 site side was gained, life itself had apparent- 
 ly forsaken me. The whole company stop- 
 ped, and the Indians, with more humanity 
 than I supposed them possessed of, busied 
 themselves in making a fire, to warm me in- 
 to life. The warm influence of the fire re- 
 stored my exhausted gtretigth by degrt^d, 
 
 . I! 
 
 * 
 
 »■■ ■ 
 
 s^ 
 
 .-L, 
 
"■*»»*^' 
 
 40 
 
 CAPTiriTT or 
 
 I i 
 
 w 
 
 and in two hours I was told to munch The 
 rest of the day I was carried by my husband. 
 In the middle of the afternoon, we arrived 
 on the banks of one of the great branches 
 of Otter Creek. Here we halted, and two 
 savages, who had been on a huiiling scoutt 
 returned with a duck ; a fire was inade» 
 which was thrice grateful to my cold shiv- 
 ering limbs. Six days had now almost e- 
 lapsed, since the fatal morn, in which we 
 were taken, and by the blessin«f of that 
 Providence, whose- smiles give life to crea- 
 tion, we were still in existence. My wearied 
 husband, naked children, and helpless in- 
 fant, formed a scene that conveyed severer 
 pangs to my heart, than all the sufferings I 
 endured mvself. The Indians were sullen 
 and silent, the prisoners were'swoUen with 
 gloomy grief, and I was half the time ex- 
 piring. After my feelings were a little 
 quickened by warmth, my sad portion was 
 bronght in a bark, consisting of the duck's 
 head, and a gill of broth. As I lifted the 
 unsavory morsel, with a trembling hand, to 
 my mouth, I cast my thoughts back a few 
 days; to time when, from a board plentiful- 
 ly spread, in my own house, I eat my food 
 with a merry heart. The wooden spoon 
 dropped from my feeble hand. The con- 
 trast was too affecting;. Seated on a ragged 
 rock^ beneath a hemlock, as I then was ; e- 
 maciatedby sickness^ and surrounded by my 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 41 
 
 iveeping family, who were helpless prison* 
 crs despair would have robbed me of life, 
 had I not put my whole confidence in that 
 Beins^ who has power to save. Our mas- 
 ters began to prepare to ford the stream. — 
 I swallowed most of my broth, and was ta- 
 ken up by my husband. The river was ve- 
 ry rapid, and passing danorerous. Mr. Lab^^ 
 arree, when hall over wiih my child, was 
 tripped up by its rapidity, and lost the babe 
 in the water ; little did 1 expect to see the 
 poor thing again, but he fortunately reach- 
 ed a corner of its blanket, and saved its 
 life. The rest got safe to the other shore — 
 another fire was bnilt, and ii»y sifter dried 
 the infant, and its clothes. 
 
 Here we found a proof of Indian sagaci- 
 ty, which might jnsily be suppo ed not to 
 belong to a band of rambling barbi.rians. — 
 In their journey over to Connecticut River, 
 they had, in this place, killed a bear. The 
 entrails were cleansed, and filled with the 
 lat of the animal, and suspended from the 
 limb of a tree ; by it was deposited a bag of 
 flour, and some tobacco, all which was de- 
 signated for future stores, when travelling 
 that wav. Nothing could have been offer- 
 ed more acceptable, than these tokens of In- 
 dian economy and prudence. The flour wa» 
 made into pudding, and the benr greaso^ 
 sauce was not unreiishing. Broth was m ide^ 
 and well seasoned with snakeroot, and thos» 
 
 V f : 
 
42 
 
 CAPTITITT or 
 
 \ ' 
 
 who were fond of tobacco had each their 
 share. The whole formed quite a sumptu- 
 ous entertainment. But these savage dain- 
 ties made no senf^ible addition to our quota 
 of happiness. My weakness increased, my 
 children were very unwell, and Mr. John- 
 sohn's situation was truly distressing. By 
 travelling barefoot, over such a lenght of 
 forest, and supporting me on his shoulders, 
 his feet were rendered sore, beyond descrip- 
 tion. I cannot express too much gratitude, 
 for Mr. Labarree's goodness. My infant was 
 his sole charge, and he supported it, by pie- 
 ces of the horse flesh, which he kept for its 
 use, which by being first chewed in his own 
 mouth, and then put into the child's afford- 
 ed it the necessary nutriment. After supper, 
 my booth was made, the evenii^g yell was 
 sounded, and we encamped for the night. — 
 By this time the savages hrid relaxed part of 
 their watchfulness, and began to bt careless 
 of our escaping. Labarree and Farnsworth 
 were slightly bound, and my husband had 
 all his liberty. My sister could sleep with- 
 out her two Indian companions, and the 
 whole company appeared less like prison- 
 ers. 
 
 In the morning of the eighth day, we 
 were roused at sunrise. Allhouiih the ear- 
 ly part of September is generally blessed 
 with a o3rene sky, and a warm sun, yet we 
 suffered exceedingly by the cold. The 
 
ih their 
 jumptu- 
 ro dain- 
 ir quota 
 56(1, mv 
 \ John- 
 
 »g- By 
 inght of 
 Mulders, 
 descrip- 
 atitude, 
 Fant was 
 
 by pie- 
 t for its 
 his own 
 
 afford- 
 supper, 
 fell was 
 light. — 
 
 part of 
 careless 
 isworth 
 nd had 
 
 p with- 
 and the 
 
 prison- 
 
 av, we 
 the ear- 
 blessed 
 yet we 
 The 
 
 MRS. JOHNSON. 4S 
 
 mornings were damp and foggy, and the 
 lofty trees, and nnmeros mountains, often 
 excluded the sun till noon. Our snakeroot 
 broth, enriched with flour, and made a rare 
 breakfast, and gave a little strenght to our 
 exhausted limbs. Orders came to '^munch.'" 
 My poor husband put me upon the j)ack- 
 saddle, and we resumed our march. Long 
 belore night, despondency had strikingly 
 pictured every countenance. My little son, 
 who had performed the whole journey on 
 foot, was almost lifeless. Mr. Johnson was 
 emaciated, and almost exhausted ; often he 
 laid me on the ground to save his own life, 
 and mine ; for my weakness was too great 
 to ride far, without requiring r st. While 
 prostrato upon the earth, and able to speak, 
 I often begged him to leave me there, to end 
 a life, which could last but a short time, and 
 would take his witli it, if he continued his 
 exertions to save me ; but the idea was too 
 shocking, we continued our journey, in a 
 slow, iforrowful mood, till night. Often 
 did I measure a small distance for the auu ^ 
 to run, before I must bid it an eternal adieu. ; 
 But the same Providence who had brought i 
 us so far, and inclined our savage masters to 
 mercy, continued my protector. Farns- 
 worth carried me a small distance, and at 
 last darkness put an end to our painlul day's 
 journey. After the customary refreshment, 
 we went to rest. The nidit was terrible ; 
 
 I'- ' f 
 
 ■va 
 
 'lyi- 
 
<i»iM>W'f.tto'>MM*^ .'tJtwiafcjKftMmWB*** -u 
 
 ':'«iaTiiiiii'ja 
 
 :' HI! 
 
 i 1 
 
 ^ ■' 
 
 I \\ 
 
 44 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 the first part was egyptian darkness, then 
 thunder, and lightning, and rain. On the 
 cold earth, without a cover, our situation 
 may be imagined, but not described. The 
 Indians gave me an additional blanket for 
 my use, shewed fome concern for my wel- 
 fare; but it will ever stand first among mod* 
 ern miracles, that my life was spared. 
 
 The morning came, and a bright sun re- 
 animated our drowned spirits. The whole 
 company now re:?embled a group of ghosts, 
 more than boililv forms. Little did I ex- 
 pect that the light of another day would 
 witness my existence ; sensible, that if my 
 own sad diseases did not finish my existence, 
 my husband would be reduced to the woful 
 alternative, of either perishing with me, or 
 leaving me in the woods to pre erve his own 
 life. The horrid yell was given, which wa» 
 (I signal for preparation. Melancholy sat 
 heavily on every countenance, and the tear 
 of woe moistened the sickened cheek of ev- 
 ery prisoner. In addilion to famine and 
 fatigue, so long a jouriiey, without a shoo 
 for delence, had lacerated and mangled ev- 
 ery foot, to a shocking degree ; travelling 
 was keenly painful, i he scanty breakfast 
 was served I'p ; as I was llftiui^ my gill of 
 broth to my cold lips, my m;i3ter, with a 
 rash hand, pulled it from me, auii gave ittQ 
 my husband, observing bysign^ that here- 
 quired all the sustenance, to enable him to 
 
MRS. JOHIfSOM. 
 
 45 
 
 Carry me. I yielded, on the supposition 
 that it was a matter of little consequence, 
 whether any thing was bestowed to thatbo- 
 dy which must soon mingle with its urigiR- 
 al clav. V\ith sorrow and anciuish, we be- 
 gan the ninth day's journey. Hefora w© 
 proceeded far, the Indians s-ignified to us, 
 that we should arrive, before night, at East 
 Bay, on Lake Cliamplain. This was a cor- 
 dial to our drooping spirits, and caused an 
 immediate transition from despair t!) joy ; 
 the idea of arriving at a place of vvater car- 
 riage, translated us to new life. Those who 
 languished with sickness, fatigue or despair, 
 now marched forward with nervous alacri- 
 ty. Two Indians were sent on a himting 
 BCOut, who were to meet us at the Pay, with 
 canoes. This seasonable and aorteable in- 
 telligence, had every possible effect that wai 
 good ; we walked with greater speed, felt 
 less of the journey, and thought !it'le of 
 our distresses. About the middle of the af- 
 ternoon the waters of the Lakj were seen, 
 from a neighboring eminence ; we soon gain- 
 ed the bank, whjre we fouml the two In* 
 dians, with four canoes, and aground j?quir- 
 rel ; a fire was built, and some food put in 
 preparation. Here my feelliugs, whic h had 
 not been exhilerated so muc h as »he rest of 
 my fellow prisoners, were buoyed above de- 
 spair, and, for a short time, the panics of dis- 
 tress lost their influence, 'i he liic, which 
 
46 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 hi) I 
 
 ' i 
 
 I • 
 
 F( 
 
 nine days painful suffering in the wilderness, 
 had brought to its lasi moment of duratioH, 
 now started into new existence, and render- 
 ed the hour I sat on the shore of Lake 
 Champlain one of the happiest I ever ex* 
 perieneed. Here we were to take passage, 
 in boats and find relief from the thorny hills 
 and myry swamps of the desert. My hus- 
 band could now be relieved from the bur- 
 den, which had brought him as nigh eterni- 
 ty as myself. My little children would soon 
 find clothing, and all my fellow sufferers 
 would be in a condidion to attain some of 
 life's conveniences. Twelve hours sailing 
 would waft us to the settlements of civil- 
 ized Frenchmen. Considering how much 
 we had endured, few will deem it less than 
 a miracle, that we were still among the liv- 
 ing. My son, of six years old, had walked 
 barefoot the whole of the journey. Farns- 
 worth was shoeless, and carried my eldest 
 daughter. Labarree had to carry and pre- 
 serve the life of my infant. My sister, ow- 
 ing to hei youth and health, had suffered the 
 least. My two little daughters, with only 
 their shifts, and part of one of the three 
 gowns, which tlie savage gave me, were sub- 
 ject to :J1 the damps of morn and night ; 
 and Mr. Johnson's situaiion Avas pitiably 
 painful ; the fatigue of carrying me on his 
 emaciated body almost a corpse, and his sore 
 feet made him a cripple. The Indians had 
 
 a,i 
 
 \ 
 
MRS. JOHNSOIf. 
 
 47 
 
 srness, 
 'atioH, 
 ender- 
 
 Lake 
 'er ex* 
 issa^e, 
 y hills 
 y hus- 
 j bur- 
 Jterni- 
 1 soon 
 fTerers 
 >me of 
 ^ailing 
 civil- 
 much 
 s than 
 le liv- 
 alked 
 ?arns- 
 eldest 
 1 pre- 
 , ow- 
 dthe 
 
 only 
 three 
 3sub- 
 ight ; 
 iably 
 n his 
 ssore 
 s had 
 
 been surprisingly patient, and often discov- 
 ered tokens of humanity. At every meal 
 we all shared equal with them, whether a 
 horse or a duck composed the bill of fare, 
 and more than once they gave me a blanket, 
 to shelter me from a thunder storm. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 i" 
 
 Crossing the Lake to Crown point, from thence to Sli 
 Johns— .Chamblee— and to St. Francis' Village. 
 
 I will only detain the reader a few mo- 
 ments longer in this place, while I eat the 
 leg of a woodchuck, and then request him 
 to take a night's sailing in the canoe with me 
 across the Lake, Though I sincerelv wish 
 him a better passage than I had. No soon- 
 er was our repast finished, than the party 
 were divided into four equal parties, for 
 passage. In my boat were two savages, be- 
 sides my son and inf\mt. I was ordered to 
 lie flat on the bottom of the canoe, and 
 when pain obliged me to move for relief, I 
 had a rap from a paddle. At day break, we 
 arrived at a great rock, on the west side of 
 the Lake, where we stopped and built a fire. 
 The Indians went to a French house, not 
 far distant, and got some meat, breid, and 
 green corn. Although we were not allowed 
 to taste the meat, yet, by the grateful efflu- 
 via of the broiling steak, we were finely re- 
 
 • 
 
 ■ , 
 
 
 
 
 
 m 
 
 m 
 
 * ^ 
 
 
 ^m^ 
 
 
 ■i itJl 
 
 /j 
 
48 
 
 CAPTIVITY OP 
 
 ii I 
 
 !U 
 
 ! I 
 
 ' . >t 
 
 galed, and the bread and roast corn, were a 
 luxury. 
 
 Here the savages, for the first time, gave 
 loud tokens of jo)s by hallooing and yelling 
 in a treinenduous manner. The prisoners 
 were now introduced to a new school. Lit- 
 tle did we expect that the accomplishment 
 of dancing would be taught us by the savges 
 But the war dance must now be held ; and 
 every prisoner that couhl move, must take 
 its awkward steps. The figure consisted of 
 circular motion round the fire ; each sang 
 his own music, and the best dancer, was the 
 most violent in motion. The prisoners were 
 taught each a sotig, mine was, danna witch- 
 ee natchepung ; my son's was narwiscump* 
 ton. The rest I cannot recollect. Wheth- 
 er this talk was imposed on us for their di- 
 version, or a religious ceremonial, I cannot 
 say, but it was very painful and olfensive. 
 In the forenoon, seven Indians came to us, 
 who were received with great joy by our 
 masters, who took sreat pleasure i;; intro- 
 ducing their prisoners. The war i .kh e was 
 again held ; we were obliged to joi.i, and 
 sing our songs, while the Indians rent the 
 air wilh infernal > el ling. We then cjnl)ark- 
 cd and arrived at Crown Point aboiii noon. 
 Each prisoner was then led by his muster to 
 the residence of the Fieiuh commander.— 
 The Indians kept up their infenud \clling 
 the whole time. We were ordered to hisi 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 49 
 
 were a 
 
 le, gav© 
 yelling 
 risonera 
 )1. Lit- 
 ishmcnt 
 3 savges 
 (I ; and 
 list take 
 isted of 
 :;h sang 
 was the 
 3rs were 
 1 witch- 
 iscump- 
 Wheth- 
 heir di- 
 1 cannot 
 Tensive, 
 e to us, 
 by our 
 .J intro- 
 e was 
 )i.], and 
 cut the 
 jn!)ark- 
 i noon. 
 5«ter to 
 mler.— 
 \cUing 
 I lo hisi 
 
 apartment, and used with that hospitality 
 v^hich characterizes the best part of the na- 
 tion. We had brandy in profusion, a good 
 dinner, and a change of linen. This was 
 luxury indeed, after what we had suffered, 
 for the want of these things. None but our- 
 selves could prize their value. We, after 
 dinner, were paraded before Mr. Command- 
 er, and underwent examination, after which 
 we were shewn a convenient apartment, 
 where we resided four days, not subject to 
 the jurisdiction of our savage masters. — 
 Here we received great civilities, and many 
 presents, I had a nurse, who in a great 
 measur^ restored my exhausted strength. — 
 My children were all decently slothed, and 
 my infant in particular. The first day, 
 while I was taking a nap^ they dressed it so 
 fantastically, a la France, that I refused to 
 own it, when brought to my bedside, not 
 guessing that I was the mother of such a 
 stran<je thinfj. 
 
