The Project Gutenberg eBook, History of the Early Settlement of the Juniata Valley, by U. J. (Uriah James) Jones

JUNCTION OF FRANKSTOWN AND LUCKAHOE BRANCHES OF THE JUNIATA BELOW ALEXANDRIA.

HISTORY
OF THE
EARLY SETTLEMENT
OF THE
JUNIATA VALLEY:

EMBRACING AN
ACCOUNT OF THE EARLY PIONEERS,
AND THE TRIALS AND PRIVATIONS INCIDENT TO THE
SETTLEMENT OF THE VALLEY,
PREDATORY INCURSIONS, MASSACRES, AND ABDUCTIONS BY THE
INDIANS DURING THE FRENCH AND INDIAN WARS, AND THE
WAR OF THE REVOLUTION, &c.

By U. J. JONES.

PHILADELPHIA:
PUBLISHED BY HENRY B. ASHMEAD,
GEORGE ST., ABOVE ELEVENTH.
1856.

Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1856, by U. J. JONES, in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania.

STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON AND CO.
PHILADELPHIA.

Dedication.

TO

MAJOR B. F. BELL,

BELL'S MILLS, BLAIR COUNTY, PENNSYLVANIA.

Dear Sir:—I hope your well-known modesty will not be shocked when your eyes encounter this notice. In dedicating to you the fruits of my first historical labors in the field of literature, allow me to say that I am governed by reasons that will justify me. In the first place, I may cite your well-known and often-expressed veneration and esteem for the memory of the brave old Pioneers of our Valley, their heroic deeds, and their indomitable energy and perseverance, under the most discouraging circumstances, in turning the unbroken wilderness into "a land flowing with milk and honey." Secondly, you are the son of one of those self-same old pioneers, (now in his grave,) who, if not a direct actor in some of the scenes portrayed in the pages following, lived while they were enacted, and trod upon the ground where many of them occurred, while the actors in them were his friends and his neighbors. Manifold, indeed, were the changes he witnessed during a long and useful career; but the common lot of humanity was his, and he now "sleeps the sleep that knows no waking," where once the lordly savage roamed, and made the dim old woods echo with his whoop, many, many years ago.

Lastly, it was through your encouragement that I undertook the task; and it was through your kind and liberal spirit that I was enabled to make it any thing more than an unpublished history, unless I chose to let others reap the benefit of my labors. These things, sir, you may look upon as private, but I cannot refrain from giving them publicity, since I acknowledge that your liberality has entailed upon me a deeper debt of gratitude than I can repay by merely dedicating my work to you.

Allow me, therefore, to dedicate to you, as a small token of my esteem for you, the "History of the Early Settlement of the Juniata Valley." If there is any thing in it to interest the present generation and enlighten posterity, I am willing to divide the honor and glory of its paternity with you, for I am neither afraid nor ashamed to confess that, although I wrote the history, it was through your generosity that I was enabled to publish the book.

A careful perusal of the work will, no doubt, convince you that I have labored studiously to make it interesting, not only to the resident of the Valley, but to the general reader, who must admit that, if I have failed, it has not been for lack of the best exertions on my part.

In conclusion, should the book prove a failure, and not come up to the expectations of my friends, you can console yourself with the reflection that you made a mistake by inciting the wrong man to an undertaking for which he was unqualified. A pleasant reflection! I have said, that, as you were the originator of the book, you should share all the honor that might arise from it. I will be more magnanimous still; if the History proves a mere catchpenny swindle, let the odium and execrations of a humbugged public fall upon

THE AUTHOR.

Hollidaysburg, Pa., Nov. 1855.

PREFACE.

