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'#-''"#^«-' \j ■■'fi g|te|i,^_^ggli|,g JHMiiMlMiliillMliMlii A NAKRATIVE 1^^ //^rOF THE LIFE OF Wh6 was taken by the Indians, in the year 1T5$«/ - when only about twelve years of age, and ' ,' ' has continued to reside amongst C-: t^ i. ; '3 them to the present time, ^; ^ 'I'^t'' W; :-,.-:^>ii;^.' CONTAIKINa An Account of the Murder of her Father and his Family ; her sufferings ; her marriage to two Ihdians ; her troubles with her Children; barbariti^ of the . Indians in the French and Revolutionary Wars ; the life of her last Husband, &c. ; and many Historical Facts never before published. CarefuUy taken fnm her own word$9 JVov* S9tbt 18£3« :-^, .>u«. ■Vj' ^^> Wf;f K':TO WHICH IS A0DEP, An Appendix, containing an account of the trs^^y r^, * at the DeviPs Hole, in 176^ and of Sullivan's S^X- 1^ %^ pedition ; the Traditions, Manners, Customs^ &tc. 6f the Indiafis, as believed and practised at the l^resent day, and since Mrs. Jamison's vpaptivity ; Ptgether ^ . -with some Anecdotes, and other entertaining matter. ^ / '''jTV ,7'" '•/"'-.■••t '•^'i!' '^ ^1%^ JAMES E. SEAV: ^ CANAJSTDJUGUA: PJPINTED BY J. D. BEMir Ai^b CO. :i824. ^■■' \*^* <■ t '■•' \ ■'•■■J J'-' ■,>■»■ JSTmihem District of Mw-York, to wiii B^ IT REMEMBERED, That on the eighth day of f J^^^^ May, m the forty-eighth year of the Independence of the >>■ ; f^v'i^ United States of America, A. D. 1824, James D. "i^M. Bkmis, of the said District, has deposited in thi» <'^.. (l.s.) Office the title of a Book the rig^ht wuereof he claims 7;4' as Proprietor, in the words following", to wit : ., ;. ;, '•(' " A Narrative of the Life of Mrs. Mary Jemisbh, ^' M. m >^-\^tv. >■: - 'ft- i •wr, . . J who was taken by the Indians, in the year 1756, when only J?/^ /'^ about twelve years of age, and haS'^l^ntinued to reside ^^'S ' * amongst thcui to the present time ; containing an account 4 of the Murder of her Father and his Famify^ her Suffer- ings ; her Marriage to two Indians ; her Troubles with her Children; barbarities of the Indians in the French and Re- volutionary Wars ; the LifV of her last Husband, &€. and many Historifcal Facts never before published. Carefully l^ken fro^ her own words, Nov. 29th, 1823. To which is ded an Appendix, containing an account of the Tragedy t the Devil's Hole, in 1763, and of SuUtvttn*s Expisdilioo ;. Traditions, Manners, Customs, &c. of the Indians, as lieved and practised at the present day, and since. Mrs. ison's captivity; together with somigi^,,ftfMcdote^ and her entertaining matter. By James £, %^ |{;.'* Mt ^he thoiii ai^ proprietors of such copies, dwi^^g the times rein mentioned ;" and also, to the act entitled, "An act pplementary to an act entitled ^An act for ^e encourage- ent of learning, by securing the copies of Mletps, Charts, «nd Books, to the luithors and proprietors of such copies, 4ttring the times thefeijB mentioned,' and extendis^g the ben c^ts thereof to the hii^ical and ^Designing, Engraving and Etch ""'ints." - 'v.: * ; LANSING, Clerk of the '^ Mrthern Di$trict of JNjCtO'York. ■: f ■.'#^i*' c ^ ^:^ i^V^^ :.^^3r.V^^^.. :v?. Mym^^' ■•; \ >€ r''i«.'' >• A ^ ■ '.. »»•. PREFACE. ?■ THAT to biographical wtitings we are indebted for the greatest and best field in iM^ich to .study mankind, or human nature, is a fapt'>#u]y appreciated by a well* informed community, t^ we can trace the ef* . fects of mental operftions to their proper sources; anii by comparing oi|c own composition with that of those who have ex^^d in virtue, or with that of those who have l^een «|}nk in the lowest depths of folly and vice, we are eoiiiilad tQ select ^ plan of life that will^ least afford self-satisfaction, and guide us thr.ough the world in paths of morality. - ' Withool % knowledge of the lives of the vile and abandoned, we should be wholly incompetent to set an approp^ate value upon the charms, the excellence and the wdelible marks of ambition or folly, which produced insur- mountable reverses, and rendered the whole a mere caricature, that jAn be examined only with disgust and rpgret. Such jPetures, however, are profitable, for " by others' faults wise men correct their own." -'^I'i-^ The following is a piece of biography, that shows what changes meky be effected in the animal and mental constitution of man; what trials may be surmounted ; what cruelties perpetrated, and what pain endured, ^^^^v VM' ^.y^ )' ..'^. i^a^iBiiM|||l|ijigi^ T7:wv"^n^ »r^ F^VA fr •^ PREFACE. when stern necessity holds the reins, and drives the car of fate. As books of ithis kind are sought and read with avid- ' ityy especially by children, and are well calculated to excite their attention, inform the^r understanding, and improve them in the art of raiding, the greatest care has been observed to render the style easy, the language comprehensive, and the description natural. Prolixity has been studiously avoided. The line of distinction between virtue aaid vice has been rendered distinctly visible; and chastity of expression and sen- timent have received dliieiittention. Strict fidelity has been observed in' th# "imposition : consequently, ho circumstance has been intentionally exaggerated by the paimings of fancy, nor by fine flashes of rhetoric: neither has the picture been rendered more dull than the original. Without the aid of fiction^ what was re- ceived as matter of fact, only has been recorded. I* will. be observed that the subject of this narrative has arrived at least to the advanced age of eighty years ; th t she is destitute of education ; and that her journey of life, throughout its texture, has been interwoven with troubles, which ordinarily are calculated to impair ihe faculties of the'llQind ; and it will be remembered, that there are but fe\ir- old people who can recollect with precision the circumstances of their lives, (particularly those circumstances which transpired after middle age|) If, therefore, aiiy enor shlll be discovered iri the nar- ration in respect to time, it wtH be overlooked by the kind reader, or charitably placed to the narratpr's ac- count, and not imputed to neglect, or to the want of attention in the compiler. The appendix is principally taken iVcih the words of Mrs. Jemison's statements. Those |^rts which r^e^^e not derived f|ora her, are deserving equal credit, hav|a{{ been obtained from authentic sources. For the accommodation of the reader, the work has been divided into chapters, and a copious table of Cbft- AS :^-k maim wUm . t^.ibk,*-'!-*- ■ ■ Miiifil HT^ VI PREFACE. f h] u^- fA tents affixed. The introduotion will facilitate tl^e un- derstanding of what follows ; and as it contains matter that could not be inserted with propriety in any other plaee, will be read with interest and satisfaction. Having finished my undertaking, the subsequent pages are cheerfully submitted to the perusal and ap- probation or animldversion of a candid, generous and indulgent public. At the same time it is fondly hoped that the lessons of diftress that are pourtrayed, may liave a direct tendency to increase our love of liberty ; to enlarge our views of tbfLV blessings that are derived from our liberal institutions; and to excite in our breasts aentiments of devotion and gratitude to the great Au- thor and Anisher of our happiness^ ^;?:;THE AUTHOR. Pembroktf March 1, 1824^^ v.^-iv--;;^ ;, r "f-' ^•- :^* ■>•*;. i^: .'■ 5. ■fir'"' 1 p : .*^ INTRODUCTION. ;i>.> fcjwi./ ; )'»■• i# Kf:^ THE Peace of 1783, and tfie consequent cessa- tion of Indian hostilities and barbarities, 'returned to their friends those prisoners, who had escaped the tomahawk, the gatintlet, and the savage ^re^ after their havii^f #|ient many years in captivity, and restored harmony to society. The stories of Indian cruelties which were com- mon in the new settlements, and Were calamitous realities previous to that propitious event ; slum- bered in the minds that had beefi constantly agi- tated by them, and were only roused occasionally, to become the fearful topic of the fireside. It is presumed that at this time there are but few native Americans that have arrived to middle age, who cannot distinctly recollect of sitting in the chimney corner when children, all contracted with fear, and there listening to their parents or visitors, while ihey related stories of Indian con- quests, and murders, that would make their fiaxen hair nearly stand erect, and almost destroy the power of motion. (^i*^^ At the close of the Revolutionary war; all that part of the State of New-York that lies west of Uti- ca was uninliabited by white people, and few in- deedg had ever passed beyond Fort Stan wtx, ex- cept %mi engaged in wai* against the Indians, who were immerous, and occupied a number of large towmi between the Mohawk river and lake Erie. i':. ■\ry;i$': ;v b viii INTRODUCTION.'^ Sometime ettipsed after this event, before the coun- try about the takes and on the Genesee river was visited, save by an occasional land speculator, or by defaulters who wished by retreating to what in those days was deemed almost the end of theearth| to escape the force of civil law. . ;* fv v ;> -y- At length) the richness and fertility of tbe soil ' excited emigration, and here and there a family settled down and commenced improvements in the country which had recently been the property of the aborigines. Those who settled near the Gen- esee river, soon became acquainted with "The White Woman," as Mrs. Jemison is called, whosQ>y history they anxiously sought, both as a matter of interest and curiosity. Frankness characterized her conduct, nnd without reserve she would readi- ly giiatify them by relating some of tlie mof * im^iit; portant periods of her life. t*^?;;^-*.^ p Although her bosom companion was an ancient Indian warrior, and notwithstanding her children and associates were all Indians, yec it was found that she possessed an uncommon share of hospital**^ ity, and that her fiiendship wUs well worth court-i' ing and preserving. Her house*was tlie stranger's home ; from her table the hungry were relVeslw ed ; — she made the naked As comfortable as . her' means would admit of; and in all her actions^ dis. covered so much nm^t^l goodness ol* heart, thuv Iter admirers increased in proportion |o the ^xtetH. sion of hei^ acquaintance, and she becftivie celebra^ ted as the friend of the distressed. Sl^|ig»the protectress of the homeless fugitive, welcome the weary wanderer,^, flany stll live to. commemorate herlJbenevoledce towards them, 4 •l^'toilVl"!**'"'' ■ ^■^ INTRODUCTION. -r.^'^ ix when prisoners during the war, and to ascribe their deliverance to the mediation of '< The White Wo- man.^' ^ The settlements increased, and the whole coun- try around her was inhabited bjF a rich and retpect- able people, principally from New-England, as much distinguished for theit spirit of inqiiisitive- ness as for their habits of industry and honesty, V. ho had all heard fVom one source and another a part of her life in dltached pieces, and had ob- tained an idea thi^tht hole taken in connection would afford instructiori and amusement. Many gentlemer >f f "'spectabilUy, felt anxious" that her narrative migh: b^ laid before the public, with a v'-ew not on' ; to perpetuate the remem- brance of the atrocities of thti savages in former times, but to preserve some hi<' '.':i: .•■.,... y ^4.-: >^'4- .V-* •I'JJV y^ S' ■ Itson her ired hey INTRODUCTION. XI do with the head inclined downwards. Fbrmefly^' her hair was of a light chesnut brown-^it is now quite grey, a little curled, of middling length and tied in a bunch behind. She infowned me that she had never worn a cap nor « con:b. She speaks English plainly and distinctly, with a little of the • Irish emphasis^ and has th« use of words so well as to render herself intellip;ible on any subject with whicli she is acquainted. Her recollection and mettiory exceeded my expecta% tioa. It cannot be reasonably supposed, that iet person of her a^ has kept the Events of seventy year^ in so complete a chain as to be able to as^; sign to each its proper time and place ; she, howii^' ■ ever, made her recital with as few obvious mistakes' as 4nifht be found in that of a person of fifty. ^ ^ :, She walks with a quick step without a staff, ana I was informed by Mr. Glute, that she could yet Cross a stream on a log or pole as steadily as any other person. ■i|-fM:v'-^vs*v."^-^';v-;/'-'-4:W?r Her passions are easily excited. At a number of periods in her narration, tears trickled down her grief worn cheek, and at the same time a rising sigh would stop hfcr utterance. ... .^^^.z^v- Industry is a virtue wbjch she has uniformly practised from the day of her. adoption to the present. She pounds her samp^ <;o9ks for herself, gathers and chops wood, feeds her cattle and poul^- try, and performs other laborious services. Last season i^he planted, tended and gathered corn-rin shorty she is always busy. *, v*< Her dsess at the time I saw her, wk» made and worn after the Indian fashion, and consisted of a shirt| short gown, petticoat, stockings, moccasins, mmi^ _^ rr ■ -i m :t*. -,■*«"-: Xll INTRODUCTION. '•'" 'wl yl a blanket and a bonnet. The shirt was of cotton and made at the top, as I was informed, like a man's without collar or sleeves — was open before and extended .down about midway of the hips.-r- The petticoat was a piece of broadcloth with the list at the top and bottom and the ends sewed to* gether. This was tied on by a string that was passed over it and around the waist, in such a man- ner as to let the b<, ttom of the petticoat down half way between the knee and «iiide and leave one- fourth of a yard at the top to be turned down over the string — the bottom of the shirt coming a little below, and on the outside of the top #f ^e foMI so as to leave v'he list and two or three inches of the cloth uncoveredt The stockings, were of blue broadcloth, tied, or pinned on, which reached from the knees, into the mouth of the moccasins. — Around her toes only she had some rags, and over these her buckskin moccasins. Her gown was of undicssed flannel, colored brown. It was made in old yankee style, with long sleeves, covered the top of the hips, aiid was tied before in two places with strings of deer skin. Over all this, she wore an Indian blanket. On her head she wore a piece of old brown woollen cbih made soht^wiiat like a sun bonnet, v^^il: , Such was the dress that this woman was content- ed to wear, and habit had rendered it convenient and comfortable. She wore it not as a matter of necessity, but from choice, for it will be seen in the sequel, that her property is sufficient to enable her to dress in the best fashion, and to allow her every comfort of life, jrvv/iis :#i^' Her house, in which she liyqs, is 20 by 28 feet 5 ^i.-Ax, :i '•4;, ■•'"•*'. .M t t; rr.^ ■ r-}'.^:W^^' xia ' INIJIO.DUCTION built of square timber, with a shingled roof, ancTa framed stoop. In the centre of the house is ai chimney of stones and sticks, in which there are two fire places. She has a good framed bairn, 26 by 36, well filled, and owns a fiiie stock of cattle^ and hprses. Besides the buildings above mention^ ed, she owns a number of houses that are occupied by tenants, who work b^irflots upon shares. Her dwelling, is about one hundred rods nortlj of the Great Slide, a curiosity that will be describeq|j^v; in its proper pla^e» on the west side of the Gene- see river* ^^'\ '■■'--■' ■'^-'■j^' ■'<'^-- Mrs. Jemison, appeared sensible pf her igno- rance of the manners of the white people, and for that reason, was not familiar, except with thos^Ci with whom she was intimately acquainted. Ix^ [fact she was Tto appearance) so jealous of her rights,or that sne should say something that would < injurious to herself or family, that if Mr. Clute fhad not been present, we should have been iinable I to have obtained her history. She, however, soon I became free and unembarrassed in her conversa- tion, and spoke with ^ degree of mildness, candor and simplicity, that is cdculated to reniove all doubts as to the veracity %( the speaker. If he vices of the Indians, she ap^peared disposed not to aggravate, and seemed to take pride in extol ing their virtues. A kind of family pride inclined her to withhold whajever would blot the character of her descendants, and perhaps induced her to ke^p hack many things that would have been interest ing. For t)|ie life of her last husband, we are indebted to her cousin^ Mr. George Jemison, to whom she ij ■^,-;mJ:C;^ ra u ! , iipn.ni, fiP ■P »>'c' f^' ■ .:V*^^ ' 'I- 'h hJ XIV £*«?v ■• r.^ INTRODUCTION. c referred us ^r ififormation on that sul^ject gener* ally. The thdi|ghts of his deeds, probably chilled her old heart, ti^ made her dread to rehearse them, and at tne same time she well knew they were no secret, for she had frequently heard him relate the whole, n<^ only to her cousin, but to otners. -^^^ij'^.r.'^i^:^ .- Before she left us she was very sociabfl, aria she resumed her naturally pleaimt countenance, en- livened with a smile. w\ ^^ ^^ Her neighbors speak of her ai liossessing one of the happiest ^ tempers and dispositions, and give her the name of never having done a ceQ$uraye act to their knowledge^^ w .^ .^^^ 4 Her habits, are those oftne inaians-*she sleeps On tkins without a bedstead, sits upon the floor or 6n % bench, and hdlds her victuals on her lap, or in her hands. ^ Her ideas of religion, correspond in every, res- pect with those of the great mass of tlie Senecas. She applauds virtue, and despises vice. She be- lieves in a future state, in which the good will be happy, and the bad miserable ; and that the ac- quisition of that happiness, depends primarily upon human volition^ and the consequent good deeds of the happy recipient of blessedness. The doctrines taught in the Christian religion, sne iS a stranger to. Her daughters are said to be active and enter- ^ rising women, acd her grandsons, who arrived to ^anhpod, are considered able, decent and respect- able men in tl^ir tribe. Having in this cursory manner, introduced the subject of the following pages, 1 proceed to the .' »N- sae 19 a ■:^ INTRODUCTrON. XV narration of a life that has been viewed with at- tention, for a great number of years by a few, and which will be read by the pub)io%ith the mixed sensations of pleasure and paitii, and with interest^ anxiety and satisfaction. AV '*'•-• ^■-^m-i -i> '\«,- ■ '^:- '■■t>v '« ,||^^?^r?^. '% 'mk^ ^'^-K. *'-^. :;:--\^%i(«^-... ■>!^i><^f"^f *-'*'>:■'; s'- -V,?' mimmtmmm^m^ '4!' >»-5f.4«t 1 i ^S'f m I i. « ■ 'y-t '-",. M SS.' LIFE OF siAmT 9ii[ii^^sr <^ ;*■' i CHAPTER T. fativity of her Parents. — ^Their removal to America.— Her Birth.— Parents settle in "peniisylvania. — Omen of her Captivity. ALTHOUGH I may have JVeqtiently hiiard^e istory of my ancestry, my recollection is too^ ifei- srfect to en^bte me to trace it further hack than my father dnd mother, whom I have often heard lention the families from whence they originated, Is having possessed wealth and honorable stations [nder the government of the country in which ley resided. On the account of the great length of time that las elapsed since I was separated from my parents md friends, and having iieard t^ story of their lativitv only in the days ol no^.^Idhood, lam lot able to state positively, li^ph of the two coun- ies, Ireland or Scotland, wa^ tn«^4and bf my parents^ lirth and education. It,howevei^,t^i^y impression^ th^ Ihey were bom and brought npm Ireland. B2 r" 'h^: P'*'Vii»f" 'm m^ 18 LIFE OF 'I t "1 r ■ II." ^■s- if My Father's name was Thor^as J'emisbn^ and| my mother's^ before her marriage with him, wi Jane Erwin^Their affection for each other m mutuai^and df l^at happy kind ivhich tends direct ly to sweeten t||e cup ^4^; to render connubial! sorrows lighter ;td assuage every discontentment;! and to promote n^t only their own comfort, but| that of alt who cdme within the circle of tlieii acquaiilitance. Of thehr jM^ppiness I recollect tc have heard them speak f/^iwiid the remembrance ' yet retain of their mildness aid perfect agreement] in the government of their ch^di^n, together witJ their mutual attention to our comfmon education] manners, religious instruction and wants, renders id a fact in my mind, that they were ornaments to » the married state, and examples of connubial Jdvej worthy of imitation. After my remerabrainci they were strict^^bservers of religious duties ; foil itwasj^ie daily practice of iay father, morninj and evening, to attend, in his family^ to tlie wor] ship of God. Resolved to leave the land of their nativit)! they removed from their residence to a port ii Ireland, wiiere they lived /bpt a short time befoxi they set sail for this country, in the year 1742 or 3J on board the ship Mary William, bound to Phih delphia, in the state of Pennsylvania. The intestine divisions, civil Wialrs, and ecclesiai tical rigidity and dotti in ation that prev^iiled those days, were tb^e clauses of their leaving mother country^ mip?V>d a hoine in the America^ wilderness, ondejPie niild and[ temperate goy4 ment of the dgicfendants of Wllfiana ?mni whei without fed^ttifl' might wonSiip God^ form tieir ifid avocations. T < • MARY J£MIB05« 19 itentment: In Europe my parents had. tivvi sons and one daughter^ whose names were S^n^ Thomas and Betsey ; with whom, after ha3M||>at their ^ects mi board, they temharked, km|^ a larg e connex* ion of felat'rves and fiends, iw^c|p those paihful iensa1»onii, ^hieh are only £m wlien kindred souls give the fmning hand and^last farewell to those to whom they aare iendeared by every friendly tie. # In the course oC tMir voyage I was born^ to be^ the s{M>rt of fortmieBnd almost an ptitcast to civtlj society ; to s^t^ the current of adversity thfougl a long chaijii of vicissitudes, unsupported by tl iadi^eenf itender parents, or the hand of an affel ^ ^ioiKKteJriend; and even without the enjoyment from others, of any of those tender sympathy th^ are adapted to the sweetening of society, eept such as naturally JIqw from uncuttivi tipinds, that have been ca o^d by ferpeiiy. Excepting my birth, nothing removable ocij red to my parents on their passage, ^Id they wi safely funded at Philadelphia. My father being fondof ruirayife, and having been bred to agritdlk> tural pursuits, soon left the city, and removed his family to the then frontier settlements of Pennsyl- vania, to atraci of excellent land lying on Marsh creek. At that place Jje cleared a large farm,^ and for seven^r eight years enjoyed the fruits of his industry. "Weace attended their labors ; and t^y had nothing to alarm them, save the midnight ho«vl of theprowUtig wolf, or the terrifying shriek of the ferocious pa»|her, as they occasionally visited their improvemei^ to take a lamKor a calf to satisfy their hungeS INmng ^p^iod n^M^IK had two sods^ h^ . ^g^j^^mim ip^ip mmmi imv^mm 20 LIFE OF l".S M ' tiireen whose ages there was a difTererice of ahbut three years : the oldest was named Matthew, and the other Roben|| Health presldea^ eVery countenance, and vigor and strength olvarail^rized every exertion. Our mansioii was a little paradise. Th^ morning of my childish, happy days, will ever stand fresh in my remembrance, notWIttoanding the many se- vere triaU through which I have passed, in arriving at my present situation, at so iuivanced an age. ven at this remote period, the reeoUection of my leasant home at my father^s, of my parents, of y hrothers and sister, and of the manner.ln which was deprived of them all at once, eflTects mi» ^ erfully, that I am almost overwhelmed with \ that is seemingly insupportable. Frequently am of those happy ilays: but, alasf they are ; they have left me to be carried through a ting life, dependent for the little pleasures Of liearly sevelltiy years, upon the tender mercies of the Indians ! In the spring of 175^? and through #)e succeeding seasons, the stories of Indian bar* barities intiicted upon the whites in those days, frequently excited in my parents the most serious alarm for our safety. The next year the storm gathered faster; many ' murders were committed ; and many ^y^tives were exposed to meet dettth in its most frtfrnful form, by having their bodies stuck full of pine splinters, which were immediately set on fire, while their tormentors, exultl% in their distress, would re- joice at their agony ! In 1754, an army for the protection of the set- tlers, and to drive JMk the French and Indians, . ^> MARt JfiMISON. "" 21 was rabed from the miHtia of the Gotehial govern- J^ nfents, and placed (secondarily) j|i|der the cotn^ ' Iffiand of Col. George Washingto^/ In that arm* If had an Uncle, wl\08e name ^m- John Jemi who was killed at the battle at td^ Great iStea I or Tort Necessity. Hid #ife Wkd died $(ome before this, and left a young child/ whicfh my mo- ther nursed in the most jteiiaer manner, till its mo* ther's sister Uiok itii(#ay, a few months after my tincle's death, t^li'e f Vench and Indians, afler the surreiidef of t(0 Nec€jssiity by Col. Washington, which. hi^;q|lkied the ^ame seasoi6, and soon aftei^ 'ill vl<$idr5' «vei^ tb^ at that pkce,) grew more ^d frtore terHWe. The death of the Whites, mA rtunderinif aAd b'tfrnl^j^ their property, Was appa"" Ferft)y thelt ohty bbject: But ad yet We had not leard the death-t^^l, nor seen the srnoke of a (Wedifijf that ha^^Jiel^n lit by an Iridlan's hand. The telun» of a new-year's day found ns unrtip- jsted ; and though we kn6w that the enemy was ti ho great df^iiie from ^s, my father concluded tbait he would coittinue to occiitivhis land another [season: expecting (probably fiom the great eice^ tion^ which thegovernnient Was then making) that las soon as the troops co» !d commence their opera- tions in the^|^g,tbe enemy would be conqueredl and compell^llb agree to a treaty of (teace. ' In the preceding autumn my father either mov- ed to anotherpart of his farm, or t| another neigh- borhood, a shurt distance Irom otS former abode. I well recdltect moving, and that tKI barn that was on the place we moved tawasbuilcff l6gs, though tlgjious^ '^as a go^ .one^ r^ h winter of 1^^4—5 w^s^ as tnil^ as a com- $& LIFE QF -a.. ' ' J1, I mon fall seaspii) and the spring presented a pleas- ant seed time^^^and indicated a plenteous harvest. My father, witti the assistance of his oldest sons, repaired his fan^ as usual^ and was daily preparing the soil for the rieception of the seed. His cattle and sheep were i^uiDerous, and according to the best idea of wealth Ibat I can now form, he was wealthy. Bat aJas ! how transitory |yre all human affairs! how fleeting are riches ! noKr^lifittle the invisible thread on which all earthly coni^fntti are suspend- ed ! Peace in a moment can take an ioimeiHrucabija flight; health can lose its rosy cbeelir$ p tifo win vanish like a vapor at the appearanc^ of the s(in! In one fatal day our prospects were all blasted ; and death, by cruel hands, inflicted upoa almost the whole of the family. On a pleasant day in the sjlingof I75i5, hen my father was sowing flax-seed, and my brothers driving the teams, I was sent to^ ne|gh(>or's housci a distance of perhaps a mile, to procure a horse and leturn with it the next monitng. I went as I was directed. I was out of tbe house in the be- ginning of the evening, and saw a sheet wide spread approaching CoiqNirds n^e, in which I was caught (as I haye ever since beliey^) and depriv- ed of my senses ! The family so^ found me on the ground, almost lifeless, (as the^^^said,) took\ne in, and made u^ of every remedy in their power for my recovery, but without effect till day-break, when my senses returi^ed, and I soon found my- self in good hmiith, so that 1 went home with the horse very early in the morning. The appearance of that sheet, 1 have ever * ..V ♦■ MARY JEMISON. US sidered as a forerunner of the melandiply catastro- iphe that so soon aAerwards happeH)^ to our fam^ lily; and my being c^nght in it^; I believe, was [ominous of my preservation frob death at the time we were captured. CHAPTER IL H-' [Her Education-T-K?aptivity.— Journey to Fort Pitt.— Mipther's FartSwell Address.— -Murder of her Family. — jPieparation of the Scalpfi.— Indian Precautions. — Arrivaf at Fort Pitt, &c. My education had received as much attention trpm my pareoj^^ their situation in a new coun- try ^oiild^ ^^^^^^is ' ^^^ been at school some^ rhere 1 fearne^r^P^ead in a book that was about lalf as iairge as a Bible; and in the Bible I had [read a little. I Bad also learned the Catechism, {which I used frequently to repeat to my parents, and every night, befiire I went to bed, I was obli- ged to stand up b^ol« my mother and repeat some words that I suppose was a prayer. My reading! iCatechfnn and prayers, I have long since i^otten ; though for a number of the first years that I lived with the Indians^ I repeated the prayers as often as I Jiad an opportu- nity. AAer the revolutionary wat, I remembered the names of some of the letters witen I saw them ; but h ve never read a word since I was taken prisonr ;. It is but a few years s^nce a Missionary Wndiy gave me a Bible, which l^m very fond of WHP V ^^Mai- b 'ty. •)■; \\- ':'•' t ij V hearing my ip^ighbors read to me, and should be I ^pleased to learjti to read it myself; but my sight llnis been for anumbec of years, so dim that I have not been able to distinguish one letter from another. As I before observed, I got hoipe with the horse ^■^ very earlv in the morning, where I found a man < * that lived in our neighborhood, and his sister-in- law who had three children, one son and two daughters. I soon learned that they had come there to live a short time ; but for what purpose I v^, cannot say. The woman's husband, however, was at that time in Washington's army^ fighting, for his country ; and as her brother-in-laW hid a house ^ she had lived wiib him in his absence. Tijeir ^•i' names I have fbrgotten.:4<"t'|-Vi^\ i^^N^';"^ '■•^.?^3 , ;h^ Immediately after I got home, the man took ' ^ tne horse to go to his house after a bag of grain, ^ c:nd took his gun in his handJfeijthe purpose of ^? ^ killing g&me, if he should chatt^e to see any.— ^v Our family, as usual, was busily employed about their common business. Father was shaving an axe-helve at the side of the house; mother was making preparations for breakfast ;— my two old- est brothers were at work near the barn ; and the little ones, with myself, and the woman and her three children, were in the house. '^r.Gi c^*; Bres^kfa^t was not yet ready, when we v^ere alarmed by the discharge of a number of guns, that ^emed to be near. Mother and the women before mentioned, almost fainted at the repor^, and every one trembled with fear. On opening the door, the vtmii and hor§e lay dead near the liouse, having joiSt been shot by the Indians* i^. > 'I was afterwards infor^i^^ that the Iil4i9|is -m- sf- »'"•. fr: MARY JEMISON. 1 ',' . .V"' - " discovered him at his own house with his gun, ai pursued him to father'?, where they shot him af3 have related. They first secured my father, aitd ^ then rushed into the house, and without the least resistance made prisoners of my mother, Robert, JMatthew, Betsey, the woman tind her three chil- dren, and myself, and theii commenced plun- dering. :^ ■^>.-'^'-;4;:i::; -"f^ r^Hp^ff:':Sfmy, My two brothers, Thomas and John, being at the barn, escaped and went to Virginia, where ray grandfather Erwin then lived, as I was informed by a Mr. Fields, who was at my house about the close of the revoljtionary war. r^^£;n-' £:;i^^^^ The party 4hat took us consisted of six Indians and four Frenchmen, who immediately commen- ced plundering, as I just observed, and took what they considered most vaiu;i.ble ; consisting princi- ipalty of bread, nij^al and meat. Havinj|^aken as mch provision as they could carry, they set out with their prisoners in great haste, for fear of detection, and soon entered the woods. Ofi our march that dav. an Indian went behind us with a whip, with which he frequently lashed the children iQ make them keep up. In this manner we trav- eled till dark without a mouthful of food or a drap of water ; although we had not eaten since thiE oight before. Whenever the little children cried ihr water, the Indians would make them drink urine or go thimy. At night thej^ encamped in the woods without fire and without shelter, where we were watched with the greatest vigilance. Extremely fatigued, and very hungry, we were compelled to lie upon the ground supperless and without a drop of water to satisfy the cravings of i,-^ '.''A' . ^' ^L-'ti A. LtPE OF '^ "' ■'i*t*'-'''j * i S .