 On the fourth day, to our great grief and 
 mortification, we were again delheredto 
 the Indians, who led us to the water side, 
 where we all embarked in one vessel for St. 
 Johns. The wind shifted, after a short sail 
 and we dropped anchor. In a little time a 
 cannoe came along side of us, m which was 
 a white woman, who was bound for Albanv. 
 Mr. Johnson begged her to stop a few mo- 
 ments, while he wrote to col. Lvdius of Al- 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 ^ 
 
 w 
 
50 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 bany, to inform him of our situation, and 
 to request him to put the same in the Bos- 
 ton newspapers, that our friends might 
 learn that we were alive. The woman de- 
 livered tlie letter and the contents were pub- 
 lished, which conveyed the agreeable ti- 
 dings to our friends, that although prison- 
 ers, we were then alive. 
 
 The following letter, in return for the 
 one we sent to Col. Lydius, was the first 
 we received from New E Midland : 
 
 . Albany, Nov. 5. 1754. 
 
 Sir, — I received yours of the 5th Octo- 
 ber, with a letter o" two for New-Encjland, 
 which I have forwarded immediately, and 
 have wrote to Boston, in which I urged the 
 government to endeavor your and family's 
 redemption as soon as convenieacy would 
 admit. 
 
 I am quite sorr}^^ for your doleful misfor- 
 tune^ and hope the just God will endue you 
 with patience to undergo your troubles, and 
 iustlv use his rewards on the evil doers and 
 autliors of vour misfortune. Present my 
 service to all the prisoners with you, from 
 him who subscribes himself to be your very 
 humble servant, 
 
 JOHN W. LYDDIUS. 
 Lieut. James Johnson, Montreal. 
 
 After a <Usagreeable voyage of three days 
 we made St. Johns, the 16th of September, 
 
 men 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 51 
 
 n, antl 
 e Bos- 
 might 
 laa de- 
 re pub- 
 .hle ti- 
 piison- 
 
 for the 
 he first 
 
 1754. 
 
 h Octo- 
 incrland, 
 
 ly, and 
 ^aed the 
 
 family's 
 
 y would 
 
 misfor- 
 dae you 
 Ibles, and 
 lloers and 
 esent my 
 [oa, from 
 our very 
 
 DIUS. 
 
 hree days 
 sptember, 
 
 where we again experienced the politeness 
 of a Frencli commcind' r. I with my child, 
 was kindly lodged '.j the same room with 
 himself and lady. In the morning we still 
 found misfortune treading clo^e at our heels; 
 we must again be delivered to our savage 
 masters, and take another passage in the 
 boats for Chamblee, when within three miles 
 of which, Labarree, myself and chdd, with 
 our two masters, were put on shore ; we 
 were ignorant of our destiny, and parting 
 from my husband and friends, was a severe 
 trial, without knowing whether we weife 
 ever to meet them again. We walked on 
 to Chamblee ; here our fears were dissipa- 
 ted, by meeting our friends. In the i arri- 
 son of this j)lace, we found all the hospital- 
 ity our necessities required. Here for the 
 first, after my captivity, I lodged on a bed. 
 Brandv was handed about in lar«e bowls, 
 and we lived in high style. The next morn- 
 ing we were put in the custody of our old 
 masters, who took is to the canoes, in which 
 we had a painful voyage that dav, and the 
 following night to Sorrell ; where we ar- 
 rived on the 19th. A hospitable friar came 
 to the shore to see us, and invited us to his 
 house ; he gave us a good breakfast, and 
 drank our better healths, in a tumbler of 
 brandy; he took compassionate notice of 
 my child, and ordered it some suitable food. 
 But the Indians hurried us olf before it 
 
 ii' 
 
 I 
 
 ■M 
 
62 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 tM 
 
 !ii 
 
 J ■«] 
 
 J^iii " 
 
 < 
 
 could eat. He then went with us to the 
 shore, and ordered his servant to carry the 
 food, prepared for the child, to the canoe, 
 where he waited till I fed it. The friar was 
 a very genteel man, and gave us his bene- 
 i diction at parting, in feeling language. We 
 ! then rowed on till the middle of the after- 
 noon, when we landed on a barren heath, 
 and by the help of a fire, cooked liU Indian 
 dinner ; after which the war dance was held, 
 and another infernal yelli) g. The prison- 
 ers were obliged to sing, till they were 
 hoarse, and dance round the fire. 
 
 We had now arrived within a few miles 
 of the village of St Francis, to which place 
 our masters belonged. Whenever the war- 
 riors return from an excursion against an en- 
 emy, their return to the tribe or village 
 must be designated by warlike ceremonial ; 
 the captives or spoil, whicli may happeii to 
 crown their valor, must be conducted in a 
 triumphant form, and decorated to every 
 possible advantage. For this end we must 
 now submit to painting ; their vermillion, 
 with which they were ever supplied, was 
 mixed with bear's grease, and every cheek, 
 chin and forehead must have a dash. We 
 then rowed on within a mile of the town, 
 where we stopped at a French house, to 
 dine ; the prisoners were served with soup 
 meagre and bread. After dinner, two sav- 
 ages, proceeded to the village, to carry the 
 
 his t 
 
 um 
 
 othe 
 
 and 
 
 hom( 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 53 
 
 m i 
 
 il 
 
 to the 
 ry the 
 canoe, 
 ar was 
 5 bene- 
 . We 
 I aiter- 
 heath, 
 Indian 
 IS held, 
 prisop- 
 Y were 
 
 ;v miles 
 ;h place 
 ^le war- 
 t an en- 
 villa^e 
 nonial ; 
 ppeii to 
 ted in a 
 every 
 ve must 
 nillion, 
 d, was 
 cheek, 
 11. We 
 e town, 
 3 use, to 
 th soup 
 wo sav- 
 arry the 
 
 glad tidings of our arrival. The whole at- 
 mosphere soon resounded from every quar- 
 ter, with whoops, yells, shrieks and screams. 
 St Francis, from the noise that came from 
 it, might be supposed the center of Pande- 
 monium. Our masters were not backward, 
 they made every response they possibly 
 could. The whole time we were sailing 
 from the French houae, the noise was dire- 
 ful to be Iieard. Two hoiu*s before sunset, 
 we came to tlie landing, at the village. — 
 No sooner had we landed, than the yelling 
 in the town was redoubled, a cloud of sav- 
 ages, of all sizes and sexes, soon appeared 
 running towards us ; when they reached 
 the boats, thev formed themselves into a 
 long parade, leaving a small space, through 
 which we nust pass. Each Indian then took 
 his prisoner by his hand, and afcer ordering 
 him to sing the war song, began lo march 
 through the gauntlet. We expected a se- 
 vere beating, before we got through, but 
 were disagreeably disappointed, when we 
 found that each Indian only gave us a tap on 
 the shoulder. We were led directly to the 
 houses, each taking his prisoner to his own 
 wigwam. When I entered my master's door., 
 his brother saluted mc with a belt of wamp- 
 um, and my master presented me with an- 
 other. Both were put over my shoulders, 
 and crossed behind and before. My new 
 home was not the most agreeable ; a large 
 
 "i 
 
 li 
 
 it*! *' 
 
 I 
 
 l< 
 
!'l 
 
 , ( 
 
 { 'I 
 
 i i. 
 
 IS- 
 
 54 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 wigwam without a floor, with a fire in the 
 center, and only a few water vessels and 
 dishes to eat from, made of bircli bark, and 
 tools for cookery, made ilnrnsily of wood, 
 for furniture, will not be thought a pleasing 
 residence to one accustomed to civilized 
 life. 
 
 i 
 
 CHAP. V . 
 
 Eesidence at St Francis. Sale of most of the Prisoners to 
 the French, <-.nd Removal to Montreal. 
 
 Nitjht presently caiiie, after our arrival at 
 St. Francis. Those who have ftU the 
 gloomy, liomesick feelings, which sadden 
 those hours which a youth has to passes, 
 when firs^t from a father's house, may judge 
 of part of my sufferings ; but when the rest 
 of my circumstances are added, their con- 
 ception must fall infinitely short. I now 
 found myself, with my infant, in a large 
 wigwam, accomj)anied with two or three 
 warriors, and as many sqiuiws, where I must 
 spend the night, and perhaps a year. My 
 fellow prisoners v\ere dispersed over Ihe 
 town ; each one, probably, feeling the same 
 gloominess with myself. Hasiy puddinj^r 
 presently was brought forvtard lor supper. 
 A s| jious bowl of wood, well filled, was 
 placed in a central spot, and eacli one {\rew 
 near with a wooden spoon. As the Indians 
 
 last 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 65 
 
 ; in tlie 
 3ls and 
 rk, and 
 wood, 
 )leasing 
 ivilized 
 
 'risoners to 
 
 nival at 
 fcU the 
 
 sadden 
 passes, 
 
 y j^^^e 
 the rest 
 
 leir con- 
 
 I now 
 
 a large 
 or three 
 
 e I must 
 ar. My 
 )ver the 
 
 he same 
 
 pudding 
 supper. 
 
 led, was 
 )ne drew 
 s Indians 
 
 laever use seats, nor hav£ any in their wig- 
 wi?ms, my awkwardness in taking my posi- 
 tion, was a matter of no small amusement 
 to my new companions. The squaws first 
 fall upon their knees, and then sit back up- 
 on their heels. This was a posture that I 
 could not imitate. To sit in anv other, was 
 thought by them indelicate and unpolite. — 
 But I advanced to niy pudding, with the 
 best grace I could, not, however, escaping 
 some oi their fuiuiy remarks. When the 
 hour for sleep came on, for it would he im- 
 proper to call it bedtime, where beds were 
 not, I was |)ointed to a platform, raised half 
 a yard, where upon a board, covered with 
 a blanket, I was to [xiss the night. The In- 
 dians threw themselves down, in varions 
 parts of the building, in a manner that more 
 resembled cows, in a shed, than human be- 
 ings, in a house. In the morni;ig, our break- 
 iast co'.cisted of the relicks of the last night; 
 my sisier came to see me in the forenoon, 
 and we spent some hours, in observations 
 upon our situation, while washing some ap- 
 parrel, at a little brook. In the afternoon, 
 J with my infiint, was taken to the grand 
 parade, where we found a large collection 
 of the village inhabitants ; an aged chief 
 stepped forward, into an area, and alter ev- 
 ery one fixed in profound attention, he be- 
 gan to harrangue ; his manner was solemn — 
 hh motions and expression give me a per- 
 
 IS 
 
 
 
 I 
 
56 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 ilii 
 
 I «■ 
 
 feet idea of an orator. Not a breath was 
 heard, and every spectator seemed to rever- 
 ence what he said. After the speech, my 
 little son was brought to the opposite side 
 of the parade, and a number of blankets 
 laid by his side. It now appeared that his 
 master and mine intended an exchange of 
 prisoners. My master being a hunter, wish- 
 ed for my son, to attend him on his excur- 
 sions. Each delivered his property with 
 great formality ; my son and blankets, be- 
 ing an equivalent for myself, child and 
 wampum. I was taken to the house of my 
 new master, and found mvself allied to the 
 first family ; my master, whose name was 
 Gill, was son-in-law to the Grand Sachem, 
 was accounted rich, had a store of goods, 
 and lived in a style far above the majority 
 of his tribe. He often told me that he had 
 an English heart, but his wife was true In- 
 dian blood. Soon after my arrival at his 
 house, the Interpreter came to inform me 
 that I was adopted into his family. I was 
 then introduced to the family, and was told 
 to call them brothers and sisters. I made 
 a short reply, expressive of gratitude, for 
 being introdued to a house of high rank, 
 and requested their patience while I should 
 learn the customs of the nation. This was 
 scarce over, when the attention of the vil- 
 lage was called to the grand parade, to at- 
 tend a rejoicing occasioned by the arrived 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 67 
 
 ath was 
 
 rever- 
 jch, mv 
 site side 
 blankets 
 that his 
 ange of 
 
 ir, wish- 
 Ls excur- 
 ty with 
 vets, be- 
 lild and 
 ;e of mv 
 d to the 
 a me was 
 Sachem, 
 f goods, 
 majority 
 t he had 
 true In- 
 al at his 
 form me 
 . I was 
 was told 
 I made 
 ude, for 
 gh rank, 
 
 1 should 
 This was 
 * the vil- 
 ie, to at- 
 e arrivejl 
 
 of some warriors, who had brought some 
 scalps. They were carried in triumph on 
 a pole. Savage butchery, upon murdered 
 countrymen ! The sight was horrid. As I 
 retired to my new residence, I could hear 
 the savage yells that accompanied the war 
 dance. I spenC the night in sad reflection. 
 
 My time was now solitary beyond desrip- 
 tion ; my new sisters and brothers treated 
 me with the same attention that they did 
 their natural kindred, but it was an unnat- 
 ural j'll'uation to me. I was a novice at makinir 
 canoes, bunks, and tumplines, wliich was the 
 only occupation of the squaws ; of course, 
 idleness was among my calamities. My 
 fellow prisoners were as gloomy as myself ; 
 ignorant whether they were to spend their 
 days in this inactive villa<]^e, to be carried 
 into a war campaign, to slaughter their 
 countrymen, or to be dragged to the cold 
 Lakes of the north, in a huntins; vova^je — 
 We visited each other daily, and spent our 
 time in conjecturing our future destiny. 
 
 The space of forty-two years having c- 
 lapsed, since my residence in St. Francis, 
 it is impossible to give tlie reader a minute 
 detail of events that occurred while there ; 
 many of them are still forcibly impressed 
 upon my memory, but dates and particu- 
 lars are now inaccurately treasured up by 
 faint recollection. Mr. Johnson tarried but 
 
 ■; 
 
 'it 
 
 ^r I 
 
 mm 
 
 " 1' 
 
f'J>fi'^--i!i't,g, Jtiiilpli^li^-* 
 
 '!!• 
 
 ii, 
 
 f. 
 