The design, object, and aim of the following pages can be summed up without any circumlocution. Some ten or twelve years ago, a large volume of "Historical Collections of Pennsylvania" was published by Sherman Day, which gave a brief history, among others, of the counties composing the Valley of the Juniata. This work was followed by a compilation, by I. D. Rupp, Esq., entitled "A History of Northumberland, Huntingdon, Mifflin, Centre, Union, Clinton, Juniata, and Columbia counties." The last, as far as our valley was concerned, was almost a reprint of the first, with some few additions gleaned from the Colonial Records and the Archives of the State. Both these works were most liberally subscribed for; in fact, the compilation of the counties had upwards of a thousand subscribers in Huntingdon county (Blair not then formed) alone! The inducements held out, in order to gain such an extensive list, were, that the works would be graphic histories of the early settlement of this country. In this they signally failed. True, here and there they gave an account of some early occurrence; but they were exceedingly brief, lacked detail, and in many instances were found grossly inaccurate. Of course, they gave universal dissatisfaction, because the subscribers looked for a faithful record of the stirring events which occurred when this portion of the land of Penn was "the dark and bloody ground." The descendants of many who figured in the trials incident to the settlement of the valley are still living. The fireside recitals of these events made them "as familiar as household words" among those who are now fast passing away; but they search all histories in vain to find a faithful account of more than a moiety of the struggles, trials, and personal adventures of the pioneers, as well as the many cold-blooded Indian massacres and depredations which spread desolation through the land, and laid waste the homes and firesides of so many who located in what was then a wilderness. Let me not be understood as attempting to deny the merits of the works of which I have spoken. As modern histories, giving accounts, or rather descriptions, of the country as it was at the time they were issued, they were faithful records. Indeed, I will do Mr. Rupp the justice to say that I consider his compilation all it professes to be, according to his preface, in which he says: "A full and minute history of these counties can only be expected after a greater accumulation of historical facts is extant for that purpose."

The facts necessary to give a minute history of the early settlement of the Juniata have been accessible, although it must be admitted that those who could give them from reliable personal recollections have nearly all passed into "the valley and the shadow of death."

Some ten or twelve years ago, Judge M'Cune, Judge Adams, Michael Maguire, and Edward Bell, Esq., met at the mansion of the latter gentleman, in Antes township, Blair county, by invitation. These were all old settlers, whose memories dated back to the struggle of the infant colonies for freedom; and most vividly did they recollect the Indian butcheries when brave Old England paid a stipulated price for rebel scalps. The reunion of these veterans was an epoch in their lives, for they had been children together, had travelled the same rugged path, and, with stalwart frames, sinewy arms, and willing hearts, had earned for themselves names, reputation, and earthly competence. Well may we conjecture that, in fighting the battle of life over again in story, some interesting incidents were related. During this reunion, a history of the early settlement of the upper end of the valley was written, and the manuscript transmitted to the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, in the expectation that it would be published in some of their works. This, however, never was done; and when application was made to the society for a return of the manuscript, it was either lost or mislaid.

Since then, one by one, these old patriots have passed from time to eternity, and the woods and valleys that knew them for three-quarters of a century shall know them no more. With them would, in all probability, have been buried many important facts, had not the author of these pages called upon the last survivor, Michael Maguire, in October last, and taken down, at length, all his early recollections. The time was most opportune, for he was even then upon his deathbed. The sands of a long life were evidently ebbing fast, and he knew it, for he gave it as his solemn conviction that the proposed recital of the past was the last he should ever make to mortal man. Although enfeebled by age, and his body wasting away, his intellect was vigorous and unclouded, and his memory fresh as it was fourscore years ago. Indeed, I soon found that he had the most retentive memory of any man I ever knew, because, in narrating incidents, he gave days, dates, and names, with such ease as almost to stagger belief. Of course, to him I am mainly indebted for the material of that part of the History treating of the upper end of the valley, especially the occurrences between 1776 and 1782. Mr. M. died on the 17th inst.

From a manuscript memoir of E. Bell, Esq., I have also been enabled to glean some useful information. He commenced it a short time before his death, and it is to be deeply regretted that a violent attack of rheumatism in the hand compelled him to abandon the work after writing some six or eight pages.

I am also indebted to a number of persons for information that has been of value to me, whose names will be mentioned in another place in the work.

If this volume fails to meet the expectations of those kind friends who have interested themselves in my behalf, it will not be for lack of zeal or perseverance on my part. I am free to confess that the language of the book is not clothed in that attractive garb which makes books popular in the age we live in; but then it must be remembered that I am not, worthy reader, submitting to your judgment a romance, but a History, based upon immutable and undying Truths.

U. J. Jones.

Hollidaysburg, Nov. 1855.

CONTENTS.

EARLY SETTLEMENT OF THE JUNIATA VALLEY.

CHAPTER I.
THE ABORIGINES OF THE VALLEY — THEIR HABITS AND THEIR CUSTOMS.