*•■.,• irppetites. As in' tfie day time, so tlie h^^^ Ones were madd to drink urine in the night if they « cried for water Fatigue alone brought us a little sleep for the refreshment of our weary limbs ; and at the dawn of day we were again started on our inarch in the same order that we had proceeded on the day oeforA About sunrise we were halted, and the Indians gave us a full breakfast of provision that they had brought from my father's house. Each of us being very hungry, pnrtook of this bounty of the Indians, except father, who was so much overcome with his situation^ — so much exhausted by anxiety and grief, that silent despair seemed fastened upon his countenance, and h^ could not be prevailed upon to refresh his sinking naiture by the use of a morsel of food. Our repast bemg finished, we again resumed our marcli, and before mon passed a small fort that 1 heard my father say was called Fort Canagojigge. TJ^t was the onl^ time that I heard him speak from the time we were taken till we were finally separated the following night. Towards evening we arrived at the border of a dark and dismal swamp, which was covered with small hemlocks, or some other evergreen, and other bushes, into which we were conducted ; and having gone a short distance we stopped, ^>, encamp for the night. * Here we had some bread and meat for supper: but the dreai'iness of our situation, together with the uncertainty under which we all labored, as to our future destiny, almost deprived us of the sense of hunger, and destroyed our relish for food. Mother, from the time we were taken, had ^rK. >__■•.;■ y-,,^ ■m Vt'--' •^'^mfiitiiWioi^'ri^-^ '"t^.HV'i ;■'•.'■''• M4BJ JEMISON. ^ *t7 manifested a great degree of fortitude, and encour- aged us to supportourtroubles without complaining; and by her conversation seemed to make the dis* tanre and time shorter, and the way more smooth. But father lost ail his ambition in the beginning of our trouble, and continued apparently lost to every care — absorbed in melancholy. Here, as before, she insisted on the necessity of our eating ; and we obeyed her, but it wa$ done with heavy hearts. As soon as I had finished my supper, an Indian took off my shoes and stockings and put a pair af^ . moccasins on my feet, which my mother observed; * and believing that they would spare my life, eveil 'i if they should destroy the other captives, addressed me as near as i can I'emember in the following words:—- ^>^^^:^<^.■^i?|^^*^^^v **My dear little Maryi I fear that the time has arrived when we must be parted forever Yom life, my child, I think will be spared ; but we shall probably be tomahawked here in this lonesome place by the Indians. O ! how can I part with you my darling? What will become of my sweet little Mary ? Oh ! how cjfn I jthink of your being con* tinned m captivity without a hope of vour being rescued ? O that death had snatched you from my embraces in your infancy ; the pain of parting then would have been pleasing to what it now is ; and I should have seen the end of your troubles! — Alas, my dear! my heart bleeds at liie thoughts of what awaits you ; but, if you leave us, remember my child your own name, and the name of your father and mother. Be careful and not forget your English tongue. If you shall have an opportunity to get away from the Indians, don't try to escape; ^t^- 'J-'f:X. ^iLs.,\'j^ ' . !)■(' f * i .if ?». §i':j^^'^^-W '•'"'■i LIFE OP ^i 1 \- ^ -M (i; Jearned you-,^ ^g^^^-O ^'e prHye„thacI have , Child, and innfce you co,„Z.\ ?^ '''**» y»» my ?"ring this tioS the InH- "'''* "•"'' '"»PPy-" ^^ «nd stockings C'tST, ttle l!L''W ""^ '''•"^^ the woman who was tafcentitif^ •"* ^'«>nged-to «"'"* on his feet, as thev L7J^ ''\^"«' Put moc I was crying. A„ Tn^t^ ^**"^ '•*'«•'« on mine "y«e.f ^y ti W tta'r'' 1V'«'« 'X'y^nd «ary_don't cry mv chiM n'*?*^* "D»"'t «y |'^-ell^re^,?|^jS&;,C^FiM Mess yo«^ , n'^ht. The recollection ofr,?"* "' *" "Pe"** «he : • "Other kept me awake whHr'' '' *'' ""^ »«'"''w flowed from my eves a *,''* **'"'* eonstamlv night the little^borb' edT''"' °'" *™« «» ^ a^«y with him and Sear n'?^.r?T'y *" ™n remembering the adWcerhL"'.* '?*"»"'; »>« and knowini the dZZl tL"!" t^^y ^«'«*ved, exposed, in trave/C^th^ 7'"'^'' *«' "houW be a guide, through a wlrme^'J""'' "■'^'^ '^'"'""t h«m that I would not «f » ? ""'^"»^" to us, I told ,stiH til! morning *"' «"«! Pe"uaded him to lie Pf'S^ - M K:^.S^/£r' -«» French: Jut our friends were left hi; J^'T' *="'»« '« «s; for any one to fomJZtZ. J' '^ ''"P-'^ible mgswere at the sight of thJ"^ '*'""* ""y feel- supposed had murdei^d ml r """'^f*''' *^""' ' «^'»a„<«fHe„ds,'::3,7.crrs;^;i;rs ^yfp^f?.:. ^^^^ •.. A^^'^^ - <^^ ' ' "'^ swamp to >^-" r»> ■:/<^*^ l^#^^i-:\:v^^^ ^)--. MARY JEMISON, .AM "■ 4t £9 be devoured by wild beasts! But what could I do? A poor liJjHe defenceless girl } without the power or inean^W escaping^ without a home to go to, even if I could be liberated i without a knowledge of the direction or distance ta my former place of residence ; and without a living friend to whom to fly for protection, I felt a kltid of horror, anxiety, and dread, that, to me, seemed insupportable, t durst not cry— I durst not complain ; and to inquire of them the fate of my friends (even if I could have mustered resolution) was beyond my ability, as I could not speak their language, nor they understand mine. My only relief was in silent stifled sobs. My suspicions as to the fate of my parents proved too true ; for soon afler I left them they were killed and scalped, together with Robert, Matthew, Bet- sey, and the woman and her two children, and mangled in the most shocking manr^er. *^ I' p^^o Having given the little boy and myself some [bread and meat for breakfast, they led us on as fast as we could travel, and'one of them went behind and witli a long staHT, picked up all the grass and weeds that we trailed down by going over them. By taking that pa'ecaution they avoided detection; for each weed was so nicely placed in its natural position that no one would have suspected that we had passed that way. It is the custom of Indians when scouting, or on private expeditions, to step carefully and where no impression of their feet can be left — shunning wet or muddy ground. They seldom take liold of a bush or limb, and never break one; and by observing those precautions and that of setting up the weeds and grass which they neces- sarily lop, they completely elude the sagacity of , R'W-" . ,.^'- ..-•■> 'MX.^^ iMih^ p^iyw^M' ]m*i*m ■ '■<•*;- SO f,.r' :..^> LIFE OF'^'"^*'^ ' their pursuers^ and escape that punishment which they are conscioas they merit from tofe hand of justice. fl After a hard da|r's march we encamped in a thicket, where the Indians made a shelter af boughs, and then built a godtf fire to warm and dry our bepumbed limbs and d^thlng; for it had rained some through the day. Here we were again led as before. When the Indians had finished their supper they took from their baggage a number of scalps and went about preparing them for the market, or to keep without spoiling^ by straining them over small hoops which they pi-epared for that purpose, and then drying and scraping them by the fire. Having put the scalps, yet wet and bk)ody, upon the hoops, and stretched them to their full extent, they held them to the fire till they were partly dried and then with their knives commenced scraping off the flesh; and in that way they con- tinued to work, alternately drying and scraping them, till they were dry Imd clean. That being done they combed the hair in the neatest manner, arid then painted it and the edges of the scalps yet . on the hoops, red. Those scalps I knew at the time „ must have been taken from our family by the color of the hair. My mother's hair was red; and I could easily distinguish my father's and the chil- dren's from each other. That sight was most appaling; yet, I was obliged to endure it without complaining. .Jv^.?sw^^A^;>4;L^^*?l^■vi/^Tic^ ,y^ In the course of the night they made me to un- ; derstand that they should not have killed the family if the whites had not pursued them, w^:- Mr. Fields, whom 1 have before mentioned, • -,.w If. ■ * ii ■ ' wt.-"^'' .ijSl'V .^*'. ■ ^',- ' : .'V- \w>,;^.''"^ •-1" V: .^ Jr.. "^ "», . , >ed in a of boughs, id dry our ad rained again led hed their number of n for the ^ straining ■p^red for iing them t Wet and ;m to their they were mmenced they con- scraping hat being t manner, scalps yet t the time the color i; and I the chil- ^as most t without MARY JEMISON. fl iformed me that at the time we were taken, he [ived in the pcinity of my father ; and^that on tearing of oir captivity, the whole neignDorhoo^ [urned out in pursuit of the enemy^ and to delivljc IS if possible : but that their efforts were unavailing, 'hey however pursued us to the dark swamp^ rhere they found my father, his family and com- panions, stripped and mangled in the most inhuman [manner: That from thence the inarch of the crv^el I? monsters could not be traced in any direction ;| and that they returned to their homes with the melancholy tidings of our misfortunes, siijjppsirig Ithat we had alt shared in tlie massacre. ^^ ;>^ * The next rk.orning we wenton ; the Indian going behind us and setting up the weeds as on the day before. At night we encamped on the j;rpMnd in the open air, without a shelter or fire, 5 "^^v In the morning we again set out early, and [travelled as on the two former days, though the weather was extremely uncomfortable, froin the continual falling of rain and snow. «j?j^*4'V J^ li' At nii(ht the snow fell fast, and the Indians built a shelter of boughs, and a fire, where we rested tolerably dry through that and the two succeeding nights. ^■4v'^-^^^v#^^:iW-^^F-^ y?When we stopped, and before the fire was kindled, I was so much fatigued from running, and so far benumbed by the wet and cold, that I expect- ed that I must fail and die before I coul(|get warm and comfortable. The fire, however, soon restored the circulation, and after I had taken my supper I felt so that I rested well througlvthe night. ' kOn account of the storm, we were two days at that place. On one of those days, a party conbistiog of ■>r-^ ^t y -■•. ^^ •^-K. '''■^%. ^m( ^ ; ■.■.A-,'-*' ■ •J£ 'tVi.^. '■/■J m '■*•«'• .j^< * LIFE OF liv J *««J and dejected, ffj. no'lTl" '^° *«" very] Misery certainkr wL '"*' ' '"'^e forgotten 7 ':Jt; »PP«««"ce, that hlE^,;^""'^'' ' ^"ew from 3 '- assistance. I„ t|,e aSf ^^"^<* ™e no kind o/f J?^. *'rich they d^^iZ"'','" {"*'''»'« ''"ed a «aS:5 j::,^'it'^ ^'"^^^ t^^ *' i«^^r';::r7^C^t::^satth JPj^ns, four FrLh^r'X""""'^""^ '^^-^ P-ce w«hout .an ladiLi iliT- ^ "* « moderate pursuers. .;i > • y^««;l>ehind us to dbcei^!j^^ , __/« the afternoon we t^t-^'' W/'H-fe wf Indians performed TL —*'"^ ''a'ted while rfoners which tb^y deeme/""*'"™ "P"" v. 3S ^here the Ohio river begins to take its iiaoie. The rord O-hi-o, signifies bloody. At the place where we halted, the Indians ;ombed the hair of the voung man, the hoy an4 myself, and then painted our faces and hair red| jn the finest Indian style. Wp were then conduct*^ ;d into the fort, where we deceived a little bread J md were thei) shut up and left to tarry alone . through the nights ^..^.•'>-^-'^'r: , v , t£ '^ ,.^7«Vfi^y',',i CHAPTER \he is given to two Squaws. — Her Journey down the Ohio. — Passes a Shawanee town where white men had just been burnt. — Arrives at theSeneca town.-^ Her Reception. — She is adopted. — Ceremony of Adoption. — IndianCustom.— Address.— She receives a new name.--*Her Employment. — ^Retains her own and learns the Seneca Language.— Situation of the Town, &CC.— Indians go on a Hunting Tour to Sci- ota and take her with them. — Ret '.rns. — Shfe is takert* to Fort Pitt, and then hurried back by her Indian Sisters. — Her hopes of Liberty destroyed. — Second Tour to Sciota. — Return to Wiishto, fcc. — Arrival of Prisoners. — Priscilla Ramsay. — -Her Chain.— Mary marries a Delaware. — Her Affection for him.— ^ -^ Birth and Death of her first Child. — Her Sickness and Recovery. — Birth of Thomas •f^mison. ,^^^ ^^ wW-'^ The nifi^ht was spent in (iclooiifiy forebodings! What the result of our captivity would be, it wa| out of our power to determine or even iraagine^^;' At times we cpuld almost realize the approach of ('- ^Ht f* ..r^ u im- iti'i li, ^y.;W^ our (naslcrs to butcher and scalp us 5 — again we could nearly see the pile of wood kindled on which we were to be roasted ; and then we would imagine ipurselves at liberty ; alone and defenceless in the forest, surrounded by wjld beasts that were ready to devour us. The anxiety of our minds drove sleep from our eyelidaj and it was with a dreadful hope and painful impatience that we waited for| the morning to determine our fate. U The morning at length arrived, and our masters! c^me early and let us out of the house, and gave] the young man and boy to the French, who imme- diately took them away. Their fate I neverl learned ; as I have not seen nor heard of theinl Smce. ^;i*t^■^^^^i.^V>■,y^s-^:^.^.W> ^ I was now left atone in the f&rt, deprived of my] former companions, and of every thing that was near or dear to me but life. But it was not long before I was in some measure relieved by the! appearance of two pleasant looking squaws of the! Seneca tribe, who came and examined me atten-| tively for a short time, and then went out. After a few minutes absence they returned with my former | niasters, who gave m^ to them to dispose of as they pleased. .,:;f5^^&^^/jt.^/ ■■^:;^wn the Ohio. ^^ffi^^'i %M:^Mt^-i4^k'ii%- iV"«.* When we set off, an Indian in the forward canoe »Vir S'.^w «■■'■■;' IJ-^-iii' itV,.:-fv;5:^v :;;V»;# ■*<••< •r ■ ' ■» V ' MARY JEMISON. 3^^^* took the scalps of my former friends, strung them m a pole that he placed upon his shoulder, and in that manner carried ihem, standing in the ntern of the canoe, directly before us as we sailed down the *iver, to the town where the tw^squaws resided. On our way we passed a S|awanee town, where saw a number of heads. Jirms, legs, and other fragments of the bodies of some white people who lad just been burnt. The parts that remained rere hanging on a pole which was supported at iach end by a^ crotch stuck in the ground, and ^ere roast^ # burnt black as a coal. The fire ^as y^t burning; and the /^hole appearances af- forded a spectacle so shock hig, that, even to this lay, my blood almost curdles in my veins when t think of them! ^\. '^^^-^-m^-^^^^^^-- ■ ^ At night we arrived at a small Seneca Indian ^own, at the mouth of a small river, that was called >y the Indians, in the Seneca language. She-nan^ jee,* where the two Squaws to whom I belonged 'esided. There we landed, and the Indians went ion; which was the last I ever saw of them. Having made fast to the shore, the Squaws left I me in the canoe while they went to their wigwam or house in the town, and returned with a suit of Indian clothing, all new, and very dean and nice. My clothes^ though whole and good when I was ■:^ ' '">^- ?..' 1 canoe ■ i°in9. * That' town, according to the geographical description given by Mrs. Jemison, must have stood at the mouth of Indian Cross creek, which is about 7^ miles by wateri below Pittsburgh \ or at ihe mouth' of jUiiian Short creek, 87 miles below Pittsburgh, where the town of Warren now stands : But at which of those places 1 aiSl unable to deter- ^. ■» ~ J. ,^' iSuihot. -'vr. :« '■(■ ivi:,. ■CX'; ■■ .•& ■ ->f--' wmgmk ■';>' - ^^ ii;nr LIFE OF. , t 1 taken, were now torn in pieces, so that I wasi almost naked. They first undressed me andV] threw my rags into the river; then washed meP clean and dressed me in the new suit they had justl brogghty in complfite Indian style ; and then led| me home and seated me in the center of theit wigwam, ■i^'!^ >-^ ,. I had been in that situation but a few minutesJ before all the Squaws in^ the town came in to seel me. I was soon surrounded by them, and theyl immediately set up a most dismal howling, crying] bitterly, and wringing their hands Ii| all the aj nies of grief for a deceased relative* #J Their tears flowed freely, and they exhibited al the signs of real mourning. At the commenc< ment of this scene, one of their number began, inl It voice somewhat between speaking and singing,! jto recite some words to the following purport, and| continued the rc^citation till the ceremony was end- #d ; the company at the same time varying thel ^appearance of their countenances, gestures and ^tone of voice, so as to correspond with the senti- ' meuts expressed by their leader : " Oh our brother ! Alas! He is dead — he has I %one; he will never return ! Friendless he died on thi neld of the siaini where his bones are yet| lyiug ^» buried ! Oh, who will not mourn his sad me? No tears dropped around him; oh, no! No tears of his sisters were there ! He fell in his prime, when his arm was most needed to keep us from danger! Alas ! he has gone ! and lefl us in sorrow, his lo$s to bewail : Oh where is his spirit ? His spirit went, naked, and hungry it wanders, and f| thirsty and wbimded it groans to return ! Oh hel[)- ».i ^' •*«. f^-^. ■V.' :i*l t:%TV.\Rfe'V;. i MARY JEMISON. 07 less and wretched, our brotlier has gone ! No [blanket nor food to nourish and warm him ; nor landles to light him, nor weapons of war : — Oh, lone of thuse comforts had he! But well wg remember his deeds !— The deer he could take oa le chase ! The panther shrunk back at the sight >f his strength ! His enemies fell at bis feetf He ras brave and courageous in war ! As the fawn le was harmless : his fViendship was ardent : his temper was gentle: his pity was great! Oh! our friend, our companion ia dead ! Our brother, |our brother, alas ! he is gone ! But why do we jTieve for hts loss ? In the strength of a warrior, /mdaunted he left us, to fight bv the side of the iChiefs ! His war-whoop was shrill ! His rifle well aimed laid his enemies low : hfs tomahawk drank of their blood : and his knife flayed their scalps [while yet covered with gore ! And why do we lourn ? Though he fell on the field of the slain, rith glory he fell, and his spirit went up to the [land of Ills fathers in war ! Then why do we mourn? With transports of joy they received him, and fed him, and clothed him, and wel* corned him there ! Oh friends, he is happy ; then dry up your tears! His spirit has seen our distress, and sent us a helper whom with pleasure we greet DicH^wamis has come ; then let us receive her with joy! She is handsome and pleasant I Oh ! she is our sister, and gladly we welcome her here. Ijn the place of our brother she stands in our tribe. With care we will ^uard her from trouble ; ai leave us « may she be happy till her spirit shall •??.■ 1' |p|U| course of that ceremony, from mouioing 4 J. '.!i*l- ■*. if fy. ^l •{., f%^^*' #->;U ■&i. \vi^- 'Jr::i 4>l "vrv ■■.''.rjirjs irK--' LIFE OF ii'i •J^,' ,.-v». :''.^ *■■ '■^k < «*«'.i v^ 'S^v- they became serene— !oy sparkled in their coun- tenances, and they seemed to rejoice over me as over a long lost child. I was made welcome! amongst them as % sister to the two Squaws before mentioned, and was lulled Dickewamis; which being interpreted, s^^iiifies 3 pretty girl, a hand- some girl, or a pleasai>;. good thing. That is the name by which I have %ver since been called by the Indians. I aflerwards learned that the ceremony I at that time passed through, was that of adoption. The two squaws had lost a brother in Wash- ington's war, sometime in the year "fefore, and in consequence of his death went up to Fort Pitt, on the day on which I arrived there, in order to teceive a prisoner or an enemy's scalp, to supply tb^ir loss. .';/^.'-;.^y; ■>' ^^^^-^^aJ^vjiSvi' It is a custom of tfie Indians, when one of their number is slain or taken prisoner in battle, to give to fliKi nearest relative to the dead '>r absent, a pris- r oner, if they have chanced to take one, and if not, to give him the scalp of an eriejmy. On the return of the Indians from conquest, which is always ^flirfhounced by peculiar shouiipgs, demonstrations of joy, and the exhibitioii of some trophy of victor}^, the mourners come forward and make their claiins. If they rVceive a prisoner, it is at their option either to satiate their vengeance by taking his life in the most cruel manner they can conceive of; or, to receive and adopt him into the family, in the place of him whom they have lost. All the prisoners that are taken in battle and carrier! to the encamp> inent or town by the Indians, aie given to the bereaved families^ till their number is nsade good. \-lr m] M,:;^1 .*■ -» ■v^^^ MARY JEMISON. -i.,-^. V ",;& nd unless the rnourners have b" ■■,<\ t'- 4^ ; V ■,*i^ ^ !- If i»*t: %■ iAJ^E OF ■^' ^i f Hi^ \\\ it* 'i Bfy situation was easy; I had no particular Iiard- Btiiyz to endure. But still, the recollection of my I y parents, my brothers and sisters, my home, and J my own captivity, destroyed my happiness, and! # made me constantly solitary, lonesome and gloomy. ^ i .>.My sisters would not allow me to speak English "^ In their Iiearing ; but remembering the charge that my dear mother gave me at the time I left her^ whenever I chanced to be alone I made a business of repeating my prayer, catechism, or something I had leained in order that I might not Ibrget my own language. By practising in th?t way! retain- ed it till I came to Genesee flatf\ v -^e I soon became acquainted with English pi g> ., «vitli whom ,. I have been almost daily in the habit of conversing. My sisters were diligent in teaching me their Ir.i^uage; and to their great satisfaction I soon leained so that I could understand it readily, and speak it fluently. I was very fortunate in falling >into their hands; for they were kind good natured ^ v/omen ; peaceable and mild in their dispositions; ,^ temperate and decent in their habits^ and very i*»ii- ' der and gentle towards me. I have great re ^sci to respect them, though they have been <';4\ . great number of years. The town where they lived was pleasantly situ* ed on the Ohio, at the mouth of the Shenanjee : the land produced good corn ; the woods furnished « plenty of game, and the waters abounded with fish. Another river emptied itself into the Ohio, directly opposite the mouth of the Shenanjee. We spent the summer at that place, wh* ^ wc planted, hoed, and harvested a large crop ol *- -a, of an excellent quality. > > t* >«»'w .1 ■»:' •-.,t m u.,j. '•&.!'*::>^_^vl?:i r-a't'] ■r-x, 'VS'-' ff^\ ■'¥';!• "i.y ^■i;f;-jt'-'>:r. ':.''' MABY JEMISON. ''■¥'■' r4i About the time of corn harvest, Fort Pitt was taken fr^in the French by the English.* The corn being harvested, the indiaus took it on horses and in canoes, and proceeded down the Ohio, occasionally stopping to hunt a few days, till we arrived at the mouth of Scipta river; where they established their winter quarters, and contin- ued hunting till the ensuing spring, in the adjacent wilderness. While at that place I went with the other children to assist the hunters to bring in their game. The forests on the Sciota were well stocked with elk, deer, and other large animals; and the marshes contained large numbers of beaver, musk- rat, &c. which made excellent hunting for the In- dians; who depended, for their meat, upon their success in taking eik and deer; and forammunitioa and clothing, upon the beaver, muskrat, and other furs- that they could take in addition to their peltry. The season for hunting being passed, we all returned in the spring to the mouth of the river Shenanjee, to the houses and fields we had left in the fall before. There we again planted our corn, squashes, ^ind beans, on the fields that we occupied the pieceding summer. w^-^' 'V*The above statement h apparently an error; and is to b6 attributed solely to the treachery of the old lady's memo- ry ; though sh :siORfident that that event took place ot the time above ..i. aioned. It is certain that Fort Pitt was not evacuated by tht Frenc.i and given up to the English j, till sometiume in November, 1768. It is possible, however, that an' armistice was agreed upon, and that for a tim;», be- tween the spring of 1755 and 1758, both nations visited that post svithont fear of molestation. As the succeeding part of the narrative corresponds with the true historical chain of events, the' public will overlook this circumstance, which appears unsupported by history. Author, D2 •>, f ' V.;\ i'k',,. - ■itfil 't-mr^' t.IPE O0 '•■>-V]i^\ X 'i'^y K- > . ^ ■About planting time, our Indians all went up to Fort Pitt, to make peace with the British, and took me with them.* We landed on the opposite side ; 0f the river from th« fort, and encamped for the ^'' flight. Early the next morning the Indians took me over to the fort to' j^ee the white people that wer^ there. It was then that my 5ieart bounded to be liberated from the Indians aifd to be restored to my friends and my country. The white people were surprized to see me with the Indians, enduring the hardships of a savage iife, at so e«rly an age, id with so delicate a constitution as I appeared to ^ jssess. They asked me my name; where and when I was taken— -and appeared very much inter- ested on my behalf. They were continuing their inqotries, when my sisters became alarmed, believ- '^ ing that I should be taken IVom them, hurried me into their caiioe and recrossed the river — took dieif bread out of the fire and fled with me, without stopping, till they arrived at the river Shenanjee. So great was their fear of losing mqi, or of my being given Uf jn the treaty, tliat they never once stopped . Fowing till they got home. i; Shortly after we left the shore opposite tlie fort, !^ ^ai I was informed by one of my Indian brothers, the white people came over to take me back ; but after considerable inquiry, and having made dili- gent search to find where I was hid, they returned with heavy hearts. Although I had then been * History is silent as to any treaty having been made be- tween the English, f'-^H French and Indians, at that time; though it is possible « at a truce was agreed upon, and thposif,e side >ed for the <^ians took eople that •ounded to •estored to te people \ enduring y an age, peared to here and «ch inter- >»ng their h believ- fried me ook their without snanjee. Jy bemg stopped MARY JEMIBON. 44 [with the Indians something over a year, and had become considerably habituated to their mode of living, and attached to my sisters, the sight of white [people who could speak English inspired me with an unspeakable anxiety to go home with them^and share in the blessings of civilization. IMy sudden departure and escape from them, seemed like a second captivity, and for a long time I brooded the thoughts of my miserable situation with almost as much sorrow and dejection as I had done those of my firsj: sufferings. Time, the destroyer of every anection, wore away my unpleasant feelings, and I became as contented as before. We tended our cornfields through the summer ; and after we had harvested the crop, we again went down the river to the hunting ground on the Sciota, . whefo we spent the winter, as we had done the W winter oefbre. ^fw %^;i Early in the spring we sailed up the Ohio river, to a place that the Lndians called Wiishto,* where one river emptied into the Ohio on one side, and another on the other. At that f^lace the JncUans built a town, and we planted corR. We lived three summers at Wiishto, atid spent each winter on the Sciota. 4 The first summer of our living at Wiishto, a party of Delaware Indians came up the river, took up their reiidence, and lived in common with us. They brought five white prisoners with them, who by their conversation, made itiy situation much ■* Wiishto I suppose was situated near the mouth of Indian Guyundat, 827 miles below Pittsburgh, and 73 above Big Sciota; or at the mouth of Swan creek, 307 miles below Pittsburgh. *. . V ■ /> ,?A' '.*< :■ :vi. ^, ■^ ^^A>^* UFE oy • u/f ^■ hrfudsome, good natured ^Kw ^^ *^'' » ^"y after she came to \Viishto [n r "'"".'"arried soon "nde, who went S' her on f"^*- ^'"'« fi"'yV n the states. Having t^^led w.);''!!*'' ^''' ''"«nds she wished to, she rfturnp,! ^u'* .*'""" »' '""g as Can-a-ah-tua/where hIdS ""t'^'ft ''r"""^*" *s married a white man bv /h^ "*' "**«•■ ^is death, now lives with him ("fThfj: ,"2",'* ^««'«. and «, Upper Canada. "^'"«^) «"» Grand Riv- Not long after thn ifiJ* ' » " "«, « ^"'^'Ho/my ^t^'^'fj^ ««•-« to Ii.o with and live with one of them 1'"^ ""^^ ' "»'■« go "Wee. Not darinrt cros, t^. '^ "T« *a. She- commands, with a ffreat 1 *'"'*"■ '''^"''ey their went; andSheniniee^^i^^'^'' »' reluctance I to ^.dian cnsS. -^ "'' ' *"'^ ™«™d accor^W ^ Slieniiyee was a nohl« «. *^-7 *^' -' ~ • elegant in hi, appe^Z! ^™'- 'arge i„ atature'; fo^ageous i„ w^ra"r1enf ,""''"''*"'''' '^""duct 'over of justice. HesuS '.? l^^^^' and a grea' far above his rank, a^d^Sj '^'f' "'"^'Jnity confidence and friendshr^f if "? '^'"'^^^ thl *JK,m he was acquainted'^ vL^'^J''^. '"^^' «'th Indian. The idea of pendilr'^''!"'"^^ '^as an at first seemed perfeMlv v *^ '">' ^ays with him and /riendshipSo":Xme ZlT'"'' *^"'<«^"«i tion ; and, strange as it?„ ' ^" ^^^'ncd my affec- To me he'was "K i^d bf '-T' ^ '•'^^'^ '''>""- treated me with irentl^ '" "■'"r'' «"<» al«vays agreeable hiisbandfand "?' r'" ^f'' ^e was an t. s-,j''5:; fl"'^''"'' « comfortable companion! ■ ■ 1 ' ■ 'm^\ ' ■ ' ■ ■ i - ■' MARY JEMISON. 45 English. |em except was a very I arried 80011, tie BiUy's ler friends as Jong as "sband to '^w death, F'es, and rand Riy. We lived happily together til) the time of our final separation, which happened two or three year^^tec our marriage, as I shall presently relate. ' "^ '^v*' * In the second summer of my living at Wiishto, I had a child at the time that the kemeb of corn first appeared on the cob. When I was taken sick, Sheninjee was absent, and I was sent to a small shed, on the bank of the river, which was made of boughs, where I was obliged to stay till my husband returned. My two sisters, who were my only com- panions, attended me, and on the second day of my confinement my child was born ; but it lived only two days. It was a girl : and notwithstanding the shortness of the time that I possessed it, it was a great grief to me to lose iti^ '^"^t; -^T'^^-- After the birth of ray child, I was very sick, but was not allowed to go into the house for two weeks; when, to my great joy, Sheninjee returned, and I was taken in and as comfortably provided for as our situation would admit of. My disease contin- ued to increase for a number of days ; and I became so far reduced that my recovery was despaired of by my friends, and I f.j*S»- "'i^j' tiFE OP ■ '.4 '-ti^ • v' :>^'' CHAPTER iv! >: I •■..j;. «^'^7 >','•' ::#lw leaves Wiishto for Fort Pi» ' ' " ^ '^ -^'^^ ,; f Husband — Her fepliL/ ' '" ''"'npany with h^, I Deficiencv of Art. a^„:^'fC,i»»dian Women !!' .J mer Happiness.-Banennlff '"'''*"'— Tbeir for- ^Kltheintroduetioroft^ *ff««f*.of Civifeat5 Trading Houfe w''-*^''' H»«band stoos^""- Move^ ,,„ .r o~^a'«<»nness of the Sk. '^ *' " jioves up the Sandusltv _lvl„„t;^, *'***°ee» «e-Dishia-u Her Hm.k j ®** ''«'■ Brother from »he ,ets our for Geni" ±n e°^' '° Wiishto, a„d thers._Tbey arrive at si,,^P^"y "■'"> her Bro: hat Piace.-4aer XurLft^'^Ge^^rO'^eurrencef^ »'«n bj- her Mother anS Friends "*"' ^""^ **««?- In the sprint, whpn Ti, ^V'^*!)^^ •; 2^"?hto, and soin after set '"T*" «•««" S^i^'a to o dispose of our fur and *kin, i" «" *° ^"« ««, •n the winter, and procure ' *•* ''"*' *«''en for the use of oaUmUy "^"'"'""^ ««'^J« «nd ieave themfhadalLoS^''! '" « liberty,' «as my home ; my femUv 1 if "**• ""'"' the™ h«d many frie, ds"^ Sif t ' '^^'^' «"'' f'^re I ^n. consideration of the fr„rl ^ "'"'"''•^ »«acbed ship with which thevhad M"^f ^*"'°" ^""^ '"'''■«"«'■ the time of my aSS o T^^ ''«'"««* ™e,from a«J that of one J^Kas e2artr^"'''"'r""*««^'" . '^'"^'^«"'y similar, in almost . '■* ■^.'T.,;-^: .