 .li 
 
 !i 
 
 ■u 
 
 M 
 
 ^ 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 -a few Jays with me, before he was carried 
 to Montreal, to be soltl. My two daugh- 
 ters, sister and Labarree, were soon after 
 carried to tlie irame phice, at different times 
 Farnsworth was carried by his master, on 
 a hunting scout, but not proving so active in 
 the chase and ambush as they wished, he 
 was returned and sent lO Montreal. I now 
 found an increase to my trouble, with only 
 my son and infant, in this strange land, with- 
 out a prospect of relief, and with all my 
 former trouble lying heavy upon me, disap- 
 pointment and despair came well nigh be- 
 ing my executioners. In this dilemma, who 
 can imagine my distress, when my little son 
 came running to me one morning, swollen 
 with tears, exclaiming, ihat the Indians were 
 going to carry him into the woods to hunt; 
 he had scarce told the piteous story, before 
 his master came, to pull him away; he threw 
 his little arms around me, begging in the ag- 
 ony ol his grief, that I would keep him. — 
 The inexorable sarage unclenched his hands, 
 and forced him away ; the la^t words I 
 heard, intermingled with his cries, were, 
 ma'am I shall never see vou a^ain* The 
 keenness of my pangs almost obliued me to 
 wish that 1 had never been a mother. Fare- 
 well, Sylvaiiu^s said I, God will preserve 
 yoti. 
 
 It was now the lotii of October. Forty 
 iivc days had passed suue my captivity, and 
 
MRS. jon>fscx. 
 
 59 
 
 carried 
 clauiih- 
 on after 
 it times 
 ster, on 
 ictive in 
 hed, he 
 I now 
 ith only 
 (1, with- 
 ali my 
 e, disap- 
 nigh be- 
 na, who 
 ittle son 
 swollen 
 [\ns were 
 to hunt; 
 ^ before 
 le tlirew 
 [1 the ag- 
 ) him. — 
 is hands, 
 words I 
 s, were, 
 n. The 
 id me to 
 r. Fare- 
 preserve 
 
 Fortv 
 aty, and 
 
 no prospect bnt what was darkened with 
 the clouds of misfortune. The uneasiness 
 occadoned by indolence, was in some meas- 
 ure relieved, by the privilesre of making 
 shirts for mv brother. At ni^ht and morn 
 I was allowed to milk the cows. The rest 
 of the time I strolled gloomily about, look- 
 ing sometimes into an unsociable wigwam, 
 at others sauntering into the bushes, and 
 walking on the banks of brooks. Once I 
 went to a French house, three miles distant 
 to visit some friends of my brother's fami- 
 ly, where I was entertained politely a week: 
 at another time, I went with a pariy to fish, 
 accompanied by a number of gquaws. My 
 Wv ikness obliged me to rest olten, which 
 gave my con.panionsa poor opinion of uie ; 
 but they shewed no other resentment, than 
 calling me '^ no jcood squaw," which was 
 the only reproach my sister ever gave, when 
 I displeased her. All the French inhabit- 
 ants I formed an acquaintance with, treated 
 me with that civilitv which distinci^uishes 
 the nation ; once in particular, being almost 
 distracted with an aching tooth, I was car- 
 ried to a French phycian, across the river, 
 for relief. They prevailed on the Indians, 
 to let me visit them a day or two, during 
 which time, their marked attention and 
 generosity claims my warmest gratitude. — 
 At parting, they expressed their earnest 
 wishes to have ine vi^^it them aixain. 
 
 1l 
 
 
 1^^ 
 
 mi 
 
 :■ 
 
60 
 
 CAPTIVTY OF 
 
 i 
 
 St Francis contained about thirty wig- 
 wams, which were thrown disorderly into 
 a clump. There was a church, in which 
 mass was held every night and morning 
 and every Sunday the hearers were sum- 
 moned by a bell ; and attendance was pret- 
 ty general. Ceremonies were performed by 
 a French friar, who lived in the midst of 
 them, for the salvation of their souls. He 
 appeared to be in that place, what the le- 
 gislative branch is in civil governments, and 
 the grand sachem the executive. The in- 
 habitants lived m perfect harmony, holding 
 most of their property in common. They 
 were prone to indolence, when at home, and 
 not remarkable for neatness. They were 
 extremely modest, and apparently averse to 
 airs of courtship. Necessity was the only 
 thing that called them to action ; this indu- 
 ced them to plant their corn, and to under- 
 go the fatigues of hunting. Perhaps I am 
 wrong to call necessity the only motive ; 
 revenge, which prompts them to war, has 
 great power. I had a numerous retinue of 
 relations, whom I visited daily; but my 
 brother's house, being one of the most de- 
 scent in tlie village, I fared full as well at 
 lioine. Among my connections was a little 
 brother Sabbatis,who brought the cows for 
 me, and took particular notice of my child. 
 He WIS a sprightly little fellow, and often 
 
MRS. JOHJNSOM. 
 
 61 
 
 rty wig- 
 3rly into 
 n which 
 morninor 
 
 re sum- 
 'as pret- 
 rmed by 
 midst of 
 lis. He 
 t the le- 
 snts, and 
 The in- 
 holding 
 
 They 
 me, and 
 y were 
 verse to 
 he only 
 is indu- 
 ) nnder- 
 ps I am 
 notive ; 
 rar, has 
 tinue of 
 but my 
 lost de- 
 well at 
 a little 
 ows for 
 Y child, 
 id often 
 
 amused me with feats performed with his 
 bow and arrow. 
 
 In the early part of November, Mr. John- 
 son wrote from Montreal, requesting me to 
 prevail on the Indians to carry me to Mon- 
 treal, for sale, as he had made provision for 
 that purpose. I disclosed the matter, which 
 was agreed to by my brother and sister, and 
 on the seventh we set sail in a little bark 
 canoe. While crossing Lake St. Peters, we 
 came nigh landing on the shores of eterni- 
 ty. The waves were raised to an enormous 
 height by the wind, and often broke over 
 the canoe. My brother and sister were pale 
 as ghosts, and we all expected immediate 
 destruction ; but the arm of salvation was 
 extended for our relief, and we reached the 
 shore. We were four days in this voyage, 
 and received obliging civilities every night, 
 at French settlements \ on the eleventh, we 
 arrived at Montreal, where I had the su- 
 preme satisfaction of meeting my husband, 
 children, and friends. Here I had the hap- 
 piness to find, that all my fellow prisoners 
 had been purchased, by gentlemen of res- 
 pectability, by whom they were treated 
 with great humanity. Mr. Du Quesne 
 bought my sister, my eldest daughter was 
 owned by three affluent old maids, by the 
 name of Jaisson, and the other was owned 
 by the mayor of the city. 
 
 Mr. Johnson had obtained the privilege 
 
 w 
 
 ^ ,i I' 
 
 % 
 
63 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 .(* ii 
 
 1 i 
 
 ^ ir ' 
 
 I' 
 
 of two months' abscence on parole, for the 
 purpose of going to Neiv-Englarul, to pro- 
 cure cash for the redemption of his faauly ; 
 he sat out on his journey the day after my 
 arrival at Montreal. Mr Du Quesne en- 
 gaged to supj)ly his family with necessaries, 
 during his absence, and was to be recom- 
 pensed at his return. Directly after his de- 
 parture, I found myself doomed to fresh 
 trouble. The Indians brought me here for 
 the purpose of exchanging me for some Mi- 
 canaw savages, a tribe with whom they were 
 at war ; but being disappointed in this, they 
 were exorbitant in their demands, and re- 
 fused to lake less than a thousand livres for 
 me and my child. Mr. Du Quesne fixed his 
 offer at seven hundred, which was utterly 
 refused bv mv savao-e masters. 1'heir next 
 • step was to threaten to carry ive back to St. 
 Francis. After halt a day's surly delibera- 
 tion, ti ey concluded to take the oifered sum. 
 I was received into Mr Du Que^ne's family. 
 My joy at being delivered from savage cap- 
 tivity was unbounded. From tiiis period, 
 Indians and sufferings were no more to tor- 
 ture me, or my family, except the unfortu- 
 nate Sylvanus. The fond idea of liberty, 
 held forth its dazzling pleasures, and the ig- 
 norance of future calamities, precluded ev- 
 ery cloud, that could obscure its effulgence. 
 On Mr Johnson's journey to New-England 
 
MRS. JOHNSOIV. 
 
 6sr 
 
 . for the 
 , to pro- 
 
 ifter my 
 esne en- 
 ;essaries, 
 B recom- 
 r liis de- 
 to fresh 
 here for 
 otne Mi- 
 iieywere 
 liis, they 
 
 and re- 
 ivres for 
 fixed his 
 s utterly 
 leir next 
 
 k to St. 
 lelibera- 
 red sum. 
 5 familv. 
 'age cap- 
 
 j)eriod, 
 e to tor- 
 unfortu- 
 
 liberty, 
 d the ig- 
 ided ev- 
 ulgence. 
 England 
 
 I rested all my hope, and felt full confidence 
 in being relieved at his return. 
 
 In justit e to the Indian-^. I ought to re- 
 mark, that they never treated me with cru- 
 elty to a wanton decree ; few people have 
 survived a si nation like mine, and few have 
 fallen into the h incls of sava^ires disposed lo 
 more lenity and patience. Modesty has ev- 
 er been a characteristic of every savage 
 tribe ; a truth which my whole family will 
 join to corroborate, to the extent of their 
 knowledge. As they are aptly called the 
 children of nature, those who have profit- 
 ed bv refinement and education, ou<j[ht to a- 
 bate part of the prejudice, which promps 
 them to look with an eye of censure on this 
 untutored race. Can it be said of civilized 
 conquerors, that they, in the main, are vinl- 
 ling to share with their prisoners, the last 
 ration of food, when famine stares them in 
 the face ? Do they evei adopt an enemy, 
 and salute him by the tender name of broth- 
 ery ? And I am justified in doubting, 
 whether if I had fallen into the hands of 
 French soldierv, so much assiduity would 
 have been shewn, to preserve my life. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Mr. Johnson's Tour to Boston^ and Portsmouth, and the 
 Catastrophe at his leturn. Arrival at the Prison in Quebec. 
 
 The reader will leave me and my family^^ 
 under the care of our factor, a short time. 
 
 
 
64 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 ;, • i 
 
 and proceed with Mr Johnson. On the 12th 
 of November, he sat ont for Albany, accom- 
 panied by two Indians for pilots, lor whose 
 fidelity the commander in chief was res- 
 ponsible. They were to tarry at Albany 
 till his return. In a short time I had a let- 
 ter from Col. Lydius, informing me that he 
 had safely arrived at Albany, and had gone 
 to Boston. His first step was to apply to 
 Governor Shirley, for money to redeem his 
 family, and the English prisoners. Shir- 
 lev laid his matter before the General As- 
 sembly, and they granted the sum of ten 
 pounds, to defray his expenses. He got no 
 further assistance in Massachusetts, and was 
 advised to apply to the government of N. 
 Hampshire. Gov. Wentworth laid the mat- 
 ter before the General Assembly of that 
 state, and the sum of 150 pounds sterling, 
 was granted for the purpose ol redemption 
 of prisoners. The committee of the Gen- 
 eral Court of New-Hampshire gave him the 
 following directions. 
 
 Portsmouth, N. H. Jan. 25, 1755. 
 
 Mr James Johnson, Sir — Agreeablee to 
 your letter to the Secretary, of the 16th 
 instant, you have enclosed a letter to Col. 
 Cornelius Cuyler, Esq. in which you will 
 observe we have given you credit, for let- 
 ters on his acquaintance in Canada, to fur- 
 nish you with credit, to the amount of 160 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 65 
 
 I 
 
 he 12lh 
 accom- 
 r whose 
 iras res- 
 Albany 
 id a let- 
 that he 
 ad gone 
 ipply to 
 ieem his 
 . Shir- 
 eral As- 
 1 of ten 
 3 got no 
 and was 
 It of N. 
 the mat- 
 of that 
 ;terling, 
 ^mption 
 le Gen- 
 him the 
 
 1755. 
 
 nblee to 
 he I 6th 
 
 to Col. 
 ou will 
 
 for let- 
 , to fur- 
 l of 150 
 
 pounds sterling. We therefore advise you 
 to proceed to Albany, and on your arrival 
 there, deliver the said letter to Col. Cuyler, 
 and take from him such credit as he shall 
 give you, on some able person or persons, 
 in Canada, and when you are thus furnish- 
 ed, you will then proceed to Canada, and 
 there negotiate, in the best and most fru- 
 gal manner you can, the purchasing such, 
 and so many captives, as you may hear of, 
 that have been taken from any part of this 
 province, taking care that the aforesaid sum 
 agreeable to the grant of the General As- 
 sembly here, be distributed, to and for the 
 purchasing all the said captives, that are to 
 be come at, in the most equal' and exact 
 manner, that none may be left there for 
 want of their quota of said money. The 
 captive's names, and places from whence ta- 
 ken; that we have information of, you have 
 herewith of, for your direction. You are 
 to keep an exact account of the distribution 
 of this money, in order to your future dis- 
 charge. 
 
 If Col. Cuyler should not be living, or re- 
 fuse you his good offices in this affair, you 
 are then to apply to the Hon, Saun- 
 ders, Esq. Mayor of the city of Albany, or 
 any other person that can give you credit 
 at Canada, and leave with them our letter 
 to Col. Cuyler, which shall oblige us to pay 
 the said sum or sums, mentioned in the said 
 
 ^1 
 
 I 
 
m 
 
 ' i 
 
 !'; 
 
 '- ''i 
 
 i^^' 
 
 
 
 ii 
 
 
 . 1 
 
 Ik 
 
 ' '.! 
 
 . i 
 
 ■ sE^' 
 
 ";i 
 
 i 
 
 In'^l 
 
 ij 
 
 Iff ^ '^ 
 
 
 *»' ' 
 
 !'!| 
 
 ii 
 
 i ■ 
 
 
 
 66 
 
 letter, to such 
 and 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 person, and in the 
 as we have obliged 
 
 same way 
 ourselves 
 
 Corn- 
 
 manner, 
 to pay him. 
 
 iVe are your friends, 
 
 THEODOREATKINOSON, ] 
 S. WIBERT, I 
 
 MESHECH WEARE, f 
 
 BENJ. SHERBURN, jun. j 
 
 A List of the Captives, taken from the Prov-' 
 ince of New-Hampshire, by the St. Fran-* 
 cis Indians, in the summer 1754. 
 
 From Charlestown, on Connecticut, Riv-* 
 er. James Johnson, his wife, and four chil- 
 dren. Peter Labarree, Ebenezer Farns- 
 worth. Miriam Willard. 
 
 From Merrimack River. Nathaniel Mal- 
 loon, his wife and three children. Robert 
 Barber, Samuel Scribner, Enos Bishop. 
 
 In addition to this letter of credit, Gov. 
 Wentworth gave him the following pass- 
 port. 
 
 Province of JVew-Hampshire; in New-England, 
 
 By his Excellency Benning Wentworth, 
 
 Esq. Captain General, Governor, and 
 
 L. S, Commander in Chief, in and over 
 
 his Britannic Majesty's Province of 
 
 New-Hampshire aforesaid, and Vice-Admi- 
 
 ral of the same, and Surveyor General of all 
 
 Woods, in North-America : 
 
 jesty 
 
 Jc 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 67 
 
 m 
 
 me way 
 mrselve* 
 
 Cam. 
 
 le Prov-^ 
 it. Fran-' 
 
 ut, Riv-* 
 >ur chil- 
 Farns- 
 
 liel Mai- 
 Robert 
 iiop. 
 it, Gov. 
 
 ig pass- 
 
 and, 
 
 tworth, 
 ior, and 
 nd over 
 vince of 
 5-Admi- 
 al ol all 
 rica : 
 
 
 Whereas, the St Francis and other In- 
 dians did, in the summer lasipast, captivate 
 sundry of his Majesty's subjects, inhabit- 
 ants of this Province, and have, as I have 
 been informed, sold the same to the subjects 
 of the French King in Canada, where they 
 are now detained in servitude ; and having 
 had application made to me, by Mr. James 
 Johnson, of Charlestown, within this prov- 
 ince, one of the said captives, who obtain- 
 ed leave to come to this country, in order 
 to purchase his own, and other captives' 
 liberty. For letters of safe passport, I do 
 hereby require and command, all oflficers, 
 civil and military, as well as all other per- 
 sons, thai they offer no lett or hindrance to 
 the said James Johnson, or his company, 
 but contrarywise, that they afford him all 
 necessary dispatch in said journey through 
 this province. 
 