When the persevering and adventurous Anglo-Saxon first entered the wilds of the Juniata, his eye, as far as it could reach, beheld nothing but a dense forest; but his quick penetration observed its natural beauties, its advantages, and the fertility of its soil. Hence he did not long stand upon the crest of the Tuscarora Mountain, debating the advantages to be derived from making it his home, or the risk he was taking upon himself in doing so, but plunged boldly down into the valley and called it his own. He found it peopled with dusky warriors and their families, who received him with open arms; and the golden hues of hope for the future lightened his cares, and made his privations no longer a burden. On the banks of the beautiful river the majestic stag trod, a very monarch; and the pellucid stream, from the bubbling brooks that formed it, to its mouth, was filled with the noble salmon and sportive trout, with little to molest them; for the Indians did not possess the penchant for indiscriminate slaughter of game which characterized their successors. They held that the land was given to human beings by the good Manitou for a dwelling-place, and not for the purpose of being broken up and cultivated for game. The fish and game were also a free gift from the same spirit, for the support of his people. Hence hunting and fishing for more than what would supply immediate and absolute wants were held in supreme contempt by the red man.

The Indians found in the valley, when the whites first invaded it, belonged to three or four tribes—the Delawares, Monseys, Shawnees, and probably the Tuscaroras; all of whom, with the exception of the latter, belonged to one of the eight great Indian confederations scattered over the land, from the Rocky Mountains to what they called, in their figurative language, the rising of the sun. These Indians called themselves the Lenni Lenape, or "original people," of which the Delawares and Monseys were by far the most numerous of the tribes settled in the valley. The Shawnees, a restless, lawless, and ferocious band, were threatened with extermination by a powerful foe in Florida, when they came to Pennsylvania and craved the protection of the Lenapes, which was granted to them, and they were permitted to settle upon the lands of the Delawares. The Delaware Indians soon discovered that the Shawnees were quarrelsome and treacherous neighbors, and their company not desirable. Notice was given them to quit, and they settled upon the flats of the Susquehanna, near Wilkesbarre, and from thence they found their way to the Juniata; and there is little doubt but that they were first and foremost in the depredations committed during the French and Indian wars, as well as during the American Revolution. The Tuscaroras did not claim to belong to the Lenape tribes, yet a large portion of them lived in their territory. They came from the South, and joined the Aquanuschioni, or "united people," known in history as the Six Nations. As they did not speak the language of either the "united people" or the "original people," it would appear that they were people on their own account, enjoying a sort of roving commission to hunt the lands and fish the streams of any of "their cousins," as they styled all other tribes.

The Conoy Indians settled in the valley in 1748. They left the Delaware on the strength of a promise made them by the proprietary government that they should be remunerated. The debt, however, we presume, must have been repudiated, for we find that an Indian orator named Arruehquay, of the Six Nations, made application to Governor Hamilton, during a "talk" in Philadelphia on the 1st of July, 1749, for something for them. The governor, quite as much of an adept at wheedling the savages as the proprietors themselves, returned the Conoy wampum, and "talked" the Seneca orator out of the belief that they owed the Conoys a single farthing, in consequence of their having left their land and settled among the nations of the Juniata of their own free will and accord. He ruled out the Conoy claim, and confirmed his opinion by sending them a string of government wampum. Whether this satisfied the Conoys or not does not appear upon the record. We think not—at least we should not suppose that they were half as well satisfied as the Six Nation deputies, who carried away, among other plunder, a quantity of tobacco and pipes, fifty ruffled shirts, and a gross and a half of brass jewsharps!

The Nanticokes settled about the mouth of the Juniata in 1748 or 1749, and in after years spread westward toward the Ohio. This portion of the tribe, when it first came to the Juniata, was not very formidable; but it increased and became powerful.

A number of Mengues, Mingoes, or Iroquois, of the Six Nations, settled a few years afterward in Kishacoquillas Valley, now Mifflin county.

Of all the savages in the valley, the Mingoes were probably the most peaceably disposed, although it is a well-attested fact that they were a brave and warlike band. The fathers of the principal chiefs of the Mingoes, settled in the Juniata Valley, had been partially (if we may use the term) Christianized by the teachings of the Moravian missionaries, Heckwelder, Zinzendorf, and Loskiel; and this may account for their desire to live on terms of amity and friendship with their pale-faced brethren.

As the Delawares, or Lenapes, claimed to be the original people, we must come to the conclusion that they came toward the east before the Iroquois. They probably came from a northern direction, while the united people worked their way from the northwest to the northeast. To call these men original people, in the sense in which they applied it, may have been right enough; but to apply the term to them of original, as occupants of the country, is a misnomer, not only according to their own oral traditions, but according to the most indubitable evidence of antiquarians and geologists.

The traditions of the Lenapes were, in effect, that their ancestors were a mighty band of fierce warriors, who came from the setting of the sun, part of the way by canoes, and the balance of the way over land,—through dense forests, beautiful valleys, over lofty mountains. In their triumphant march they met but one foe, whom they trampled under their feet as the buffalo does the grass under his hoofs, and that this weak and effeminate foe was entirely exterminated.