■'I , MARY JEMISON. - ' ^: '--■^ [every respect, lo that of the others, without that endless variety that is to be observed in the com- mon labor of the white people. Notwithstanding the Indian women have all the fuel and bread to procure, and the cooking to perform, their task is I probably not harder than that of white women, who have those articles provided for them ; and their cares certainly are not half as numerous, nor as great. Id the summer season, we planted, tended and harvested our corn, and generally had all our children with us ; but had no master to oversee or drive us, so that we could work as leis- urely as we pleased. We had no ploughs on the Ohio; but performed the whole process of plant- ing and hoeing with a small tool that resembled, in some respects, a hoe with a vet'y short handle. Our cooking consisted in pounding our corn into samp or hommany, boiling the hommany, making now and then a cake and baking it in the ashes, and in boiling or roasting our venison. As our cooking and eating oteBsils consisted of a hommany bipck and pestle, a Small kettle, a knife or two, and a few vessels of h^ or wood, it required but little time to keep them in order for use. Spinning, weaving, tewing, stocking knitting, and the like, are arts which have never beiib prac- tised in the Indian tribes generally. After the re- rolutionary war, I learned to sew, so that I could make my own clothing after a poor fasliion; but the other domestic arts I have been wholly^igno- rant of the application of, since n^y captivity. In the season of hunting, it was our business, in ad- dition4o our cooking, to bring home the game that was taken by the Indians^ dreis it, and care- '■ . H.'i ■t iiMii liiHilii ■MH \ ■ ■ ■ I ■'i^-. LIFE OP i^f """'r? ^ n ' fully preserve the eatable meat, and prepare or I dress the skins. Our clothing was fastened together with strings of deer skin^ and tied on with the same. . In that manner we lived, without a ly of those jealousies, quarrels, and revengeful battles between families and individuals, whU;h have been com- mon in the Indian tribes since the introduction of' ardent spirits amongst them. \ The use of ardent spirits amongst the Indians, and the attempts which have been made to civilize and christianize them by the white people, l^s constantly made them worse and worse; in- creased their vices, and robbed them of many of | their virtues; and will ultimately produce their extermination. I have seen, in a number of in- stances, the effects of education upon some of our Indians, who were taken when young, from their fanalies, and placed at school before they liad had an opportunity to contract many ludian habits, and there kept till they z.xt0^ to manhood ; but I have never seen one of thoslt^t what was an Indian in e:^e^ry respect aflerHe returned. Indians ymustand will be Indians^ in spite of all the means that can be used for the^ 'cultivation in the scien- ces ani arts. One thing only marred my happiness, while I lived with them on the Ohio;* and that was the recollection that I had once had tender parents^ and a home that I loved. Aside from that consid- eration, or, if I had been taken in infancy, I should have been contented in my situation. Not« withstanding f^rthat has been said agains^e In- 4ians^ in conjiii|uence of their cruelties to their ■-•'■ ■• y ' r-,'7'. -;■ ■ *>•-•' ,:-^- i.hC^ .•^•■:t. v.. ■^luSi'G'^ MARY JEMISON. enemies — cruelties that I have witnelsed, and had abundant proof of— it is a fact that they are na- ' turally kind, tender and peaceable towards their friends, and strictly honest; and that those cruel- ties have been practised, only upon their enemiesi according to their idea of justice. At the time we leQ^ Wiishto, it was impossible for me to suppress a Mi of regret on parting with those who had truly been my friends— with those whom I hftd every reason to respect. On account of a part of our family living at Genishau, we thought itjdoubiful whether we should return di- rectly from Pittsbjirgh, or go from thence on a visit to see them. . ., Our company consisted of Itny husband, my two Indian brothers, my little son and myself. We embarked ik a canoe that was large enough to contain ourselves and our effects, and proceeded on our voyage up the river. ^ Nothing re&i^able occurred to us on our way, till wearrived at |he mputh of a creek which She- ninjee and my brotli^ said was the outlet of San- dusky lake; where, a^ they said, two or three Ergfish traders in fur und^^s^ins had kept a trading house but a short time Befbre, though tliey were then absent. We had passed'it^'' trading hpuse but a short distance, > when wc :jet three white men floating down the river, wit!5|the appearance of having been recently murdered ^y the Iq^dians. We supposed them to be the bodies^of the traders, whose store we bad passed the same day. Shenin- jee be«^g alarmed for fear of being i^pprehended as one of tlie murderers, if he shoukL^ on, resolved to put about immediately y and we accordingly re- 5f-.'^ -,V ■+v" £ .'TMli'%^, mi ^^ttyw 50 LIFE OF %.sC '•.~'r .^ '",» SI. ■i\, ■ .; i1 41' .'-i turned to where the traders had lived, and there landed. At the trading house we found a party of Shaw- nee Iidians, who had taken a young white man prisoner, and had just begun to torture him for the sole purpose of gratkying their curiosity in exult- ing at his distress. They at first made him stand up, while they slowly pared his ears and split them into strings; they then made a number of slight incisions in his face; and then bound him upon the ground, rolled him in the dirt, and rubbed it in his wounds : some of them at the same time whip- ping him with small rods! The poor fellow cried for mercy and yelled most piteously. The sight of his distress seemed too much for n* to endure : I begged of th* ^' to desist — I en- treated them with tears to rele; Sim. At length they attended to rny intercessions; ?ind set him at liberty. He was sliockingly disfigured, bled pro- fusely^ and appeared to b^ in great pain: but as soon as he was liberated he made dijrin haste, which was the last I saw of him. , We soon learned that tlie same party of Shaw- nees had, but a few ho^ before, massacred the three white traders whom we saw in the river, and had plundered their store. We, however, were not molested by th^m, and after a s^hortstay at that place, moved up the creek about forty miles to a Shf»wnee town, which the Indians called Gaw- gush4haw-ga, (which being interpreted signifies a mask or a false face.) The crqel^ that we went lip was calledtCandusky. r^ - It was nowaummer; and having tarried a few days at Gawgushsh^w|^ jf|^$^ the ."^^ f ■% 4*f p -/.«*' H'. ■ !• ♦ Mary jemison. 51 creek to a place that was called Yis-kah-wa-na, (meaning in English open mouth.) As I have before observed, the family to which I belonged was part of a tribe of Seneca Indians, who lived) at that time, at a place called Genishau, from the name of the tribe, that was situated on a river of the same name which is now caUed Genesee. The word Genishau iignifies a shining, clear or open place. Those of us who lived on the Ohio^ had frequently received invitations from those at Genishau, by one of my brothers, who usually went and returned every season, to come and live with them, and ray two sisters had been gone almost two years. While we were at Yiskahwana, my brother arrived there from Genishau, and insisted so stren- uously upon our going home (as he called it) with him, that my twu brothers coQcluded to go, and to take me with them. 'N^ '^• By this time the summer was gone, and the time for harvesting*cdrn had arrived. My brothers, for fear of the rainy season setting in early, thought it best to set out immediately that we might, have good travelling. Sheninjee consented to have me go with my brothers; but concluded to go down the river himself with some fur and M^ins which he had on hand, spend the winter in hunting with his friends, and come to me in the spring following. That was accordingly agreed upon, and he set out for Wiishto; and my three brothers and my- self, with my little son on my back, at the same time set out for Genishau. We ^awe on to Upper Sandusky, to an Indian town that wefound deserted by ite jip[habji|SiDt$, i» consequence of their having LIFE OP / w ^K' ■' '-V^.f r .>- 1 iii im Recently murdered p >iiie English traders, who re- sided amongst them. That town was owned and had been occupied by Delaware Indians, who, when they left it, buried their provision in tlie earth, in otJc:'' to preserve it from their enemies, or to have a supply for themselves if they should chance to return. My brothers mijerstood the customs of the Indians when they were obliged to fly from ^their enemies ; and suspecting that their corn at feast n^ust have been hid, made diligent search, and at length found a large quantity of i^, together with bean^, sugar and honey, so carefully buried thatifwiis completely dry and aai good as whea ihey left it. As our stock of provision was scanty, we considered ourselves extremely f^nunate in iinding^so seasonable a supply, with so little trouble. Having caught two or three horses, that w^ fo*m^ there^ and furnlslied o Jrselves with a good store o tfood, wt travelled on till we came to the mouth ol French Cre6k, where we bunted two f^^ij^^ and frofei thence came on to CoBowoijgo Creek, where we were obliged to stay seven or ten days, in eon- sequcince of our horses havmg ?fft us and straying into |le woods. The ho?:s€!':3 ;, however, were tbu nd ^ ,'and 4e again prepareid to refeurae our jowriney- During our stay at tf^iat place the raiq fell i^.s% mid had raised the cree^k to such a height that it wa» seemingly in^pos^bJe for us to cross it* ■ A ji^irwber of tunes we ventured in,, but were coropelkd to return, barely 'leaping with our lives* At kogtii we succeeded m swimming our hordes and reached the opposite dmfe] though I but just escapefi: with my little boy from being d rowned. FmmBsiiMmky the path that we travelled was crooked and obacwre; ''S, ■ /'• /,'>'■■ ■ i^r' V c] el cl ^ow called the Free Ferry, adjoining Fall-tkpok, and about south west of the present village of Oen- eseoj the county seat for the county of Livingston, m till* stale of New- York. Those only who have travelled on foot the distance of five or six hundred miles, through an almost pathless wilderness, can form an idea of the fatigue and sulFerings that I endured on thai jour- ney. My clothing was t*^in and illy calculated to defend irie from the cr 71 tinually drenching rains wiUi which I was daily completely wet, and at night with fM)thing but ray wet bla*^ket to cover nie, I had co fjleep on the naked ground^ and g^ lereilly withowt a shelter, save such as nat^e had provided. Ir) addition to all that, 1 had %0 carry my child, then :%h(.mt rjine months old, every step of the journey on my back, or in my arms, and provide E2 ■■M -; vXiiitili«BMtaii(MuM«ai««i«^ m ■;•*»■■ 54 LIFE Of W' »!»^.. - f for his comfort and prevent his sofTering^ as far as my poverty of means would admit. Such was the fatigue that I sometimes feh, that I thought it im- possible for me to go through, and I would almost abandon the idea of even trying to proceed. My brothers were attentive, iiiid at length, as I have stated, we reached our platte of destination, in good health, and witl^out having experienced a day's sickness from the time we left Yiskahwanr*. We were kindly received by my Indian mother and the other meml>ers of the family, who appear-t edto make me welcome ; and my two sisters, whom I had not seen in two years, received me with every expression of love and friendship, and that ihejr really felt what they expressed, I have never had the (east reason to doubt* The warmth of their feelings, the kind reception which 1 met witH»Bnd the continued favors that I received g. their hands, rivetted my affection for them so strongly that I am constrained to believe that I loved them as I should have loved my own sister hdd she lived, and 1 had been brought up with her. ■%l CJ^PTER y. Indians march to Niagara to fight the British. — Return .with two Pri§oners, ^c. — Sacrifice tfiiem at Fall- *^Brook. — Her iiadian Mother's Address to her Daugh- ter. — Death of her Hnsbandr — Bounty offered for the Prisoners takcp in the last war. — John Van Sice attempts to take her to procure her Ransom. — &(t Escape. — EcUct of the Chiefs. — Old King of the tribe '■>.-^^>''^- ■^i£-J: JEMISON. S'* »- "< M. H . . . ^ ■■ /ji ■■.-■'' . determines to have her given up. — Mer brother threat- ens her Life.-T-Her narrow Escape — The old King goes off. — Her brother is informed of the place of her concealment, and conducts her home. — ^Marriage to her second Husband.— Names oi her Children. When we arrived at (Jenishau, the Indians of that tribe were making active preparation for joining the French, in order to assist them in re- taking Fort Ne-a^aw (as Fort Niagara was called in the Seneca language) from the British^ who had taken it from the French in the month pipecedinr. They marched off the next day after our arrive.!, painted and accoutred in all the habiliments of Indian warfare, determined on death or victory^ and joined the army jn season to assist in accom- plishiiig a plan that had been previously concerted for the destruction of a part of the British army. The British feeling themselves s€Scnre in tWi pos- session of Fort Neaga- and unwilling that their enemies should occupy f the military f a thai quarter^ determined to ^ Fort Schiusser, lying a few miles up the river iror Neagi v, which they expected tQ effect with but little loss. Ac^ cordingly a detachment of soldiers, ufficiently numerous, as was supposed, was sent o i to take it, leaving a strong garrison in the fort, and marched off, well prepared to effect tHeir object 'lut on their way they were surrounded by the i <»ch and Indians, who lay in ambush to receive them, and were driven off the bank of the river into a place calle4 the " Devil's Hole," together with their hor- ses, carriages, artillery, and every thing pertaining to the army. Not a single man escaped being driven off, and of the whole number one only was f^agmtU riiMI !•'! 7 ;V, ft • 56 ,,:y(^" LIFE OF . •:,W:€.'^-" ■ ■ riMMHUHl m^ r'l^^^'Wff -■■ ---*■■* Ji -it 58 \fi*' > / ■ LIFE C^^i •'v ..^v ♦♦■ ashes!— They were burnt on the north side of Fall-brook, directly opposite the town which was on the south side, some time in the month of No- vember, 1759. I spent the winter comfortably, and as agreeably as I could have expected to, in the absence of my kind husband. Sprir^ at length appeared, but Sheninjee was yet away ; summer came on, but my husband had not fotind me. Fearful forebod- ings haunted my imagination ; yet 1 felt confident that his affection for me was so great that if he was alive he would follow me and I should again see him. In the course of the summer, however, 1 reqeived intelligence that soon afler he leA: me at Yiskahwana he was taken sick and died at Wiishto. This Was a heavy and an iinexpected blow. I was now in my youthful days left a widow, with one son, m^ entirely dependent on myself for his and mV jftupport. My mother and her family gave me all the consolation in their power, and in a few months my grief wore ofi*and I became contented. ^ ■ In a year or two afler this, according to my best recollection of the time, the King of England oflTered a bounty to those who would bring in the prisoners that had been taken in the war, to some .^ mi!ita'*y post where tb*tfifc 1^ >- i •ft w^ y^wm m to^ Vl-. ; LIFE OF w if the old king should attempt to take me, i^s he fiiinly believed he would, he would immediately take my life, and hazard the consequefices. He returned to the old king. As soon as I came hi-, my sister told me wl|at she had just heard, and what she expected wFt^i&ut doubt would befkl me^ Full of pity, and anxtbirs fot my preservation, i»he then directed nie to take my child and go kil0^{ some hi^h weeds at jlo great distance from th^ house, and there hide myselfandlay stiU till all was silent in the house, for my brother, she said, would return at evening and let her know the final con- clusion of the matter, of which she promised tft inform me in the following manner : If I was to be kilted, she said she would bake a small cake and lay it at the door, on the outside^ in a place tliat she then pointed out to me. When all was silent in tl«y[iousey I was to creep softly ta;( the door, andrifjhe cake could not be found in^e place specified, I was to go in: but if the cake was there, I was to take ray child and, go as fast as I possibly could to a large spring on the south side of Samp's Creek, (a place that I had often seen,) and there wait till I should iby some means hear from her. .i^i'ii?:^ Alarmed for ray o\m safety, I instantly follow- ed her advice, and went into the weeds, where I lay in a state of ^greatest anxiety, till all wa^ silent in the housef* when I crept to the door, and there found, to my great distress, the little cake ! I knew my fate was fixed, unless I conld keep sev creted till the ^orm was over; and accoidirigly crept back to the weeds, where my little Thomas lay, took him on my back, and laid my course for ::>■■' ■.■■' >?r. .yJ'T.- \fm MARY JEMISON. 61 the sprinjc^ ad fast as my legs would cariy ine; Tliomas was nearly t^hree yeai-s old, and very large and heavy. I got to the spring early in the morning, almost overcome with fatigue, and at the same time fearing that I might be pursued and ta- ken, I felt my life an almost insupportable burthen. I sat down with my child at the spring, and he and I made a breakfast of the little cake, and water of the spring, which I dipped and supped with the only implement which 1 possessed, my In the morning after I flerf, «s wak expected, | the old Kmg came to our house in search of me, and to take me off; but, as I was not to be found, he gave me up, and went to Niagara with the prisoners he had already got into his pos- . seSSlOn^.-'^''^. -..jV/,/.'. ^-^: '^.'^^-i'/^r -'j^: /'•'f. '■■ As soon as th^ old King was fairly out of the ^ way, my sister told my brother where he coiild ; find me. He immediately set out for the spring, and ibund me about noon. The first sight of him made me tremble with tire fear of death ; but when he came near, so that I could discover his counte- nance, tears of joy flowed down my cheeks, and I felt such a kind of instant relief as no one can pos- sibly experience, unless when under the absolute sentence of death he receives an unlimited pardon. We were both rejoiced at the event of the old Kinjj^'s project; and after staying at the spring \ through the night, set out together for homeearly in the rnorningi When we got to a cornfield near V the town, mv brother secreted me till he could" go and ascertain how my case stood; and finding that the old King was abserxt, and that all was '0^- -# „ f ; .*\^.;J i ■ * HI Uiu ^•:«!' ¥■ 6* •■h ■,"*;^mi ! ,■ lA .. ..M" LIFE OF ■I . ■»■■ ' ■ * , "^ V ,'V-i,A' peaceable, he returned ^ ine^and I went home joyfully. Not long after this, my mother went to Johns- town, on the Mohawk river, with five prisoners, who were redeemed by Sir William Johnson, and set at liberty.^ " When my son Thoifems was three or four years old, I was married to an Indian, whose name was Hiokatoo, commonly called Gardow, by whom I had four daughters and two sons. I named my children, principally, after my relatives, from whom I was parted, by calling my girls Jane, Nancy, Bet- sey and Polly, and the boys John and Jesse. Jane died about twenty-nine years ago, in the month of August, a little before the great Council at Big- Tree, aged about fifteen years. My other daugh- ters are yet Uvmg; and hsrve families. AM ^■'' ,.^ ,.; ■:-l:|^:^i^'6il9A^ VI. jj;'. ''.^■p.'^ 'I'VJj^fc ,l^s'vvi'„'ti'v> Peace amongst the Indians.— Celebrations. — Worship. Exercises. — Business of the Tribes. — Former Happi- 't^ nessof the Indians in time of peace extolled. — Their % Morals; Fidehty; Honesty; Chastity; Temperance. Indians called to German Flats. — Treaty with Amer- icans.— They are sent for by the British Commission- > ers, 'and go to Oswego. — Promises made by those ; Commissioners.—Greatness of the King of England. \4^ Reward that was paid them for joining the British. ' They make a Treaty. — Bounty offered for Scalps. y, Return richly dressed and equipped, — In 1776 they ;i kill a man at Cautega to provoke the Americans. ^^ . ' Prisoners taken at Cherry Ysi}l§XiJ?'^ought to Beard's- pr •t- '■^.!-}'X'- ■/■•^ -.-V ^ .: . " ak/X'*.-^ .'.J, MARY JEMISON. %:. ■■-X''' Town; redeemed, kc. — Battle at Port Stanwix.— ^ Indians suffer a great loss. — Mourning at Beard's Town. — Mrs. Jemison's care of and services rendered to Butler and Brandt. After the conclusion of the French war, our tribe had nothing to trouble it till the romnience- inent of the Revolution. For twelve or fifteen years the use of the implements of war was not known, nor the war-whoop heard, save on da)rs of festivity, when the achievements of former times were commemorated in a kind of miniic warfare, in which the chiefs and warriors displayed their prowess, and illustrated their former adroitness, by laying the ambuscade, surprizing their enemies, and performing many accurate manoetivres with the tomahawk and scalping knife; thereby pre- serving and handing to J^eir children, the theory of Indian warfare. During that period they al^o pertinaciously observed the religious rites of thehr progenitors, by attending with the most schipulous exactness and a great degree of enthusiasm to the sacrifices, at particukr times, to appease the anger of the evil deity, or to excite the commisseratioa and friendship of the Ghreat Good Spirit, whom they adored with reverence^ as the authpr, govern-* or, supporter and disposer of every good thing of which tney participated. They also practised in varlv>ti9 athletic games, such as running, wrestling, leaping, and playingf^^^ bajl, with a view that their bodies might be more supple, or rather that they might yiot become ener- vated, and that they might be enabled to mak.e a proper selection of Chiefs for the councils of the nation and leaders for war. % rt^> ■ < ^i>: -;. •0^1 vi^^'i,?*: -',•■.■ WV -y. MUM i&Jiii Xr ■/;■ -•»>'. -fit 04 LIFE OF .hr-^ W mm While the Indians were thus engaged in their tound of traditionary performances, with the addi- tion of hunting, their women attended to agricul- ture, their families, and a few domestic concerns of small consequence^ and attended with but little la- bor. , , No people can live more happy than the Indians 'did in times of peace, before the introduction of spirituous liquors amongst them;^ Their lives were a continual round of pleasures. Their v^nts were few, and easily satisfied ; and their cares were only for to-day; the bounds of their calculations for future comfort not extending to the incalculable uncertainties of to-morrow. If peace ever dwelt wiih ([nen, it was in former times, in the recesses from war, amongst what are now termed barbariami. The moral character of tl^ Indians was fif I may Ibe allowed the expression) uncontaminated. Their fidelity was perfect, and became proverbial ; they were strictly honest; they despised deception and falsehood ; and chastity was held in high venera- tion, and a violation of it was considered sacrilege. They were temperate in their desires, moderate in their passions, and candid and honorable in the expression of their sentitnents on every subject of importance. !• Thus, at peace amongst themselves, and with toie neighboring whites j though there were none at that time very near, our Indians lived quietly and peaceably at home, till a little before the breaking out of the revolutionary war, when they were sent (t^r, together with the Chiefs and members of the "Bix Nations generally, by the people of the States, to go to the German Flats, and there hold a general >..'■-.. ■r'H- .n:i«'t A,^U ^' ■ * i> rffc. . ■<■ j>-v"»l"i #"■ > .^^*;> ri MARY JEMISON. 65 council,m order that the people of the states might ascertain^ in ^ood season, who they should esteem and treat as c-nemies, and who as friends^ in the great war which was then upon the point of break- ing out between hem and ll|a King of £ngland. Our Indians obeyed thecfill^and the council was holden, at which the pipe of peace was smoked, and a treaty made, in which the Six Nations solemnly agreed th&t if a war should eventually break out, they would not take up arms on either side; but that they would observe a strict neu- trality. With that the people of the states were satisfied, as they had not asked their assistance, nor did not wish it. The Indians returned to their homes well pleased that they could live on neutral ground, surrounded by the din of war, without be- ing engaged in it.^^|-^^ t- - ^ ^^^ - About a year passe^ff, and we, as usual, were enjoying ourselves in the employments of peacea- ble times, when a messenger arrived from the Brit- ish Commissioned; requesting all the Indians of our tribe to attenij a general council which was soon to be held at Oswego. The council, conven- ed, and being opened j the British Commissioners informed the Chiefs that the object of calling a council of the Six Nations, was, to engage their assistance in subduing the rebels, the people of the states, who had risen up against the good King, their master, and were about to rob h».m of a great part of his possessions and wealthy and added that thiey would ainply reward them for all their ser- vices. •*: '■^-:^;,^v;l?^;■J The Chiefs then arose, and informed, the Cora- fijissjoners of the nature and extent of the treaty , ■■?#■: •;^-.;-«, .-■•^ >»i ■ '^^ mmt MMMil wmmmmmmummmifim WHmmmmmmiimimmammismimgii-M yHPTWOT TWW^ l W W gF W^y^ ">f^' X % m m w.- m\u\\ . ' ■ , 'V., ■,'■■ ' ".i' ■ ^ 1LIFE OF ■i:^'B:^::'^i ^ ']Wr^ which they had entered Into with the people of th^* states^ the year before, and that they sfiould not violate \t by taking up the hatclvat against them. The Cmwmxmomn cominoed their entreaties without sviccessj tili '^isey addressed their avarice, by teUhng* our people ^Hiat the pwiiople of the states '■ wwefev/ ia riMrnher/'anl-'easily sobdued; aod that on the aecouot of their ^disoiyedieiice to t]m Ki»jg'j they ;'ustly merited ail the fijifmhxnent tlut it wa« possible for white men and fadiaiis to |y^,l!i€t irpoti them; autd added j, that tire Kirsg wis. rich 'amA powerful^ both in money aod subjects: 'T'teh-k V\xm was Bs plenty as the water m lake OsHyriO': - that hia men '-vere^as' numerous as the -sands npoa the lake shore: — and that tlie iruliaos, if tlfe|^ would assist in the war^ and persevere in ihetl'-' friendsdiip to the King, ttM it was closed, shoidd never want for money or goods. Upon this i[\^, Chiefs concluded a treaty with the British Com- , missionersj, in w-hich they agreed to take op nrms against the rebels, and €ontinuei*-in" the service of \m Majesty till they were sijii3iti!lped^ in considera- tion pf certain coodidons vuMch were stipulated in the treaty to be performed fey the Biitish govern- ment mid its agents.. ■- -^■'■'^ ••''''' "-As s®©n as the treaty was (inislied, the Coramis- siooers imade a prwent'to each Indian of a suit of ciotheSj a brass kettle, a gun an.d tomahawk, a scaiping kni(ej#^c|aantky of powder ^^md lead, -a piece of gold^mwd promised a hA^^m'i^f on every scalp that shau'ild be brought in. Thus richly clad and equipped.,, tbey returned home, after an ab- sence of about, two weeks, fyll of the fjre of war^ iMlli anxious to encoynter thek esieraies. Man*^ A*vV\T-"/ ,*' "'^ ''"'', .. JW| 6l'" ■ '•*; 5jl^ L § ■ ■' Hr'-**' ry.' r Er ' .'*, ■K'^ ^v^'^jmm w ■ ,*.«> ^^m^mM^^^mMlMik ^" - -r^ "»\» '— T' '-'.i '.ri ;.\' '■■? A ■■*.t-. MARY JEMISON. '^jj'-^^i o'uld not >.'>?■■ i-o ;gr: ritreaties ^Avarice;, ^>,e states and that ;»,t «t wa« •ich fHud f'km his ds npo'a if they in iheit , shoiild this the fj Com- ip Brms 1 •vice of 1 (a ted ill govern- suit of awk, a lead ^ a every ly clad ao ah- >f war, [anvof the kettles which jie fndiJins received at that time are now v^Mse on the Genesee Flats^ >^r ^ ' Hired to combust depredations upon the whites^ who ha^ o'^^'" t^6«^ n<3 offence, they waited ?iii««? patiently to commence their- labor, till sometiih^^^ m the spring of 177^1 when i convenient opportu*- oity olTered for them to m^ike an atteek. At that time, a party of our Indians were at Cau-te-ga, who shot a mnn tlwX wnr^ looking after his horse, for the sole purpose, as I was informed by my Ih- dian brother, who ^vas present, of commencing hosti!itfes> ■•^v.i^:^--.^^^'^-^^^ '■' In 'Mny foilov in^, our Indians were in their first battle with the Americans; but at what place I ani unal>!e to determine. While they were absent ai-;; thai time, ray daughter Nancy was born, •^■l-'^l^*^^ The same year, at Qherry Valley, our Indians took a woman and her three daughters prisoners^ and brought them on, leaving one at Canandaigusr^^i one at Honeoy, one at Canaraugus, and one (the woman) at Littkv Beard^s Town, whero I residedv. The woman told iBBfe that she and her daughter^ might have escaped, %ut thai they expected the British armv only, an iner elapsed, they were redtened at Fort Niagara by Col. Butler, who clothed them well, and sent tiiem home. V t* In the same expedkion, Joseph Smith was taken prisoner at or near Cherry Valley, brouglit to Genesee, and detained til! after the nwoluti^r^^ry war. He v»^as then liberated, atid the Indians made him a present, in company with Horatio Jones, of 6(K)0 acres of land lying in the present town of Leicester, in the county of Livingston. t -> mmmmm^ i i<; ^f Hi: dm mm- ^■^■; 'S •*< ^. /•i. ■;„^(^'- m- -A l< ■) ilf V V One of tbe girls just mentioned j was married to a British officer at Fort Niagara^ by the name oi'j Johrisoo, who at the time she was taken, took a g^\d riwgiVok on. Jvl^^ur iodians went, to a man 5 but contrary to th^ir - /f :%xpert'dtioD, instead of smoking: and looking on, > '"^ef were obliged to fight for tiieir lives, and in the end of the batihi were completely beaten, with a great loss in killed and wounded. Our Indians alone had thirty-six killed, and a great number if^ounded. Our town exhibited ascene of real sor- row and distress, when our warriors returned and "Jirecounted their misfortunes, and stated the real ivfJoss they had sustained in the engagement. The ^^ij«bourning was excessive, and was expressed by the j^ shrieks, and how lings, and by "vinimitable gesticulati<>ns. W >^ ' - ii|^?fv^uring the revolution, my house was the home , %0f Col's Butler and Brandt, whenever they chanced •*to come into ^^r neighborhood as they passed to and from FortjMagara^ which was the seat of their military opei4$imis. Many and many a night I Jbave poundefl[*uamp for them from sun-set till sun- "tise, and furnished them with necessary provision aod clean cl^tiing lor t^^ir journ^^i ;| -■• '^\ ^MM ^ MARY JEMISON. yii^i>mym^- f- .-■'■^r-' .-■■m.M:: CHAPTER VII.^.>*»^^^'«.i^ ■ ■ ' ' , ■ ' ',. ■■ -■^- ■■^^^w^^i^*^'^- Gen. Sullivan with a large army arrives at Canand^^ gua.— ^Indians' troubles»~~Determine to stop thm?" march. — Skirmish at Conrie$sius Lake. — Circum«»? stances attending the Execution of an Oneida warrior*. Escape of an Indign. Prisoner.-— Lieut. Bovd andt,!! another man tak^n Prisoners. — Cruelty of BoydV Execution,-"~lndians retreat to the woods. — Sullivan comes on to Genesee Plats and destroys the property of the Indians — Returns. — Indians return. — Mrs; Jemison goes to Oardow. — -Her Employment there.-4^- Attention of an old Negro to her safety, Uc. — Severe Winter.—Sufferings of the Indians. — Destruction of Game.— Indi?.ns' Expedition to the Mohawk. — Cap- ture old John O'Bail, &ic. — Other Prisoners taken, /' '>% Ucp syy:.-^;^.-^ M*-;^. v:^f i-f: ■ i ^.