 And I do herebv also desire, that all his 
 Majesty's subjects, of his several other gov- 
 ernments, throucrh which the said Johnson 
 may liave occasion to travel, may treat him 
 with tliat civility that becometh. 
 
 I also hereby entreat the Governor-Gen- 
 eral, and all other officers, ministers and 
 subjects of his most Christian Majesty, gov- 
 erninffand inhabitincr the country and terri- 
 tories of Canada aforesaid, that tliev would 
 respectively be aiding and assisting to the 
 said James Johnson, in the aforesaid nego- 
 
 I 
 
 V 
 
68 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 m 
 
 ^ 
 
 tiation. Hereby engaging to return the 
 same civility and kindness, to any of his 
 most Christian Majesty's officers and sub- 
 jects, when thereto requested, by any of his 
 Governors or proper officers. In token of 
 which, I have caused the public seal of the 
 Province of New-Hampshire aforesaid, to 
 be hereunto affixed, this 25th day of Janu- 
 ary, in the 28th year of the reign of our 
 Sovereign Lord George II, of Great Brit- 
 ain, France, and Ireland, King, Defender of 
 the Faith, &c. 
 
 BENNING WENTWORTH. 
 
 By his Excellency's Command, 
 
 TEEODORE ATKINSON, Sec'y- 
 Anno Domini 1755 
 
 With these credentials, Mr Johnson pro- 
 ceeded with alacrity to Boston, procured 
 Governor Shirly's pasrport, and set forward 
 to Worcester, on his return back : while 
 there, he was greatly astonished at receiv- 
 ing the following letter from Governor 
 Shirley. 
 
 Boston, February 15, 1755. 
 
 Mr. Johnson, — There have some things 
 happened in our public aflairs, since your 
 going from Boston, with my letters to the 
 Governor of Canada, and intelligence come 
 of the motions of the French in Canada, 
 for further invading his Majesty's territo- 
 ries on the frontiers of New-York and New- 
 Hampshire, as make it unsafe for you, as 
 
urn the 
 y of his 
 md sub- 
 ny of his 
 token of 
 al of ihe 
 ^said, to 
 of Janu- 
 n of our 
 eat Brit- 
 ender of 
 
 RTH. 
 
 Sec'y. 
 
 son pra- 
 )rocured 
 forward 
 : : while 
 t receiv- 
 overnor 
 
 1755. 
 
 3 things 
 ice your 
 s to the 
 ce come 
 Canada, 
 territo- 
 id New- 
 
 MRS. JOHNSOM. 
 
 69 
 
 well as for the public, to proceed, at pres- 
 ent, on your journey to Quebec, and there- 
 fore I expect that you do forthwith, upon 
 receiving this letter, return back, and lay 
 aside all thoughts of going forward, on this 
 journey till you have my leave, or the leave 
 of Governor Wentworth, to whom I shall 
 write, and inform him of what I have un- 
 dertook to do in this matter, in which his 
 Majesty's service is so much concerned. 
 Your friend and servant, 
 
 W.SHIRLEY. 
 
 Mr. James Johnson. 
 
 On the receipt of this letter, he returned 
 with a heavy heart to Boston, and was posi- 
 tively ordered by Shirley, to stay till fur- 
 ther orders. His situation now was really 
 deplorable. His parole, which was only for 
 two months, must be violated ; his credit in 
 Canada lost: his family exposed to the mal- 
 ice of exasperated Frenchmen, and all his 
 /r'^od prospects at an end. After using eve- 
 *y exertion, in Boston, for leave to recom- 
 mence his journey, and spending the rest of 
 the winter, and all the spring, he found his 
 efforts were in vain. During this time, my 
 situation grew daily distressing. Mr. Du 
 Quesne made honorable provision for my- 
 self, sister and child, till the expiration of 
 usband's narole : the two Indians were 
 
 my 
 
 par 
 
 then sent to Albany, to pilot him back ; af- 
 youj as I ^j, waiting some time, and learning nothing 
 
 i 
 
 1' 
 
 H 
 
 I il 
 
 :J|fi n}; 
 
 nil h 
 
■«««h«iMiM«»»<«wiW.-» a, tiitiii i , t, < h.».M>.«j »i i|» -«' - - - ■'!.. 
 
 70 
 
 wAPTIVTT OF 
 
 li -■■ 
 
 about him, they returned. Previous to this 
 I had been treated with great attention and 
 civility : dined frequently in the first fami- 
 lies, received cards to attend them on par- 
 ties of pleasure, and was introduced to a 
 large and respectable acquaintance. As an 
 unfortunate woman, I received those gener- 
 al tokens of senerositv which flow from a 
 humane people. Among the presents which 
 I received was one of no small magnitude, 
 from Captains Stowbrow and Vambram, 
 two gentlemen who were delivered by Maj. 
 Washington, as hostages, when he, \vith the 
 Virginia troops, surrendered to the French 
 and Indians. In compliance with their bil- 
 let, I waited on them one morning, and at 
 parting received a present of 148 livres.-- 
 Mr. St. Ange, a French gentleman of for- 
 tune and distinction, beside frequent proofs 
 of his goodness, gave me 48 livres. In his 
 family I formed an intimate acquaintance 
 with a young English lady who was cap- 
 tured by the Indians in the Province of 
 Maine, and sold to him : she was used with 
 parental tenderness, and shared the privi- 
 leges of his children ; she with his daugh- 
 ter, frequently came in the morning carriage 
 to ride with me and my sister. Gratitude 
 to my numerous benefactors, pleads loudly 
 in favor of inserting all their names, and 
 particularizing every act of generosity. If 
 I omit it, it must not be imagined that I 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 71 
 
 have forgotten their charity ; it has left an 
 impression on my heart, that can only be e- 
 rased with my existence. 
 
 I must not omit a circumstance which 
 took place between the lady of the Mayor 
 of the city and myself. She had purchased 
 my daughter poUy of the Indians, with the 
 apparent expectation of keeping her for life: 
 she had put her out to nurse, and when I 
 visited her, her cries to go with me were 
 troublesome ; of course 1 was forbid seeing 
 hen This was too severe — I applied to the 
 interpreter to conduct me to this woman, 
 and he went witii me to her house ; she re- 
 ceivea me with the greatest haughtiness, and 
 gave me to understand that the child was 
 her's, and she would prevent my being fur- 
 ther trouble'' with it. I replied to hei in 
 the feeling language of a mother, but it had 
 no effect at that time. A day or two after- 
 wards, the interpreter brought word from 
 the woman, that I had softened her heartj 
 and might have my child. I received with 
 it considerable good clothing, and the wo- 
 man asked nothing for all her trouble. 
 
 While in Mr. Du Quesne's family, my lit- 
 tle daughter was very unwell, and the su- 
 perstitious people were convinced that she 
 would either die, or be carried off by the 
 Devil, unless babtized. I yielded to their 
 wishes, and they prepared for the ceremony, 
 with all the appendages annexed to their 
 
 P# 
 
.,,»*#ift^^" 
 
 ■»jj KW l^^ | llt W f ii |»»i*i M M*<W 
 
 72 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 [\i 
 
 religion. Mr. Da Quesne was godfather, 
 and the young English lady godmother ; by 
 Mrs. Du Quesne's particular request, she 
 was christened Louise, after herself — to 
 which I added the name of Captive. 
 
 The return of the Indians, without Mr. 
 Johnson, boded no good to me. I observed 
 with pain, the gradual change in my friends 
 from coldness to neglect, and from neglect 
 to contempt. Mr. Du Quesne, who had the 
 most delicate sense of honor, supposed tiiat 
 he had designedly broken his parole, and a- 
 bused his confidence ; he refused to grant 
 me further assistance, or even to see my face. 
 I now found myself friendless and alone ; 
 not a word had t heard Irom Mr. Johnson, 
 not a word had I heard from my little son, 
 with the Indians. Affliction lowered upon 
 me, with all its horrors ; in this dilemma, 
 my sister and I agreed to take a small room, 
 and support ourselves, till our little store of 
 cash was expended, and then have recourse 
 to our needles. 
 
 In the beginning of April, the Indians 
 made a second tour to Albany, in quest of 
 Mr. Johnson, and again returned without 
 him. I wrote to Col. Lydius for informa- 
 tion, but he could tell nothing. Darkness 
 increased ; but ! summoned all my resolu- 
 tion, and indulged the fond hope of being 
 soon relieved. We kept our little room till> 
 June, when I had Uie happiness to hear that 
 
 ■.\ 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 7$ 
 
 father, 
 er ; by 
 st, she 
 elf— to 
 
 )ul Mr. 
 )served 
 friends 
 neglect 
 had the 
 jed that 
 r, and a- 
 
 grant 
 ny face. 
 
 1 alone ; 
 ohnson, 
 ;tle son, 
 ed upon 
 demma, 
 I room, 
 store of 
 'ecourse 
 
 Indians 
 [quest of 
 
 ithout 
 nlorma- 
 
 arkness 
 
 resolu- 
 if being 
 
 om till, 
 lear that 
 
 my husband was without the city, waiting 
 for permission to come in. He was conduct- 
 ed in by a jile of men ; his presence banish- 
 ed care and trouble, and turned the tear of 
 sorrow to the effusion of joy ; after the joy 
 of meeting had subsided, he related his sad 
 fate in New-England. He finally got per- 
 mission from Gov. Wentworth to come pri- 
 vately, by the way of Albany, where he 
 took his bills, drawn by Mr. Cuyler, on Mr. 
 St. Luc Luccorn, and Mr. Rine Du Quesne 
 The face of affairs in Canatia had material- 
 ly changed ; during his absence a new Gov- 
 ernor had been sent over, and various man- 
 oevres in politics liad taken place, which 
 were very injurious to him. Had the old 
 Governor tarried, his abscence would have 
 probably been excused. But Mons. Vau- 
 drieul was ignorant of the conditions on 
 which he vent home, and could not admit 
 apologies, for the breach of his parole. — 
 Our disappointment and mortification were 
 severe, when we found our bills protested. 
 This reduced us at once to a beggarly state. 
 The evil was partially remedied by St. Luc- 
 orn's lending us paper money, while we 
 could send some Indians to Mr. Cuyler for 
 silver. Mr. Johnson received orders to set- 
 tle his afiairs, with all possible dispatch. 
 
 Spirited preparations were now making 
 for vv^ar. General Dieskau arrived froia 
 France, with an army, and Montreal was a 
 
 
 . 
 
 1 
 
II ai...mmiw^k iraiii 
 
 ;■ 
 
 
 m. 
 
 • I' & 
 
 [ 
 
 ■ \ \ 
 
 5r ? ' 
 
 'I 
 
 
 n 
 
 it i 
 
 II 
 
 !l 
 
 74 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 scene of busy confusion. We were com- 
 pleting our Settlements, with our paper ex- 
 pecting to have full permission to go home, 
 when the Indians returned. But the meas- 
 ure of our misery was not yet full. In the 
 beginning of July Mr. Johnson was put in- 
 to jail. Terrible to me was this unexpect- 
 ed stroke; without moiM ,% —edit or friends, 
 I must now roam the streets, TUhout a pros- 
 pect of relief from the cloud of misfortune 
 that hung over me. In a few days, the 
 faithful Indians, who had been sent to Mr. 
 Cuyler for the silver, returned, with 438 
 dollars, with an order on St. Luc Lucorne, 
 for 700 additional livres ; but he took the 
 whole into possession, and we never after 
 received a penny from him. 
 
 Half distracted, and almost exhausted 
 wikii despair and grief, I went to the Gov- 
 
 listress and ask relief. 
 
 paint our 
 
 ernor, to 
 
 i iound him ol easy access, and he heard 
 my lamentable story with seeming emotion ; 
 his only promise was to take care of us, 
 and at parting gave me a crown, to buy 
 milk for my babes. Ignorant of our desti- 
 ny, my sister and I kept our little room, and 
 were fortunate enough to get subsistence 
 from day to day — Often going to the gloo- 
 my prison, to see my poor husband, whose 
 inlsfortuncs in Boston had brought him to 
 this wretchedness. 
 
 Our own misfortunes had taught us how 
 
 ^^ 
 
\^ V 
 
 MRS. JOHNSOrf. 
 
 75 
 
 •e «om- 
 !iper ex- 
 home, 
 le meas- 
 In the 
 3 put in- 
 nexpect- 
 friends, 
 it a pros- 
 isfortune 
 
 ays. 
 
 the 
 
 it to Mr. 
 with 438 
 Lucorne, 
 took the 
 fver after 
 
 txhausted 
 the Gov- 
 sk relief, 
 he heard 
 emotion ; 
 we of us, 
 
 , to buy 
 our desti- 
 •ooni, and 
 ibsistence 
 the gloo- 
 
 d, whose 
 ht him to 
 
 1 
 
 it us how 
 
 to feel for the sufferings of others, and large 
 demands were now made on our sympathet- 
 ic powers. Just as we were plunged into 
 this new distress, a scout of savages brought 
 a number of prisoners into Montreal, which 
 were our old friends and acquaintance. — 
 Two children from Mr. U. Grout's family, 
 ;md two children belonging to Mrs. How, 
 the fair captive, celebrated in Col. Hum- 
 phrey's life of Putnam. Their names were 
 Polly and Submit Phips. Mrs. How was 
 then a prisoner at St. Johns, with six other 
 children, and one Garfield. Thev v/ere all 
 taken at Hinsdale. — Mrs. How's daughters 
 were purchased by Mons. Vaudrieul, the 
 Governor, and had every attention paid 
 their education. After a year's residence in 
 Montreal, they were sent to the grand nun- 
 nery in Quebec, where my sister and I made 
 them a visit; they were beautiful girls, cheer- 
 ful and well taught. We here found two 
 aged English ladies, who had been t-ken in 
 former wars. One, by the name of Wheel- 
 right, who had a brother in Boston, on 
 whom she requested me to call, if ever I 
 went to that place ; I complied with her re- 
 quest afterwards, and received many civil- 
 ities from her brother^ Our meeting was 
 a scene of sorro'v and melancholy pleasure. 
 All were now tlocking to the standard of 
 war. The Indians came from all quarters, 
 thirsting for English blood, and receiving 
 
 11 ' 
 
 !«>■ 'i 
 
 .r-j 
 
76 
 
 CAPTIVITY OP 
 
 instruction from the French. A number of 
 tribes, with all their horrid weapons of war, 
 paraded, one morning, before the General's 
 house, and held the war dance, and filled 
 the air with infernal yells, after which, in a 
 formal manner, they took the hatchet a- 
 gainst the English, and marched for the field 
 of battle. Alas ! my poor countrymen, 
 thoii<jht I, how many of you are to derive 
 misery from these monsters. 
 