These traditions, vague as they are, and as all oral traditions forever must be, have certainly a foundation in fact. Drake, whose Indian history is regarded as the most reliable, gives it as his opinion, formed only after all the facts could be collected and all the traditions fully digested, that the Indians originally came from Asia, by way of Behring's Straits.

The patient investigations made by antiquarians have long since settled the fact, to the entire satisfaction of most people, that a race did exist in this country prior to the advent and on the arrival of the Indians. The relics of this race, consisting of vases, pipes, earthenware, etc., found during the last century, indicate not only a race entirely different from the Indians, but one much farther advanced in civilization. The Indians, however, it would appear, either scorned their handicraft, or never took time to examine thoroughly the habits of these people before they exterminated them in order to possess their country. These relics bear a marked resemblance to those dug from ruins in Egypt, as well as those found in Peru. In fact, the vases, and some of the earthenware, bear such a strong resemblance to the Peruvian antiquities, that it is the settled conviction of some that the earlier settlers of both North and South America were identical, and that the original stock was a tribe of Egyptians.

Some writers have asserted that these early inhabitants were non-resistants. This is most unquestionably an error. The traditions of the Indians say that their ancestors fought many battles before they conquered the country; but that they always were victorious. Of course, this might be mere vain boasting by the Indians of their ancestors' prowess and skill in war, and such we would look upon it, if their oral history was not strengthened by the fact that, on the banks of the Miami, Muskingum, Kanawha, and Ohio Rivers, ancient fortifications, or at least well-defined traces of them, have been found. Nor is this all; tolerably well-executed implements, evidently intended for warlike purposes, have been taken from mounds, as well as many unmistakable stone arrow-heads.

Whether this anterior race existed to any considerable extent along the Juniata we are not prepared to say; but that some of them once lived here is more than probable, although antiquarians have failed to extend their researches to the valley. Among the evidences to induce the belief that these ancients once occupied our land, we shall refer to the most prominent, leaving the reader to make his own deductions.

When the excavation for the Pennsylvania Canal was going on, a laborer dug up, near Newport, a stone shaped like a Greek Cross. The formation of the stone bore unmistakable evidence that it was not a mere freak of nature. This attracted attention, and the stone was thoroughly cleansed, when the transverse was found to contain hieroglyphics, plainly marked with some sharp pointed instrument. Persons who saw it supposed that the French might have given it to the Indians, and that they used it for a purpose similar to that for which the Standing Stone was used, and that they brought it from Canada to the Juniata. This supposition was based upon the formation of the stone; but, strange to say, the hieroglyphics bore no resemblance to any thing pertaining to the modern Indians. It may, therefore, have belonged to the anterior race, and the person who shaped it may have been utterly ignorant of the fact that it was the symbol of the Christian religion. The cross was sent to Philadelphia to be submitted to the inspection of the savans of the Historical Society, but was lost on the way; at all events, it never reached its intended destination.

Speaking on the subject of antiquities with a physician some years ago,—probably the late Dr. Coffey,—he informed us that a skeleton was dug up near Frankstown, which he did not believe belonged to any of the tribes of Indians whose mounds are scattered so profusely along the Juniata. He arrived at this conclusion from numerous personal observations he made. In the first place, the body retained a portion of dried withered flesh, and portions of papyrus or bark-cloth enveloped the body, so that it must have undergone some species of embalming before sepulture. Embalming was unknown to the Indians. Secondly, the body was in a horizontal position, north and south, whereas the Indians always buried in a sitting posture, with the face to the east. And, finally, the body was buried alone, while the Indian method was to have one common grave for all who died for years. Some articles were found when the skeleton was exhumed; but they were so much corroded as to be useless even for scientific investigation.

In breaking up a piece of new ground in Kishacoquillas Valley some twenty-five, or probably thirty, years ago, traces of a well-defined wall were discovered, which was traced, and found to enclose about an acre of ground. Although the stones that formed this wall were the ordinary stones found along the stream, fashioned and shaped by the great Architect of the world himself, it is certain that human hands placed them in the position in which they were found. The whole thing was destroyed before any mention was made of it.

In addition to these evidences, we have heard of arrow-heads and pottery being dug up in other sections of the valley; but, taking it for granted that they were all Indian relics, no effort was ever made to have a thorough investigation of their origin.