^■f ^ ''ffa*';j^t^<;i: '^"(•■?? Fort four or five years we sustained no loss in the war, except in the few who had been killed in distan* battles; and our tribe, because of the re^jt moteness of its situation from the enemy, felt secure from an attack At length, in the fall of 1779^ intelligence was received that a large and powerful army of the rebels, under the command of General SulI'van, was making rapid progress towards our settlement, burning and destroying the huts ajjd corn-fiplds ; killing: the cattle, hogs and horses, and cutting down the fruit trees belonging to the Indians throughout the country. ? \>-' '^^^^i^ »: Our Indians immediately becatfie alarmed, and suffered f very thing but death from fear that they should be taken bv surprize, and totally destroyed at a single blow. But in order to prevent so great a catastrophe, they sent out a few spies who wefe ,»,»■, . tffllilfmfBMI w ^J.,V 111 ■* r- C-i^i l! 74 LIFE OF, ;^ --ft,;,) '' to keep themselves at a short distance in front of the invading army, in order to watch its operations, and give information of its advances and success. Sullivan arrived at Canandaigua Lake, and had nnished his work of destruction tliere, and it was ascertained that he was ahoqt to march to cur flats, when our Indians resolved to give him battle on the way, and prevent, if possible, the distresses to \vhich they knew we should be subjected, if he should succeed in reaching our town. Accordingly they sent all their women and children into the woods a little west of Little Beard's Town, in order that we might make a good retreat if it sliould be necessary, and then, well armed, set out to face the conquering enemy. The place which they fixed upon for their battle ground lay between Honeoy Creek and the head of Connessius Lakel u;t/i ^!* At length a scouting party from Sullivan's army arrived at the spot selected, when the Indians arose from their ambush with all the fierceness and terror that it was possible for them to. exercise, and directly put the party upon a retreat. Two Oneida Indians were all the prisoners that were taken in that skirmish. One of them was a pilot of Gen. Sullivan, and had been very active in the war, ren- dering to the people of the states essential services. At the commencement of the revolution he had a brother older than himself, who resolved to join the British service, and endeavored by all the art that lie was capable of using to persuade his brother to accompany him; but his arguments proved abortive. This went to the British, and that joined the American army- At this critical juncture they met, one in the^ <;^pacity of a conqueror, the other m fori nizj glaj he hai of nerl fv 'l- i i.S**S'" • f ^f}-'' }• ^ 4'.; v' :"-i f.> „>'■'■» H 4,, I front of erations, juccess. and had )d it was >ur flats, attle on esses to d, if he [)rdingly into the in order ould be face the By fixed ftoneoy ^■ -^v , ■• .- I's aiTfny IS arose d terror le, and Oneida ken in f Gen. ar, ren- rvices. had a to join the art rotlier )roved joined ethey other MARY JEMISOIS* 71 u ^••^?il- in that of a prTsoner ; and as an Indian selctom forgets a countenance that he has seen, they recog- _ nized each other at sight. Envy and rev6nge glared in the features of the conquering savage^s he advanced to his brother (the prisoner) in all tne haughtiness of Indian pride, heightened by a sense of power^and addressed him in the following man- ner: ■■i,t* '■''^.y''-' " " Brother, you have merited death f The hatchet or the war-club shall finish your career ! — When I* begged Of you to follow me in the fortunes of war, you was deaf to my cries — you spurned my entrea- ties ! '-*v-. - • .;>%■.,..?. V,v,/'5^^r^.,:_..^ > v;Vv,\.v*s',.. .. . -■/...,,, "Brother! you liiave merited death arid sn an have your deserts I When the rebels raised theif hatchets to fight their good master, you sharpened your knife, you brightened your rifle and led oa ,>;"•; our foes to the fields of oui fathers' — You have^ /: me:ited death and shall die by our hands! Wheiife^l those rebels had drove us from the fields of 0I^|§ fathers to seek out new homes, it was you who^ could dare to steptbfrtlras their pilot, and conduct them even to the dootfl of our wigwams, to butcher our children and put us to death ! No crinie.can be greater ! — But though you have merited death and shall die on this spot, my hands shall not be stained in the blood of a brother! WJm will strika?^^ Little Beard, who was btaiidiifg by, as soon a^ the speech was ended, struck thf prisoner on the head with his tomahawk, and d^^patched him at once! •- Little Beard th^ti inforrpcd the other Indian prisoner that as they Were af war with the whites only, and not with the Indians, they would spare t .-^t ^->- m*v'. LIFE QF A..-t ^ J ?..,*■< ,-.f:. . V^ ■^ r',A% Rj . ■; ,♦ \1:. I'M ill I' his life, and after a while give him his liberty in an hono)rable manner. The Oneida warrior, however, was jealous of Little Beard's fidelity ; and suspect- ing that he should soon fail by his hands^ watched fSt a favorable opportunity to make his escape ; which he soon eifected. Two Indians were lead*! ing him, one on each side, when he made a violent effort, threw them upon the ground, and run for his lilfe towards where the main body of the Amer- ican |3|r my was encamped. The Indians pur- sued him without success; but in their alisence ' they fell In with a small detachment of Sullivan's men, with whom they had a short but severe Finnish, in which they killed a number of the enemy, took Capt. or Lieut. William Boyd and one private, prisoners, and brought them to Little Beard's Town, where they were sooii after put to death in the most shocking and cruel manner. Little Beard, in this, as in all other scenes of cru- elty that happened at his town, was master of cere- ■> monies, and pi incipal actor. Po^r Boyd was strip- ped of his clothing, and then tied to a sapling, ., where the Indians menaced his life by throwing their tomahawks at the tree^ directly over his htnd, brandishing their scafping knives around him in the most frightful mai[)ner,and accompanyinc: their ceremonies with terrific shouts of joy. Having punished him sujfllinently in this way, they niacfe a small opening in bis abdomen, took out an intes- tine, which they tied to ihe sapling, and then un- bound hinri from the tree, and drove him round it till he had drawn out the whole of his intestines. He wwn then beheaded, his head was stuck upon a pole^ and hiibody left on the ground unburied. i.>. il|^ M f,:-jt '^!' -.JI..U. mm. mmm ^mm mm m "?3fe' •Ay-- ■■•if. . MART JEMiSON. n Thus ended the life of poor WiUiam Boycl^ who, it was said, had every appearance of being ap ac- tive and enterprizing officer, of the first talents. The other prisoner was (if I remember distinctly) only beheaded and left near Boyd. « This tragedy bemg finifjied> our Indians a^liki held a short council on the expediency of givk^ Sullivan battle, if he should continue to advamse^ and finally came to the conclusion that they w«re not strong enough to drive him, nor to pre^iat bi$ taking possession of their fields: but that jip Vras possible they would escape with their own lives, preserve their families^ and leave their possessions to be oven un by the invading army. -^ ^ The women and children were then sent on still further towardB Buffalo, tea large creek that ^as» called by the Indians Catawba, accompanied by a part of the Indians, while the remainder secreted themselves in the woods back of Beard's Town, to watch the movements of the army. At that time I had three children who went witb me on foot, one who rode on horse back, and one whom I carried on my back. Our corn was go<*ui that year; a part of which we had gathered and secuied for winter. In one or two days after ^he skirmish at Connis- sius lake, Sullivan and his army arrived at Genesee liver, where they destroyed every article of the food kind that they could lay their hands on. A pan of our corn they burnt, and threw the remain- der into th*; river. They burnt our houses, killed what few cattle and horaes they could find, des- troyed our fruit trees. and left nothing but th« G r#' 1 r \\ ■, ;v<^, W- I ■:i>,^. :'iif?r mmmmm 74; Life ob!,# ^ilA-'i ".■»'; t^:.>^ ^*0i bare &oil ^md Unnb^r. But the Indians had elcrp^^d and were^ndt to be found. \ Havjmg crossed and recrossed the river^and fin-' iiuied: the work of destruction, the army marched df^p the east. Our Indians saw them move ofT, but spspecting that it w^f . Sullivan's intention to watch our return, and then to take us by surprizei resolved that the main body of our tribe should hunt where we then were, till Sullivan had gone so I !>; Jar tbijkthere would be no danger of his returning M^to mcpltus* , . , This jbeing agreed to, we hunted continually till the Indians concluded that there could be np risk in our once more taking possession of our lands* Accordingly we all returned; but what were our . ie^ings when we found that tlierc was not a mouth- ful of any kind of sustenance left, not even Enough to keep a child one day from perishing with huqger. The weather by this time had beconie cold and stormy; and as we were destitute of Jiouses and food too, I immediately resolved, to tfijke my chil- dren and look out for myself^ without delay. With this intention I took two of py little ones on my back, bade the otlier thr^e follow, and the same night arrived on the Qnldow Hats, where I have eve^: since resided. "Hi At that time, t\^'^negroes, who had run away from their masteraj|^metime before, were the only 1^' inhabitants of those flats. They lived in a small cabin and had planted and raised a large field of corn, which they had not yet harvested. As they were in want of help to secure their crop, I hired to them to husk corn till the whole was harvested. I have laughed a thousand times to myself whea # ":, ;»^ ... .:\ n ■'A- '^^o:.t:m.' MARY JEMISON. ^^•^,.:', 7. {-^^ f5 1 have thought of the good old negro, who hired me, who fearing that I should get taken or injured by the Indians, stood by me constantly when I was husking, with a loaded gun in his hand, in orderifo keep off the enemy, and dierehy lost as much laSor of his own as he received from nte, by paying good wages. I, however, war not displeased with hb attention; for I knew that I shoukl need all the corn that I could earn, even if I should husk the whole. I husked enough fdr them, to gi|lii for myself, at every tenth strii%, one hundred strings' of ears, which were equal to twenty-five bushels of^ shelled corn. This seasonable supply made my^ family comfortable for samp and cakes through th^x succeeding winter, which was the most severe that^V I have witnessed since my remembrance. Tiie| snow fell about five feet deep, and remained so for^ a long time, and the weather was extremely cold;^« so much so indeed, that almost al^ the game upon which the Indians depended for subsistence, per-^ ished, and reduced them almost to a state of star- vation through ^at and three or four succeeding years. When the snow melted in the spring, deer were found dead upon the ground in vast numbers; and other animals, of every description, perished from the cold also, and were found dead, in multi- tudes. Many of our people barely escaped with their lives, and some actually died of hunger and freezing'. -, But to return from this digressbn : Having been completely routed at Little BeardVTown, deprived of a house, and without the means of building one in season, after T had finished my husking, and having found from the short acquaintance which I #:. ■ *i ' ■. ■■V-K "t^' iV-^;' '^■'^cf-: wmmmmm m I ill! 76 LIFE OP vV had had with the negroes, that they were kind and ff Mildly, I concluded, at their request, to tnke up my residence with them for a while in their cabin, tili I should be able to provide a hut for myself. I lived more comfbrtabie than i expected to through the winter, and the next season made a shelter fojr myself. The negroes continued on my flats two or three yeard after this, and then left them for a place that they expected would suit them much better. But as that land became ^y own in a few years, by virtue of a deed from the Chiefs of the Six Nation*, I have lived there from that to the present time. My flats were cleared before 1 saw them; and it wais the opinion of the oldest Indians that were at Genishau, at the tkne that I first wept thi^e, that all th# flats on the Genesee river were improved b' ^ i« '«v ■->. of Johnston commanded the British in the expedi-' tion. The force was large, and so^rongly bent upon revenge and vengeance, that seemingly no- thir jr could avert its march, nor prevent its depre- dations. After leaving Genesee they marched directly to some of the head waters of the Susque- hannah river, and Schoharie Creek, went down that creek to the Mohawk river, thence up that river to Fort Stanwix, and from thence came home. In their route they burnt a number of places; de- stroyed all the cattle and other property that fell in their way; killed a number of white people, and brought home a few prisoners. *^In that expedition, when they came to Fort- C'^ Plain, on the Mohawk river. Corn Planter and a f party of his Indians took old John O'Bail, a white man, aM made him a prisoner. Old John O'Bail, in his younger days had fret|uently passed ftirough' the Indian settlements that lay between the Hud- son and Fort Niagara, and in some of his excur- simii had become enamored with a squaw, by 'S^^l whom he hatj A son that was called Corn Planter. ^ Corn Planter,i(Vds a chief of considerable emi- nence ; and having^ been inforn^ed of his*parentage and of the place of his father's residence, took the old man' artftis time, m order that he might make an introduction le^urely, and become ac; quainted with a man to whom, though a stranger, he was satisfied that he owed his existence. After he had taken the old «Hin, his father, he led him as a prisoner .ten or li^elve miles up tlie river, and then stepped before him, faced about, and addressed him in the following terms : — Mv name is John O'Bail, Commonly cidl^d '2 « y>.\^;: ■->'■' ..*. i'.' ..■■.4«.- V ■%' ■I^.M ^\%L mmm \' m m III' i Vk LIFE Oy^ ;/. \A V QoiEthFlaqterf 1 am your 8on ! you arc my father ! y^u are now my prisoner, and subject to tt^e cu^tops of Indii^a warfare: but you shall not be: hanmed;; you need not fear. I am a warrbr!, Iffj^y are the scalps which I have taken ! Many frjsoneris I ha^a tortured to death ! I am your son ! am.a WiSMrfior! I^yas anxious^, to see you, and to i greQt you ip friendship. I went to your cabin and; took, you by force ! But your lifef shall be spared. Indians love ttieir friends and their kindred, and tfeat theno^ with kindness. If now you choose to f<^llQW the fortune of your yellow son, and to live with our people, 1 will cherish your old age with {plenty of venison, andyou shall live easy : But if it is your choiceto return to your fields and live with youi^ white children, I will send a party of my trusty young men to conduct you back ip safety. Iresped you,.my father; you have been friendly to Indians, and they are your friends." Old John chose, to return. Corn Planter, as good as. his word, ordered an escort to attend him ^<^e, which they did with the greatest care. Amongst the prisoners that w^re brought to Genesee, \vas William Newkirk, a man by the i^ajme of Price, and two negroes. Price lived a while witii Little Beard, and after- wards with Jack Beriy, an Indian, When he left Jack.B^ri-y; Ixe w§P^ ^^ Niagara, wliere hfrobw re- sides. XV •■4 . 'i^"''^ ' ■ Newkirk wasbrouglit to Beard's Town, and lived with Little Beard and at Fort Niagara about one year, and then enlisted under Butler, and went with hiin on an expedition to the Monong^iela^ i^- ^.- MARY JEMI30N. ^ il i -?- 79 f» W CHAPTER Vm. Life of Ebene2€r Allen, a Tory. — He comes towil|#(t dow. — His intimacy with a Nanticoke Squaw.— Shet gives him a Cap.— if er Husband's jealousy. — Cruelty to his Wife. — Hiokatoo's Mandate.— Allen supports^ lier. — Her Husband is received into favor .^Allen la- „ bors,— Purchases Goods.-Stops the Indian War.~-His troubles with the Indians. — Marries a Squaw.— Is taken and carried to Quebec. — Acquitted. — Goes to Philadelphia; — Returns to Genesee with a Store of Goods, he. — Goes to Farming.^ — Moves to Allen's Creek. — Builds Mills at Rochester. — Drowns a Dutchman. — Marries a white Wife.— Kills an old Man. — Gets a Concubine. — Moves to Mt. Morris. — Marries a third Wife and gets another Concubine.-— > Receives a tract of Land. — Sends his Children to ' other States, foe. — Disposes of his Land.— Moves to Grand R ver, where he dies. — :His Cruelties. SQitietiine near the close of the revolutionary war/a ^vhite man by the nanne of Ebenezer Allen^ left his people in the state of Pennsylvania on the account of some disaffection towards his country- men, and came to the Genesee river, to reside with the Indians. He tarried at Genishau a few days, and came up to Gardow, i^rhero I then resided.— He was, apparently, without any business that would support him ; but he saon became acquaint- ed with my son Thomas, with whom he hunted for a long time, and made bis home with him a^ my house ; win]ter came on, and he continued his|^ stay, -i^^ar. ^ :^^- \ t Whea Allen came to my house, I had a white man living on «iy land, \d[»^had a Nanticoke ;fev» <> :-r-' = V 'lw|?iaw for his mfe^ with whom he had lived very ' peaeei^bly | for he v/as a moderate mao commonly, a?rd^ie was a kiod^ genrJe, ciisnoing creature. It so ^>peo<^d that he had no hay for his cattle; so that? in the wintei' he was obliged to drive them every d7Ay^ perhaps ha!f a niile from his ho^jse, to let thesn feed on rushes, ¥/hich m those days were so rmmerous as to nearly cover the ground. Alieri having freqiieotly seen the »,quaW' id the fall, took the opportrioity wheo her husbar^d was sibsent with Im cov/«j d^'ily to make her a visit ; mid m return for hjs kindnesses she made and gave lijm a red cap finished and decorated in the highest Indian style. The husband had for some considerable length of fjnie feit a degree of jealousy that Allen was trespassing npon him with the consent of his |.8quaw ; but when he saw Allen dressed in so fine ■'an Indian cap^ and found that his dear Nanticoke had presented it to liimj his doubts all left h'lm^ mid he became so violently enraged thathecaujiyht her by the liair of Jser heady dragged her on the ground to my lnouse, a distance of foity rodsj and threw her in at the door, Hiokntoo, my husband, exasperated at the sight of so much ioliumanjty, Jiastily took down his old tomahawk, which for '%while had lain idle, shook it over the cuckold's he-adf And bade him jogo (i. e. go olT.) The en- raged husband, well knowing that he should feel a blow if he waited to hear the order re|X5ated, in- stantly retreated, and wefty. down the river to his cattle. We jprotected the poor Nanticoke wo- man, and gave }wr viclnals;, and Alien sympathi- zed wi^h^|iier,m Jifjr misfortunes till spring, when 4-1* ;./ ,v^ :; MAI^ JEMISON. ' 81 herhusfiiaifidcatrie to fi^^ir, acknowledged his former errors^ and that he had abused her without a eause, promised a reformation, and she received hinf^ith every mark of a renewal of her affection. They went home lovingly, and soon after removed to Niagara. The same spring, Allen commenced working my fiatSj and continued to labor there till after thie peace in 1783, H«» then went to Philadelphia on soone busmess that detained him but a few days, and returned with a horse and some dry goods, which he caiTied to a place that h now called Mount Morris, where lie built or bought a small house. The British and Indians on the Niagara frontie#^ dissatisfied with the treaty of peace, were deter- ntiined, at all hazards, to continue their depreda- tions upon the white settlements which lay between them and Albany. They actually made ready, and were about setting out on an expedition to that effect, when Allen (who by this time understood their customs of war) took a belt of wampum, which he had fraodulently procured, and carried it as a token of peace from the Indians to the com- mander of the nearest American military post. The Indians were soon answered by the Amer- ican officer that the wampum was cordially accept- ed J and, that a continuance of peace was ardent- ly wished for. The Indians, at this, were cha- grined and disappointed beyond measure ; but as they held the wampum to be a sacrf d thing, they dared not to go against the impljt of its meaning, and imWdiatelv burled the hatcpet os it respected the people of the United StatefR and smoked the 4- • % m nng^^ TW firiW-'^pW"^'"" 'm 1 " 1 1 1 , 1 :A 'i IHif 1» 1 i^Hv ■ I. i 1 1 82 ■art* . ,* LIFE OF ■M- *pipe of peace. They, however, resolved to pun- ish Allen for his officiousness in meddling with theJif national affairs, by presentinjjf the sacred ^ampum without thei? knowledge, and went about devising means for his detection. A party was accordingly despatched from Fort Niagara to a|i- prehend him ; with orders to conduct him to that post for trial, or for safe keeping, till such time as his fate shouid be determined uppn in a legal man- ner. .:>>,; ,, The party came on ; but before it arrived at '(jardow, Allen got news of its approach, and fled for safety, leaving the horse and goods that he had brought from Philadelphia, an easy prey to his enemies. He had not been long absent when they arrived at Gardow, where they mad Jigent search for him till they were satisfied that they could not find him, and then seized the effects which he had left, and returned to Niagara. My son Thomas, went with them, with Allen's horse, and carried the goods. Allen, on finding that his enemies had gone, came back to my house, where he lived as before ; but of his return they were soon notified at Niaga- ra, and Nettles (who married Priscilla Ramsay) with a small party of Indians came on to take him. He, however, by some means found that they were near, and gave me his box of money and trinkets to keep safely, till he called for it, and again took to the woods. v ^r Nettles came on determined at all eveiits to take him before he went back ; and, in order to accom- plish his design, he, with his Indians, hunted in the day time and lay by at night at my house, and in t. .*■ V- ■- ,v ■ .'1^1'..' '.r'*!*^--V -'»,- •% '^^ MARY JEMISON. 8S that Way tliey prsifetiM! Ibr a number of dayll Allen watched the motion of his pursuers, and every night after they had gone to rest, came home and got some food, and then returned to his retreat. It was in the fall, and the weather was cold and rainy, so that he suffered extremely. Some nigl>ts he sat in my chamber till nearly day-break, while his enemies were below, and when the time arrived I assisted him to escape unnoticed. Nettles at length abandoned the chase — wen home, and Allen, all in tatters, came in. By run- ning in the woods hi^ clothing had become torn into rags, so that he was in a suffering condition, almost naked. Hiokatoo gav^pni a blanket, and a piece of broadcloth for a P"'*^ trowsers. Allen made his trowsers himself, and uien built a raft, on which he went down the river to his own place at Mount Morris. .. , About that time he married a sqliaw, whose name was Sally. The Niagara people finding that he was at his own htiupe, came and took him by surprize when he least expected them, and carried him to Niaga- ra. Fortunately for Kim, it so happened that just as thev arrived at the fort* a house took lire and his keepers all left him to save the building, if pos- sible. Allen had supposed his doom to be nearly sealed; but finding himstilf at liberty he took to his heels, left his escort to put out the fire, and ran to Tonnawanta. There an Indiah gave him some refreshment, and a good gun, with which he has- tened on to Little Beard^s Town, whc re he found his squaw. Not daring to risk himself at that place ■im ttwiifealii mm % 111 w Mi .;*,r 'V ■f. . ■• • it.! t. ^.;,,^^V .LIFE O¥0^4 for fear of being given up, he made her but a short visit, and came immediately to Gardow. ^ Just as he got to the top of the hill above the Gardow flats, he discovered a party of British sol* diers and Indians in pursuit of him ; and in fact they were so near that he was satisfied that titey saw him, and concluded that it would be impossible for him to escape* The love of liberty, however, added to his natural swiftness, gave him sufficient strength to make his escape to his former castle of safety. His pursuers came immediately to my house, where they expected to have found him secreted, and under my protection. They told me where they had se|iM|im but a few moments before, and that they wernRnfident that it was within my power to put him iffto their hands. As I was per- fectly clear of having had any hand in hi^ escape, I told them plainly that I had not seen him since he was taken to Niagara, and that I could give ^,them no information at all respecting him. Still ^iinsatisfie^, and doubting my veracity, they advised iny Indian bi^other to use his influence to draw from me the secret of his concealment, which they had an idea that I considered of great importance, not only to him but to myself. I persisted in ray igno- rance of his situation, and finally they left me. * Although I had not seen .illen, I knew his place of secmity, and was well aware that if I told them the place where he had Ibrnaedy hid himself, they would have no diilculty in naking him a prisoner. He came to my liouse in the nighty and awoke me with the greatest vi*«iiOn, tearing that some of : |}is enemies mifht b^ watching to tstke him at a ''4*':.>- .v^. % ^iJ. '.'I f. MARY JEMISON. •#■ time when, and in a place where it would he im- possible for him to make his escape. I got up and assured him that he was then safe; but that his enemies would return early in the morning and search him out if it should be possible. Havin'^ given him some victuals, which he received thanks fully, I told him to go, but to return the next night ' to a certain c«mer of the fence near my house where he wruld find a quantity of meal that I would have well prepared and deposited there for his use. Early the next morning, Nettles and his compa- ny came in while I was pounding the meal for Allen, and insisted upon ray giving him up. I again told them that I did not know where he was, and that I could not, neither would I, tell them any thing about him. 1 well knew that Allen considered his life in my hands; and although i| was my intention not to lie, I was fully determined to koep his situation a profound secret. They continued their labor and examined (as they sup* posed) every crevice, gully, tree and hollow leg in the neighboring woods, and at last concluded tlMt he had left the country, and gave him up for Isst, and went home. At that time Allen lay in a secret place inAe gulph a short distance nbm^e w.v fiats, is a hriki that he accidentally fotsnd m the rock n^ar the river. At night he came and got t!^ mem mxbe corner of the fence as I had directed him, afid afterwards lived in the gulph two weeks. Each pight he came to the pasture «■§ milked one if my cows, without any other v ^ Having secured the land, in that way, to himself, he sent his two Indian girls to Trenton, (N. J.) and his white son to PhiTadelphin, for the purpose of giving each of them a respectable English edu- cation. "f^^ ^ ■ H2 \:) /'-.' V- rr':. Mli •^rw^ 0' If 11 i.;', 90 LirE OF ^J . -v^' <^ While his children were at school^ he went to Philadelphia, and sold his right to the laud which he had hegged of the Indians for his children to Robert Morris. Af^ei* that, he sent for his daugfb^ ters to come home, which they did. Having disposed of the whole of his pr6pai^ on the Genesee river, he took his two white wives and their children, toj^fether with his effects, an^ removed to a Delaware town on the river Dei Trench, in Upper Canada. When he left Mft Morris, Sally, his squaw, insisted upofi going witii him, and actually followed him, crying bitterly, and praying for his protection some two or three miles, till he absolutely bade her leave him, or he would punish her with severity. ^ & '':.i^''U A\ length, finding her case hopeless, she return- ed to the Indians, s -, Vv^lrfx. '^f%^^\'p}x^^^:^£^ At the great treaty at Big Tree, one x)f Allen^ daughters claimed the land which he had sold to Morris. The claim was examined and decided against her in favor of Ogden, Trumbull, Rogti3 and others, who were the creditors of Robert Mor- ris. Allen yet believed that his daughter had an indisputable right to the land in qiiestion, and got me to go with mother Farly,ia half Indian woman^ to assist him by interceding with Morris for it, and' to urge the propriety of her claim. We went to Thomas Morris, and having stated to him our bu- siness, lie told us plainly that he had no land to give away, and that as the title was good, he nev- er would allow Allen^ nor his heirs, one foot, or words to that effect. We returned to Allen tH ■i V] <^ /}. V ^l >^ '^ '/ Photographic Sciences Corporation ^^:vQ 2j \mest main street webster, n.y. !4580 (716) 872-4503 ! 'i!**' ■<-il.: : £ ■■■WP *i"il ■\iv m LIFE OFf ^ , ten heard him speak of that transaction with a great degree of sorrow^ and as thefou^.e&t crime he had ever committed--,\ tg'^ •j'.i; V * 'i «^=&i i« CHAPTER IX. .0' ■■'*■ ^'■ Mrs. Jemison has liberty togo to her Friends. — Chooses ; ,^>, to stay. — Her Jleasons, fee— ^Her Indian Brother / makes provision for her Settlement. — He go^s td Grand River and diesv— Her Love tor him, &c. — She is presented with the Gardow Reservation. — Istroub- led by Speculators.—Desciiption of tl^e Soil, fcc. of ^ her Flats. — Indian notions of the ancient Inhabitants of this Country. ; Soon after the close of the revolutionary war, Imy Indi; n brother, Kaii-jises-tau-ge-au (which be- ing interpreted signifies Black Coals,) offered me ^^y liberty, and told me that if it was my choice I ^naight go to my friends. My son, Thomas, was anxioiiSstliat I should go ; and ojffered to go with me j^nd assist me on the journey, by taking care of the younger children, and providing food aswe travelled through the wil- derness. But the Chiels o>f our triW, suspecting from his a[|tpearanc^i actions^ and a iew warlike ,, exploits, th^t Thoinas would be a great warrior, Ot a good counsellor,^ refused to let him leave them on any account whatever. To go myself, and leave him, was ipore than 1 fbit able to do ; for he had been kiad to me^ and was one on who^I placed gi:e|t depeadeiuse.'' '.The ^*'H»' *! 4 MARY JEMrSON. 98 DO With a crime W have na -Ghooset 1 Brother goes tq fcc— She -Is trouI>« n, &G. of habitants ry war, hich be- ered me choice I )uld go; J on the hildren, thewil- pecting warJike rrior,4r ? them than 1 % and The Chi^/s refusing to let him go, was bite reason for my resolving to stay ; but another, more powerful, if possible, was, that I had got a large family of Indian ehildren, that I must take with me; and that iC I should be so fortunate as to find my rela- tives^ ^ey would despise them, if not myself ; and treat as as ene^nies; or, at least with a de- gree of cold mciifrerence, which I thought I couM not endure. AtiCibrditigty, after II had duly considered the matter, I told my brother that it was my choice to stay and spend the reminder of my days with my Indian fjridrids, and live with my fa^iily as 1 had heretofore 4on^' He appeared well )[>leased with my resoltitihn^ and informed ine, that as that was my choice^ I should have a piece 0f knd that I could call my own, where IcouM live unmolested, and haive som^hig at my decease to leave for the benefit of il>y children. Ir a short time he made himself ready to go to Upper CdtntMla ; but before he lefl us, he tola me that he wouM speak to some of the Chiefs at Buf- falo, to attend mib great Council, which he expect- ed wpmld convene in a few years at farthest, and ronvliy to me such a trd:et of land as I should se- lect. My brother left us, as he had proposed, and «on af^er died at Grand Riv^r. Kaujisestaugeau, was an excellent man, and ev- er treated me with kindness^ Perhaps no one of his tribe at any time exceeded him in natural mild- ness of temper, and warmth and tenderness of af- fection. If he had taken my Ufe^Bt the tim(^ wlualti thf ^vartce of the old King inclined him to {ir^lare tfi^ mancipation, it would hi.ve been Aoae wWit SSL wmummm w^ 94 LIFE (m^M :'^ "^S' ii^'^:: r «.;><.■ pure heart and from good motives. He loved his fViends ; and was generally beloved. During the time that I lived in the family with him, he never ofifered the most trifling abuse; Oii the contrary, bis whole conduct towarios me was strictly honorable, I mourned his loss aei that of a tender brothe^^^ and shall recollect him through life with emotion^ of friendship and gratitude. 