 On the 22d of July, Mr. Johnson was ta- 
 ken from the jail, and with myself and our 
 two youngest children, were ordered on 
 board a vessel for Quebec?. To leave our 
 friends at Montreal, was a distressing affair ; 
 my sister's ransom had been paid, but she 
 could not go with us. She went into the 
 family of the Lieut. Governor, where she 
 supported herself with her needle. My el- 
 dest daughter was still with the three old 
 maids, who treated her tenderly. Labaree 
 and Farnsworth had paid the full price of 
 their redemption, but were not allowed to 
 fijo home. Not a word had we heard yet 
 from Sylvanus. We parted in tears, igno- 
 rant of our destination, but little thinking 
 tliat we were to embarkfor a place of wretch- 
 edness and woe. After two days good sail- 
 ing, we arrived at Quebec, and were all con- 
 ducted directly to jail. 
 
iber of 
 ^f war, 
 jneral's 
 d filled 
 d1i, in a 
 chet a- 
 he field 
 ;rymen, 
 ) derive 
 
 was ta- 
 and our 
 3red on 
 ave our 
 g affair ; 
 but she 
 into the 
 lere she 
 My el- 
 hree old 
 Labaree 
 price of 
 owed to 
 ard yet 
 rs, igno- 
 hinking 
 wretch- 
 ed sail- 
 all cou- 
 
 MRS. JOHNSON. 77 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 Six months residence in the Criminal Jail^and removal to thp 
 Civil Prison. 
 
 We now, to our indescribable pain, found 
 the fallacy of Mr. Governor's promises, for 
 our welfare. This jail was a place too shock- 
 ing for description. In one corner sat a 
 poor being, half head with the small pox; 
 in another were some lousy blankets and 
 straw ; in the centre stood a few dirtv dish- 
 es, and the whole presented a scene misera- 
 ble to view. The terrors of starvation, and 
 the fear of suffocating in filth, were over- 
 powered by the more alarming evil of the 
 small pox, which none of us had had. But 
 there was no retreat, resignation was our 
 only resource ; the first fortnight we wait- 
 ed anxiouslv for the attacks of the disease* 
 in which time we w^ere supported by a small 
 piece of meat a day, which was stewed with 
 some rusty crusts of bread, and brought to 
 us in a pail that swine would run from. — 
 The straw and lousy blankets were our 
 only lodging, and the rest of our furniture 
 consisted of some wooden blocks for seats. 
 On the fifteenth day 1 was taken with the 
 small pox, and removed to the hospital ; 
 ler.ving my husband and two children in the 
 horrid prison. In two days Mr. Johnson 
 put my youngest child, Captive, out to 
 
 i 
 
 V, 
 
 .:4 
 
 td 
 
 |i 
 
 141 
 
 ^'% 
 
78 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 I: ;l 
 
 Ic? ; 
 
 nurse. The woman kept thp child but a 
 few days before she returned it, owing to a 
 mistrust that she should not get her pay. — 
 But should it remain in prison, certain death 
 must be its portion. Her father was redu- 
 ced to the sad necessity of requesting her to 
 carry it to the Lord Intendant, and tell him 
 that he must either allow her a compensa- 
 tion for keeping it, or it must be left at his 
 door. The good woman dressed it decent- 
 ly, and obeyed her orders. Mr. Inlendant 
 smiled at her story, and took the child in 
 his arms^ saying, it was a pretty little En- 
 glish devil, it was a pity it should die ; he 
 ordered his clerk to draw an order for its 
 allowance, and she took good care of it till 
 the last of October, except a few days while 
 it had the small pox. 
 
 A few days after I left the prison, Mr. 
 Johnson and my other daughter were taken 
 with symptons and came to. the hospital to 
 me. It is a singular instance of Divine In- 
 terposition, that we all recovered from this 
 malignant disease. We were remanded to 
 prison, but were not compelled to our for-* 
 mer rl^id confinement. Mr. Johnson was 
 allowed, at ertain times, to go about the 
 city, in quest of provision. But on the 20th 
 of October, St. Lucorne arrived from Mon- 
 treal, with the news of Dieskau's defeat ; 
 he had ever since my husband's misfortune, 
 about his parole, been his persecuting ene- 
 
 sevei 
 on o 
 defei 
 two 
 lousy 
 
 k:' 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 79 
 
 K 
 
 \ hut a 
 ng to a 
 pay.— 
 n death 
 IS redu- 
 r her to 
 tell him 
 nnpensa- 
 ft at his 
 ; decent- 
 ilendant 
 child in 
 Lttle En- 
 die; he 
 er for its 
 I of it till 
 ys while 
 
 son, Mr. 
 ;re taken 
 >spital to 
 ivine In- 
 Tomthis 
 
 sanded to 
 our for-^ 
 son was 
 bout the 
 the 20th 
 om Mon- 
 defeat ; 
 sfortune, 
 iting ene- 
 
 my. By his instigation we were all put di- 
 rectly to close prison. 
 
 The ravages of the sm'^.U pox reduced usf 
 to the last extremity, and the foetid prison^ 
 without fire or food, added bitterness to our 
 distress. Mr. Johnson prefered a petion to 
 the Lord Intendent, stating our melanchol- 
 ly situation. I had the liberty of present- 
 ing it myself, and by the assistance of Mr. 
 Perthieur, the Interpreter, in whom we ev- 
 er found a compassionate friend, we got some 
 small relief. About the first of November 
 I was taken violently ill of a fever, and was 
 carried to the hospital, with my daughter 
 Captive. After a months residence there, 
 with tolerable good attendance, I recover- 
 ed from my illness, and went back to my 
 husband. While at the hospital, I found an, 
 opportunity to convey the unwelcome tid- 
 ings of our deplorable situation to my sis- 
 ter, at Montreal, charging her to give my 
 b t love to my daughter Susanna, and to 
 inform our fellow prisoners, Labarree and 
 Farnsworth, that onr good wishes awaited 
 them. Not a word uad we yet heard from 
 poor Sylvanus. 
 
 Winter now began to approach, and the 
 severe frosts of Canada operated keenly up- 
 on our feelings. Our prison was a horrid 
 defence from the blasts of December ; with 
 two chairs and a heap of straw, and two 
 lousy blankets, we may well be supposed to 
 
 h 
 
 
 '1' 
 
 
 
 '1 
 
 ji?' 
 
 1 
 
 tiji 
 
 'I 
 
 IW H 
 
 •'1 
 
 
 
 ',■ .i 
 
 
 ' ■ '■ 
 
 i 
 
 
 ,11 
 
 
•t 
 
 c.'. 
 
 If: 
 
 .,-,«iit»*°'- 
 
 ! ! 
 
 $mA I 
 
 V N 
 
 80 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 live uncomfortably : but in addition to this, 
 we had but one poor lire a day, and the iron 
 grates gave iree access to the chills of the 
 inclement sky. A quart bason was the only 
 thing allowed us to cook our small piece of 
 meat and dirty crui^ts in, and it must serve 
 at the same time for table furniture. In this 
 sad plight— a prisoner — in jail — winter ap- 
 proaching—conceive reader, for I cannot 
 speak our distress. 
 
 Our former benevolent friends, Captains 
 Stowbrow and Vambram, had the peculiar 
 misfortune to be cast into prison opposite to 
 us. Suspicion of having corresponded with 
 their countrymen, was tlie crime with which 
 they w^ere charged. Ilieir misfortune did 
 not preclude tlie exertion of generosity ; 
 they frequently sent us, by tine waiting maid, 
 bottles of wine, and articles of provision. — 
 But the malice of Frenchmen had now ar- 
 rived to such a pitch, against all our coun- 
 try., thai we must be deprived of these com- 
 forts. These good men were forbidden their 
 offices of kindness;, and our intercourse was 
 entirely prohibited. We liowever found 
 means, by a stratagem, to effect in some 
 Bieasure, what coidd not be done by open 
 dealing. When the servants were carrying 
 in our daily supplies, we slipped into the 
 entry, and deposited our letters in an ash 
 box, which were taken by our friends, they 
 leaving one at the same time for us 5^ this 
 
 ; 
 
MR«. JOHNSON, 
 
 81 
 
 1 to this, 
 the iron 
 Is of the 
 the only 
 . piece of 
 list serve 
 In this 
 inter ap- 
 I cannot 
 
 Captains 
 ^ peculiar 
 3posite to 
 Kled with 
 iih which 
 :tune did 
 nerosity ; 
 ingmaid, 
 ivisionc — 
 :1 now ar- 
 our coun- 
 hes-e com- 
 Iden tlieir 
 oiirsiC was 
 ^^er found 
 : in some 
 i by o|.)en 
 5 carrying 
 I into the 
 in an ash 
 mds., tliey 
 I" us ^ this 
 
 
 
 i^rved in some measure, to amuse a dull 
 hour — sometimes we diverted ourselves bv 
 the vise of Spanish cards ; as Mr. Johnson 
 was ignorant ol the game, I derived no in- 
 consiilerable pleasure from instructing him. 
 But the vigilance ol our keepers increased, 
 and our pnper and Ink were withlield. — We 
 had now been |)risoners seventeen months, 
 and our prospects were changing from bad 
 to worse ; J ve months hade'apsed since our 
 conlinement in this horrid receptacle, ex- 
 cept the time we lingered in the liospital. 
 Our jiiilor was a true descendant from Pha- 
 raoh ; but, urged by impatience and despair, 
 I soften him so much as to get him to ask 
 Mr. Perth ieur to call on us, VVhen the 
 good man came, we described our situation 
 in all the moving terms which our feelings 
 inspired, which in addition to what he saw, 
 convinced him of the reality of our dis- 
 tress. He proposed asking an influential 
 friend of In is to call on us, who, perhaps 
 would devise some mode for our reliet. — 
 The next day the gentleman came to see us ; 
 he was one of those good souls who ever 
 feel for others woes. He was highly af- 
 fronted with liiis countrymen for reducing 
 us to such distress, and declared that the 
 Lord Intendant himself should call on u«, 
 and see the extremities to which he had re- 
 duced us ; he sent, from his own house, that 
 
 t; 
 
 
 ' '(, 
 
 i i 
 
CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 
 night, a kettle, some candles, and each of 
 us a change of linen. 
 
 The next day, January 8th, 1756, Mr. In- 
 tendant came to see us ; he exculpated him- 
 self by saying that we were piit there by 
 the special order of Mous. V.mdrieul, the 
 Governor in chief, and that he had no au- 
 thority to release us. But he woidd con- 
 vey a letter from Mr. Johnson to Monsieur, 
 which might hc.ve the desired effect. The 
 letter was accordingly written, stating our 
 troubles, and beseeching relief; likewise 
 
 f (faying that our son might be got from the 
 ndians and sent to us, with our daughter 
 and sister from Montreid. Th? ^.o crnor 
 returned the following obliging letter. 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 I have received, Sir, your letter, and am 
 much concerned for the sitiiation you are in. 
 I wiite to Mr. Lou<jieul, to put you and 
 your vvife in the civil jail. Mr, L. Intend- 
 ant will he so good as to take S(une notice of 
 the things you sta?id in need of, and to help 
 you. As o your i>oy, who is iu the hands 
 of the Indians, I will do all that is in my 
 power to get hiiU) but I do not ho|)e to have 
 a good success in it ; your chihi in town, 
 and vour sister in law ate well. If it is 
 some opportunity of doing you some pleas- 
 ure, I will make use of it, unless some rea- 
 son might ha])pen that hinder aud stop the 
 
each of 
 
 Mr. In- 
 
 eil him- 
 here by 
 eul, the 
 I no au- 
 iM con- 
 onsieiir, 
 t. The 
 tine; our 
 likewise 
 rom the 
 
 Ci'nor 
 er. 
 
 and am 
 u are in. 
 ^^oii and 
 I'ltend- 
 otice of 
 to liclp 
 e hands 
 IS in my 
 10 have 
 n town, 
 If it is 
 lie pleas- 
 )\i\e rea- 
 ;top the 
 
 MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 8S 
 
 of 
 
 ill. If 
 
 effects 
 
 before given some cause of heing suspected, 
 you should 1)3 at liberty. I am, Sir, your 
 most humble servant. 
 
 VAUDRIEUL. 
 From the receipt of this letter we dated 
 our escape from (t ireful '^Ofulage. Mr. In- 
 tendant ordered us directly to tlie new jail, 
 called the civil prison, where our accommo- 
 dations were iufinitely l)etter. We had a 
 decent bed, candles, fuel, and all the con- 
 veniences belonging to prisoners of war. — 
 Mr. Johnson was allowed fifteen pence per 
 day, on account of a Lieutenant's commis- 
 sion which lie held under George the sec- 
 ond, and I was permitted to go once a week 
 into the city t) j)urchase necessaries ; and a 
 washerwoman was provided for my use. — 
 We were not confincvl to tiie narrow limits 
 of a single room, but were restrained only 
 bv the bounds of the jail vard. Our situ- 
 ation formetl such a contrast with wh it we 
 endured in the gloomy criminal jail, thjit 
 we imagined ourselves the favorite:^ of for- 
 tune, and in high life. 
 
 C"AP. VIII. 
 
 Residence in the Civil Jail, and occuneuces till the SOth •!" 
 July, 1767. 
 
 To be indolent from necessity, has ever 
 iieen deemed u formidable evil. No better 
 
 I 1^ 
 
 I s 
 
 i \ 
 
 Ml \ - ! 
 
 1 i 
 
 i\' 
 
 t 
 
84 
 
 CAPTIVITY or 
 
 witnesFes th?*n r.urselves can testify the 
 truth of to /emark, althonc^h our lodgings 
 were now «uch as we envied a month be- 
 fore ; yet to be coinpel'ed to continual idle- 
 ness, was grievous to be borne. We deriv- 
 ed some amusement from the cultivation of 
 a small garden, wiihin the jail yard ; but a 
 continued sameness of friends and action, 
 rendered our time extremely wearisome. 
 
 About a month alter our arrival at this 
 new abode, one Captain Milton, with his 
 crew, who, with their vessel, were taken at 
 sea, were broujiht prisoners of war to the 
 same place. Milton was lod<ied in our a- 
 pariment ; he had all the rude boisterous 
 airs of a seaman, without the least trait of 
 a gentleman, which rendered him a very 
 troublesome companion. His impudence 
 was consummate, but that was not tis<^ ijreat- 
 est evil ; while some new recruits were pa- 
 rading before the prison, one day, Milton 
 addressed them in very improper language 
 from our window, whi( h was noticed di- 
 rectly by the city authority, who sup|)Osing 
 it to be Mr. Johnson, ordered him into the 
 dungeon. Deej)ly affected by this new 
 trouble, I again called on my friend Mr 
 Perthieur, who, after havin<z ascertained the 
 facts, got him reieised. Mr. Mihon was 
 then put into other quarters., 
 
 A new jailer, who had an agreeable lady 
 for his wife, nov/ jimde our situation still 
 
v)r-««"iP,-l|P'. 
 
 rvfTH 
 
 ■ r..' 
 
 HilS. JOHNSOM, 
 
 8^ 
 
 «i> 
 
 fy the 
 idgings 
 nth he- 
 al uUe- 
 > deriv- 
 ation of 
 
 ; but a 
 
 action, 
 some. 
 [ at this 
 ,vith his 
 taken at 
 X to the 
 in our a- 
 oisterous 
 t trait of 
 n a very 
 ipudence 
 
 Ur- areat- 
 
 vvese pa- 
 Milton 
 
 language 
 
 iticed di- 
 
 [apposing 
 
 into the 
 
 his new 
 liend Mr. 
 