How long this continent was occupied by the Indians found here on the arrival of the Northmen is a mooted point, on which no two historians can agree. The Indian method of computing time by moons is rather vague to base a calculation upon. Those who contend that they originated from one of the lost tribes of Israel, endeavor to prove that they have been here for many centuries; while others, basing their calculations upon the usual increase of the human family, think that the numbers found here on the discovery of the continent would indicate that they had been here but three or four centuries. This we think a reasonable conclusion, for it is an undisputed fact that the Indians, previous to the advent of the whites, multiplied quite as rapidly as their civilized brethren; while the tender care and solicitude they evinced for children and aged people induces the belief that the deaths among them were not in proportion as one to six to the births.

We now come to the religious belief of the savages found in the Juniata Valley. The general impression of persons who have not read Indian history is that they were idolaters. Such, however, is not the fact. They worshipped no "graven image." Their belief was based upon a supreme good and an evil Manitou or spirit, and their subordinates,—the former of which they worshipped, while the anger of the latter was appeased by propitiatory offerings or sacrifices. It is true they had images, in the form of a head carved out of wood, which represented the good Manitou, and which they wore around their necks as a talisman against disease and to insure success in great undertakings; but even Loskiel, who spent a long time among them as a missionary, makes no mention of their worshipping their inanimate gods. Their worship generally consisted of sacrificial feasts, sometimes by the entire tribe, and at other times by single families. In the fall they invariably had a sort of general harvest-home gathering, when bear's-meat and venison were served up,—the universal custom being to eat all prepared. When provisions were scarce, such an arrangement was no doubt satisfactory; but we can well imagine that when there was an undue proportion of meats to guests the custom must have proved exceedingly irksome. After the meal, the monotonous drum and the calabash with pebbles were brought out, and those who had not gorged themselves to repletion joined in the dance. One of the chiefs usually chanted a hymn, or rather song, of irregular measure, in praise of the Manitous, and extolling the heroic deeds of the ancestors of the tribes. A second religious performance consisted of a sacred dance, in which the men alone appeared, in almost a state of nudity, with their bodies covered with pipe-clay. This was probably a dance of humble contrition. A third feast, or religious observance, consisted of some ten or a dozen of the oldest men and women of a tribe enveloping themselves in deer-skins, standing with their faces to the east, and petitioning the good Manitou to bless all their benefactors. There were other religious rites and sacrifices, which can be of little general interest to the reader, such as a sacrificial feast in honor of fire, another to propitiate the Manitou before going to war, &c. We shall, therefore, conclude this part of the subject by giving the story of an old trader who traded through the valley in 1750. Of course we did not get it direct from his own lips, for he has been dead and in his grave for many years; but, even if we did get it second-hand, it is nevertheless true.

Some time in the spring of 1750, the old trader, whose name has now escaped our memory, received a pressing invitation to visit Standing Stone a day or two before the first full moon in September, as a grand feast was to come off at that time, which would be attended by six or eight tribes. The trader, foreseeing the chance of brisk barter, brought a large quantity of goods from Lancaster, on pack-horses, and arrived a day or two before the sports commenced. He found preparations made for a large company; and he accordingly pitched his tent on the hill, while the wigwams of the Indians stood upon the flat near the mouth of Stone Creek. On the day on which the feast was to commence, the trader was awakened at an early hour by the loud whoops of the savages already arriving to take part in the ceremonies. The day wore on; and when the sun reached the zenith a thousand warriors and their squaws, in their best attire, had gathered upon the greensward. At the hour of twelve o'clock precisely, a chief, whom the trader supposed to be at least a hundred years of age, arose from the ground, while all the rest retained a cross-legged, sitting posture. The trader understood enough of the Delaware language to ascertain that the feast was one which took place every hundred moons, to render thanks to the Manitou for preserving them a great people. After congratulating the different tribes, and welcoming them to this friendly reunion, an immense pipe was brought into the arena, which passed from mouth to mouth, each man taking but a single whiff. Of course the women formed the outer circle, and took no further part in the proceedings than merely looking on. Two half-grown lads followed the big pipe with a small bag of Kinnikinique, and ever and anon replenished the bowl. This consumed an hour, during which time there was profound silence. The old sachem then arose, and said the balance of the day would be given up to festivities. The assemblage broke up into small parties, and as each tribe had their medicine-men, musicians, and prophets along, the tum tum of the drum and the wild chant were soon heard, and the dusky sons and daughters of the forest went into the dance of the gay and light-hearted with a thousand times more vigor than the beau and belle of the modern ball-room.