1 lived undisturbed, without hearing a word on the subject of my land, till trie great CotihcH inras held at Big Tree, in 1797> when Farmer^s 6rotH> er^ whose Indian name is Ho-na-ye-wus, sent for iiie to attend the council. When I got there, he told me that my brother had spoken to him to see ^that I had a piece of land reserved for myus^; and that then was the time for me to receive it*-* He requested that I would choose for myself and describe the bounds of a piece that would siiit me. I accordingly told him the plai^ Qf beginning, and then went roond a tract tnat 1 judged wpuld be sufficient for my purpose, (knowing that it would include the Gardow Flats^) by stating certain bounds with which I was acquainted. When the Council was opened, and the busi- ness afforded a proper opportunity, Farmer's Brother presented my claim, and rehearsed the re- quest of my .brother* Red Jacket, whose Indi name is Sagu-yu-what-hah, which interpreted Keeper-awake, opposed me or my claim with his influence and eloquence. Farmer's Brother insisted upon the necessity, propriety and expedi- ency of his proposition, aiid got the land granted. The deed was made and signed, securing to me the title to all tfa^ land I had described ^ iKi^r the i:*^. A. >uriflg the he never onorable, the|;.aiid »otioo$ of 5 word on incil was s Brotfe. sent for fjere, he 01 to isee my U8^ j !ve it*^ se!f and suit me, »ng,and 'QuId be t would pertain le bu&i- irmer's the re- Indi ted ruther cpedi- mted. ^^me ^rthe '■.-^ ^ MARY JEMISON. 95 same restrictions and ret^ulations that other Indian lands are subject to. Th^tland has ever since been known by the name of the Gardow Tract. Red Jacket not only opposed my claim at the Council, but he withheld ray paoney two or three yearo^ on the ucoount of my lands having been grah(«d without Ji Is consent. Parrish and Jones at iengdi convinced him that it was tlie white pea- pie, and not the Indians who had given me the land, and compelled him to pay over all the mon* ey which he had retained on my account. My land derived its name, Gardow, from a hill that is within its limits, which is called in the Sen* eca language Kau-tam. Kautam when interpreted signifies up and down, or down and up, and is applied to a hill that you will ascend and descen in passing it; or to a valley. Tt has been said that Gardow was the name of my husband Hiokatoo, and that my land derived its name from hirj; that however was a mistake, for the old man always considered Gardow a nickname, and was uniformly oHended when called by it. About three hundred acres of my lahd, when I first saw it, was open flats, lying on the Genesee River, which it is supposed was cleared by a race of inhabitants who preceded the first Indian settle- ments in this part of the country. The Indians are confident that many parts of this country were settled and for a number of yeai^ occupied by peo- ple of whom their fathers never had any tradition, 83 they never had seen them. Whence those peo- ple originated, and whither they went, I have never heard one of our oldest and wisest Indians pretend ,ii*.-^y^BiS? ■^-^^^«f- m^ w^m'^:' vr» 96 LIFE OF to ffue«s. When I first came to Geimhau, ^ hnk of Fall Brook !iad just siid off and exposed a large number of human bones, #bich the Indiana said were buried there long before their fathers ever taw the place; and that tliey did not know whc: kind of people they were. It however was tfid isf believed by our peoplei that they were not Iiidtes. My fiats were extremely fertitef but needed), more labor than my daughters and nnyself weiii able to perform, to produce a sufficient qo«ii^^l»( grain, find other necessary productions of the eMbL for the consumption of our family. The land haa lain uncultivated so long that it was thickly covered with weeds of almost eveiy descriptiosi. In ordet ^hat we might live more easy, Mr. Parrish^ with the consent of the chiefs, gave me liberty to lease or ^let my land to white people to till on shares. I -Accordingly let it put, and have continued to do so, which makes my task less burthensome, wlnle at th^ same time I am more comfortably suppHed with the means of support. :.;':'i^- !.;'* *.S-kV'..'.. CHAPT Happy situation of her FWrtily. — Disagreement between her sons Thomas and John. — Her Advice to them, fee. — John kills Thomas. — Her Affliction. — Council. Decision of the Chiefs, foe— Life of Thomas. — His Wives, Children, &tc.--Cause of his Death, fee. ■I-- - ' ■ ■ ♦ - • . , ■ I HAVE fVequentiy heard it asserted by white people, and can truly say from my own experience, ;>..:.<'• ^^■' MARY JEMISON. 97 that t)ie time at which parents take the most satis- faction and comfort with their families is when their children are young, incapable of providi|Tg for their own wants, and are about the fireside^ where they can be daily observed and instructed* Few mothers, perbaps, have bad less, trouble with their childifeii during their mihonty than my- self* In general, my children wisre friiendly to each otbei!!, and it was very seldom that I knew the^tohava the least difiference or qurtrrel: so fai*^ indeed, were they from rendering tbeinselve9 on me uncomfortable, that I considered myself happy-*-more so than commonly falls to the lot of parents, especidly to women. My happiness in this respect, however, was not without allay ; for my son Thomas, from some cause unknown io me, from the time he was n small lad, always called his brother John^ a witch, which was the cause, as they grew towards man^ hoody of frequent and severe quarrels between them, and gave me much trouble and anxiety for their safety. After Thomas and John arrived to manhood, tri addition ta the former charge, John got two wives, with whom he lived till the time of his death. Although polygamy was tolerated in our tribe, Thomas considered it a violation of good and wholesome rules in society, and tending di- rectly to destroy that irtendly social intercourse and love, that ought to be the happy result of mpt- rimony andi chastity. Consequently^ he frequent- ly reprimanded John, by tc^lling him that his conduct was beneath the dignt^, i^nd inconsistent with the jprinc^ples of good Indup^ ; indecent and unbecoiHilig a gentleman ; and, as be never qould I "^NP^HWI ^PPP 98 •% LIFE OP reconcile himself to it, he was frequently, almost constantly, when they were together, talking to him on the same suljjeet. John always resented such reprimand, and reproof, with a great de* greei>f passion, though they never quarfelled, iin<' less Thomas was intoxicated. In his fits of drunkenness, Thomas s^med to lose all his natural reason, and to conduct like a wild or cra^y man, without regard to relntivea, «te- cenqy or propriety. At such times he often tikreat^ ened to take my Hie for having raised a witch, («8 be called John,; and has gone so far as to raise his toi^^awk to split my head. He, however, never ,striji% me ; but on John's account he struck Hiok-^ atoo, and thereby excited in John a high degree of indignation, which was extinguished only by blood. For a number of years their difficulties, and consequent unhappiness, continued and rather- ;;:> creased, continually exciting in my breast the most fearful apprehensions, and greatest anxiety for their safety. With tears in my eyes, I advised them to become reconciled to each other, and to be friendly ; told them the consequences of their continuing to cherish so nviik malignity and mal- ice, that it would end in their destruction, the dis* grace of their families, and bring me down to the grave. No one can conceive of the constant trouble that I daily endured on their account^— on the account of my two oldest sons, whom I loved equally, and with a]|||he feelings and affection of a tender mother, ^i^lated by an anxious con- cern for their fkti^jflirents, mothers especially, will love their childb^, though ever so unkind and i. ^•i'i^n,v MARY JEMISON. 99 disobedient. Their eyes of compassion, of real sentimental affection, will be involuntarily extend- ed after them, in their greatest excesses of iniqai* ty; and tliose fine filaments of consanguinity, which gehtly entwine themselves around the heart where nlial love and parental care Is equal, will be lengthened, and enlarged to cords seemingly of sufficient strength to reach and reclaim the wan- derer. I know that such exercises are frequently unavailing; but, notwithstanding their ultimate failure, it still remains true, and ever will, that the bve of a parent for a disobedient child, will in- crease, and grow more and more ardent, so long as a hope of its reformation is capable pf stimmting a disappointed breast* My advice and erpostulatiens with my sons were abortive ; and year after year their disaffec- tion for eaeb other increased. At length, Thoni* as came to my house on the 1st day of July, 1811, in my absence, somewhat intoxicated, where he found John, with whom he immediately commen- ced a quarrel on their old subjects of differences- John's anger became desperate*^ He caught Thomas by the hmt of his head, dragged him.out at the door and ther^iylled him, by a blow which he gave him on the H^ad with his tomahawk! I returned soon after, and found ikys^n lifeless at the doer, on the spot whc^e he was killed I No one can judge of my feelings on seeing this mourn- ful spectacle ; and what grei^y added tp my dis- tress, was the fact that he had fallen by the mur- derous hand of his brother T I fe^ my situation un- supportable. Having paftse4^ through various scenes of trouble of the most cri|^l and trying kind, • .100 ^fi^—g^^i<.,wmf'. . v'<''t MARY JfiMISQN., 101 ( /■ said to be of a superior cast, and he soared above the trifling subjects of revenge^ which are common amongst Indians, as being far beneath his atten- tion. In his childish ^ud boyisb days, his natural turn wi^s to pcacti|e in the art of war, though be despised the cru^ties that the warriors inflicted upon their subjugated enemie9. He was manly in bis deportment, courageous and active ; and com- manded respect. Though he appeared well pleas- ed with peace, he was cunninff in lodtan warfare^ and succeeded to admiration m the execution of his plans. ^L'.- 1 ^ ■.■^%, • * ' * At the age of fourteen or fifteen years, bv weiit into the war with manly fortitude, armecf'iHth a tomahawk and scalping knife; and when here- turned, brought one white man a prisoner, whom he had taken with his own hands, on the west branch of the Susquehannah river. It so happen- ed, that as he was looking out for his enemies, he discovered two men boiling sap in the woods. He ^ watched them unperceived, till dark when he ad- vanced with a noiseless step to where they were standing, caugblt one of them before they were apprized of danger, and conducted him to the camp. He was well treated while a prisoner, anij redeemed at the dose of the war. :^ At the tin[ic ifcaujisestaugfeau gave me my liberie ty to go to my friends, Thomas was anxious to go with me ; but as I have befoniiobserved, the Chiefe would not suffer him to leave them on the account of his courage and skill in wsir: expecting that they should need his assistance. He was a great Counsellor and a Chief when (Ifite young; and in he last capacity, went two or tliJree times to Phila- destroy them, &ic. — Is met by a Traitoi, — Batti< . - Crawford's Men surprized. — Irregular Retreat — Crawford and Doct. Night taken. — Council.- Ora^'^- ford Condemv»e'i and Burnt. — Aggravating i^ircujn- stances. — Night is sentenced to be Burnt. — IsPiirtT-' ed by Hmkatoo. — Is conducted off, &lc. — fl?s Ir>rtt|» nate Escape. — Hiokatoo in the Freiich 'Wartal:*?^ Col. Canton.— His Sentence.— Is bound on a wild' Colt that runs loose three days. — Returns Alive.— Isr made to run the Gauntlet. — Gets knocked down-, - fcc. — Is Redeemed and sent Home.— Hiokatoo's Enrpity to the Cherokees, Sic. — His Height — ^. Stt-ength— Speed, &1C. -^^I, Jt-vt- In tlie inontK of Nov6int)er 18H, my husban^ tliokatoo, who had been sick four years of the consurnptioD, died at the advanced age of Qpe hundred and three yeitirs, as nearly as the/^ili^e could be estimated. He was the last that reMj3!xi-_ ed to me of our family connection, or rather pfmy old friends with whom I wa^sidopted,exceptapart of one famiiy, which now lives at Tonewanta. Hiokatoo was buried decently, and had all the insignia of a veteran warrior burled with h\uy coi)- sisting of a war ciubi tomahawtc and scalpibg kiiill^i "':yh, x^:^' 104 f'lfc ■ '4 LIFE OF ^€ ■V a powclei>flask, Hint, a piece of spunk, a small cake and a cup^ and in his best cbtliing.^ Hiokatoo was an old man wheii I first saw him; but lie was by no means enervated. During the ttetrin of nearly fifty years that I lived with him, I received, according to Indian customs, all the kind- ness and attention that was my due as his wife«^^ Although war was his trade from his youth till old age and decrepitude stopt his career, he uniformly treated me with tenderness, and never offered an m , tiit/t* #?^^%^%j- f. ^X insult. ,._ . . I have fre(Juently heard him repeat the history of his life from his childhood ; and when he came to that part which rt'uted to his actions, his bravery and his valor in war ; when he spoke of the am- ^bush, the combat, the spoiling of his enemies and the sacrifice of the victims, his nerves seemtjd strung with youthful ardor, the warmth of the able warrior seemed to animate his frame, and to produce the heated gestures which he had practised in mid- die age. He was a man of tender feelings to his friends, ready and willing to assist them in distress, yet, as a warrior, his cruelties to his enemies per- haps were unparalleled, and will not admit a word of palliation- Ai y/''\:i^.-ij.:j^- , Hiokatoo, was born in onfe'of the tribes of the Six Nations that inhabited the banks of the Sus- 4iuehannah ; or, rather he belonged to a tribe of the Senecas that made, at the time of the great Indian treaty, a part of those nations. He was own cousin to Farmer's Brdther, a Chief who has beei|| justly celebrated for Jiis worth. Their mothers were sisters, and it was through the influence of Farmer's Brother, that I became Hiokatoo's wife. ^ -iV. ■» ■. ■ Vj ■wtss^" H MAItr JfiMI^ON. U5 #ln early lifb/lihl>kiitob slitmed signs of Atrsclbt blood, by attending oiiiy to the art of war, in thf uieof th6 toniali&#^ and i^dping knife ^ and in practising criieM^t tifon every thing that chati^ to M\ into hi8fianii|%l|ich was susceptible^ p^in. In that way he t^eiiiliejl to u^e his itiipleinents <^ war efi^ctitally^ atit at the slnne tiri^e bhinted alt those fine feelings and tender sympf^ies ihfiit ain^ nati^faliy excited, by hewing or se|ln^> a leli^ being in distress. lie could inflict the tiiostexc^a- ciattng tortures upon his eit^ttiies, atid ]k?ided him^ self upon his fortitude, in Mvfh^ peilbrmed idi0 mosl barbarous (Ceremonies and id^ures, Withoi^ the leaiidegiree of pity or remorsipi. 'Thus qualille^, when very young he was initiated into scene! tf carnage, by hein^ engaged in the wars diat pre- vailed amotigst the Indian tribes. In the year ITSI, he Was appointed a runner, to assist in COlI^ing an annv to g0 against th4 Cotawpes, Cherokees and other sbuthern Indiana. A lar^eariny was collected, and aller a Ipng add fatiguing itiarch, met its enemies i^ PfhM w^ then called the <' low, dark and bloody lailds>^' nesurlh^ mouth of Red River, in what is now called the state of Kentucky.* The Cotawpest and their assocl- * Those powerful armies mst mkr the pliiCc tfejitif tibw called ClarksvUle, which is sittiP.ted tit the fbrk where Red River joins the Cumberland, a few niiies above the line between Kerrtucky an«]( Tentaessee, x^^ ~t The Author acknowledges himself unacquaintlrd, from Indian history, with a nation of this name; but as 90 yearsr have elapsed since the date of (his oiMHirrence, it is highly^ ^ probable that such a nation did exist; and that it was ^9b- lulely ext«!rminated at thai eventful period. ^ ; i - ^ ^ "wr- wf^fwmsm' iJP ^.|"W>| tmr mmm ^am 106 LIFE OF i^-i. BtJS9f had, by some means, been apprized of their approach, and lay in amb«ish to talc^ them at once, when they shdu Id cotYi^ within their reach, and destroy the whole army. The rioil!hem Indians, with tiieif usual sagacity, disjc^vered the situation of their' enemies, rushed upon the ambuscade and massacred 1200 on the spot The hatt.*« continued for two days and two nights, with the otmost severity, in which the northern fndinrts were vieto- rious, and so far succeeded in destroying ihM Cotawpes that they at that tifne ceased to 'be a- nation. The victors 8uSer*ed i^n immense loss in killed^bbt gained the hunting ground, which was ^ their grand pl^ect, though the Cherokees would not giVe it uj^ln a treaty, or consent to make peace. Bows aiid arrows, at that tiriNe,A^r^ in general use, though a few guns were dm ployed. From that time he #as engaged in a number of battles ip which Indians only were engaged, and made fighting his business, till the ikimmencement of the French war. In those battles he took a number of Indians prisoners, whom he killed by tying them to treeis and then setting small Indian boys to shooting at them with arrows, till death finished the misery of the sufferers ; a process that frequently took two days for \u completion ! During the French war he was in every battle that was fought o)1 the Susquehannah and Ohio rivers ; and was so fortunate as never to iiave been taken prisoner. s At Braddock^s defeat he took two white prisal- ers, and burnt them alive in a (ire of his own kind' In 1777, he was in the battle at Fort Freehind, • ■:m^ '>■.*,• .4- J4ARY JEMISON. iibr in Northumberland county, Penr^. The fort cpth tained a great Dumber of women and chiidren, alid was defended oiily by a small garrison. The force that went against it consisted of 100 British .vigiu- lars, commanded Ma Col. JVlcDonald, and 300 Indians iinder M(iQK^too. After a short but bloody engagement, the ^rt was surrendered ; the womea and chitdreu were sent under an escort to the nes^t fort helow, and the men and bovs tstken off by a party of British to the general Indian encampment* As soon as. the fort had capitulated and ihe firing had ceased, Hiokatoo with the help of a few Indians tomahawked every wounded American while earn- estly begging with uplifted hands for quarters. The massacre was but just finished when Capts. Dougherty and Boon arrived with a reinforcement to assis), the garrison. On their arriving in sight of the fort they saw that it had surrendered, and that an Indian was holding the flag. This so much inflamed Ca^ Dougherty that he left his command, slept forwardand j»t)ot the Indian at the first fire* Another took the flag, and had no sooner got it erected than Dougherty dropt him as he had the first. A third presume(| to hold it, who was also shot down by Dougherty. Hiokatoo, exasperated at the sightof such bravery, sallied out witli a party of his Indians, and killed Capts. D6ugherty, Boon, and fourteen men, at the first fire. The remainder of the two companies escaped by taking to flight, and soon arrived at the fort which they had left but a few hours before. In an expedition that went out against Cherry Valley and the neighboring settlemenis, Captain Pavidy a Mohawk Indian, was first, and Hiokatoo %-'i-..y^-~ ■,'V oaiuflMiM mmm *■'■ |. * n ■ ?•»■* LIFE OF :^'i J' ^ >,'M- ^jecoml in ct»minan4. The foive consitied of aiJTal hundred fiidians, who wer^ determined on no^hief, and the destruction of the whites. A coii^nued series of wantonneisii and barbarity char- acterized their career^ for they plundered and burnt every thing that cam^, in their w^y, and killed a number of persons, among whom were several in* ^nts, whom Hiokatoo butchered or dashed upon i)ie stones with his own hands. Besides the instan-f oea which have been mentioned, he was in a num« .^er }ng them from their canton i;n^nt and preventing furtlier barbarities. Col. William Crawford and Xfieut. Col. David Williamson, men who had been (thoroughly tried and approved, were commissioned by Gen. Washington to take the command of a service that seemed all-important to the welfare the country. In the month of July, 17B2, wi armed and provided with a sufficient quantity provision, this regiment made an expeditious march through the wilderness to Upper Sandusky, wherej 'W •.<». -m UhsV. -•-t MARY JEIIHSON. im fts'hiitflbieen nntkskMitecly they iMpHhe ImliailQ^ iissenibled in full &ne at their encanipmeRt^ p0^ pared to recetvej^ littiick. As Col Crftw1^r4p^his brave band advanced, and when the^fliil got within a abort distance from the ta#ii, they were met by a white man, with a fiag oftruce fVom the Ifidiaos, who propoAed toCk)l. Cirawford that if he would »ttrrenaer him** self and his men to the Indians, their iivei sfaodll be spared $ but, that if they persHied to ^eir uii> dertakinff, and attacked the town, they should all be massacred to a man. Crawford, while hearlfig the propdsition, atten* lively surveyed its bearer, and recdgnieefl in hit featttres one of his former schoolmates and coNi^ panions, with whom he was perfeddy acqimliited) by the name of Simon Gurty, Gurtyi but a shiort time before this,iiad been a soldier in t|i6 Ameri- cauarmy, in the same regiinieiit with Crawfiild^ but on the ajfteunt of his t||r'baving received the promotion tiMi he expeiited^ he became disaffect> ed--- swore an eternal war with his coun^men, fled to tlie Indians, and joined diem, as a kader well quaitfied to conduct them to where they could sdi^ tiate their thirst for bloo<^, upon the innocent,^»tt^ offendihf^ ..:id defenceless settlers. Crawford intern ly inquired of the traitor if his name yms not Simon Ouity ; and being answered in the affirmative, he informed htm tlmt he despl- *^tlto o^er which he had made; and that to uld not surrender his army ufiless he should be iipelled to do so, by a superior force. Gurty returned, and Crawford immediately comaaeticed an engagement that lasted tlM rti|^; iiSS: n^mg^^ '^ •^fpIPP no LIFE OF m wH'iiout the appearance af victory on either side, trken the firing ceased, and the combatants on both sides retired to take refireshiijpent, and to rest through the night. CrawfOiM^v encamped in the woods near half a mile from ^ tOfvi), where^ after the centinels w^^re p}»ced, find «ach had taken, his ration, they slepc en ihetr arras, that they might be instantly ready in case they shouid be attacked. The stillness of death hovered over the httie army, and sleep relieved the whole, except the wakeful centinels who vigilantly -attended to their duty.- under arms, and the officers instantly consulted i'aoh •other on the best method of escaping; for they saw Ihat f the enemy in an 4)pposite directiou from the town^ as being the most sure course to tttke. Lt, Col* Williamson advised to march directly through the' town, where there appeared to be no Indians, ifttod the fires were yet burning. There was tio time or place for debates : CoL Crawford, with sixty followers retreated on the route that he had proposed by attempting to rush through the enemy ; hvA they bad no sooner got amongst the Indians; l^n every man ivas kill taken prisoner ! Amdiigst l^ prisoners, were Crawford, and Doct. iS^ht, surgeon of t^ meot. Lt* Col. Williaaison, with the remaiiadei^ the . f^yfr. X'-^.. ►'■«• MARir JEMISON. Ul her side, ants ou to rest in the Te^aAer ken, his y might ttaeked. e army, wakeful duty.-^ iind late tbe/In- ace be- « under pr tJiey ttosiir- e^ranks ona tlw ^. Lt. hraugh ndians, |f the %. r^giiti«tit^ together with the wounded, set out at ^e same time that Crawford did, went through the town without ]mmg a man, and by the help of good guides arrif ed att their homes^ in safety. The next dai^ aUtet the engagemeitt the Indians dtspos^ of all their prisoners to the different tribes, except Col. Crawford and Doct. Night ;* but those ttnfoftunate men were reserved for a more cruel destiny. A council was immediately hekl on Sati* dusky plains, consisting of all the Chiefs and war- riors, ranged in their cHstomaiy order, \n a circular form; and Crawford and Night were brought for- ward and seated in the centre of the circle. The council being opened, the Chiefs began to examine Crawford on various subjects relative to the war. At length tliey enquired who conducted the military operations of the Atneridan army oa the Ohio and Susquehannah rivers, during the year before; and who had led that army against them with s^ much ski|l|k|| so uniform success? Crawford very hone^y[yi^RKithout suspecting |ny harm from his refly7 promptly answered that he was the man who had led his countrymen to victo- ry, who find driven the enemy fi'om the settlements, and by that means had procured a great degree of happiness to many of his fellow-citizens* Up- on hearing this, a Chief, who had lost a son lA the year before, in a battle where Colonel Craw- ford eommanded, left his station in the council, stepped ||o Crawford, blac'ked his face, and at the same time told him that the next day he should bebufr|r ^ *■ The council was immediately dissolved ou its hearing the seii|ence &om the Chief, aud the pris- .«>'■': ;^ v^. ».^w. i |lf;ww""i«J.|W(!i m; %n XIFUjyfF «H9^r8 were taken off tlie ground, and kept in cus- tody through the night. Crawford new viewed his fate as sealed; and despairing of ever return- ing to hi» home or his country^ only dreaded the tedfousness of death, as conMnonly inflicted by the savages, and earnestly hoped that he might, be despatched at a single bloAv. £arly the next morning, the Indians assembled allhe place of exeeotion, and Crawford was led to the post— the goal of savage torture, to wh^ich he was fastened. The post was a stick of timber {placed ftrtnly in tlie ground, having an arm fram* ed in at the top, and extending some six or eight feet from it, like the arm of a sign post. A pite of jWood eontaining about two cords, hiy a'few feet from the place where he stood, which he was In- Ibrmed w: to be kindled into a fire that, would buni him alive, as many had been burnt on the same spot, who had beea much less deserving than himseli^ ^flfe Gurty stood and^PI|pf^^]y looked on the Reparations that were maklllf for the funeral of one his former playmates ; a hero by whose side he bad fought; of a man whose valor had won lair- rels which, if he could have returned, would have been strewed upon his grave, by his grateful coun- trymen. Dreading the agony that he saw lie was about to feel, Crawford used every argument which his perilous situation c^iuld suggest to prevail upon Gurty to ransom him at any pi-ice, and deliver bi (as it was in his power,) from tiie savages, a their torments. Gurty heard his prayers, and ex- postulations, and saw his tears with indijfference, and finally told the forsaken victim that he wouki n< thi ti iz^ arl jw th at ml th tic be to cu MARY JEMISON. f^ not procure him a moment's respite, nor aflPord htm the mosi trifling assistance. The Col. wastlien bound, stripped naked and tied by bis wrists to the arm, which extended hot^ izontaUy from the po0t, in such a manner that bis arms were extended over his head, wkb his feet just standing upon the ground. This being done^ the savages placed the -rood in a cirde around hinot at the distance of a few feetyin fidPdeMmt^s mi^ry^ might be protracted to the greatest length, ai^ then kindled it in a number of places at the same time. The flames arose and the scorching bteat became almost insupportable* Again he prayed to Gurty in all the anguish of his torment^ to re»^ cue him froor the Are, or shoot him dead upon thc^ spot A demoniac smtle suflbsed the countenance of Gurty, while he cabnly replied to the dyh.^ suppHtint, that he had no pity for bis su^rtngs^ but that he was tlien satisfying that spirii of re- venge, which for a long gMjjjie he had hoped '^ have an opportunity to ^'w/flm upon him. Natiire now aliifost exhaus!te#1^m the intensity of tN heat, j^ settled down a little, when a squaw ihf&if coals of ftre and embers upon biro, which made him groan most piteou&ly, vvliile the whole camp^ rung with exultation. During the execution they^ manifested all the exstacy of a complete iriumplib Poor Crawford soon died and was entirely consumN" ed. Thus ended the life c^ ii patriot and hero, who fad been an intimate with Gen; Washington, ami^ who shared in an eminent degree the confidence^ of that great, goo^Rhian, to wbom, iti the time of revolutionary ]|gy^;^he sons of legitin^te freedom Iv 2 '" iHiiiyii i^iiliiiiiii ^^^^mfW' U4 UFB OF laoked nitib « degree of faitli in his mental reM>ur- cea. unequalled in the history of the world. vvThiittragedy beiagended^Doct. Night ws^ in- jfovmed that on the next day he should be burnt in the same inanoer that hi« comrade Crawford bad been, at Lower Sandusky. Hiokatoo, who had been a ieadlng chief in the battle witli, and in the execution of Crawford, painted^ Doct. Night's ftce blacky and then bound and gave him up to twi^ able bodied lodisins to condtta to tlie place of execution. They set off with him immediately, and travel- led till towards evening, when they halted to en« 4;amp till morning. The afternoon had been very fs^y, and the stortn still continued, which render- ed it very difficult for the Indians to kii«dle a fire. Night observing the difficulty unden which they la^ iKNred, made them to understand by signs, that li they would unbind him^ he would assist them.— They accordingly ui^MjlKd him, a^ni he soon suc- ceeded in making a flH^ the application of small dry stuff which he was at considerable tr<)uble to procure. While the Indians were warming them- selves, the Doct. continued to gather wood to last through the night, and in doing this, he found a •club which he placed in a situation from wherlce he could take it conveniently whenever an oppor- timity should present jtseK^ ih which he could use it effectually. The Indians continued warming, till at length the Doct» wm that they had place ^emcffilvesina Ikvorable position for the i^xec tiOtt of his design, when, stimub^ by the love of life, he cautiously took his cloPand at two blows kooeked them both , down. B^Mbined to inish "ft '-fe,. '-., w^mmmi^mm MARY JEMISON. >» •-*. the work of death which be liad so well begun, be , drew one of their scalping knives, with which he beheaded and scalped them both ! He then took a rifle, tomahawk, and some ammunition, and dn rected his course for home, where he arrived with- out having experienced any difficulty on his jour- ney. • ^ The next morning, the Indians took tbe track of their victim and his attendants, to go to Lower Sandusky, and there execute the sentence which they had pronounced upon htm. fiut what was their surprise and disappointment, when they ar- rived at the place of encampment, where they found their trusty friends scalped and decapitated, and that their prisoner had made^ his esoape?-»^- Ohagrined beyond measure, they inHnediately sep^ arated, and went in every direction in pursuit of their prey; but after having spent a number of days unsuccessfully, they gave up the chase, and returned to their encapmen^ -^^■^■^'' *l have understooH, (from uaautbentkatRd sources how* ever,) that soon aAer the revolutionary war, Doct. JNight publUhed a pamphlet, containing an account of the battle at Sandusky, Hild of his own silfierings. My inforroatioH on this subject, was derived frcini a different quarter. The subject of this nahrative in g'tv'mg^fk^ account ef her last husband, Hiokatoo, referred us W Mr. George ^ Jamison, who, (as it will be noticed) lived on her land a number Of years, ahd wh6 ha;d frequently heatd the old Chief relate the story of his life; particularly that part wjl^tch related to his military careMf:. Mr. Jemison^ on be- irff^enquired of, gave the foregoing account, partly from his own personal knowledge, and the renaatnder, from the ac,7, ^ count given by Hiokatoo. . Jp; Mr. Jemison was in the bkttle, was pei(]|Muilly acqii W^ ed With Col. Crawford, and^ne that esclii|a withXt> #dT. A.:;i^* 1^- '■*?'■ MA ■w- JW "lli» 'f I "J ''wmmmt^fwt U u$ l^'.'