 Ainedihe 
 
 lUion wait 
 
 •able hidj 
 .tion sti 
 
 mo^e happy. My little daughters played 
 with hers, and learned the French language. 
 But mv chilvlren vveie some troidjle — the el- 
 dest, Polly, conld slip out into the street un- 
 der the gate, and often came nigh being lost: 
 I applied to the centinel, and he kept her 
 within proper bounds. 
 
 Capt. M'Neil and his brother, from Bos- 
 ton, were brouoht to us as prisoners ; they 
 informed us of the state of politics in our 
 own country, and told us some interesting 
 news about some of our friends at home. 
 
 la the morning of the 13th of August, 
 our jailer, with moon eyes, came to con- 
 gratulate us on the takin<r of Oswego by the 
 French. We entered little into his spirit of 
 joy, preferring much to hear good news 
 from the other side. We were soon visit- 
 ed by some of the prisoners, who had sur- 
 renderd. Col. Schuyler was in the num- 
 ber, who, with the gentlemen in his suit, 
 made us a generous present. 
 
 The remain<ler of ihe summer and fall, of 
 175S, passed oif without any sensible varia- 
 tion. V\ e frequently heard from Montreal ; 
 mv sister was very well situated, in the fam- 
 ily of the Lieut. Governor, and my eldest 
 daughter was caressed by her three mothers. 
 Could I have heard f oin my son, half my 
 trouble would have en(^ed. 
 
 In December I was Jelivercd of u son. 
 
 w 1 
 
 
 
.. ^1 *» ^ — 
 
 -h 
 
 
 it 
 
 il 
 
 /f 
 
 %■ 
 
 MCiir^.«<rf 
 
 
 CAPTIVTT OP 
 
 wlaicli livec! Init a few hotirs, and was buri- 
 ed UKider the Cathedral Clmrch. 
 
 In the winter I received a letter from my 
 sister, contjuning tiie «ad ladings of niy fa- 
 thers death, who was kil.ed by Indians on 
 on his own larin, the preceding June, at the 
 age of 53. Savage vengeance fell heavily 
 upon our family ; I had a brother wounded 
 at the same liuje^ who ran to tlie fort witk 
 the spear ^iticking in his tldt'li. Too oiuch 
 grief reduced me to a weak condition. I 
 ^as taken sick, and carried to the hospital, 
 where, after a month V? lingering illuess, I 
 foun^l mvtself able to return. 
 
 The commencement of the year 1757 
 passed ofi' without a prospect of liberty. — 
 Part of our fellow pi ir^oners were t^ent to 
 France, but we made no voyage out of the 
 jail jard. About the first of IVIay, we pe- 
 titioned Mons. Vaudrieul to permit cur sis- 
 ter to come to u«. Our prayer was granted 
 and in May we had the pleasure of seeing 
 her^ after an a>»serie of tvvo years. She had 
 supported herself by i jr neecde, in the fam- 
 ily of the Lieut. Governor, where she was 
 treated extremely well, and received a preg- 
 ent of four crowns^ at parting. 
 
 Impatient oi confinement, we now made 
 another attempt to gain our lii>erty. Mr. 
 Mr. Perthieur conducted us to the house of 
 the Lord Intendant, to whom we petitioned 
 in pressing terms ; stating, that we had now 
 
 W- 
 
 
MB8. JOHNSOlf. 
 
 87 
 
 \ buri- 
 
 HB my 
 niy fa- 
 ans on 
 , at tlie 
 leavily 
 funded 
 rt wilk 
 L) much 
 ion. I 
 ospital, 
 lluess, I 
 
 ir 1757 
 
 jerty. — 
 sf nt to 
 
 t of the 
 we pe- 
 
 cur aig~ 
 granted 
 f seeing 
 She had 
 the fam- 
 she was 
 l1 a prea- 
 
 )W maJc 
 y. Mr. 
 house of 
 -titioned 
 had now 
 
 been prisoners almost three years, and had 
 sujfTered every thing but death ; and that 
 would be our speedy portion, unle-^s we had 
 relief. His Lordship li>tened wiih seeniing 
 pity, and promised to lay our case before the 
 head man, at iVlontreal, and give ns an an- 
 swer, in leven da\s; at the expiration of 
 which time, we had a permit to leave the 
 prison. It is not easy to describe the effect 
 of such news ; ihosre only, who have felt 
 the horrors of confinement, can figure to 
 themselves the happiness we enjoyed, when 
 breathing, once more, the air of Liberty. 
 We took lodoinas in town, where we tar- 
 ried till the firijt of J^me; when a cartel ship 
 arrived to carry prisoners to England for 
 an exchange, Mr. Johnson wrote and ur- 
 gent letter to Mons. Vaudricul, praying that 
 his fjimily might be included with those 
 who were to take passage. Monsieur wrote 
 a very encouraging letter back, promising 
 that he and iiis family should sail, and that 
 his daughter, Susaima, should be sent to 
 )iim — he concluded by congratulating iiim 
 on his good pro«^pects, and ordering the 
 Governor of Qi ebec to afford us his assist- 
 ance. This letii^r was dateil June the 27ih. 
 This tide of good fortune almost wiped 
 away the remembrance of three years ad- 
 versity. We began our prc|mrations for 
 embarkation with alacrity. Mr. Johnson 
 wrote St. Luc Lucorne, for the seven hun- 
 
 r 
 
 I 
 
 V 
 
 I 
 
 ■i 
 
 
CAPTlVlTr ^F 
 
 dred livres, due on Mr. Cuyler's order, hut 
 his request was, and still is, unsatisfied. — 
 This was a period big with every thin<x pro- 
 pitious and happy. The idea of leaving a 
 country where 1 had suffered the keenest 
 distress, during two months and a half with 
 the savages — been bowed down by every 
 mortification and insidt, which could arise 
 from the misfortuhes of my husband, in 
 New-Eno^land ; aud wliere I spent two year 
 in sickness and despair, in a prison too 
 shockintj to mention, contributed to fill the 
 moment with all the hapi)iuess, which the 
 benevolent reader will conceive mvdue, af- 
 ter sulTerings so intense ; to consummate the 
 whole, my daughter was to be returned to 
 my arms, who had been absent more than 
 two years. There was a good prospect of 
 our son*s being released from the ludi uis ; 
 the whole formed such a lucky combination 
 of fortunate events, that tlie danger of 
 twice crossins the ocean to gain our native 
 shore, vanished in a moment. My family 
 were all in the same joyful mood, and hail- 
 ed the happy day when we should sail for 
 England. 
 
 But little did we think that this sunshine 
 of prosperity was so soon to be darkened 
 by the heaviest clouds of misforttme. Three 
 days before the appo.nied hour for sailing, 
 the ship came <lown from Montreal, with- 
 out my daughter \ ir . lew moments, I met 
 
 In 
 
 if 
 
 Ol] 
 
 to 
 de 
 
 ar 
 
MUS. JOHNSON. 
 
 »9 
 
 ler, hut 
 sfied. — 
 [n<jr pro- 
 
 keenest 
 aU with 
 y every 
 111 arise 
 and, in^ 
 wo year 
 son too 
 ) fill the 
 lich the 
 due, af- 
 iiate the 
 inied to 
 ore xhan 
 )spect of 
 Indi ms ; 
 ibination 
 inger of 
 w native 
 y family 
 and hail- 
 1 sail for 
 
 sunshine 
 darkened 
 le, Three 
 ►r sailing, 
 ;al, with- 
 Us, I met 
 
 Mr Perthieur, who told me that counter or- 
 ders had come, and Mr. Johnson must be 
 retained a prisoner ; only my two little 
 daughters, sister and myself could go. This 
 was calamity indeed; to attempt such a long 
 wearisome voyai^e, without money and 
 without acquaintance, and to leave a hus- 
 band and two children in the hands of ene- 
 mies. Was too abhorrent for reflection. But 
 it WHS an affair of importance, and required 
 weighty consideration; accordiniily tlienext 
 day a soleam council of all the prisoners in 
 the city was held at the coffee-house. Col. 
 Schuyler v/as presittent, and after numerous 
 arguments for and against were heard, it was 
 voted, by a large majority, that 1 should go. 
 I, with hesitalion, gave my consent. Some 
 perhaj)s, will censure the measure as rash, 
 and others may applaud my courage ; but 
 I had so long been accustomed to danger 
 and distress, in the most menacing forms 
 they coul i assume, that 1 was now almost 
 insensible to their threats ; and this act was 
 not a little biassed bv desperation. Life 
 could no longer retain its value, if linger- 
 ed out in tr^e inimical regions of Canada. — 
 In Europe I should^ at least, find friends, 
 if not acquaintance ; and among the numer- 
 ous vessels bound to America I might chance 
 to get a passage. But then, to leave a ten- 
 der husband, who had so Ions, at the haz- 
 ard of his life, preserved my owm ; to part^ 
 
 ?! 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 ; \ 
 
i ii Mi ■ 
 
 SO 
 
 CAPTIVITY OP 
 
 \\ 
 
 perhaps forever, from two children, put all 
 my resolutioii lo ihe test, and shook my 
 boasted firmness. 
 
 Col. Schuyler, whom we ever found our 
 benevolent friend, promised to use his in- 
 fluence for Mr. Johnson's release, and for 
 the redemption of our children. 
 
 On the 20lh of July, we went on board 
 the vessel, accompanied by Mr. Johnson, 
 who went with us to take leave, \^e were 
 introduced to the Captain, who was a gen- 
 tleman, and a j)erson of great civility ; he 
 shewed as the best cabin, which was to be 
 the place of our residence, and after prom- 
 ising my husband that the voyage should be 
 miule as agreeable to me as possible, he gave 
 orders for weighing anchor. The time was 
 now come tliat we must part — Mr. Jonn- 
 son took me by tlie hand — our tears impos- 
 ed silence — I saw him step into the barge ; 
 but my two little children, sister and my- 
 self were bound for Europe. 
 
 We fell down the river St. Lawrence but 
 a small distance thatnij^ht. The next morn- 
 ing, the Captain, witli a cheerful counte- 
 nance, came to our cabin, and invited us to 
 rise and take our leave of Quebec ; none 
 but myself complied, and I gazer), as long 
 as sight would permit, at the place where I 
 had left my dearest friend. 
 
 While in the cui;tody of the Canadians, 
 ft number of Circumstances occurred, wiih 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 91 
 
 put all 
 ok iny 
 
 nd our 
 his in- 
 md for 
 
 board 
 
 Imson, 
 
 e were 
 
 a gen- 
 
 V ; he 
 
 ) to be 
 
 prom- 
 
 )iild be 
 
 le gave 
 
 me was 
 
 Joan- 
 
 irnpos- 
 
 l)ari^e ; 
 
 id mv- 
 
 ice but 
 inorn- 
 ounte- 
 l us to 
 ; none 
 IS long 
 ^here I 
 
 idians, 
 , wiih 
 
 which my memory is not strongly impresg* 
 ed : but a dream which I Iiad while in the 
 civil jail, will never be for<!Otten. Me- 
 thought that I had two rintrs on one finger, 
 the one a plain and the other a diamond 
 monrning rina : the plain rin^ broke and 
 fell from my finger, while the other remain- 
 ed. My family was now broke, and I left 
 to mourn. 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Voyage to Plymouth. Occurrences. Sailing from Plymouth 
 to Portsmouth, from thence by the way of Cork to N. Y. 
 
 All my fears and affliction did not pre- 
 vent rnv feelinop some little jov at being re- 
 leased from the jurisdiction )f Frenchmen. 
 I could pardon the Indians, for their vin- 
 dictive spirit, because they had no claim to 
 the benefits of civilization. But the French, 
 who give lessons of politeness, to the rest 
 of the world, can d?rive no advantage from 
 the plea of ignor«n( e. The blind super- 
 stition which is inculcated by tfieir monks 
 and friars, dotibtless stifles, in some meas- 
 ure, the exertion of pity towards their ene- 
 mies ; and the cojnmon herd, which in- 
 cludes almost seven eighths of their num- 
 ber, have no advantasjes from education. — 
 To these sources I attribute mo f ol my suf- 
 ferings. But I found £0:ne benevolent frier Is 
 
 r 
 
 1 
 
 ■Vil 
 
 ■i'i 
 
 'S 
 
 in' 
 
 i 
 
 iN 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 i ( 
 
 
 /#, 
 
^ 
 
 ^^. 
 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 11.25 
 
 iii 
 
 u 
 
 2.5 
 2.2 
 
 m < 
 
 U& 12.0 
 
 1.4 
 
 1.6 
 
 <^ 
 
 y] 
 
 7. 
 
 
 /A 
 
 *>v^ 
 
 7 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sdences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 4. 
 
 iP 
 
 ,\ 
 
 4 
 
 
 23 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. MSBO 
 
 (716) 873-4503 
 
 
 ;\ 
 
 #.> 
 
o 
 
 '/. 
 
 4. 
 
 ^ 
 
92 
 
 CAPTIYITT or 
 
 whose generosity 1 shall ever recollect with 
 the warmest gratitude. 
 
 The commencement of the voyage had 
 every favorable presa^^e ; the weather was 
 fine, the sailors i heerful, and the sliip in 
 good trim. My accommodations in the 
 Captain's family were very commodious ; 
 a boy was allowed me, for my particular 
 use. We sailed with excellent fortune till 
 the 19ili of August, wlien we hove in sight 
 of old Plymouth, and at 4 o'clock in the 
 afternoon dropped anchor. 
 
 The next day all but myself and family 
 were taken from the vessel ; we felt great 
 anxiety at being left, and began to fear that 
 fortune was not willing to smile on us, even 
 on these shores ] we waited in despair thir- 
 ty or forty hours, and found no relief. The 
 captain observing our despondency, began 
 his airs of gaiety to cheer us ; he nssured us 
 that we should not suffer— that if the Eu- 
 glish would not receive us, he would take 
 us to France and make us happy. But at 
 last an officer came on board, to see if the 
 vessel was prepared for tie recej)tion of 
 French prisoners. We related to him our 
 situation ; he conducted us on shore, and ap- 
 j)lied to tlie Admiral for directions— who 
 ordered us lodgings and the King's allow- 
 ance of two shillings sterling per day, lor 
 our support. Fojlunately we were lodged 
 in a house where resided Captain John Tuf- 
 
 mi 
 
VRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 95 
 
 lect with 
 
 y«?e had 
 ^ther was 
 ship in 
 in ihe 
 nodious ; 
 
 articular 
 rtune till 
 
 I in slight 
 k in the 
 
 1 family 
 -'t great 
 fear that 
 ns, even 
 air thir- 
 'f. The 
 > began 
 nred us 
 the Eii- 
 ild take 
 But at 
 B if the 
 ion of 
 im Our 
 ind ap. 
 
 — who 
 allow- 
 ^y> ior 
 odged 
 1 Tuf- 
 
 ton Mason, whose name will be familiar to 
 the inhabitants of New-llampshire, on ac* 
 count of his patent. He very kindly inter- 
 ested himself in our favor, and wrote to 
 Messrs '1 homlinson and Apthorp, agents at 
 London for the Province of New-fJ amp- 
 shire, soliciting their assistance in my be- 
 half. We tarried at Plymouth hut a fort- 
 night, during which time I received much 
 attention, and had to gratify many inquisi- 
 tive friends with the history of my suffer- 
 ings. 
 