Many of the Indians called upon the trader, and were anxious to barter for "lum;" but, notwithstanding that he had five kegs of rum, and the most friendly feeling existed between himself and the tribes, he refused to deal. In fact, he was a prudent man, and did not consider it altogether safe. The festivities of the day and part of the night were kept up with dancing, singing, and howling. The, next day, religious exercises followed; and on the third a very solemn and impressive ceremony was to take place, to wind up the meeting, at which the trader was urgently invited to be present, and in an evil moment gave his consent to do so. Accordingly he sold all of his barrels or kegs of rum, packed up the balance of his goods, and started his pack-horse train to Aughwick, himself and horse alone remaining behind.

At the appointed time in the evening for the feast, a large fire of dry wood was built, and the savages commenced dancing around it, howling, and throwing their bodies into the most violent contortions, first stepping three or four feet forward, with the body inclined in the same direction; then, throwing the body backward, moved on, keeping time with the drum and the chant. As one party got tired, or probably roasted out, they danced away, and another set took their places. When the fire burnt fiercest, and the lurid flame lit the surrounding hills, a wild chorus was sung in unison that might have been heard for miles. This, the trader was told, was the loud hymn of adoration. He did not dispute the assertion. The rum he had sold the Indians began to work, and the old fox was enjoying some funny scenes not set down in the bills of the day. Occasionally a chief, under the wild influence of the fire-water, would make a misstep and tramp upon the burning coals. To see him quitting in a hurry afforded the trader an infinite deal of amusement. At length the pile was reduced to coals, when an Indian brought forth from a wigwam a live dog, and threw him upon the burning embers. Another and another followed, until ten dogs were thrown upon the fire. Of course they tried to escape, but the Indians hemmed them in so completely that this was a matter of impossibility. They set up a dreadful howl, but the Indians drowned the canine noise by another stave of their loud chorus. The odor of the roasting dogs did not sit well upon the trader's stomach, and, bidding adieu to his immediate acquaintances, he expressed a determination to leave for Aughwick. This his friends would not permit, and insisted most vehemently that he should see the end of it. As he had seen considerable fun, he thought he might wait and see it out, as the carcasses of the dogs would soon be consumed. In this, however, he was mistaken, for the medicine-men drew them from the fire, placed them upon wooden platters, and cut them into pieces. Five or six of them carried them around among the auditory, offering to each chief a piece, who not only took it, but eagerly ate it. The conclusion of this feast we give in the trader's own words:—

"At last they came where I was sitting, among the only sober chiefs in the party. The stench of the half-roasted dogs was awful. One of them came with his trencher to me, and offered me a piece,—a choice piece, too, as I was an invited guest, being a piece of the most unclean part of the entrails. 'Thank'ee,' said I; 'never dine on dog.' But this did not satisfy them. One of the prophets, laboring under the effects of about a quart of my rum, insisted on me eating what was offered to me. I again declined, when one of the chiefs informed me that it was a very sacred feast, and unless I partook of my allotted portion I would highly insult the Indians, and some of those intoxicated might deprive me of my scalp. The thing was no longer a joke, and I seized the piece of dog entrail and put it in my mouth, in hopes of spitting it out; but they watched me so close that by one mighty effort I managed to swallow it. I did not wait to see the end of the feast; I had my portion, and thought I might as well retire. I started in the direction of Aughwick, and every half mile the nauseous dog served every purpose of a powerful emetic. I was a much sicker man next day than if I had drank a gallon of my own rum; and, in all my dealings with the red men, I took particular care never again to be present at any dog feast!"

Of the social and general character of the savages we have many contradictions. Heckwelder, the old Moravian Missionary, whose innate goodness found

"Tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,

Sermons in stones, and God in every thing,"

intimated that some of their social habits, such as their tender solicitude for infants and the great deference and respect they paid to the aged, were noble traits in their character. Loskiel says that "in common life and conversation, the Indians observed great decency. They usually treated one another, and strangers, with kindness and civility, and without empty compliments. In the converse of both sexes, the greatest decency and propriety were observed. They were sociable and friendly. Difference of rank, with all its consequences, was not to be found among the Indians. They were equally noble and free. The only difference consisted in wealth, age, dexterity, courage, and office."

Their hospitality to strangers knew no bounds. In some instances it was carried to extremes. An Indian who would not hospitably entertain a stranger under his roof, and attend to all his wants as far as lay within his power, was held in supreme contempt by all his acquaintances. Indeed, the offence was deemed so grievous, that the offender was not only detested and abhorred by all, but liable to revenge from the person to whom the common and acknowledged rights of hospitality were denied.