^'^- LIFE OP . Ill tbe time of the French war, iri an enp^age* ment that took place on the Ohio river, Hiokatoo took a British Col. hy the name of iSitnon Canton, whom he carried to the Indian encampment. A council was held, and the Col. was sentenced to suffer death, by being tied on a wild colt, with his face towards it»' tail, and then having the colt turned loose to run wh^re it pleased. He was ac- cordingly tied on, and the colt let loose, agreea- ble to the sentence. The colt run two days .and then returned with its rider yet alive. The In- dians, thinking that he would never die in that way, took him off, and made him run the gaunt- let three times ; but in the last race a squaw knocks ied htm down, and lie was supposed to have been dead. He, however, recovered, and was sold for fifty dollars to a Frenchman, who sent him as a prisoner to Detroit. On the return of the Frerch- man to Detroit, the Col. besought him to ransom him, and give, or se^uirn at liberty, with so much warmth, and promisXrwith so much solemnity, to reward hii|i as one of the best of benefactors, if he would let him go, that the Frenchman took his word, and sent him home to his family. The CoL remembered his promise, and in a short time sent his deliverett^e hundred and fifty dollars, as a re- ward for hi^enerusity. Since the commencement of the revolutionary WHUamson. We have no doiibt of the truth of the s-xa^- ment, and have therefore inserted the whole account, air4ra addition to the historical facts which are daily comine into state of preservation, in relation to the American Revo* AvrmW i ^"l ■■'. M AHY JEMISON. 117 ^ U' -^-y ^ war, fiiokatoo bns been in seventeen campaigns, four of which were in the Cherokee war. He was 80 great an enemy to the Cherokees, and so fully determined upon their subjugation, that on his march to their country, he raised his own army for those four campaigns, and commanded it ; and also superintended its subsistence. In one of those campaigns, which continued two whole years 5fi»ith- out intermission, he attacked his enemies on the Mobile, drove them to the country of the Creek Nation, where he continued to harrass them, till being tired of war, he returned to his family. He brought home a great number of scalps, which he had taken from the enemy, and ever sce^iced to possess an unconc(uerable will that the Cherokees might fee utt* ly destroyed. Towards the close of his last fighting in tliat country, he took two squaws, whom he sold on his way home for money to de* fray the expense of his journey. Hiokatoo was about six feet four or five iochei high, large boned^ and rather inclined to leannesf. He was very stout and active, for a man of his siee, for it was said by himself and others, that he had never found an Indian who could keep up with him on a race, or throw him at wrestling. His eye was quick and penetrating; and his voice was of that harsh and powerful kind, which, amongst Indians, always commands attention. His health had been uniformly good. He never was confk^ edby sickness, till he was attacked with the con^ sumption, four years before his death. And, a^ though he had, from his eaH est days, been^ ed to almost constant fatigue, mid exj inclemency af the weather, in the '^-7 c ■^'f "•»wpie»> '''■, <*'w '«Hn»,7 lle-ii^'iil-^^l/lf LIFE OF' ■■^^' seemed to lose the vigor of the prime of life only by the natural decay occasioned by ol'* age. .^ ^'«'' Mii' Her Troubles Renewed. — John's Jealousy towards bis ^. vi brother Jesse. — Circumstances attending the Murder ^^5^ of Jesse Jemison. — Her GrieC — His Funeral-^Age : v: J — Filial Kindness, &tc. ,-, Being now left a widow in ijiy old agejto moum (^e loss of a husband, who had treated me wei^ and with whom I had raised five children, and hav- ing suffered the loss oC an affectionate son, I fond- ly fostered the hope that my melanchojy yicigsu tildes had ended, and that the rcn)aii(der of tny i^time would be characterized by nothiiig uiipropi* tious. My children, dutiful and kindi lived near me, r.nd apparently nothing obstru(;te| our happi- ness. . '■ "^ But a short time, however, elapsed afler my husband's death, before my troubles were renewed with redoubled severity. John's hands having been once stained in the blood of a brother, it was not strange that af\er h»s acquitaU every person of his acquaintance should siiiinhim, from a fear of his repeating upon them the same ceremony that he had practised upon Thomas. My son Jesse, went to Mt. Morris, a iri^les from honrve,on businesii in the winter af- t)i0^|thbf his father; and it so happened ^nk lib ^thei^ John was there^ who requested/^ JV ■*• . ' ^w 1^ » ",■ , . ' ,,'<*•■,' ' ♦^;I' ..^^ MARY JEMlSON.ff 119 Jesse to li ith hi Jesse, fearincr that co|pt5 Home John would commence a qufirrel witli him on the way, declined the invitation, and tarried over night. From that time John conceived himself despised by Jesse, and was highly enraged at the treats ment which he had received. Very little Miassaid, however, and it all passed off, apparently, till some- time in the month of May, 1812, at which time Mr. Robert Whaley, who lived in the town of Cas- tile, within four miles of me, cannie to my house early on Monday morning, to hire George Chon^o, my son*in-Iaw, and John and Jesse, to go that day 06 help him slide a quantity of boards from the top of the hill to the river, where he calculated to build a taft ol th^m for market. They all concluded to go with Mr. Whaley, and made ready as soon as possibl^e. But before they set out I char|f%d them not to drink any whiskey ; fori was confident that if they did, they would surely have a fjuarrel in consequence of it. They went and worked till almost night, ^hen a quarrel ensued between Chofigo and Jesse, in consequence of the whiskey that they had drank through the day, which terminated in a battle, and Chorgo got whipped. *i When Jesse had got ihrough with C bongo, he told Mr. Whaley that he would go home, and di- rectly went oiT. He, however, went but a few rods before he s topped and lay ^own by the side of a log to wait, (as was supposed,) for company. John, as soon as Jesse was gone, went to Mr. Whalej with his knife in his han4|Pki bade him jot {i. e. be gone,) at the saro^Wme telHog him that ■M ^''■t liH mi^mimga^ ■#l;'- Hi MiMiiiiii ISO LIFE OF ■ '^n^iOi J^ie wftft a bad O]^ _ Mr* Wt^iti^ tais countenaj3e#^was '*hi^bgeO; termineci,cr]pon somethfmg defl^^erate, ^i»^ a for hisjdwn safety/ and turned towai^stioftie,i€#- ifig Cfton^ on tile ground drunk, near to wjhefe Jesse ijad 1jy%.^i4i#%' ttiirthne had gOf lip, wid liraft tl#3iieing to^Tards John. Mr. Whaley#«s todlr i^fft of hearitig of ^m; but some cif his workc^e^ s^ till It wa^asjc. Jesse came up to Job^and 88^ tolYim^ou v^ant more wiilikey, and pore %htmg, and vSter ft itsw #brds went |rt bim| to try in theilrst pla^ to get am0 his kti^* In this he did not sucoeed, and they |>arted. ^hls.time the night had come on, and.if was d ^^ifn they clenched and at lei^^ in theif ^ 1^^ Ibey both fell. John, havitigl^is kuili^ in bi^ band) came under, and in that situation gave JiisBe a fatal stab with hja^knife,, and repeated the blows till Jes9e cried' ($U% brother^ you have * ^led me, quit his hold and settled back i^on the grojund. — ll^ofi hearing this, John left mm and came to lEliomas' widow's house, told tblM that he had bf^n fighting with their uncle, whom beliad killed) and showed them his kiiife. Next morning as soon as it was light, l^iomas' ^lid^ John's childreja caR^e sindtold me thiit Jesse was dead in the wodd% ^nd also informed me how lie came by bis death. John soon followed them and informed nta hin^lf of all that had tliken place between him and bpbro^r, and seemed to be somewhat sorrowfid for his conduct^ You can bet- ^^ imagine whaj n^fe i^ngs were thifhi^an^;$* ^1^. them. .3My ^BJg son, my youtigen cbitt; ■ *j!r. fe nil ngglgm MAII¥ jyS%|l80N. lU old njit i^|f»ded, was de}\d 5 and I ifli 1^ l^e of a hcl jfiing hand ! m^ corisUteiit tot ni6, 1 got Mf. j («€ whom I shall have occasion with his sleigh to where Jesse was, hiiil home^ a dbtarice of 3 or 4 miles. BfyliApterP<%^fivedattbefkal spot fir^t: we Ml tlier6 80011 af^^^ though I \wpnt the iMiif d^ttct^ oil foot. By this tioie, Chonfeo, (whb wftf left on tlie ground drunk tlfeiil^^le- i&tpi) .lad Di^come sober iand sensible of t^fereiit tnibl^tune which had happened to our famify. i wm ib^^iefcoim mth grief at the sight of njy ji^fdtiredfWn, and so far lost the command of my- IWpif' as to be HlffloSt frantic 5 |and those who wei^ ])resent were obltged to hold me from going n^ him. - On ixafAfniiig the body U was ^und that it had recifeived eighteen t^otois so deiip and large that it was b^ieved that either 6f them wouid have pro- ved li^brtal. flte coi-pse was carried to my house, ar^d l%tti!l tfmiThursday fbllowing, when it wa^ . buried aftet#e manner of burying white peot^e. JTess^ was twenty-seven or eight years old wh6n he was killed. Hif Jtimfer had been uniformly very mild and friendly 5 aiid he was inclined to copy aller the wbite pi^jple ; both in his liianners anddre^. Jtltlough he was naturally teri^perate, he occasionally became intoxicated j but never was quatif^l^me m mlschie voti^ With the white peo- ple Jit was intimate, and leWned fronrthem their lial^ of industry, which he was fond of practising, espeeift^wben my €ism||p^liiandedhislaj^. A$ I Jhftve obs^ved, ^%^1p custom am^npi tie )^H^\ iinW"iiyfirii-i • .'^*uiak^i««<,«Li ItMmhi.. ■■71 ■■ ' im -"^'^w !W"T" ■^PW^PIPPP UIFU OF %. lodiai^, for the w^iuen to pergMrtei^ d» lalto in, wd put or doors, and f hW the^AWfe% dd, #fth tft^Ip of my dmigfiters, till Je^ l«wed^^% s^iem age to^ rn^ht m. lie ^asfe^li^^^ mt in the cornfifiM, to ^op rliy wdo^'liyit i»^ €ows, and attend to iWykiMofbuMoesitfefe^B make my task the ttgHtier. On the accotiir^^ having been my votm^st chifd, and sc^ Watorlo he^tri«,.I am senitte that I loved him bfettMtei ^^J""^/ »^ my cjth€jr children. After b« be- ganp understand my situation, and the m^a»$ lif render^g It «^re eaiy, Inuver wanted for any tning that was lii his power to bestow : bift ' - his death, as I have liad all my labor^ pei |]tone, r have constantly seen hiWtftlies. ^/^Jejse shunned the oc^pany of his t»reJthei|L mil ttte Indians generally, ktid never, atten4#tieir ii-ohcs5 and it was suppi6sed that tMs,'^^hfer wit^ my partiafitf for hitb, %ere tile causes which excited in John sof greit a deg^e W envy, that Nothing short of dedth would satisfy it. '' , »Si CHAPTER XW. ^ Mrs. Jemiswi is informed tifet she hM a Cousin id the Neighborhood, by the n««B of George Jemlwn.- H>s Poverty.-,Her EiadDess.-Hi, In^S- ri^/w T w«»*e%|^e death of mytan^Ma, Cfj*ti H. Jones sent jglirafd, that fti8W^a,rfBMii«( MART jiiKSON. 129 wag ^Nf iKi*^|f^io Leicester, {a feyr mSes ftmi Gai^)i%^)if l|e name &£ Qeorgeiemkenf wpA a» bepiii ^llf lormetDrgo and »^ lilii^. ana take 1^ boiaete five with me on mi^J^to. My Indian fn^mB were pi#ased t )ifar that^e dT my relatives ws^^fO'iieary jmd a so ^y^ed tmt/Q send for hkn and his lamiiy im- mediately. I a^eordingiy ba4l!^ and fc#^<]^E moved intQ one of my Monies^ in the mjt^^d^ff March, i&io. Jy J (" He said that he was my father's hrothti^im*^ that b»» l^dier did ik^ |ea^ ilmrape, till ^er4he trench mm in Ameri^ra#^m did ^come o?«r, he settled in Petii^ylvama,^f}^ die4^ P^rge JM no personal knowledge;i9| faii^f^t nN9fn information, was conlM^i^ the x^faiionship which he clalme^ bf tween Mmejjf and me, actually existed. ; 4^iN%h 1 had nel^ before heard ol^y father having had but ,^ie brother, (hipfrw^^lms killed at KortNecessity,^ yet I knew that he ^iflH have had others, and, as t^ story of G^^fg^ ^nrled with it a proJjability tl^t it was mie, t received bim as a kinsman, and tre^t* ed him with every ^^p|fe^^ friendship which bis situation demanded.* I found that he was destitute of the means of subf^tence, and itt w^' l^ th# amount of leventy dolf ars, without the^WPf # pay one cent. He had no> ciiw, affid ^md^^^lcotnptetely poor^, * Mrs. Jemison U now coQi^ffiilt that George Jenii«on is riother ccrasin/aQ4 thinks tWaf fie cTstlmed thct relalionship, only tdgftin Asstitsiice : Bat t|| oMgentleman^.^^ is Mm living, i» eerMitt t^at lii^«ii^^ ikther were iirotb* «rSf as before stated. ^ .( -A , iiiiici 'iiiirii'iiiiii'liiii ''■' -■^^^^- i;^.^r.,...^a^,: fiililiUfAi^iili irtlr- wmi^'-'- ■•""'^'^ 1S4 hWB or pt|jd his d«bt« to tlie anioiiDt of sefetilyitwo dollars^ and bought hifb a eaw^ for which I |^id twirnty dollars, an^ a sow and pigty tliat 1 ^laM'^ght duii- hirs for. I also paid $ix$e6D do^lait. fl« f«rjk thut I gave him, and Aimivbed him with' oth^li^ ions aud farniture; so that hisfbrntly waseotelbl^ able As he was destitute of a tetoi^ I furnished him wkb one, and also supplied hia| with tools fot ^^farmiDg. Fn addition to alt this, 11^ him hav^.ona <)f TlwMnas^ cows, for two seasans. Mf only object in mentioning his poverty, and thG*artides with which I supplied hins^ istosh how ^ngratefu) a pef'oa can be for favom, b^w so^f kind be&i^iM>tor will) ti^ aU aj^^^aipi ||&,fiirg^ten. V'Tmi^ furnished with th^ neces^|^ in|{ilfiQi^^ of hufl^ndry^ a good team, and as tniiel^ t|u»d,as he e^td till, ha qommenced farming o||ttflats» und'il'or some time labored weW^ .At l^^h;^ how* ever, he got an idea that if hedpuld heeoii^ii'tlie w^ of a part of my reservs^on, h6t|^9^il41ivi Wre easy, and certainly be more rich, ai»4 aecoi^ dlngty set himself about laying a pjao |fi qiltaiiiiti in the easiest manner possible. I supported Jemison and h^li^iply eight years, and probably should have eonti^a^ ^ baira d^ne so to this day^ had i| not been Ibr the occurranea of the foNowii^ circuprifliimf^* When Ite had livedyMb /ine some six or sc^ren years, a fHend of nlw^ ^dtne thai as Jemison was my cousin, and veQf jpoor^ I cMighl to ^ive him a piece of lanil that lie irnight have spmethiNg whffeoin to live^j^al^ would call his Q^*u, ^>^ friend and Jemison were then tofettier at iiiy M^0, MARY J«»iSON. tU house f prepared to complete a bargain. I asked how muclv^nd he wanted ? Jomi^on said that he, should be glad to receive hts old Aetd (as heeall^ ed tt) con^iiShig about fourteeivacres^ and a new one thateoii^in^ twentyj-six. I observed to th^i^ that as I was incapable of transacting business of that nature, I would wait till Mr. Thomas Ctute, (a neighbor on whom I depended,) smjjM return from Albany, before I should do any Ming about it. To this Jemlson replied that4f 1 waited till Mr. Clute returned, he should not get the land at all, and appeared §0fy anxious to Imve the business closed / ithout^efdy. On my par% 1 felt disposed; tor give him some land, but k«0#1ilg ray ignorance of 1/f riling, feai^ed to d6 it alqne. lest tlrey might include as m^cli lan4 they pleased, w^itiiiout my knowledjE^e. - \,^ They then read the deed which 0y frimppad prepai-ed before he came from home, describjf|d^.a piece '.'.^-:a-'i'g^i^ '*' IflPl ii,llt!lii I I'll" i|"f mi? INP! .lIPi'^i li^ ' "1 '*'7X. ''■"■ LIFE OF tlie contract Tljie whole matter ivas &fterwatn tllen run to JelHs Clute, Esq^^ to procure a warrant to take the boy; but Young King, an Iivdian €inef, went down to Squaw ky hill to £s(}^ Clute's^ apd settbi the affair by Jemison's agreeing never to use that Jlub again. Having satisfactori^s^^nd cH^t tl)6 %endly disposition of my coustn towards me, I got him 00* my premises as soon as plbsaible.. CHAPTER XIV. Another Family Afflic^ti.'^Het son John's Occupa- tion.— He goes to Bujialo-^Becurns.^Great ^ide by him considered On)iAc^is^^Trouble^i^c.-»^lie goes lo S|MAa>iHty HiU-^-^iiarrals^Is ii^urd^kid bytwo In- IRns.— His Funeral-f-Moiyrii^rs, 9m^^*^B^ X}Us^ Doctor to Kill each other. — |3N»ctor*s Speech in Rejply. — back's Suicide.— Ddctor^s Death. l^ouBL^I^etdom com^ single. While George Jetnisen wa^ib|ily engaged in his pursuit of wealth at my expencS, another event of iimUch more se- rious na^#re occurred, which added greatly to my afflictions, and conseqitfatly destroyed, at least a pudrt^" the happiness %a:t I had anticipiiteil was laid up iA the archives iii I'rovidehce, fo bef dis- pet^i^ oa my old age. Mj son John, was a doctor, considerably cele- brat^ amongst the Indians 6f various tribel, for his skill in during their diseases, by the adminis- tration of roots and herbfi, which he gathered In the forests, and dther places where they had been platHed 1^ the hand <>r nature. iKtli^ month of April, or first ^f May, 1817, he was ctik4 Mpon to go to BuiTalo, Cattaraugus and Allegany, to^fire some who were sick. He went, and was absent ab(^t two months. When he re- turned, he observed the Great Slide of the bank of Genesee river, a short distance abpve mjf^ house, which had taken pli^ during his absence } ahd conceiving that circuti^^mice to be criinous of his own death, called athir laster Nanc^^s, told har that he should live but a few days, and wept bitter- ly at ttte near ap{A'i$^h of 1^ dissoluticJNn. Nancy endeavored to^persuade hltn that his trotM^as imagtAary , ana ^tt he John V vicai were so great arid m agji^rtvated,, fthatX have nothing to liy in his iavor : yet, j^ a mo^er, I jpitied him while he Itvetl, and have €^ felt a great degree of iirrow for him, beoause If his bad qcH^ucti; : : " From his chil^lll^, he carried something in his features jiidicativ^w^n evil (llsposition, that^uld r^ult in ib# peri^^ion of en^^ipeso^pme kind ; and it itas the opitiion and^^mg crf^be- nezer Allen, that he would be a bad man, and be liiMlliii iiiikii ^PT ISO WFZ Of gurlty of some crime 4eserviqg of death. Ti rs no doUlit but what ttie thoughts of murder nude* lediiT hi«' breast, and dij^Hf^ ^^ ^''^^ eteniA hil difep; for he ^NMpd that ht had kitied Thonias fbr a triflirig^e$«rving of death, you cannot live here ; and to ily frotpi your country, to leave ^11 your relatives, aijulto abandon all that you have known to be pleaf^ and dear^ must be keeper than an arrow, more hit- ler than g^ more terrible tlian ci^eath I And how naast we li^?— Yotir path will be tmiddy ; lite woods v/ill be d^-irk ; the lightnii^gs will gla^-ke down the trees by you** $ide, and you will &tart at ©vt^ry^otind I peace J^ait left you, and you must be wretched. " Friends, hear me, and take my advice. Re- turn with us to your homes. Qfier tx> the Great Spirit your best wampum, and try to fee g^jo^ln* dians! And, k' those whom you b^ve berciin^ shall claim your lives as their only satisfaction, snir- gender tl^m cheerfully, and die IHre go^ Indluis. And-— "Here Jack, highly incen^sd,^ inteii^^ tlie old man^ and bade him sto|i ^poBd^ing ^#e would take hts life. Affrighted at the aiip^arance of s9 much desperation^ the company hastened txh wards borne, and left i^^^^mid Jack to consiilt thfti^iHl^ feelings. w^ Mp^^^^^iey were a!df)e, Jack said toDot^, i^'^r die k^re, than leave my country do? W »Q«t ©f I'M, and If yott ef>, Us trying ifebit- d how tart at iiltbe •ance fdto- nsult ...*,- ^^, about Squawky Hill near s fortnight, and then went to Cattaraugus, and were gone si* weeks. When they came back, Jack's wife earnestly re» quested hira to remove his family to Tonnewonta; J^ut he remonstrated against her project, and utter- ^!y declined going. His wife and family, however, tifed of the tumult by which they were surr6iihd- ed, packed up their effects in spite of what he could say, and went off. Jack deliberated a ^hort time upon the {proper course for himself to pursue, and finally, rather than t^ave his old home, he ate a large quantity ;;Ofmuskrat root, and died in 10 or 12 hours. His family being immediately notified of his death, re- ^ turned to a^nd the burial, and is yet living at Squawky Hill. Nothmg was evf'r done with Doctor, who con- tinued to live quietly at Squawky Hill till some- time in the year 1819, when h^ died of Consump- tion. /rri-t "... ^CHAPTER XV. A.?''V':t«' * JC MicaHj^rdoks, Esq. volunteers to get the Title to her Land confirmed to herself. — She is Naturalized. — Great Council of Chiefs, to. in Sept. 18£3. — She Disposes of her Reservation.-^Reserves a Tract 2 miles long, and 1 mile wide, &Le.—The Considera- tion bow Paid, &tc. In 1&I6, Micah Brooks, Esq. of Bloomfield, On- tario countyi was recommended to me (as it "^^m "9'- " ■^^.. ^i MARY JEMISON. :^ 135 h.iid) bv a Mr. Ingles, to b€ a man of candor, hon^ csty aiid integrity, who would by no means clieat me out of a cent. Mx» Brooks soon after, came to my house and informed me that he was disposed to assist me in regard to my land, by procuring a legislative act that would invest me with full fK>wer to dispose of it for my own b^efit, and give ample a title as could be ^iven by any citizen the state. He observed that as it was thep situatj^(^>^ it wnk of but little value, because it yuvs hot in jj |j*& >€!r to dispone of it, let my necessities be evei ' t He then proposed to take the agency tha business upon himself, and to get the title of one half of my reservation vested in me personally, upon the condition that, as a reward for his servi- ces, I would give him the other half. I sent for my son John, who on being consulted^ objected to my going into any bargain with Mi. firooks, without the advice and consent of Mr. Thomas Clute, who then lived on m> land and near rae> Mr. Chite was accordingly called on, to whom f Brooks repeated his former statement, and ^k • \. i^t he would get an act passed in the Curig. -* « i4li« United States, that would invest me with a \ '^e riglits and immunities of a citizen, so far as it respeeled my pre *er'y. Mr. Glute, suspecting that some plan was \n operation that would deprive me of my possessions, ^dvisdd me to have nothing to say on the subject to Mr. Brooks, till T had; seen £^|P^e Gluts, of Squawky Hill. Soy 1 *fter this Tlifl|Hs Clute saw Esq. Clute, who ipfor.. J hu/i that tnepetition for my naturalization vould be presented to the Legislature of this State, iiistecd of being sent to Congres?; and that the>^ ■ y mr*^ ^i'-Y 196 .^f'^'s r; LIFE OF 1?- object would succeed to his aiMl my satisfaction, Mr. Clute tjiei; observed to hi$ brother, Esq. Clute, that as the sale of Indian lands, which had been ireserved, belonged exclusively to the United States, «n act of ^he Legislature of New- York could have no eflfect in secur tng to me a title to my reservation, „ 9r in depriving me of my property. They fuially )^reed that I should sign a petition to Congress, pfaying fop my naturalization, and for the confirm- |lUon of the titH '' '»^v laud to me, my heirs, &c. ^ I Mr. Brooks cam »th the petition : I signed it, and it was witnessea by Thomas Clute, and two others, and then returned to Mr. Brooks, who pre- sented it to the Legislature of this state at its session \p %he winter of 1816— J7. On the 19th of April, 1817, an act was passed for my naturalization, and ratifying and confinning the title of my land, agree- able to the tenor of ike petition, which act Mr. Brooks presented to me oq the first day of May following. ..: r^^ '^ir'^i^^fi^^;^i4S^^^^^ Thomas Clute having exitinihed the lam, told me that it would probably answer, though it was not according to the agreemest made by Mr. Brooks, and Esq. Clute and himself, for me. I then executed to Micah Brooks aod Jellis Clute, a deed of all my land lying east of the picket line on the Qardow reservation, containing about 7000 actps. It is proper in this place to observe, in relation to Mr. Thonas Clute, that my son John, a few months before his death, slipped n to take him ibr my guardian, (as I had become old and incapa- ble of managing my property,^ and to compenaftte him for his trouble by giving nim a lot of land on . !<■ Mr. m ^ >,$^^*V: >Jf^;fi^»>. ''; MARY JEMISON. 1S7 the west side of ray reservation where he should choose it. I accordingly took my son's advice, and Mr. Clute has ever since been faithful and honest in all his advice and dealings with, and for, myself and family. In the month of August, 1817, Mr. Brooks and Esq. Clute again came to me with a request that I would give them a lease of the land which 1 had already deeded to them, together v/ith the other part of ray reservation, excepting and reserving to myself only about 4000 acres. At this time I informed Thomas Clute of what John had advised, and recommended me to do, and that I had consulted my daughters on the sub- ject, who had approved of the measure. He rea- dily agreed to assist me ; whereupon I told hira he was entitled to a lot of land, and might select as John had mentioned, lie accordingly at that time took such a piece as he cho^e, and the same has ever since been reserved for hira m all the land contracts which I have made. ' "^ On the 24th of August, 1817,1 leased to Micah Brooks and JelUs Clute, the whole of my original reservation, except 4000acres,and Thomas Clute's lot. Finding their title still incomplete, on account of the United States government and Seneca Chiefs not having sanctioned my acts, they solicit- ed- rac to renew the contract, and have the convey- ance made to them in such a manner as that they should thereby be constituted sole f|ojprietors of thesoiK' ' ^^j- ^^c^^-„.^.,'^:>'' ; In the winter df 1^22 — 3, 1 agreed with them, that if uicy would get the chiefs of our nation,^^ and a United States Commissioner of Indian M2' .if TP- 138 •{•'I - vn44~''''*''">*J iPE OP Lands, to meet in council a* Moscow, Livingston county, N. Y. and there concur in ray agreement, that I would sell to them all my right and title to the Gardow reservation, with the excepUon of a tratt for my own benefit, two miles long, aiid one mile wide, lying on the river where I should choose it; and also reserving Thomas Clute's lot. This arrangement was agreed upon, and the council assembled at the place appointed, on the 3d or 4th day of September, 1823. -That council consisted of Major Carrol, who had been appointed by the President to dispose of my lands. Judge Howell and N. Gorham, of Can- andaigua, (who acted in concert with Maj. Carrol,) Jasper Parrish, Indian Agent, Horatio JoQeS| In- tenpreter, and a great nimiber of Chiefs. -^"'^^^^^ The bargain was assented to unanimously, and a deed given to H. B. Gibson, Micah Brooks and Jellis Clute, of the whole Gardow tract, excepting the last mentioned reservations, which was signed by myself and upwards of twenty Chiefs. The land which I now own, is bounded as fol- lows :-*Beginning at the center of the Great Slide* and runtiing west one mile, thence north two miles, *The Gireat Slide of the bank of Genesee river is a curi> osity worthy of the attention of the traveller. In the month of May, 1817) a portion of land thickly covercfd with tim- ber, situated at tlie upper end of the Gardow flats, on the west side of the river, all of a sudden gave way, and with a tremendons crash, slid into the be^d of the ritrer, which it so completely filled, that the stream formed a ne«r pi^ggage on the east side of it, whare it coi^nues to run, without overflowing the slide. This slide, as it now lies» moittkimf 32 acres, and hag a considerable share of the timber that formerly covered il, stifl standing erect upo^i it, aud groWi^j^. thence south place Int ersha to pay dredd Wh be sol< amon^ out an ■ ' ' ■ "^ Condi loss Hea ^^l«he^ her plie Wi Nu have viciss lutioi livtfi! lized whtc life] -yy-^M ^mm ■^^■"•■^■"^p^ ■>.;^;':.0' MARY JEMIfeON. ^I'l!?:'-^ m thence east about one mile to Genesee river, thelMi south on the west iiank of Genesee river to ^t place of beginning. In consi.^->' ->- •<;•?: s:^?-^ ;3S^^'SCCHAPTER XVI. 'm^^-^-m"^^^^s^- When I review my life, the privations that t have suffered, the hardships I have endured, the vicissitudes I have passed, and the complete Irevo- lutionUhat I have experienced in my manner of living i -;i'hen 1 consider niy reduction from a civi* lized Ml a savajp^e state, and the various steps bj^ whic^^hat process has been effected, and that liiy life ^ fa^en prolonged, and »ly health dnd reas^ m »" 'W r. r>.7 ■*. * ,77 W - ':f€r^' ri;.:: ; '>■ j^: .•■•>:• 1 ■>¥■■■ 140 ..^1-. )/^> LIFE OF f^-: V- r spared, it seems a miracle that I am unable to ac- count for, and is a tragical medley that I hope will never be repeated. The bare loss of liberty is but a mere trifle when compared with the circumstances that necessarily attend, and are inseparably connected with it. It is the recollection of what we once were, of the friends, the home, and the pleasures that we have left or lost ; the anticipation of misery, the appear- ance of wretchedness, the anxiety for freedom, the hope of release, the devising of means of es- caping, and the vigilance with which we watch our keepers, that constitute the nauseous dregs of the bitter cup of slavery. I am sensible, however, that no one can pass from a state of freedom to that of slavery, and in the last situation rest perfectly contented; but as every one knows that great exertions of the mind tend directly to debilitate the body, it will appe»r obvious that we ought, when confined, to exert all our faculties to promote our present comfort, and let future days provide their own sacrifices. In re- gard to ourselves, just as we feel, we are. ~ For the preservation of my life to the present time I am indebted to an excellfent constitution, %ith which I have been blessed in as great a degree as any other person. After 1 arrived to years of understanding, the care of my own health was one of my principal studies; and by avoiding exposures to wet and cold, by tjiempe? fance in eating, abstaining from the use- of spirits, md shunning the excesses to which I was frequently exposed, 1 effected my oliyect beyond what I ex» .■1* . 'J, v: '4^i [ARY JEMISON. Ul Spirits iijtd tlfftGco Imre-iiever used, and I hm% never once s&nded an Indian^ frolic. When I was taken priSmer, and for sotaeCi^ aAer tliat, spirits was not known ; and when it ^as first intro^ ducedyit was in small quantities^ and used only l^ the Indians; so that it was a long time before the Indian women begun to even tai^it. ? After the French war, for a numl;)€r of years, U was the practice of the Indians of oilr tribe to send to Niagara and get two or three kegs of rum, (In all six or eight gallons,) and |ioM a frolic as long as it lasted* When the rum was brou^t to the towHj all the Indium collected, and before a ditip was drank, gaverll their knives, tomahawks, guns, and other instriUments of war, to one Indian, whose busimese it was to 4M]ry them in a< private placse, keep them concealed, and remain perfectly softer till the frolic was ended. Having thus divesf^d themselves, they commenced drinking, andcoitt^- ucd their frolic till every drop Hvas consumed* If any 1^ them became quarrelsome, or get to ifighttng, those who were «ober enough bound thed^ upon the; grouifid, where they were obliged to Ire till Uiey got sober, aiid then were unbound. When ^e fumes of the spirits had left the company, the sober Indiaar^timed to each the instruments Wllh which they had f/ntrnftt0d Ixim^ and all went home Batlsiled. A froUc of thai kind was held but ondfe a year, and that at tl^e tme the In4idfis quit their hunting, and cohteiri wtlfi their deern&kins. In those frolics tbe women never participated. Soon after the revolutionary war, however, Sf^ii^ became common in our tribe, and has been turn indiscrimiately by both sexes; thougli there ate m 1 42 . /.•,/■^>:f^'''*^■••.•• ^ ^ ^ LIFE OF J ";■ _ v^ auon am ought not so frequent instances of into the squaws as amongst the India To the iiuitjduction and use oF that baneful article, which has made such devastation in our tribes, and threatens the extinction of our people, (the Indians,^ I can with the greatest propriety impute the wnole of my misfortune in losing my three sons. But as I have before observed^ not even the lave of life will restrain an- Indian from sipping the poison that he knows will destroy him. |rh6 voice of natui'e, the rebukes of reason^ the iidvice of jf>&rents, the expostulations of friends, and the numerous instances of sudden death, are ah ^ rnsufiTicient to reclaim an Tndian, who has once experienced the exhilarating and inebriating effects of spirits, from seeking his grave ip the bottfoi of hisbotttje! ,j, My strength has been great for a woman ofrny sisse, otherwise I must long ago have died under the bui'dens which I was obliged to carry. I learned to carry loads on my back, in a strap placed across iny forehead, soon after my captivity ; and continue ^ to carry in the same way. Upwards of thirty years ago, with the help of my youwg children, I backed all the boards that were used sibout my house from 2llleft*s mill at the outlet of Silver Lake, a distance of five miles. I have planted, hoed, and harvested Ikirn every season but one since I was taken pris- oner. Even this present fall (1823) I have husked \x)y corn and backed it into the house. The first cow that I ever owned, I boujicht of a $quaw sometime after the revolution. It had be^a stolen from the enemy. 