 Capt. MdFon procured me a passage to 
 Portsmouth, in the Rainbow man of war, 
 from whence I was to take passage in a pack- 
 et for America. Just as I stepped on board 
 the Rainbow, a good lady, with her son, 
 came to make me a visit ; her curiosity to 
 see a person of my description was not aba- 
 ted by my being on my passage ; she said 
 she could not sleep till she had seen the per* 
 son who had suflered such haid fortune. — 
 After she had asked all the questions that 
 time would allow of, she gave me a guinea, 
 and a half a guinea to my sister, and a mus- 
 lin handkerchief to each of our little girls. 
 On our arrival at Portsmouth, the packet 
 had sailed ; the Captain of the Rainbow, 
 not finding it convenient to keep us with 
 him, introduced us on board the Royal Ann. 
 
 Wherever we lived, we found the best 
 friends and the politest treatment. It will 
 
 I 
 
 I. 
 
 
 I 
 
94 
 
 ciPTiviTT or 
 
 x 
 
 I A 
 
 be thonffht singular, that a defenceless wo- 
 man should siifTer so many changes, without 
 meeting wiih some insults, and many inci- 
 vilities. But during my long residence on 
 board the various vessels, I received the 
 most delicate attention from my compan- 
 ions. The officers were assiduous in mak- 
 ing my situation agreeable, and readily 
 proffered their services. 
 
 While on board the Royal Ann, I receiv- 
 ed the following letters ; the reader will ex- 
 cuse the recitation ; it would be ingratitude 
 not to record such conspicuous acts of be- 
 nevolence. 
 
 Plvmouth, Sept. 13, 1757. 
 
 Madam — Late last postnight I received an 
 answer from Mr Ap horp, who is partner 
 with Mr. 'rhomlinson, tlie aijcnt for New- 
 Hampshire, with a letter enclo-ed to you, 
 which gave you liberty to draw on him for 
 fifteen guineas. As Madam llorncch was 
 just closing her letter to you, I gave it her, 
 to enclose for you; I now write agi.in to 
 London on your beh;df. You must imme- 
 diately wri e Mr. Apthorp, what you intend 
 to do, and what further vou would have 
 him and our friends at London do for you. 
 
 I hope you have received the beneHiction 
 of the charitable ladies in this town. All 
 frieadi here commiserate your misfortunes. 
 
 an 
 an 
 
 Mj 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 95 
 
 sless wo- 
 
 without 
 any inci- 
 dence on 
 ived the 
 com pan- 
 in mak- 
 readily 
 
 I receiv- 
 • will ex- 
 ^ratitude 
 ts of be- 
 
 , 1757. 
 
 ;eivedan 
 partner 
 or New- 
 to you, 
 him for 
 ech was 
 e it her, 
 agLin to 
 t imme- 
 u intend 
 Id have 
 )r you. 
 
 efliction 
 n. All 
 
 rlunesi 
 
 and wish you well, together with your sister 
 and children. 
 
 Your fi lend and conntrvman to serve. 
 
 JOHN T. MASON. 
 
 Mrs. Johnson. 
 
 London, Sept. 7, 1757. 
 
 Madam, I received a letter from Capt. 
 Mason, dated the thirtieth of last month, 
 giving an account of your unfortunate situ- 
 ation, and ye?jterday Mr. Thomlinson, who 
 is ill in the country, sent meyo'ir letter, to- 
 gether with Capt. Mason's to him, with the 
 papers rehttive to you. In conseqtience of 
 which, 1 this day fipplied to a number of 
 gentlemen in your behalf, who very readily 
 gave their assistance ; but as I am a stran- 
 ger to the steps you intend to pursue, 1 can 
 only give you liberty, at present, to draw 
 on me for ten or fifteen guineas, for which 
 sum your bill shall be paid, aiul when you 
 furnish me with information, I shall very 
 cheerfully ^ive any furiherance in my pow» 
 er, to your relief, when i shall also send you 
 a list of your benefactors. 
 I am. Madam, 
 
 Your most humble servant, 
 
 JOHN AFTHORP, 
 
 Mrs. Susanna Johnson. 
 
 LETTER FROM H. GROVE. 
 I have now the pleasure to let dear, Mrs. 
 
 11 
 
 ■ I, 
 
96 
 
 CAPTIVITY OP 
 
 Johnson know the goodness of Mrs. Hor- 
 nech ; she has collected seven pounds for 
 you, and sent it lo Mrs. Brett, who lives in 
 the yard at Portsmouth, to beg her favors 
 to you, in any thing she can do to help or 
 assist you. She is a good lady ; do go to 
 her, and let her know your distress. Capt. 
 Mason has got a letter this post, but he is 
 not at home ; cannot tell you further. You 
 will excuse this scrawl, likewise my not en- 
 larging — as Mr Hornech waits to send it a- 
 way. Only believe me, madam, you have 
 my earnest prayers to God, to help and as- 
 sist you. My mam^na's compliments with 
 mine and begs to wait on you, and believe 
 me, dear Mrs. Johnson, yours in all events 
 to serve you. 
 
 HANNAH GROVE. 
 
 Sunday Eve, 10 o'clock. 
 
 I received the donation, and Mr Apthorp 
 sent me the fifteen guineas. I sincerely la- 
 ment that he omitted senuincr me the names 
 of my benefactors. 
 
 The Captain of the Royal Ann, suppos- 
 ing my situation with him, might not be so 
 convenient, applied to the mayor, for a per- 
 mit for me to take lodgings in the city, 
 which was granted. I took new lodgings, 
 where I tarried three or four d^ys, when 
 orders came for me to be on board the Or- 
 ange uian of war, in three hours, which was 
 to sail for America. We made all possible 
 
rs. Hor- 
 Linds for 
 
 lives in 
 T favors 
 
 help or 
 Jo go to 
 . Capt. 
 )ut he is 
 jr. You 
 J not en- 
 end it a- 
 ^ou have 
 3 and as- 
 ints with 
 
 I believe 
 
 II events 
 
 OVE. 
 
 Apthorp 
 erely la- 
 le names 
 
 siippos- 
 ot be so 
 or a per- 
 he city, 
 odgings, 
 yTs, when 
 the Or- 
 ■lich was 
 possible 
 
 MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 97 
 
 \ 
 
 tiJispatch, but vf hen we got to the shore, we 
 •were astonished to find the ship too far un- 
 *:ler way to be overtaken. No time was to 
 be lost, I applied to a waterman, to carry us 
 to a merchantman, who was weighing an- 
 <:hor at a distance, to go in the same fleet. 
 He hesitated long enough to pronounce a 
 <;hapter of oaths, and rowed us off. When 
 we came to the vessel, I petitioned the Cap- 
 tain to take us on board, till he overtook 
 the Orange. He directly flew into a yio- 
 lent passion, and offered greater insults than 
 I had ever received during my whole voy- 
 age ; he swore we w«re women of bad fame, 
 who wished to follow the army, and that he 
 would have nothing to do with us. I beg- 
 ged him to calm his rage, and we would 
 convince him of his error. But, fortunate- 
 ly, the victualler of the fleet happened to be 
 in the ship, who at this moment stepped for- 
 ward with his roll of names, and told the 
 -outrageous Captain that he would soon con- 
 vince him, whether we deserved notice, by 
 searching his list. He soon found our names 
 and the Captain began to beg pardon. He 
 took us on board, and apologized for his 
 rudeness. We sailed with a fair wind for 
 Cork, where the fleet took provision. We 
 carried a fortnight in this place, during 
 which time the Captain of the Orange came 
 on board to see me, and to offer me a birth 
 in his vessel ; but that being a battle ship, 
 
 11 
 
p 
 
 98 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 it was thought best for me to stay where I 
 then was. After weighing anchor at Cork, 
 we had a passage of seven weeks, remark- 
 ably pleasant, to New- York. On the tenth 
 of December we dropped anchor at Sandy 
 Hook ; on the eleventh, I had the supreme 
 felicity to find myself on shore in my native 
 country, after an absence of three years, 
 three months, and eleven days. 
 
 THE HISTORY ENDS. 
 
 '; 
 
 \ 
 
 I might descant for many a page on the 
 felicity I felt on being once more in my own 
 country ; bat others can guess my feelings 
 better than I can tell them. The mayor of 
 N ;w-York ordered lodgings for us ; here I 
 had the pleasure of meeting my friend, Col. 
 Schuyler, who gave me much information 
 about affairs in Canada ; he told me that 
 my husband had been released, and taken 
 passage in a cartel ship for Halifax, and that 
 lie had redeemed my son from the Indians, 
 for the sum of five hundred livres. 
 
 My fellow prisoner, Labarree, had made 
 his escape from the French, and had been in 
 New- York a few days before, on his way 
 home. 
 
 We tarried in New-York ten days— then 
 took water passage for New-Haven, where 
 I had the good fortune to find a number of 
 officers who had been stationed at Charles- 
 town the preceding summer, who gratified 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 99 
 
 where I 
 t Cork, 
 remark- 
 le tenth 
 t Sandy 
 sapreme 
 y native 
 e vears, 
 
 ;e on the 
 my own 
 • feelings 
 nayor of 
 
 ; here I 
 3nd, Col. 
 3rmation 
 
 me that 
 nd taken 
 
 and that 
 
 Indians, 
 
 ad made 
 d been in 
 i his way 
 
 tys— then 
 n, where 
 lumber of 
 Charles- 
 gratified 
 
 my curiosity with intelligence respecting 
 my relations and friends in that place. — 
 Some of these gentlemen, among whom was 
 Col. Whiting, kindly undertook to assist us 
 on our jourjiey home, by the way of Spring- 
 field. At Hartford we found some gentle- 
 men who were bound for Charleston ; they 
 solicited my sister* to go in company with 
 them, to which she assented. 
 
 Whenwithinhalf a dozen miles of Spring- 
 field, Mr. Ely, a benevolent friend of Mr. 
 Johnson's, sent his two sons, with a sleiojh 
 to convey me to his house, where I propoa^ 
 ed staying till some of my friends could 
 hear of my arrival. Fortunately, Mr. John- 
 son about the same time arrived at Boston, 
 but misfortune had not yet filled the meas- 
 ure of his calamilv. He had no sooner 
 landed, than he was put under guard, on 
 suspicion of not performing his duty in the 
 redemption of the Canada prisoners, which 
 suspicion was occasioned by his remissness 
 in producing his vouchers. But the follow- 
 ing certificate procured his liberty. 
 
 This is to certify, whom it may concern., 
 that the bearer, Lieut. James Johnson, in- 
 habitant in the town of Charlestown, in the 
 Province of New-Hampshire, m New-Eng- 
 land ; who, together with Iiis family, were 
 taken by the Indians on the dOth of August 
 
 Bflfi Mirriam Willard was aflerwardss marritd to t)it Rer. 
 Mt. Whitaej; of Shirley, MassachuietU. 
 
 r 
 
 
 m 1 
 
 m. 
 
100 
 
 CAPTIVTT OP 
 
 \i 
 
 1754, has ever since continued a steady and 
 faithful subject to his Majesty King George, 
 and has used his utmost endeavors to redeem 
 his own family, and all others belonging to 
 the Province aforesaid, that were in the 
 hands of the French and Indians, which he 
 cannot yet accomplish ; and that both him- 
 self and family have undergone innumera- 
 ble hardships and affliction since they have 
 been prisoners in Canada. 
 
 In testimony of which, we the subscri- 
 bers, OflScers in his Britannic Majesty's ser- 
 vice, and now prisoners of war at Quebec, 
 have thought it necessary to grant him this 
 certificate, and do recommend him as an ob- 
 ject worthy the aid and compassion of eve- 
 ry honest Englishman. 
 
 PETER SCHUYLER, 
 ANDREW WATKINS, 
 WILLIAM MARTIN, 
 WILLIAM PADGETT. 
 Quebec, Sept. 16, 1767. 
 To compensate him for this misfortune, 
 Gov. Pownal recommended a grant, which 
 the General Court complied with, and gave 
 him one hundred dollars from the treasury, 
 and he was recorded a faithful subject of 
 King George. 
 
 After his dismission from the guards in 
 Boston, he proceeded directly for Charles- 
 town. When within fifteen miles of Spring- 
 field, he was met by a gentleman who had 
 
ly and 
 eorge, 
 edeetn 
 ;ing to 
 in the 
 ich he 
 1 him- 
 jmera- 
 y have 
 
 ubscri- 
 y's ser- 
 tuebec, 
 im this 
 s an ob- 
 of eve- 
 
 NS, 
 
 ^^ 
 TT. 
 
 brtune, 
 
 which 
 
 id gave 
 
 easury, 
 
 ject of 
 
 ards in 
 Iharles- 
 Spring- 
 rho had 
 
 MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 101 
 
 just before seen me, who gave him the best 
 news he could have heard ; although it was 
 then late at night, he lost not a moment. — 
 At two o'clock in the morning of the first 
 of January 1758, I again embraced my dear- 
 est friend — happy new year, with pleasure 
 would I describe my emotions of joy, could 
 language paint them sufficiently forcible ; 
 but the feeble pen shrinks from the task. 
 
 Charlestown was still a frontier town, and 
 suffered from savage depredations, wliich 
 rendered it an improper residence for me; 
 consequently I went to Lancaster. 
 
 Mr. Johnson, in a few days, sat out for 
 New-York, to adjust his Canada accounts. 
 But on his journey he was persuaded by 
 Gov. Pownal to take a Captain's commis- 
 sion, and join the forces bound for Ticon- 
 dero^a : where he was killed on the 8th of 
 July followin<T, in the battle that proved fa- 
 tal to Lord Howe, while fighting for his 
 country. Humanity will weep with me. — 
 The cup of sorrow was now replete with 
 bitter drops. All my former miseries were 
 lost in the affliction of a widow. 
 
 In October, 1758, 1 was informed that my 
 Son Sylvanus was at Northampton, sick of 
 a scald. I hastened to the place, and found 
 him in a deplorable situation ; he wasbro't 
 there by Major Putnam, afterwards Gen. 
 Putnam, with Mrs. How and her family, 
 who had returned from captivity. The 
 
102 
 
 CAPTIVITY OF 
 
 1 
 
 
 ,M' 
 
 town of Northampton had taken the charge 
 of him — his situation was miserable ; when 
 I found him lie had no recollection of me, 
 but after some conversation, he had some 
 confused ideas of me, but no remembrance 
 of his father. It was four years since I had 
 seen him, he was then eleven years old ; 
 during his absence he had entirely forgotten 
 the English language, spoke a little broken 
 French, but was perfect in Indian. He had 
 been with the savages three years, and one 
 year with the French ; but his habits were 
 somewhat Indian : he had been with them 
 in their hunting excursions, and suffered nu- 
 merous hardships — he could brandish a tom- 
 ahawk or bend the bow, but these liabits 
 wore off bv de«:rees. 1 carried him from 
 that place to Lancaster, where he lived a 
 few years with Col. Aaron WiHard. ^^«.. 
 