Lying, cheating, and stealing, as well as adultery and fornication, were deemed scandalous offences, and were punished. They did not exist to any great extent until the parent of them—drunkenness—was introduced by the white man.

To these commendable traits in a savage people there were sad offsets. The savage was cruel and exceedingly bloodthirsty. He never forgave a premeditated injury; and if no opportunity offered to avenge himself, he enjoined upon his descendants, "even to the third and fourth generation," to revenge him. A hatred once formed against an enemy could only be quenched with his blood. He would treasure up a wrong for years, and it would rankle in his heart until he got his enemy into his power, when flaying, roasting, or killing by inches, was not too cruel a death to mete out to him. Nay, more than this,—in their wars neither age, sex, nor condition, were taken into consideration; and the proud warrior who sang the great and heroic deeds of his ancestors for a thousand moons was not too proud to carry in his belt the scalp of an innocent babe! But then the savage was untutored, and it unquestionably was a part of his religion to put to death an enemy by the most cruel torture; neither did he expect any other treatment if he fell into the hands of a foe.

In ordinary life, there undoubtedly was some honor in the Indian, but in war no trait of it was perceptible in his composition. To slay an enemy while asleep, or destroy him by any stratagem, was a feat to boast of, and claimed quite as much glory as if it had been accomplished by the prowess of arms. To shoot an enemy from ambuscade, or lure him to destruction by treachery that would be branded as most infamous among civilized nations, were looked upon as exceedingly cunning by the Indians.

As a general thing, they professed to abhor war among themselves, and only declared it when aggravating circumstances absolutely demanded;—that the question was deliberately debated by the tribe, and if, after mature deliberation, a majority of the chiefs and captains favored a war, speedy preparation was made for it; a red hatchet or club was sent to the offending tribe, or one of them was caught, scalped, and a war-club, painted red, laid by his side. Hostilities were then commenced, and the war waged with the greatest fury until one or the other party succumbed.

SCENE EAST OF PATTERSON.

Now it happens that professions do not always accord with practice, and in this case we are quite sure they did not. The whole tenor and bearing of the savages must lead us to believe that there was no avenue open to the aspiring Indian to attain honor and distinction, except through feats of arms and daring; and it is only too true that he shared the common weakness of humanity in loving the "pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious warfare." The proof of this is that some of their most bloody conflicts were caused by the most trivial circumstances.

That they had many fierce and sanguinary struggles among themselves is well authenticated. A battle almost of extermination was once fought between two tribes at Juniata,—now known as Duncan's Island,—within the memory of many Indians who were living when the whites settled among them. This island must have been a famous battle-ground—a very Waterloo—in its day. When the canal was in progress of construction, hundreds of skeletons were exhumed; and to this day stone arrow-heads can be found upon almost any part of the island.

The Indian traditions also chronicle a fierce battle between two tribes near Millerstown; another in Tuscarora, and another at Standing Stone. The truth on which these traditions are based is made evident by the fact that at those places, for years, Indian war-relics have been found.

There existed for years the most intense and bitter feuds between the Six Nations and the Lenape Indians, commonly called the Delawares. How long the feud existed, or how many bloody conflicts they had to gain the ascendency, cannot now, either by tradition or record, be made reliable history. From the best information we can gather, it is highly probable that these confederations had buried the hatchet a short time previous to the landing of Penn. And we may also readily assume that the final declaration of peace was sued for by the Delawares; for the Iroquois always boasted that they had reduced them to the condition of women by their superior bravery and skill in war. This the Delawares denied, and declared that "by treaty and voluntary consent they had agreed to act as mediators and peacemakers among the other great nations; and to this end they had consented to lay aside entirely the implements of war, and to hold and to keep bright the chain of peace. This, among individual tribes, was the usual province of women. The Delawares, therefore, alleged that they were figuratively termed women on this account." This cunningly-devised story the Delawares palmed upon the missionary Heckwelder while he labored among them, and he was disposed to give them great credit. The Iroquois, having formed an early alliance with the Dutch on the Hudson, received fire-arms, and by the liberal use of them soon brought refractory tribes out of their confederation to terms, and reduced others to vassalage, and exacted from them an annual tribute or an acknowledgment of fealty, permitting them, on such conditions, to occupy certain hunting-grounds; and there must, therefore, have been at least some truth in the allegation of the Iroquois that the Delawares were "conquered by their arms, and were compelled to this humiliating concession as the only means of averting impending destruction." It is said, however, that the Delawares were finally enabled to throw off this galling yoke, through the influence of Zeedyusung, a powerful chief, who extorted from the Iroquois an acknowledgment of their independence at a treaty held at Tioga in 1756.