1 had owned it but a few days when it fell into a hole, and almost died before Mary jemison. 148 e could get it out. After this, the squaw wanted to be recanted^ but as I would not give up the covj^ I gave her money enough to make, when added tP the sum whi^h I paid her at first, thirty-five dollars* Cows were plenty on the Ohio, when I lived theroi and of good quality. For provisions 1 have never suffered since I came upon the flats; nor have I ever been in debt to any other hands than my own for the plenty that I have shared. My vices, that have been suspected, have been but few. It was believed for a long liiaiie, 1^ some of our people, that I was a great wit^fef but they were unable to prove my guilt, apd consequently I escaped the certain doom of those who are con- victed of that crime, which, by Indians, is consid- ered lis heinous as murder. Some of my cbifdren Iiaifcligbt brown hair, and tolerable fair skin, which used to make some say that I stole them; vet as I was ever conscious of my own constancy, 1 never thoaght that any one really believed that I was guilty t)f adultery. t have bee^i the mother of eight children ; three j|i of whom are now living, and I have at this time^ thirty-nine grand children, and fourteen great-* grand children, all Bving in the neighborhood of Genesee River, and at feuffalo. I live in my own house^ and on my own la^jL with my youngest daughter Polly, who is raarriea to George Chongo, and has three children. My daughter Nancy, who is married to Billy Green, liveiabout 80 rods south of my house, aiA has seven children. ^ My other, daughter, Betsey, is married to Johi ,-' A '-■" HIMiM 144 LIFE OF, &c. • ■ ^.dfe;:*<. Green, lias seven children, and resides 80 rods north of my house. # Thus situated in the midst of toy children, I ex- pert I shaH sdon leave the world, and malce room for the rising generation. I feel the weight of years with which I am loaded, and am iensibi^.of »y daily failure in seeing, hearing and strength; but my oirty anxiety is for my family. If my family irill live happily, and lean be exempted from trouble while I have to stay, I feel as tho^i^h I couid |ay down in peace a \m tha^ has been check- ed in almost every hour, with troubles of a deeper dye, than are commonly experience4 by mortals. f '?» -.: ' >-^<: . :' m, ^1*5 7.,/. A:F:^9iirBis&< s t An account of the destruction of a part of the British Army, by the Indians, at a place called the Devil*s Bole, on the Niagara River, in the year 176a • IT is to be regretted that ftn event of so trumcal a nature as the following, should have escapiea the pens of AmeHcan Historians, and have been suf- fered to slide down the current of t' e, to the verge of oblivion, without having been snatched al- most from the vortex of forgetfu)ness,and placed on the faithful page, as a memorial of premeditated cruelties, which, in former times, were practised upon the white people, by the North American Savages. Modem History, perhaps, cannot furnish a par- ^ allel so atrocious in design and execution, as the one before us, ^d it may be questioned, even if the history of ailcient times, when men fought hand to hand, and disgraced their nature by in- venting engines of torture, can more than produce its equal. It will be observed in i&e fH'eceding narrative, that the affair at the Devil's Hole is said to have happened in November, 1T69* That Mrs. Jemi- son arrived at Genesee about that time, is rendered certain from a number of circumstances; and that a battle was fought on the Niagara in Nov. 17^9^ in wMch two prisoners and som^ o;|cen were taken. N 3 'k*: ,rf., B*'; '^^^^PR?' ic'F, r- ■*n 146 f ^•ftj^i^" '■•*^^*<"■- .'V ^. ArI>ENDIX. "wwTTmmmmmfl '%i- :,,'„•)(,, t IniJ Brought to Genesee, as she has stated^ is alto* gether probable. B(*t )t is equally certain that the event which is the subject of this article, did not take jilace till the yeai 1763. tr* the time of the French war, the neighbor* hood of Forts Niagara and Sclusser, (or Schlosser, Bs it was formerly written,) on the Niagara river, l^as a general battle-ground, and for this reason, Mrs. Jemison's memory ought not to be char|^ed with ^treachery, for not having been able to distin- gi?ish accurately, after the lapse of sixty years, betweeri the circumstances of one engagement ftnd rbifij^ lather. She resided or the Gene- see at mefirtie'when the warriors of that tribe tnarched%ff to 5«ssist in laying the ambush at the D^viPs Hole ^ and no one wilt doubt her having heard them rehearse the story of the event of that nefarious campaign, after they returned, '^rr, ^t?^^^ ©hronology and history concur in seating tliat Fort Niagara was taken from the French, by the * British, and that Geo. J^rideaU* was killed on the 25th of July, ir59. i|f Having obtaioed from Mrs. Jemison a kind of mtroduction to the story,! concluded that if it yet remained possible to procure acorrect account of the circumstances which led to and attended that trans-' action, it would be highly gratifying to the Ameri- can public* I accord ijpigly directed a letter io Mr. Linus S. Everett, of Buffalo, whose ministerial ; labor, I well knew, freqiB en t!y called him to Lewis- ton, requesting him to furnish me with a particular account of the desi^uction of the Briti'ih, at the lirae and place before mentioned!* He obligiogly compUed with my request, and gave nie the result .■V"' '"'■'J :-■/ H '■>• 'i '0-' wmmiaimiA lit • ""■ m^i mp. :,^ 147 of his inquiries on that subject, in the following letter:-* Copy of a letter from Mr. Linus S. Everett, dated Fort Sdusser^ a9th December, 1823, Respected and dearfriendf I hasten, with nrnch pleasure, to comply with yauf request, in regard to the affair at the Devil's |)ole. I have oflen wondered that no authentic account ^as ever been given of tiiat bloody end ! tragical scene. I have made all tne inquiries that appear to be of any use, and proceed to give yon the result. - "At this plaee^ (Fort Sclusserj^ an old gentleman •%ow resides, to whom I am indebted for theb^st V account of tlie affair that can be easily obtained* fHis name s Jesse Ware — his aofe about f4. AU ., though he was not a resident of this part of tha Jtountry at the time of the event, yet from his in« ^timaie aeqiuainlance with one of the survivors, he js able to grm much information, which otherwiit .■JcouW .nc4 b^ obtamcd. -'^ ^ " The ftccoilidt that he gives is as follows r— In July, 1739? the british, under Sir William John- ston;, took possfiSsioii of Foi'tii Niagar^a and Sclus* jjier, whi had before been in thct hands ^f the Frencho Af, this tjme, the Seneca Indi*»kts, (which ^. were a ntimetfous and ^jjowerful n»tion>) were bos* ,.'' tile to the British, and wiirmly allied to the French. ,. '^. These two posts, (vfe.) Magarii and Sclusser, were . . % of great importance to the #ri?,i»h, on the account • V/ of affording the means of wmmunication with the .;;,;" posts above^ or on the 'U|')fj>er lalkes. In 1760, a ■■ '*'' contract waw made betw^fen Bk William Johnston -^^ I •* ) r.-^-, ikH •'^^ ij'a'v ,'■ m ■ >[,.. mttvmmM ..<' < 14a APPENDIX. ■yi^ Vf«l and a Mr. Ste^man, to censtruct a portage road from Queenston landing to Fort Sclusser, a dis- tance ibf^ight miles^iii order to facilitate the trans- portation of jMroyisionj amrtibnition, &c. from one place to the other. lit conforniity to this agree- ment, on the 20th of jf^^ne, 1763, S|tedraan had confipieted his roaad, and appeared at Queenston Lanclipfo (now Lew istoo,) with twenty-five portage wagoa$, anfl one hundred horses and oxen, to transj^t to Fort Scliisser the king^s stores. ' 4t this time Sir Wflliaiti Johnston was suspicious of tne Intentions of the Senecas: fof after the suir- render of the ferts. by the Frtncll^ they had ap- peared uneasy and hostile. In Orjder to prevent trie teams, drivers and goods, receivings Injui'yj |l^ detached 300 troops to guaitd tb(^m across the portage. The teams, under this, escort, started from Queenston landing^^Stedm^n, who Had the charge of the whole, was on horse back, and rode betweeii the troops tmd teams ^ all the troops being in front. On a small hill near the Devil's Hole, at that time, was a redoubt of twelve men, which served as a kind of guard on ordinary occa- sions, against the depredations of the savages. << On the arrival of the troops and teams^M the Devil's Hole," says a manuscript in the hands of my informant, ^Hhe sachems, chiefs and warriors of the Seneca Indians, sallied fVom the adjoining woods, by thousands, (where they had been con- cealed for some time b^ore, for that nefarious pur- pose,) and falling upop the troops^ teams and dri- vers, and the guard of twelve men before men- tioned, they killed all ^e men but three on the spot, Or by driving them, together with the teams. dowi eighl by tj doul thatj scei hell the and! 4' \.M^ ilbHiMiiMiii ^m^ lis- tns# me ree- led ItOQ ige mt \K .i^ri-jwv^-^r-.'i;,.— '?lb-^'-.^^ •»■ ■ -;' '*»->-■ r'^^fcjfl' f- ■■■'Ji.i" ^. ':5f -vf S^F''^. APPENDIX. 149 ■'•<*■ dowii the ]H'ecipice, which was about seventy or eighty feet ! The Indians seized Stedman's horse by the bridle, while he was on him, designing, no doubt, to make his sufferings more lasting than that of his companions: but while the bloodv scene was acting, the attention of the- Indian who held the horse of Stedman being arrested, he cut the reins of his bridle-— clapped spurs to his horse, and rode over the dead and dying, into the adja- cent woods, without receiving injury from the ene- my's firing. Thus he escaped; and beside^ him two others — one a drummer, who fell among the trees, was caught by his drum strap, and escaped unhurt; the other, one who fell down the preci- pice and broke his thigh, but crawled to the land- ing or garrison down the river " The following September, the Indians gave Stedman a piece of land, as a reward for his bravery* -,;. With sentiments of respect, I r^main^ sir^ Vuur sincere friend, - .^, Mr, J. E, Seaver, L. S. EVFRET' i^r'-#^^?:.^^^^^ :i«r" A particular account of Oeneral Sullivan's Expedi- -^ tion against the Indians, in the western part of the State of New- York, in 1779. .?f^v •^i-. ,•*■ 1 '*; r-J^ It has been thought expedient tolpiiblish in this volume, the following account of Gen. Sullivan's expedition, in addition to the facts related by Mrs. Jemison,of the barbarities which were perpetrated upon Lieut. Boyd, and two others, who were taken, and who formed a part of his army, <&•. A de- N2 r 'Xc^ ;v -V^-'* >: ^ ■baNOM^Mb ,'■'>'' 4dd APPENDIX. i^'^'rfM r * tailed account of this expedition has nev?r lieen in thfe hands of the pubhc; and as it is now produced from a source deserving implicit credit, it is pre- sumed that it will be received with satisfaction. John Salmon, Esq. to whom we are happy to acknowledge our indebtedness for the subjoined account, is an old gentleman of respectability and good standing in society ; and is ai this time a re- sident in the town of Groveland, Livingston county, New-York. He was a hero in the American war for independence; fought in the battles of his country under the celebrated Morgan ; survived the blast of British oppression ; and now, in the decline of life, sits under his own well earned vine 0nd fig-tree, near the grave of his unfortunate ^countrymen, who fell gloriously, while fighting the the ruthless savages, under the commaiid of the gallant Boyd. , ^ .^..^-vfev .,,.. .,v ,;.,.,; ^ .. In the aututnn 'afteir the battle at Monmouth, (l778,) Morgan's riflemen, to which corps I be«> longed, marched to Schoharie,, in thfe state of New- York, and there went into winter quarters. The company to which I was attached, was commanded by Capt. Michael Simpson; and Thomas Boyd, of Northumberland county, Penns} Iv£(nia, was our LiiButenant. . In the following spring, otir corps, together with the v/hole body of troopd under the command of Gen. Clinton, to the anvdiunt of about 1500, cm- barked in boats at Schenectady, and ascended the Mohawk as far as German Flats. Thmce we took a direction to Otsego lake, descended the Susquehanna, and without any remarkab.^ occur- rencGi arrived at Tioga Point^ where « ur troop$ united mand a part by the Tha on the in som unimp the ju Sullivs procee miles r met b) well ki Range of log! driven their i The ei th^yle page, they n of cor Qpenir uation round; other opposi their throw shells erful 1 ths^ 1 throu jiw^fr^' ' -m^ 151 united with an army of 1500 men u rider the conif mand of Gen. Sullivan^who had marched through a part of New-Jersey, and had reached that place by the way of Wyoming, some days hefore u$* That part of the »xmy under Gen. Sullivan, bad, on their arrival at Tioga Point, found the Indi'^ns in some force there, with whom they had had some uniniportant skirmishes before our arrival. Upon the junction of these two bodies of troops, Gen* Sulhvan assumed the command of the whole, and proceeded up the Tioga, When within a few miles of the place now called Newtown,i we were met by a body of TndiaRs, and a number of troops well known in those times by the name of Butler's Rangers, who had thrown up, hastily, a breastwork of logs, trees, &c. They were, however, easily driven from their works, with considerable loss on their part, and without any injury to aur troops. The enemy fled with so mu6h precipitation, xhat th^y left behind them some stores and^camp equift*^ page. They retreated^but a short distance before they made a stand, and built anothei breastwork of considerable length, in the woods, near a small< Qpening. S^ivan was soon apprized of theJp sll** uation, divided hi^ army, and attenip'^^'^d to^^ur- round, by sending one half to the rigni and the other to the left, with directions to meet on the opposite side of the enemies* In order to prevent their retreating, he directed bomb-shells to be thrown oyei* them, which mas done : but on the shells bursting, the Indians suspected that a pow^ erful array had opened a heavy fire upon them on that side^ and fled wkli the utmost precipitation through one wing of the st.*rro«nding army. A liitt ■••"^^w'^mrilF^ mifi-^ ':¥i*' 152 APPENmX; '^^'i r"-- great humb^ of the enemy were killed, and our army suffered considerably. The Indians having, in this manner, escaped) they went up the river to a place called the Nar- rows, where they were attacked by our men, who killed them in great numbers, so that the sides of the rocks next the river appeared as though blood had been poured on them by pailfulls. The Indians threw their dead into the river, and escaped the best way they could. ' ::%^^ From Newtown our army went directly to the head of the Seneca lake ; thence down that lake to its mouth, where we found the Indian village at that place evacuated, except by a single in- habitant — a male child about seven or eight years of age, who was found asleep in one of the In- dijui huts. Its fate I have never ascertained. It wai taken into the care of an officer of the army, wbo, on account of ill health, was not on duty, and who took tlie child with him, as I have since un- derstood, to his residence on or near the North river.- ', v;---^: .^;,. -^v;..>v->;":^4?.^ From the mouth of Seneca take we proceeded, without the occurrence of any thing tf£ importance, by the outletf of the Canandaigua, Honeoye, and Hemlock lakes, to the Jieaut^of Connissius lake, where the army encami^ on the ground that is now called Henderson's Flats. Soon after the army had encamped, at the dusk of the evening, a party of twenty-one men, under the command of L>ieut. Boyd, was detached from the rifle corps, and sent out for the purpose of re- eannoitering the ,ground near *he Genesee river, at a place now called Williamsburg, at a distance .\^ .. "^f^"' IP ^^^^ !^V^ ■W^M m our APPBJNmX. 159 iVom the cftmp of alKmt aieven mHes, bnder the guidance of a faithful Ittdian |>ilot. That place was then the site of an Iddiini villape^ and it was apprehended diat the Indians and f^gers might be there or in that vicinity in consldt&iRliale force. On the arrival of the party atWtlliamshitrg, they found thatthe Indian village had bi^en recently deserted^ as the tires in the huts were still burning. The night was ^o far spent when they got ta their place of destination^ that Lieutenant Bd^d, con« sidering thd fatigue of his men, cOi)iclad^ to re- main during thenightiiearthe village^ and to send two tnen me8sen;gets >With a report to the damp in the morning. Accordingly, a little before day* break, he despatched two men to the niain body of the afmy, with information that the enem/ had not been discovered. After day-light, Lieut. Boyd cautiously crejH from the place of his concealment, and upon get** ting a view of the viliage, discovered^ two Indians hovering about the setu^menti "One of whom was immediately shot and scalped by ope of the rifle- men, whose name was Mur|;^y. Supposing that if there were Indians in that vicinity, or near the village, they would be in.- . ''^■V.K.. % 'i ,vas at that moment near, inimediately presented himself, when Lieut. Boyd, by one of those ap« peals which are kiiown only by those who have been initiated and instructed in certain mysteries, and which never fail to bring succor to a <' distress- ed brother ,'' addressed him as the only source from 4 ^^ which he could expect a respite from cruel punish^ ment Brandt assurec Lieu were i Indian on the called Town called sence, Butler hadle tain fi her, s Gen. hesita liver i Indiai encoi] Butle Relyi had I to fu] form thres som4 havi by 8 ^ - T thei on 1 oft to I "y.^ fA^A ■^^^^•^BiWPi^lll^""" nd of berof •, who erable Boyd ^' . , ■■^^'^Jr:-':^"^:- jAPPENDtX. 155 inent or death. Tlie appeal was recognized, and Brandt immediately, and in the«trongest ianguagei assured him that his life should be spared. Lieut. Boyd, and his fellow-prraoner, Parker^ were immediately conducted by a party of the Indians to the Indian village called BeiMrd^s Town^ on the west side of Genesee river, in wfiar is now called Leicester. After their arrival at Beard's Town, Brandt, their generous preserver, being called on service which required a few hours aib« sence, left them in the eare of the British Col. Butler, of the Rangers ; who, as sOon as Brandt had led them, commenced an interrogation, to ob- tain from the prisoners a statement of the num- ber, situation and inteittions of the army under Gen. Sbliivan ; and threatened them, in case they hesitated or prevaricated in their answers, to de- liver thetn up immediately t6 be maslacred by the Indians, who, in Brandt^s absence, and with the encouragement of their more savage commander, Butler, were ready to commit |he greatest cruelties. Relying, probably, on the promises which Brandt had made them, and which he undoubtedly meant to fulfil, they refuted to give Butler the desired in- formation. Butler, upon this, hastened to put his threat into execution. They were delivered to some of their most ferocious enemies, who, after having put them to very severe torture, killed them by severing their heads from their bodies. The main army, immediately afler hearing of the situktion of Lieut. Boyd's detachment, moved on towards Genesee river,^ tuid finding the bodies of those who were slain in Boyd's heroic attempt to penetrate tUi:pu£h the enemy's line, buried them J-uV.^->.' V,.^V'^: I v-».>.-,-' . ■• ^/# iipp :t> 1{^6 ■pip APPENDIX. in what is now the town of Groveland, where the grave is to be seen at this day. Upon their arrival at the Genesee river, they crossed over, scoured the country for some dis- tance on the river, burnt the Indian villages on the Genesee flats, andi destroyed all their corn and other means of subsistence. The bodies of Lieut. Boyd and Parker were found and buried near the bank of Beard's creek, under a bunch of wild plum-trees, on the road, as it now runs, from Moscow to Geneseo. I was one ^ jof those who committed tothe earth the remains of py friend and companion in arms, the gaHant Boyd. ,Im mediately after these events the army com- menced its march back^ by the same route that it came, to Tioga Point y thence down the Susque- hanna to Wyoming ; and^ thence across the toxxti' try to Morristown, New- Jersey, where we went itito winter quarters* Gen. Sullivan's bravery is unimpeachable. He was unacquainted^ however^ with fighting the In- j^iansj and made use of the be&ttfieans to keep them at such a distance that they could not be |>rought into an engagetuj^t. 4 It was his practice, inorning and evening, to have cannon fired in or near the camp, by which the Indians were notified of their speed in marcliing, and of his situation, and were enabled to make a seasonable retreat. The foregoing account, according to the best of iny recollection is strfetly correct. JOHN SALMON, Groveland, January 24^ 1824. ^^ Esq. Salmon was fbrmeriy from Northumber- i Itend count3r> Pennsylvania, and was first Serjeant ij}n Capt. Simpson's and Lieut. Boyd's company. I. • * mk **»' the ^■•■a'< VlV», :f. fi .*'*' APPENDIX. ^57 Tradition of the Origin of the Seneca Nation. — Their ■'j\^ Preservation from utter extinction. — The Means by "^^' whiqh the People who preceded the Senecas were destroyed — and the Cause of the different Indian ;. Languages. > ..«; > IV ?5 The tradition of the Seneca Indians, in regard to their origin, as we are assured by Capt. Horatio Jones, who was a prisoner five years amongst them, and for many years since has been an interpreter, and agent for the payment of their annuities, is thatthey broke out of the earth from a large moun- tain at the head of Canandaigua Lake, and that mountain they still venerate as the place of their birth; thence they derive their name, " Ge-nun- de-wah,"* or Great Hill, and are called " The Great Hill People," which U the true definition of the word Seneca. y' .#^.» > The great hill at the head of Canandaigua lake, from whence they sprung, is called Genundewah, and has for a long time past been the place where the Indians of that nation have met in council, to hold great talks, and to offer up prayers to the Great Spirit, on account of its having been their birth place; and also in consequejice of tliedes-' traction of a serpent at that place, in ancient time, in a most miraculous manner, which threatened the destruction of the whole of the Senecas, and barely spared enough to commence reglenishing the earth. ; ■ , . "^^'^^.'^^^^i-'^' The Indians say, says Cs^t. Jones, tlmt the fort on the big hill, or Genundewah, near the hc;ad of Canandaigua lake, was suril'ounded by a monstrous 3"*', v^ This by some is spoken Ge-nun-de-wah-gauh. |M^/ ^ ■MiS. ^id I , } .wmtm'm^ tJ^^WIf fc 3 "' m ^^, 'J 158 ; V ^ -C '-'li.*^v •q,--. ...y, '.'^■'■ ,»■•. % ., . ■■■' ■ J APPENDIX. M^-J'\: '':-y. serpent, whose head and tail came together at the gate. A long time it lay there, confounding the people with its breath. At length they atteu)pted to make their escape, some with their hommany- blocks, and others with different implement^ of household furniture; and in marching out of the fort walked down the throat of the serpent. Two orphan children, who had escaped this general de- struction by being left some time before on the outside of the fort, were informed by an oracle of the means by which they couid get rid of their formidable enemy — which was, to take a small bow and a poisoned arrow, made of a kind of wil- low, and with that shoot the serpent under its scales. This they did, and the arrow prov •d ef- fectual ; for on its penetrating the skin, tfie serpent became sick, and extending itself rolled down the hill, destroying all the timber that was in it& way, disgorging itself and breaking wind greatly as it went. At every motion, a human head was dis- charged, and rolled down the hill into the lake, where they lie at this day, in a petrified state, having the hardness and appearance of stones, •"^ To this day the Indians visit that sacred place, to mourn the loss of their friends, and to celebrate some rites that are peculiar lo themselves. To the knowledge of white people there has been no timber on the great hill since it was first discovered by them, though it lay apparently in a state of na- ture lor a great number of years^ iivithout cultiva- tion. Stones in the shape of Indians^ heads may be seen lying in the lake in great plenty, which are said to be the same that were deposited there at the death of the serpent. ^?;^f^ ' f- .0,. .t - >■ y^ ^^y :(.■- <^..^f ■ '■V"- '/'■'■ 1 '■'-:: ■i'"'K:>'/.'-.':: 5*i.: 5>- N ;^ •If.*'*'- v--< ' hi (1' v> '- •*•■ . "^i. f'\'f"W^.'^f^>Vi^irWfJ^sSlffW^'^^ 'J- V. nyi- . < ■ f'V, 160 APPENDIX. . V ., - j; ■. ■ ■ .. . '.(' . •• ■ ' y'iir''". J '■<■.• •■ ,_.; ' . „ ■ -. • .• . . ■' ■ '" v A-*'. . ... ,-. - .„> .. - . tinction from those, who, ha\ing renounced some ^ of their ffMner superstitioos ootions, have ohiain- ed the riame of Christians. The tradilioiiary faith of their fathers, having been orally transmit- ted to them from time immemorial, is implicitly believed, scrupulously adhered to, and rigidly prac- tised. They are agreed in their sentiments — are all of one order, ana have individual nivd pobhc good, especially among themselves, for the grieat 'motive whicln excites them to attend to those mo- ral vntues tiiat are directed and explained by all. their rules, and in iVii theh- ceremonies. nf Many years have elapsed since the introduction tion of Christiao Missionaries among them, v/hom ,j; they have heard ^ and very generally isnderatand ■'"•■the purport of the message they were sent to deliver. ■■..'They say that it is highly probable that Jesos .^"Christ came ioto the world in old times^ to establish a religion that wooid promote the happiness of the white people, on the other side of ihe great water, ■ (meanitig toe sea,) and that h*^ died for the sins of . his people, as the oVis^rionaries have informed tliem t "IrBut^ they say that Jesos Christ had nothing to do ■;^with thens, amd that tlje Christian .religion was not desvi^rroed for their benei^t ; but rather, should they embrace it, they are co,niMlent it would make them . worse, and consequently do them an injury. They say, also, thai the Great Ooodl Spiiit gave them tiieir religion; and thint it is better adapted to their circurnstancesj, situation and habits, and to the promotioo of their present comfort and ultimate itappiitiess, tliian aoy system that ever h.as or carii be devised., They., however, believe, that lh<'^ Christian religion is better calculated for the good :»•■' the * ''if ■; ' ' '". ■ , ■■„■'"■■■ 161 M^ white jw*op!(S tb€«i theirs ifc, md: ^wmwiet "■tlio«e who- have eimbltoisd; i ., dp eot attctulmo-re stnetiy to its pTm^pm, mad L*el rnare engaged for its support and illiumT^* «rmji)g tljemselves. At #j5« present 'di3oej tl::.y are opposed lo preachers or ssilii rq>|>6'«Sir.4«^tertified l>y all' means- to adlier^ to ■'|^_Tb^'tel»«H^ ifj'k Great Gbod Spirit, (wbc^ w<^'5? '^aiill iji tli^- Saieca hngmge Nati-w.aO"e-aj)..as #e €re«ifor of tli^ worlds am! of every good #iiog— ^that im''mMe men, and ail meifensive' ain- MaHtj that^ he ^applies iifserj -with all the c5>rfiforts o/Hfe; andihat he ltpr«fticularly partiai to the inclMng, whom M>ey?.,s^y are his peciiliar people. "f'iey ako bfeiieve tliat lie ?s-^ pleased iiv giving them (elj'e Irjdkris?) g^od giftS:;*' iaird that- heJs highly gratified- #2ti their,, good co!jdtict-~^tlrat he abiiors iheir vite^^ arftbat he kwillmg to -puiiigh them ibtt^mr bad c-ondact, noix>n\yin this ^.w.orld, but in ■d,ht\m state c/f existence. ■■• ilis-.rej*ide»eej'|hey mxppme^ ^m ft ?4 'great distmlee firotii' ■ tlsl^m^-in:; a comVixy ifmt h p^^rfectiy p!#asant^ \vlief^,.^ie^ty abourids^ even to profygian* That there the ^^i I is coimpk'idy feriih, aad ih,e -reasons so raild that the corn oever faik t© be good— that tlte deer, elkj imfMo^^ turkki^ an4 other useful animals, are tmtrmimfiymid tlmtthe^rests are well calculated to tmMf^^^ their hnntitig ihem v'vith success^— that tlmstxmsM are pure, and abous^d with Jfish ; aiid that r«othirig is waMtlug^ ia render fruitioH com- plete. Over this territory they say Nauwaneu prestdes as an all-powerftit Meg ; and that without ^ouosel he admits to bis pleasures ail whom lie 2 .«*V.' ..^-«#'i**<5Maif**w*««*'^'**»* »jM < u it W lw»i wB <' Ot j iv ^j i ' ff '*c* <.,w< .«Ji ."\ .<•''' v^V^^"''' s considers to be worthy of enjoying so great a st^ta of blessedness. To this being theyciddrefss prayers^ offer sacri* fices, give thanks for favors, and perform many acts of devotion and reverence. They likewise believe |;hat Natiwanew hs^^ a brother that is less powerful than himself, an«i who is opposed to him, and to everyone thf^ i^orwisfei'f t© be good: that this bad Spirit made sill evil things^ snakes, wolves^ catamounts^ and ?i!! othef poisonous or noxious aninjpJs and beasts of prey, except the bear, which;^ on the account of the ex- cellence of its meat for food, and skin for clothing, ? they say was made by Na^iwaneu. Besides all this they say he makes and sends them their dis- eases, bad weather and bad crops, and that he makes and supports witches. He owns a large Cbuniry adjoining that of his brother, vith whom he is contiiiually at variance. His fields are un- productive; thick clouds intercept the rays of the sUftj fi^rid consequently destructlire frosts are fre- quent ; ga^nfie is very scarce, and not easily taken ; ravenous beasts are numerous ; reptiles of every poisoned tooth lie in the path of the traveller; the streams are muddy, and hunger, nakedness and general mi icry, are severely feh by those who un- fertunately become his tenants. He takes pleasure in afflicting the Indians here, and after their death receives all those into his dreary dominions, who in their life time have been so vile as to be rejected by Nauwaneu, under whose eye they are continued in an uncomfortable state forever. To this source of evil they offer some oblations to abate his ven- J;eance, and rendei: bim propitious. They, how- vv'r*''.