 I lived In Lancaster till OctobcJi 1759, 
 when I returned to old Charlestovvn. The 
 sight of my former residence afforded a 
 strange mixture of joy and grief, while the 
 desolations of war, and the loss of a num- 
 ber ot dear and valuable friends, combined 
 to give the place an air of melanchoUy. — 
 Soon after my arrival, Major Rogers return- 
 ed from an expedition against the village St. 
 Francis, which he had destroyed and killed 
 most of the inhabitants. He brought with 
 him a young Indian prisoner, who stopped 
 at my house, the moment he saw me he cri* 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 103 
 
 charge 
 when 
 )f me, 
 I some 
 trance 
 I had 
 old; 
 gotten 
 iroken 
 le had 
 id one 
 were 
 them 
 ed nu- 
 a tom- 
 habits 
 from 
 \ed a 
 
 1759, 
 
 The 
 
 ded a 
 
 le the 
 
 num- 
 ibined 
 
 lly— 
 
 eturn- 
 ge St. 
 killed 
 : with 
 Dpped 
 le cri* 
 
 cd, my God, my God, here is my sister ; it 
 was my little brother Sabbatis, who former- 
 ly used to bring the cows for me, when I 
 lived at my Indian masters. He was trans- 
 ported to see me, and declared that he was 
 still mv brother, and 1 must be his sister. — 
 Poor fellow ! The fortune of war had left 
 him withont a single relation, but with his 
 country's enemies, he could find one who 
 too sensibly felt his miseries ; I felt the pur- 
 est pleasure in administering to his comfort. 
 
 I was extremely fortunate in receiving by 
 one of Major Roger's mv^n, a bundle of Mr. 
 Johnson's papers, which he found in pillag- 
 ing St. Francis. The Indians took them 
 when we were captivated, and they had 
 lain at St. Francis tve years. 
 
 Sabbatis went from Charlestown to 
 Crown-Point with Major Rogers. When he 
 got to Otter Creek, he met my son Sylva- 
 nus, who was in the army with Col. Will- 
 ard : he recognized him, and clasping him 
 in his arms, " My God," says he, "the for- 
 tune of war !" — I shall ever remember this 
 young Indian with affection ; he had a high 
 sense of honor and good behaviour, he was 
 affable, good natured and polite. 
 
 My >,ughter Susanna was still in Cana- 
 da — but as I had the fullest assurances that 
 every attention was paid to her education 
 and welfare by her three mothers, I felt less 
 anxiety than 1 otherwise miglit have done. 
 
 *• 
 
 i I 
 
104 
 
 CAPTITITT OP 
 
 ''^j 
 
 
 
 Every ane will imagine that I have paid 
 ai&iction her utmost demand, the pains of 
 imprisonment, the separation from my chil- 
 dren, the keen sorrow occasioned by the 
 death of a butchered father, and the severe 
 grief arising from my husband's death, will 
 amount to a sum, perhaps, unequalled. But 
 still my family must be doomed to further 
 and severe persecutions, from the savages. 
 In the commencement of the summer of 
 1760, my brother in law, Mr. Joseph Wil- 
 lard, son of the Rev. Mr. Willard of Rut- 
 land, who was killed by the Indians in Lov- 
 elPs war with h^s wife and live children, 
 who lived but two miles distant from me, 
 were taken by a party of Indians. They 
 were carried much the same rout that I was 
 to Montreal. Their journey of fourteen 
 days through the wilderness, was a series of 
 miseries, unknown to any but those who 
 have suffered Indian Captivity, they lost 
 two children, whose deaths were owing to 
 savage barbarity. The history of their cap- 
 tivity would almost equal my own, but the 
 ^tjader's commiseration and pity must now 
 Se exhaused. No more of anguish, no more 
 of anguish, no more of sutferings. 
 
 They arrived at Montreal a few days be- 
 fore the French surrendered it to the En- 
 glish ; and after four month's absence, re- 
 turned home, and brought my daughter Su- 
 sanna to my arms ; while I rejoiced at again 
 
^e paid 
 lains of 
 ly chil- 
 by the 
 
 severe 
 hj will 
 1, But 
 further 
 ivages. 
 ner of 
 h Wil- 
 f Rut- 
 n Lov- 
 ildren, 
 nn me. 
 
 They 
 t I was 
 urteen 
 ries of 
 d who 
 V lost 
 ing to 
 ir cap- 
 ut the 
 ;t now 
 
 more 
 
 vs be- 
 e En- 
 ;e, re- 
 )v Su- 
 again 
 
 MRS. JOHNSOIT. 
 
 105 
 
 meeting my child, whom I had not seen for 
 above five years, I felt extremely grateful to 
 the Mrs. Jaissons, for the affectionate atten- 
 tion they had bestowed on her. As they 
 had received her as their child, they had 
 made their affluent fortune subservient to 
 ber best interest. To give her the accom- 
 plishments of a polite education had been 
 their principal care, she had contracted an 
 ardent love for them, which never will be 
 obliterated. Their parting was an affecting 
 scene of tears. They never forgot her dur- 
 intj their lives ; she has eiorht letters from 
 them, which are proofs of the warmest 
 Iricndsliip. My daughter did not know me 
 at her return, and spoke nothing but French; 
 my son spoke Indian, so that my flimily was 
 a mixture of nations 
 
 Mr. Farnswortli, j -j only fellow prisoner 
 whose return I havj aot mentioned, came 
 home a little before. 
 
 Thus, by the goodness of Providence, we 
 all returned in the course of six painful 
 years to the place from whence we were ta- 
 ken. The long period of our captivity, and 
 the severity of our sufferincrs, will be called 
 uncommon and unprecedented. But we e- 
 ven found some friends to pity, amon j our 
 most persecuting enemies ; and fiom the va- 
 rious shapes in which mankind appeared, 
 we learned many valuable lessons. Wheth- 
 er in the wilds of Canada, the horrid jaiU 
 
 !,^ 
 
106 
 
 CAPTIVITY OP 
 
 of Quebec, or in our voyage to Europe, 
 daily occurences happened to convince us 
 that the passions of men are as various as 
 their complexions. And although my suf- 
 ferings were often increased by the selfish- 
 ness of this world's spirit, yet the numer- 
 ous testimonies of generosity I received, 
 bids me suppress the charge of neglect, or 
 want of benevolence. That I have been an 
 unfortunate woman, all will grant ; yet my 
 misfortunes, while they enriched my expe- 
 rience, and taught me the value of patience, 
 have increased my gratitude to the author 
 of all blessings, whose goodness and mercy 
 have preserved my life to the present time. 
 During the time of my widowhood, mis- 
 fortune and disappointment were my inti- 
 mate companions ; when New-Enghuid was 
 ruled by a iew men who were the creatures 
 of a Iving, the pleasures of dissipation were 
 prefered to the more severe attention to bu- 
 siness, and the small voice of a woman was 
 seldom heard. Hence in the settlement of 
 my husband's estate, the day and perplexi- 
 ty was distressing. I made three journeys 
 to Portsmouth, fourteen to Boston, and 
 three to Springfield, to effect the settlement. 
 Whether my captivity had taught me to be 
 ungrateful, or whether imagination formed 
 a c:italogue of events, I will not pretend to 
 say ; but from the year 1T54 to the present 
 day, greater misfortunes have apparently 
 
MR8. JOHNS OX. 
 
 107 
 
 Europe, 
 ivince us 
 arious as 
 my sul- 
 e selfish- 
 i numer- 
 'eceived, 
 gleet, or 
 ) been an 
 ; yet my 
 ny expe- 
 patience, 
 3 author 
 d mercy 
 mt time, 
 od, mis- 
 mv inti- 
 and was 
 features 
 on were 
 a to bu- 
 [nan was 
 jment of 
 erplexi- 
 
 ournevs 
 
 » 
 
 in, and 
 Llement. 
 ne to be 
 
 formed 
 itend to 
 
 present 
 Durently 
 
 fallen to my share than to mankind in gen- 
 eral, and the meteor happiness has eluded 
 my grasp. The life of a widow is peculiar- 
 ly afflictive, but my numerous and long 
 journies over roads imminently bad, and in- 
 cidents that seemed to baffle all my plans 
 and foresight, render mine more unfortu- 
 nate than common. 
 
 But I found many attentive friends, whose 
 assistance and kindness will always claim my 
 gratitude. Colonel White of Leominster, 
 with whom I had lived from the time I was 
 eight years old until I married, w^as extreme- 
 ly aifectionate and kind — in bis house I 
 found a welcome home. Mr. Samuel Ely 
 of Springfield, who was the friend of my 
 husband, rendered me numerous kindnesses. 
 Col. Murray of Rutland, and Col. Chandler 
 of Worcester, were verv friend Iv and kind. 
 Mr. Clarke, deputy secretary. Gov. Pow- 
 nall, and Gov. VVentworth, exerted their 
 influence for me in attempting to procure a 
 grant from the General Assemhlv. 
 
 In one of my journies to Portsmouth, I 
 conversed with Capt. Adams, who was in 
 Europe at the time I was — he informed me 
 that while there Mr. Apthorp gave him four- 
 teen pounds stcrlino:, for the purpose of con- 
 veying me and my family to America ; my 
 sailing with the convoy prevented my re- 
 ceiving this kindness. 
 
 During the four years of my widowhood 
 
 ■';■ 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 A 
 
 • 
 
108 
 
 CAPTITITT OF 
 
 i. i*. ''■ 
 
 I was in quite an unsettled situation ; some- 
 times receiving my children, who were re- 
 turning from captivity, and at others set- 
 tling the estate ot my decceased husband. — 
 In October, 1759, I moved to Charlestown, 
 and took possession of my patrimony, con- 
 sisting of a house which Col. Whiting had 
 generously assisted my mother in building ; 
 in copartnership with my brother Moses 
 Willard, 1 icept a small store, which was of 
 service in supporting my family, and set- 
 tling my husband's estate. I have received, 
 by petitioning, from the General Assembly 
 of JNew-Hampshire, forty two pounds, to in- 
 demnify myself and family for losses sus- 
 tained by our country's enemies. This was 
 of eminent service to me. Mr. Johnson left 
 with Mr. Charles Apthorp, of Boston, the 
 sum which my son's redemption cost, for 
 Col. Schuyler, who had paid the same. But 
 the General Assembly of Massachusetts af- 
 terwards paid Col. Schuyler his demand for 
 redeeming my son. ^ 
 
 By Mr. Johnson I had seven children ; 
 two sons and a daughter died in infancy, — 
 Sylvanus, with whom the reader is acquain- 
 ted, now lives in Charlestown. Susarma 
 married Capt. Samuel VVetherbee, and has 
 been tiie uiother of fifteen children, among 
 which were five at two births. Polly mar- 
 ried Col. Timothy Bedel, of Haverill — 
 died in August 1 789. Captive married Col. 
 
 G( 
 
 ri( 
 
 bal 
 
 CI 
 
MRS. JOHIfSOtX. 
 
 109 
 
 n ; some- 
 » were re- 
 )thers set- 
 Lisband. — 
 irlestown, 
 ony, con- 
 litin^ had 
 building ; 
 er Moses 
 cli was of 
 and set- 
 received, 
 Assembly- 
 ids, toin- 
 jsses sus- 
 This was 
 mson left 
 ston, the 
 cost, for 
 me. But 
 isetts af- 
 nand for 
 
 hildren ; 
 fancy, — 
 acquain- 
 Susaiina 
 and has 
 , among 
 Ily mar- 
 verill — 
 ied Col. 
 
 George Kimball. In the year 1762 I mar- 
 ried Mr. John Hastings, my present hus- 
 band ; he was one of the first settlers in 
 Charlestown ; I recollect to have seen him 
 when I visited the place in the year 1744 — 
 he suffered much by the Indians, and assist- 
 ed in defending the town during the wars. 
 By him I have had seven children ; one 
 daughter and four sons died in their infan- 
 cy. Theodosia is married to Mr. Stephen 
 Hasham ; Randilla died at the age of twen- 
 ty two, she lived from her infancy with Mr. 
 Samuel Taylor of Rochingham, by whom 
 she was treated with great affection. I have 
 had thirty nine grand-children, and four 
 great- grand-children. 
 
 I am now in the winter of life, and feel 
 ; ensibly the effects of old age. I live on 
 the same spot where the Indians took u» 
 from in 1754, but the face of nature has so 
 changed, that old savage fears are all ban- 
 ished. My vacant hours 1 often employ in 
 reflecting on the various scenes that have 
 marked the different stages of my life. When 
 viewing the present risino generation, in the 
 bloom of health, and enjoying those gay 
 pleasures which shed their exhilcrating in- 
 fluence so plentifully in the morn of life, 1 
 look back to my early days, when I too wa» 
 happy, and basked in the sunshine of good 
 forl^ine. Little do they think, that the me^ 
 ridian of their lives can possibly be render- 
 
 it 
 1 
 
 li : 
 
 J ! 
 'i 1 
 
110 
 
 CIPTIVITY OP 
 
 h 
 
 \h -■ \. i 
 
 ed miserable by captivity or a prison ; as 
 little too did I think that my gilded pros- 
 pects could be obscured ; but it was the hap- 
 py delusion of youth ; and I fervently wish 
 there was no deception. But tluit Being, 
 who "sits upon the circle of the earth, and 
 viev7S the inhabitants as grasshoppers," al- 
 lots all cur fortunes. 
 
 Although I have drank so largely from 
 the cup of sorrow, yet my present happi- 
 ness is a small compensh^tion. Twice has my 
 country been ravaged by war^ since my re- 
 membrance; I have detailed the share I bore 
 in the first ; in the last, although the place 
 in which I live was not a field of bloody 
 battle, yet its vicinity to Ticonderoga, and 
 the savages that ravaged the Coos country, 
 rendered it perilous and distressing. But 
 now no one can set a higher value on the 
 smiles of peace, than myself. The savages 
 are driven beyond the lakes, and our coun- 
 try has no enemies. The gloomy wilder- 
 ness that forty years ago secreted the Indian 
 and the beast of prey, has vanished away ; 
 and the thrifty farm smiles in his stead ; the 
 Sundays, that were then employed in guard- 
 ing a fort, are now quietly devoted to wor- 
 ship; the tomahawk and scalping knife have 
 given place to the sickle and plough-share ; 
 and prosperous husbandry now thrives, 
 where the terrors ojp deaih once chilled ug 
 with fean ; i : : -i 
 
 ^ 
 
 me, 
 
 aunti 
 
 magi 
 
 kee] 
 
 to n 
 
 Tic( 
 
 my 
 
 ing 
 
MRS. JOHNSON. 
 
 Ill 
 
 son ; as 
 d pros- 
 he hap- 
 ly wish 
 ; Being, 
 th, and 
 rs ," al- 
 
 y from 
 happi- 
 has niy 
 my re- 
 el bore 
 e place 
 bloody 
 ja, and 
 )untry, 
 . But 
 on the 
 avages 
 coun- 
 rilder- 
 [ndian 
 away; 
 1; the 
 ;uard- 
 wor- 
 hare 
 hare ; 
 rives, 
 ed us 
 
 My numerous pro;^eny often gather arouud 
 me, to hear the sufferings once felt by their 
 aunt or grandmothei , and wonder at their 
 magnitude. My daughter, Captive, still 
 keeps the dress she aj>[>e.'i -ed in when bro't 
 to my bed side by the i^rench nurse, at the 
 Ticonderoga ho-pital ; and often refreshes 
 my memory with p:ist scenes, when show- 
 ing it to her children. Ttiose things yield 
 a kind of melanchoUy pleanire. 
 
 Instances of lon^e\ itv arc remarkable in 
 my family. My aged mother, before her 
 death, could ?ay to mc, arise daughter and 
 go to thy daughte**, for thy daughter's 
 daughter has got a 5'af!i>li'or ; a command 
 which few motliors cri\ miike and bo obeyed. 
 
 And now reader, liter bincerely wishing 
 that your days may le as iiippy as mir 
 have been unfortunate, ( i^d you adieu. 
 
 Charlestown, June 3),! 798. 
 
 ■4 
 
 ' .4 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 
 i I 
 
 i! 
 
 / 
 
 ■■iailiii III I ■ 
 
 1