-ii ■ ■ ■•■• ■ ■' ■i'' 'th- ■p ■■itrv,"« ■■■?! ^ri* aI^ mi*f ^^^■':.;:4 i: ever, baliave him to b^j in a degree^, under subjec- tion to bis brother^ and incapable of executing his plaos on^Iy by his high permission* Public religious duties are atteiided to in the eelebrati<^n of particular festivals and sacrifices, which are observed with circumspection and at- tmi^^A with decorum. In each year they have five feasts^ or stated times im assembling in their tribes, and giving thassks to Najuwaneu, for the blessings which they have i?eceived from bis kind and liberal and provi- dent hand ; and also to converse upon tjhe best means of meriting a continuance df his favors. The first of these feasts is immediately after they have finished sugaringj at ^vhich time they give thanks for the favorable weather arid great quan- tity of sap they have had, and for the sugar that they have been allowed to make for the benefit pf their families, At this, as at all the succeeding feasts, the Chiefs arise singly, and ai»>rt»MLli| fel^lf^Tpf ■ ^^ .../ ,/»'■. API»ENWI. hut keep straight ahead in t|je wgy of well doing, th^ t, will lead tlientt to the pacadise nf Nauwaneu. The lecoiid feast is after plaptikig; when they render thaoHs for the |i|ei^aQtr^s of the season — for 4;he good time th^y have %l^ for |>reparing their ground and plaiitii^th^ir<^rn| midar« hi- structed by th^ir Chieft, by.what niesins to inerit a good harvest. When the green corn becqmet^ fi^fase, they hold their third, or grem cor|i fea3t. Their fourth isxelebrate^ after pora hai^est 5 aa^d the .fiitfe at the close of thek year, and is a|3»rays celebrat^ at '4^e time of ilie old moon iri the last oif January or first of February. This to deserv^ a partic- ular description. ■ ^ The Indians havji^ returned, floihiiuntlhg, and having brought inali ^e veJ>isor^and skiiis that they have takeo, ai;branfu|tfe ia appointed, says Mrs, lemison^ c<)nsisting of fr^ t^ii t^ $#enty active Rien, to superintend tli^ festivk^^ of the great sac- r^e and thanksgiving th«^ is ^ be immediately celebrated. This being done, jM-epiiratiorjs are made at the council-house, or place of meeting, for the reception and accommodation oC the Whole tribe; tnd then the ceremoaies are commenced, and the whole is conducted with a ffj^eiit degree of order and harnj#ny, uiider the direction of the committee. Two white 4og%* ^yiout spot or blemish, are selected ^if SMcii can te found, and if not, two that have the fewest agots) from those belonging ?lo the tribe, and killed n^ar the doOr of the coun- cil-house, hy being sfriingled. A woutid on the '** This was the practf^in form<^' times; but at presefit I iim'>i|lforme4 that onljr im^ dog is sacfrifictd. vv ■' > ; (■; t^.' ">t,f-f>.; ir^ |bejr itig iti* rita nt iary '•^, i^PENDlX. unimal or an cfiusion of blood, would spoil the victim, and render the sacrifice useless. The dogs are then painted red on their faces, edges of their ears, and on various parts of their bodies, and are curiously decorated with ribbons of different colors, and fine feathers, which are tied and fastened on in such a manner as to make the most elegant ap« pearance. They are then hung on a post near the door of the council-house^ at the height of twenty feet from the ground. ^ " ' ^ '^^ " • This being done, the frolic is commenced by those who are present, while the committee run through the tribe or town, and hurry the people to assemble, by knocking on their houses. At this time the committee are naked, (wearing only a breech-clout;) and each carries a paddle, with which he takes up ashes and scatters them about the house in everv direction. In the course of the ceremonies, all the fire is extinguished in every hut throughout the tribe, and new fire, struck from ^the flint on each hearth, is kindled, after having v«^^emoved the whole of the ashes, old coals, &c. jjlaving done this, and discharged one or two guns, Hhey go on, and in this manner they proceed till they have visited every house in the tribe. This finishes the business of the first day. ' On the second day the committee dance, go through the town with bear-skin on their legs, and at every time they ^tart they fire a gun. They also beg through the tribe, each carrying a basket in which to receive whatever may be bestowed. The alms consist of Indian tobacco, and other ar- ticles that are used for incense at the sacrifice. Each manager at this time carries a drii^d, tortoise , ^^ ^ \.y »^flMMlK«lMit''.iM«iWni^a,'. •^ W, 1.^ ■S-. lea -'"^V'^/' f APPENDIX. ^'f'M It or turtle shell, containing a few beans, which he frequently rubs on the w^lls of the houses, both inside and out. This kind of manoeuvering by the committee continues two or three days, during which time the people at the councki-house recre- ate themselves by dancing. On the fourth or fifth day the committee make false faces of husks, in which theyfun about, making a frightful but ludicrous appearance. In this dress, (still wearing the bear-skin,) they run to the council-house, smearing themselves with dirt, and bedaub everyone who refuses to contribute something towards filling the baskets of incense, jwhich they continue to carry, soliciting alms. During all this time they collect the evil spirit, or drive it ofi' entirely, for the present, and also con- centrate within themselves all the sins of their tribe, however numerous or heinous^ * ^r^^ On the eighth or nintli day, the committee hav- ing receive^ all the sin, as before observed, into their own bodies, they takedown the dogs, and after having transfused the whole of it into one of their own number, he, by a peculiar slight of hand, or kind of magic, works it all out of himself inta the dogs. The dogs, thus loaded v^ith all the sins of tlie people, are placed upon a pile of wood that is directly set on fire. Here they are burnt, to- gether with the sins with which they were loaded;^ surrounded by the multitude, who throw incense of tobacco or the like into the fire, the scent of which they say, goes up to Nauwaneu, to whom it is pleasant and acceptable. This feast continues nine days,'"' and during that ^4t|ijresent) as I have b«en iofocmed, thi^ feast is not ^k(t'"^ "'^:d tOfind^m. . ./ • \.M liM^B,(.r, ■--K..v*» )rt :-.•<. "^'^* i -i. time tl year pi througj regulaf On an eh beans,| till th< mess ji eat wi| others one V consu the p< and t place ness < obser degre Tl who litel) imp( erall ( dai ths "V..: ) lie »oth the •fng cre- In to- rt. APPENDIX. let time the Chiefs review the national affairs of the year past; agree upon the best plan to be pursued tiirough the next year, and attend to all internal regulations. ■' ' /^' On the last day, the whole company partake of an elegant dinner, consisting of meat, corn and beans, boiled together in large kettles, and stirred till the whole is completely mixed and soft. This mess is devoured without much ceremon}^ — some eat with a spoon, by dipping out of the kettles 5 others serve themselves in small dippers ; some in one way, and some in another, till the whole is consumed. After this they perform ihe war dance, the peace dance, and smoke the pipe of peace ; and then, free from iniquity, each repairs to bis place of abode, prepared to commence the busi- ness of a new year. In this feast, teotperance is observed, and commonly, order prevails in a greater degree than wotiM naturally be expected. They are fond of the company of spectators who are disposed to be decent, and treat them po- litely in their way ; but having been frequently imposed upon by the whiteS|. theyjtreat them gen- erally with indifference. '" iS !f'^^\. OF THEIR DANCES. ;-*^-v.' f e war >^ Op tfiese, two only will be noticed. dance is said to have originated about the time that the Six Nations, or Northern Indians, com- commonjiy held more than from five to seven days. In for- mer times, and till within a few years, nine days were par- ticularly observed, ,^^ «)■,«" ^' v;fj - + ''%. 4 & ^jfrrpy^ '•v-s'-. ^i^'- \ .■* ■Y^L^i^v.vij^i- m u.->iLk' . T"-' ^w "T- . . :fm hS nienced the did war with the Cherokees and other Southera Indian Nations, about one handed years -;^Vi W^hen a tribe, or number of tribes of the Six ^ Natfions, had assembled fbr the purpose of going to battle with their enemies, the Chiefs sung this song, and accompanied the music with dancing, and gestures that corresponded with the sentiments expressed, as a kind of stimulant to increase their courage, and anxiety to march forward to the place of carnage. *^ M^vi v r 'f/r- . Those days having passed away, the Indians at this day sing the ^ war song,' to commemorate the ^achievements of their fathers, and as a kind of amusement. When they perform it, they arm themselves with a war-club, tomahawk and knife, and commence singing with firm voice, and a stern, resolute countenance : but before they get through they exhibit in their features and actions the most shocking appearance of anger, fury and vengeance, that can be imagined : No exhibition of the kind can be more terrifying to a stranger. The song requires a number of repetitions in the tune, and has a chorus that is sung at the end of each verse. I have not presumed to arrange it in metre ; but the following is the substance : ** We are assembled in the habiliments of war, and will go in quest of our ejiemies. We will march to their land and spoil their possessions. We will take their women and children, and lead them into captivity. The warriors shaft fall by our war* clubs — we will give tlpm no quarter. Our ton^ft- hawks we will dip i%their brains I with our scalp- ing knives we will scalp them.'' At each period '^■' ■/-' ■■^: 'v"5! ■■ (:■ ".^r 'M ^ .'i'^' s' f 170 .^v ■rf-im l" \': APPENDIX. I ''^ ■■<•& %^:' ,*"'.^. iliBtits fbrmalconduct. H^'atsdls a membef of the national council : but his principal business is to superintend the military concerns of his tribe, and in war to lead his warriors to battle. He acts in concert with the other Chief, and their word is im- plicitly relied on, as the law by which they mlist be governed. That which they prohibit, is not med- dled with. The Indian laws are few, #nd easily expounded. Their business of a public nature is transacted in council, where every decision is final. They meet in general council once a year, and sometimes oftener. The administration of their government is not attended with expense. They \ have no national revenue, and consequently have k' no taxes. ■^'; M 1i^ ^A^ IHE EXTENT AND NUMBiiR OF THE SIX 1-^S: . - . . p#-]N[4Tio]vs,.|ii^--;;:;'^^ ■ ■ ' 1 ^> ir ■!»t ■ /•\ ^■ .i-^. ¥^:- APPENDIX. -t^ ^ >;. OF THEIR COURTSHIPS,* kc. 171 .^. When sd Indian ?es a squaw whom lie fanties, fie 8end» a pi sent to her mother or parents, who on receiving it consult with his parents, his friends, and each other, on the propriety and expediency of the proposed connexion. If it is not agreeable, the present is returned; but if it is, the lover is informed of his good fortune, and immediately goes to hve with her, or takes her to a hut of his own preparing. Polygamy 's practised in afew instances, and is not prohibited. Divorces are frequent. If a difficulty of impor- tance arises between a married couple, they agree to separate. They divide their property an ^ chil- dren ; the squaw takes the girls, the Indian the beys, and both are at liberty to marry again. They have no marriage ceremony, nor form of divorcement, other than what has been mentioned. ■-^:. n: II: #.'■;'■: m. ifx . !i^^-. J ■IP fm ¥ • ^' at vrr ~' •' 'W.?^' APPENDIX. 179 furnish him with evm^y article of perpetual happi- ness* The grave is now filled and leil till evening, when some of the nearest relatives of the dead build afire at the head of it, near which they set till morning. In this way they continue to practise nine successive nights, when, believing that their departed fVi#nd has arrived at the end of his jour- ney, they discontinue their attention. During this time the relatives of the dead Are not allowed to dance. Formerly, fVolics were held, after the expiration of nine days, for the dead, at which all the squaws got drunk, and those were the only occasions oH which they w^re intoxicated: but lately those are discontinued, and squaws feel no delicacy in get^ ting inebriated. itua- his Tells , he 10 his hem, ill he Nau- 11 see have the , and OF THEia CREDULITY. V As ignorance is the parent of credulity, it is if of a thing to be wondered at that tlie Indians should possess it in a great degree, aiid even suffer them- selves to be dictated and governed by it in many of the most important transactions of their lives. ^ They place great confidence in dreams, attach some sign to every uncommon circumstance, and believe in charms, spirits, and many supernatural things that never existed, only in minds enslaved to ignorance and tradicron: imt in no instance is their credulity so conspicuous; as in their unalter- able belief in watches. %^ /-tr ■.:■<■ M,^ ■,..:•'■,■■;. .- •■'■■ -':.) ■■ . > ■< ■ ■ ■ • . 1 ■ ' „■ .■■■.. .^.,., ... :-''■■ ■ ■■ ■ ■■ V •> ■ v-^ ■,v).; _tjS; mmm '^mw^ lip- .'^,- ^M^'.X:fM'^^ APPENDIX :SN, ^.j..';. *S^'...- I. i, ; *they helhve ihete are mm.f:of thes'isty and that next to the author of evll_^ tkey are the greatest scourge te their peopk. Thelerm witch^ by thenij is used teh io, the mmmime wM (kmmme gender, mid iBBMes ^A pe'xmn to whom zk^ evil deity Ims delegated power t© infiHSt disease^^ cause deatb^ blast core, 'bri-Pig bad vceatlierj and io short to caur^e almost ^imy calamity; to wirieh they are liable. With thh impressioirij aod belie'viog that it k their mftud} duty to destroy,, as far as lies in their power^ every source of onhappinessj it has been a custom aeioog them from time immemorial^ to destroy ^' every one that they cow'kl convict of so heinous-a^ f rime ; and io fact there is uo reprieve from the .'.•■•f Pto* J'emjsonlKiformed iiS that jriore or lesswlio had beee charged with being witches, had been executed In ahiiost every year since she has lived on the Genesee, Mawy, on being suspected, made their escape : while others, before they were aware of being impUcatedj have been apprelieiK!ed and brought to trial. She says that a Dumber of years • agOj an Indmn chased a >?c{uaw, near Beard's JTowe, and caw^ht her 5 hut oa the account of her "great st&rength she got away. The Indimi^ vexed, ; ^.^nd disappointedj went fiDSwe, and the next day reported that he saw hei" have i^re 10 her mouth-, ;;^.;lind that she was a witch« Upon this she was ap- prehended and killed iotitnedsately. She w^b Fig- tree^s cousin. Mrs. Jeffnison says she was present ■at the ax€cutiofi. She also saw one other killed ■■^nd thrown into the riveff« . :'':3' €oi, Jeremiah Smithy of Leicester, near Beard's '; ;':'*l'owBj saw an Indlm killed by his feve brotf-jers, .;';..:■>?■ •■ ■F'l :;''• ■ "' ^■ t. ''X. I!,*, hMM.»».,um,.,,^^mAa^'mmi,mmmmm mmmmmmmmt :V4 hat ?st ims eir orti roy tiie '**?■ APWaSTDIX. 175 who struck him on the head with their toma- hawks at one time* He was charged with being a witchy because of his hmmg been fortj nate enough, when or< a hunting party, to kill anunik>er of deer, while hh comrades failed of taking any. Col. Smith also saw asqwawjwho ha^ be^n con* vicred of being a witch ;^ killed by having small green whips bwrnt till they were red hot, but not quite coaled, and thrust down her throat. Frorrt such trifling causes tfiousands have 2 176 APPENDIX. z",*-!^ •i. through the tfibe. If any, ire mains to be planted, ^ey again commence whf3^ they did at first, (in the same field,Y and so k^p on till the whole is ^nished^ By this rule they perform their labor of every kind, and ev^ry jealousy of one having done more or less than another, is eflfectually avoided. Jlach squaw cues her own wood ; but it is all brought to the house under the direction of the overseer^^-each bringing one back load. are time Hil his n\ wort! mi: OF THEIR METHOD OF COMPUTING TIME, AND KeEPJNQ THEIR RECORDS. This is done by moons and winters: a mooi) is a Utionth, arul the time from the ehd of one winter to that of another, a year. From sunset till sunrise, ihey say that the sun is asleep. In the old of the mvoofi, when it does not shine in the night, they say it is dead. They re- joice greatly at the sight of the new niooo. , ■ In order to commemorate great events, and pre- fs^fve thee hronology of them, the #ar Chief in eacfi tribe keeps a war post. This post is a peeled Jtick of timber, 10 or 12 feet high, that is erected in the town. For a campaign they make, or rather the Chief makes, a perpendicular red mark, about three inches long and half an U^h wide; on the opposite side from this, ibf a scalp, they make a red cross, thus, +; on another side, for a prisoner taken ve, they i»ake a red cross in this manner, ^, Ith a Ke^4 oi* dot, aiid by l^acing such significant li'leoglyphics in so ponspicuous a situation, they IMV''- kaMnik MlLmaimm^ii^ltlM m •J'K*'. ited, |, (in ►le is 6r of Mane ?d. ^s all the i' ■ '«i? APPENDIX. ^ '■>r'> 177 are enabled to ascertain with great certainty the time and circumstances of past events. Hiokatoo had a war-post, on which was recorded his military exploits, and other things that he tho't worth preserving. ., ^ ,^ r , . ^ r^^, 'tvi.-' t' V '"^.5^^'^ ■,■; f» ' ^•' '■■'■•::T ANECDOTES. ■ *iVf 'S'§: HioKAToo used to say that when he was a young man, there lived in the same tribe with him an old Indian warrior, who was a great counsellor, by the name of Buck-in-je-hil-lish. Buckinjehillish hav- i i^ vith great fatigue, attended the council whea it was deliberating upon war, declared that none but the ignorant made war, but that the wise men nnd the warriors had to do the fighting. This speech exasperated his countrymen to such a de- gree that he was apprehended and tried for being a witch, on the account of his having lived to so advanced an age ; and because he could not show some reason why he had not died before, he was sentenced to be tomahawked by a boy on the spot, which was accordingly done. .. * In the last war, (1814,) an Indian wiho had been on fatigue, called at a commissary's and begged some bread. He was sent for a pail of water be- ' fore he received it, and while he was absent an ^officer told the commissary to put a piece of monj into the bread, and observe the event. He did The Indian took the bread and went off: but on the jiext day hr■''^'\ ^' meneed, that continued without cessation tili th«c M fellaw leil his s§at| ind thec^bscurity was entleiy remov* '"^W -Ml APPENDIX. 179 ed, to the great joy of the ingenious and fortunatt Indians. In the month of February, 1824, Corn Plai^ter, a learned pagan Chief at Tonnewonta, died ojf dg;i^- mon sickness. He had received a hbersri educnitptl. and was held in high estimation in his town ana tribe, by both parties; but the pagans more partic- ularly mourned his loss deeply^ and seemed entirely ■ unreconciled. They imputed his death to witch- craft, and charged an Indian by the name of Prompit, with the crime. Mr. Prompit is a christian Indian, of the Tusea- lora nation, who has Jived at Tonne wonta a number of years, where he has built a saw-mill himself, which l^ie owns, and is considered a decent, respect- able man. t^ About two weeks aftier the death of Corn Planter^ Mr. Prompit happened in company where th au- thor was present, and immediately begun to con- yerse upon that subject. He said that the old fashioned Indians called him a witc|i — believed that; he had killed Corn Plantei, and l^— I am innocent. When Jesus Chrnt^^ enemies, said he, wanted to kill him, he did ntn away tVom them, but let them kill him ; why should I run away frow^»y enenaes? jhow the atfair will termusate we are unaUe te> decide, m^ ■K ^,->^uj.jaujijjiiipi I mmmwmmmmnmim^mm'mmmm^. im 180 AIPPENDIX. DESCRIPTION OF GENESEE RIVER AND ITS BANKS; FROM MOUNT MORRIS TO ) THE UPPER FALLS. . W^&H Mount Morrb the banks of the Genesee ar^fifom two to ft^iir hundred feet in height, iyith narrow flats oii one side of the river or the other, till you arrive at the tract called Gardow, or Cross ^ills. Here you come? to Mr*. Jamison's flats, ivhich are two miles an4 a quarter long, and from « eighty to one hundred and twenty rods wide, lying moltly on the west side of the river. ,^ Near the upper end of these flats is the Great riSlide. Directly above this, the banks (still retain- ing their before mentioned height) approach so near each other as to admit of but thirty acres of flat on one side^f the river only, and above this the perpendicular rock comes down to the water. From Gardow you ascmd the river live mlle^ to the lower falls, which are ninety-three feet perpen- dicular. These falls are twenty rods wide, and have the greatest channel on the east side. From Wolf cre^ to these falls the banks are covered with elegant \^Hte and Norway pine. Above the lower falls the banks for about two miles are of perpendicular rock, and retain their height of between two and four hundred feet. Having travelled this distance you reach the mid- dle falls, which are an uninterrupted sheet of water fifteen rods wide, and one hundred and ten feet in lerpendicular height. This natural curiosity is lot exceeded by any tiling of the kind in the 'western country, except the cataract at Niagara. From the middle falls the banks gradually rise, ill you ascend the river half a mile, when you itfPENDIX. 181 come to the upper falls, which are somewhat loll* ing, 66 feet, in the shape of a harrpw. Abo^jthis the banks are of moderate height. The tinftber from the lower to the upper falls is principall3i|»ine. Just above the middle falls a saw-mill wasdfi^i^d this season (1823) by Messrs. %iba Hurd and Alva Palmer. HUNTING ANECDOTE. In November, 1822, Capt. Stephen Rolnh and Mr. Alva Palmer drove a deer into Genesee river, a short distance above the middle falls, where the banks were so steep and the current so impetuous, that it could not regain the shore, and consequent- ly was precipitated over the falls, one hundred and ten feet, into the gulph below. The hunters ran along the bank below the falls, to watch tne fate of the animal, expecting it would be dashed m pieces. But to their great astonishment it came up alive, and by swimming across a small eddy, reached the bank almost under the falls; and as it stood in that situation, Capt. Rolph, who was on the top of the bank, shot it. This being done, the next thing to be considered was, how to get their prize. The rock being perpendicular, upwards of one hundred feet, would not admit of their climbing down to it, and there was no way, apparently, fpr them j get at it, short of going down th0 river yvo miles, to the lower falls, and then by creeping'between th^^ water and the precipice^ they might pivisibly reacll their game. This process would be |oo tediou^. At length Mr. Palmer proposed to ^pt. Rolph Q w ftt H im AFPEM»II. and Mr. Heman Merwin, who bad joined tliem^ thatif they would make a windlns and fasten it to a couple ot saplings that stood near, and then pru6|re some ropes, he would he fetdowa and get the ifeer. The apparatus i^as prepared ; the rope was tied round Pajme^t'* body , and he was let down. On arriving at tiie ho^tom he unloosed hiiiM»elf, fastened the rope round the deer, which they drew bp, and then threw dawn the rope, in which he fastened himself, and was drawn up, without hav- ing sustained any injury. From the top to the bot- tom of the rock, where he wallet down, was ex- actly one hundred and twenty feet. ^ 'if '■' ".,■■'■- < ■, , ■■: ?-■ m '• .J: l' < .,)■:: fk CONTENTS. Prefagi!:. Introduction. :h FAOS^ n 7 CHAPTER I. Nativity of her Parents. Their removal to Araer-i ica. Her Birth. Parents settle in Pennsjrlvama. Omen of her Captivity. . . * ' : > tt \w ^^■%--':r,,-*'^ '■-,>. Cl^APTElt- II.';, ,-v. V- ,, Her education. Captivity. J^ourney to Fort Pitt. Mother^s Farewell Address. Murder of her Family. Preparation of the Scalps. Indian Precautions; Arrival at Fort Pitt, kc. . . . . S8 '&;jf "■, ' >: ■ -, - , V . -;/■ ■ • ■■"'■,'''''. " ■ "^ j'V ." '. , > CHAPTER III. She is given to two Squaws. Her Journey down the Ohio. Passes a Shawnee town, where white men had just been burnt. Arrives at the Seneca town. Her Reception. She is Adopted. CJeremo- ny of Adoption. Indian Custom. Address^ She receives a new name. Her Employment. Retains her own and learns the Seneca Language. Situation of the Town, &te. Indians«o on a Hunting Tour to .Sciota, and tak^ her with tnem. Returns. She is taken to Fort Pitt, and then hurried back by her Indian Sisters. Her hopes of Liberty destroyed. Second Tour to Sciota. Return to Wiishto, Uc, Arrival of Prisoners, PriscillaRamsav. Her Chain. Mary marries a Belaware. Her Affection fbr him. Birth and Death of her first ChUd. Her Sickness and Recovery. Birth of Thomas Jemison. . $B w m •^WfUfrwrn'^ ^im- mum 184 CONTENTS. h CHAPTER IV. , Sh« Ifeaves Wiishto for Fort Pitt, in company with her flusbandt Her feelings on setting out. Contrast between the Labor of the White and Indian Women. Deficiency of Arts amongst the Indians. Their for- mer Happiness. Ban^lul effects of Civilisation, and the introduction of ardent Spirits amongst them, Stc. Journey up the River. Murder of three Trad- ers by the Shawnees* * Her Husband stops nt a Trading House. Wantonness of the Shawnees. Moves up the Sandusky. Meets her Brother from Genishau. Her Husband goes to Wiishto, and she sets out for Genishau in company with her Brothers. They arrive at Sandusky. Occurrences at that place. Her Journey to Genishau, and Reception by 'her Mother and Friends. . . . y 46 if I'i: ' I CHAPTER r. ; Indians march to Niagara to fight the British. Return with two Prisoners, fcc. Sacrifice them at Fall Brook. Her Indian Motlier's Address to her Daughter. Death of her Husband. Bounty offered for the Prisoners taken in the last War, John Van Sice attempts to tak6 her to procure her Ransom. Her Escape. Edict of the Chiefs. Old King of the tribe determines to have her given up. Her brother threatens her Life. Her; narrow Escape. The old King goes oflT. Her brother is informed of the place of her concealment, and conducts her home. Marriage to her second Husband. Names of her Children. ... . . . 54 CHAPTER VI. Peace amongst the Indians. Celebrations. Wor-p ship. Exercises. Business of the Tribes. Former Happiness of the Indians in time of peacej extolled. Their Morals; Fidelity; Honesiy; Chastity; Tem- . perance. Indians called to GermsMnt Flats. Treaty i HMttMHil n^ T' wn\' CONTENTS. X^ 46 54 i with Americans. Tbej are sent for by the British Commissioners, and ^ to Oswego. Promises made by those Commissioo^s. Greatness of the King of England. Reward {liat was paid them for Joinios the Britishi They ilmke a Treaty. Bounty offered for ^alps. R«turn richly dressed and equipped. In 1776^ they kill a man at Cautega, to provoke the An^erioani/ Prisoners taken at feherry Valley, brought to Beard's Town } RadAsmed, &^c. Battle at I%rt Stanwix. Indians su&r a great Loss. — Mourning at Beard's Town. Mrs. Jemison's care of, and services rendered, to Butler and Brandt. 6!^ CHAPTEE VII. Gen. Sullivan with a large Army arrives at Can- andaigua. Indians' Troubles. Determine to stop their March. Skirmish at Connissius Lake. Cir- cumstances attending the Execution of an Oneida Warrior. Escape of an Indian Prisoner. Lieut. Boyd and another man taken Prisoners. Cruelty of Boyd's Execution. Indians retreat to the Woods. Sullivan cotiies on. to Genesee Flats and destroys the Property of the Indians. Returns. Indians Return. Mrs^JTemison goes to Gardow. Her Em- ployment there. Attention of an old Negro to her Safety, fcc. Severe Winter. Sufferings of the Indians. Destruction of Game. Indians' Expedi- tion to the Mohawk. Capture old John O'Bail, he. Other Prisoners taken, &&C. . * * .69 CHAPTER VIII. Life of Ebenezer Allen, a Tory. He comes to Gardow. Hh : <» 'macy with a Nanticoke Squaw. She gives him a Cap. Her Husband's Jealousy. Cruelty to his Wi/9w Hiokatoo's Mandate. Allen supports her. Her Husband is received into favor, Allen LsAmrs. PurchasesGoods. Stops the Indian War. Hi« Troubles with the Indians. Marries a ■■4- LH ■,'iu ^> ^7^^ ^^.o. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ?- 1.0 I.I 1^ ■ 50 u 2.0 1-25 1.4 III 1.6 ■^ 6" ► p* 71 om 'e-: M ^l^J^ \ ^.>>' » '^ ^ %' '/ W Photographic Sciences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4S03 ' (';.': 7.^ •w WFT ^^m M- 1^6 CONTENTS. Istafceflaf •<, ed. nesee with a g. Moves ta tc^er. Jlrowns Ktf»aliold Squaw. Is takeA and canled to ^ Goes to Philadelphia. Returns^' Store of Goods, &lc. Goes to Allen's Cireek. BuildsMillsatj a Dutchman. Marries a White' Man. Gets a Concubine. Moves to Mount Hikr is. Marries a third V^e, and gets another Coneiibine. Receives a tract ol Land. Sends his Children to other States, &&c. Dii^bses of his Land. Moves to Grand River, wheVe he Dies. His Cruelties. «; ^§ '* CHAPTER IX. Mrs. Jemison has liberty to go to her Friends. Chooses to stay. Her Reasons, &lc. Her Indian brother makes provision for her settlement. He goes to Grand River, and dies. Her love for him, &£C. She is presented with the Gardow Reservation, Description of the Soil, kc. of hier Flats. Indian notions of the ancient Inhabitants of this country. 9£ CHAPTER X. Happy situation of her Family. Disagreement between her sons Thomas and John. Her Advice to them, &&C. John kills Thomas. Her Affliction. Council. Decision of the Chiefs, he. Life of Thomas. His Wives, Children, ^e. Cause of his De&th, he, . . . . ' . . . 96 CHAPTER Xt. Death of Hiokatoo. Biography. His Birth; Ed- ucation. Gqes against the Uherokees, kc. Bloody Battle, he. His success and cruelties in the Firench War. Battle at Fort Freeland. Capts. Do^igherty and Boon killed. His Cruelties in the neighborhood of Cherry Valley, &ic. Indians remove their general Encampment. In 178£, C61. Crawford is sent to destroy them, he. Is met by a Traitor. Battle. Crawford's men surprized. Irregular Retreat.— \v,t»jj' ''^'iS' :t\ ■^' > } -1 "-■ A tJ tit ■^■ -70 ^:V.f CONTENTS; 187 .-■^H x Crawford and Doct-Night taken. Council. Craw- ford is Condemned 91^ Burnt. Aggravating cir- ;^i5umstances. NigMii sentenced to be Burnt. Is ^iPainted by Hiokatdci* I9 CDnductflfd off, &c. His fortunate Escape. Hlokatoo, in the French War, takes Col. CantomviF^is Sentence. I3 bound on a wild Colt, that r^t loose two days, tletunis Alive. 'Is made to run the Gauntlet. Gets knocked down, &c. Is Redeemed and sent home. Hiokatoo's Enmity to the Cherokees, Ud^ His Height — Strength — Speed, Sic. . . . 103 ^' B ' I. ' f S '."■f{ ■■ f 1 4 « 1* ^i;. CHAPTER XII. , Her TrouMes renewed. John's Jealousy towards his brother Jesse. Circumstances attending the . Murder of Jesse Jemison. Her Grief. His Fu- jneral — Age — 'Filial Kindness, &&c. . . 118 ilt^ ■■■m 1 •■'4:y.,, CHAPTER XIII. Mrs. Jemison is informed tliat she has a Cousin^ in the Neighborhood, by the name of George Jemi son. His Poverty. Her Kindness. His Ingrati- tude. Her Trouble from Land Speculation. Her Cousin moves off. '^^ 122 4 :,'iH^" f '• ',f ^ CHAPTER XIV. Another Family Affliction. Her son John's Oc- cupation. He goes t0 Buffalo — Returns. Great Slide by him considered Ominous. Trouble, &c. f He goes to Squawky Hill— Quarrels — Is murdered I'by two Indians. His Funeral— rMourners, &tc. ; His disposition. Ominous Dream. Black Chief's .Advice, fcc. Hia Widows and Family. His Age. ^^is Murderers flee. Her Advice to them. They '^^net out to leave their Country. Their Uncle's Speech to them on parting. They return. Jack proposes to Doctor to kill each other. Doctor's Speech in reply. Jack's Suicide. Doctor's Death. 126 n -J t ^0 ,%. • '■'■> ■i-S '^^ C. A^ f*; ni '1; #^ sk»«s-«> .1J,J,., ^ j ^yrf*---— ■■»-i*'^f - »v ^'"^y \m ■ i^^i «»■! n I 18ft i)>'^ CRAPTEB XT. .■n ... # '■>■ .:», Micah Brooks, Esq. volunteers to get the Titli- ^ **' to her Land confirmed to herself. She is Natur- alized. Great C&ncil of Chiefs, &dc. in Sept. 1 823. She disposes of her Reservation. Reserves a Tract 2 miles long, and 1 miHe wide, &tc. The Consideration how paid, &lc. ^ . ; . 134 Conclusioti. j^evi«# of her Life. Reflections on the loss of Liberty. Care she took to preserve ^^ , her Health. IndiansVabstem«ousness in Drinking, after the French War. Care of their Lives, Stc, General use of Spirits. Her natural Strength! Purchase of her first Cow. Means by which she has been supplied with Food. Suspicions of her having been a Witch. Her Constancy. Number , >; pf Children. Number Living. Their Residence* ^^■Closing Reflection. .^^^^,^^;.,^,,^ . ' 189 •A , - . i*it, : .■ r , ' it- A ,■?/ 'j^'^^' \ M'>j C0JVTEJVT5 OF THE APPEJWIX. v^rr. t h^^'K An account of the destruction of a part of the British Army, by the Indians, at a place called the t^mc C Devil's Hole, on the Niagara River, in the year 1 763. 145 A particular Account of Gen. Sulhvan's Expe- v:> . dition against the Indians, in.the >vestern part of the State of New- York, in 1779. ... 149 Tradition of the Origin of the Seneca Nation. Their Preservation from utter Extinction. The |i T:^ f Means by which the People who preceded the % Senecas, were Destroyed — and the Cause of the different Indian Languages. i 4$ . '. 'f'^J 157 1-: ^, ^';>^/ ;>:pf their Religiori— Feasts— and gr^at Sacrifice. 159 ?^' i':X'V|Of their Dances. . ' .. . .''. ' -j:- '.rv^p?.;;:4; •l,v;t,,i, .,Of their gbvernment. mi^-^^m^-M^^-^ •' #t^-y ■» >■ t ^wr.r-iJ^r:^ s^i'O.''^'"'' "' i*. i^S-^ •: 'it, '- V- ■• - W' ';!'';ir- ■V •5^ vv ?■'. ' "oi.' Iff' I'. ; .J.'/! 134 V . Ik .'^1 : '■■1 ■ CONTE .4^ The Extent and Number erf the Six Nations. Of their Courtships, ice* . . . Of Family Govemai^ . 170 in J^': /^■-'<- r» .'a. . 1^ Of their Funerals. . , Of their Creduft^. . . , . . . Of the Manner of Inarming, i^ractised by the Indian Women, *^f . . "^r . 175 Of their MediM^ of Ccmj^ting %me, and Keeping their Records. . . . . 176 Anecdotes. . , . . > , 177 Description of Genesee River and ItsBaoks^ from 3ftkunt Morris to the Upper Falls. .% ;^ 180 Hqnting Anecdote. • v .^^^^ < . ^ ^ 181 #' e • ^l''-' •s e . 145 ^; .i- e' ■■■ .-.>!? rn 149 1. ■•'V "-^' e .^ 't ' ■''i' ,c ' e ••,-'., e '' \;<' v.1^7' ; !. 159 .167 ^^fl- "1 f t •»-' \ I ■^#^7**/^''''^'''^'''' --'^ .< ' ^ 5t >'.i.:> k/ •7r'« i'/' /^!»t^'i- . ./" 1 #k# -^^^T^ yf f . : ■■■^ •^ i iii-f tfi^ p* ft i a iwii r i itfiM i -it# i *