"The humiliation of tributary nations was, however, tempered with a paternal regard for their interests in all negotiations with the whites; and care was taken that no trespasses should be committed on their rights, and that they should be justly dealt with."

So says the record; and yet we find that the sachems of the Six Nations, who had evidently learned from the whites both the use and abuse of money, in July, 1754, at Albany, sold all the lands in the State, not previously purchased, "lying southwest of a line beginning one mile above the mouth of Penn's Creek, and running northwest-by-west to the western boundary of the State." This sold the land from under the feet of the Delawares, Shawnees, and Monseys, of the Juniata Valley, notwithstanding the Six Nations had guaranteed it to them forever as a sacred hunting-ground. This act of treachery on the part of the Iroquois, and the insatiate appetite of the proprietors to add broad acres to their extensive domain, caused many of these homeless tribes to go over to the French, and, as a writer truly adds, "the blood of Braddock's soldiers was added to the price of the land."

But to return to the original settlement of the valley. The Indians unquestionably received the white adventurers with open arms, and extended to them such a hearty welcome as must have banished all fears for the future. The savages looked upon the death-dealing rifle with superstitious awe; and the saw, the axe, the plane, and other implements of handicraft in the possession of the whites, made them a high order of beings, endowed with peculiar gifts by the Great Spirit, in the eyes of the Indians, and their persons were regarded as sacred. They shared with them their rude huts, and left nothing undone within their power to render them comfortable.

And for this noble and magnanimous conduct on the part of the Indian, what return did the white man make? Such a one only, we regret to say, as makes no bright page in their history. They were taught all the vices of civilization, but to teach them its virtues was deemed a work of supererogation. The ignorant Indian and his primitive habits were treated with disdain, and he was deemed a fit subject for robbery whenever opportunity offered—this more especially by the lawless, who considered themselves out of the reach of government and its officers. A gradual encroachment upon the Indian's sacred hunting-grounds, and the refusal of the white man to look upon him as any thing but a degraded being or to associate with him on an equality, soon taught the Indian that he had taken into fellowship the crafty white man only to enable him to suck out his existence by his superior skill and his subtle cunning. The keen penetration of the savage soon discovered the position he occupied by the side of his white brother. Smarting under the indignities offered, and foreseeing the degradation to which he would be subjected in time, the red man and the white man did not long dwell together in unity. While the latter commenced tilling the land and surrounding himself with the comforts of civilization, the former fled before him to the mountains and valleys where he was monarch of the land,—where the council-fire could blaze, the green-corn dance and song be heard, and the calumet of peace be smoked without the presence of the white man.

Yet, with all the encroachments upon their rights by the settlers, the Indians exercised great forbearance. They knew the warlike appliances in the power of the proprietary government; hence they repeatedly declared their wish to "keep bright the chain of friendship;"—in less figurative language, they did not want to go to war. No depredations were committed upon the whites, of any consequence, before the French tampered with them and the Six Nations perfidiously sold the land they had given "their cousins" as a sacred hunting-ground. Nor even then, although the aggravation was great, did all the Indians leave the valley to join the French. Many who were friendly toward the proprietary government remained until war broke out between the colonies and Great Britain; and some few peaceably-disposed fragments of tribes even lingered in the valley until the close of the Revolutionary war.

During the French and Indian war, and at its close, many of the Indians returned, and lived for some years in the valley unmolested. But in 1761-62 the footprints of the white man were seen in their paths, and civilization began to crowd them. The white adventurers crowded so thick upon them, that, after the war of 1764, the greater portion of them left; nor did they return again until 1777, when they appeared as allies to the British crown, to massacre and scalp the unprotected frontier-men. To stimulate them to this inhuman warfare, the British not only impressed it upon them that they were redressing grievances, but they actually paid them a stipulated price for every scalp, of child as well as adult, brought to the Canadian frontier.

The Indians who figured in the predatory incursions from 1776 to 1781 were probably Delawares, Monseys, Nanticokes, Shawnees, and Tuscaroras; but they were then only known as Delawares, all other titles having been merged into that of the most powerful tribe. That these tribes were the ones who committed most of the depredations, we judge from the fact that the elder chiefs and captains emigrated to the Canadian frontier from the Juniata Valley, and consequently knew every foot of the valley, from the base of the Alleghany Mountains to the very mouth of the river.

CHAPTER II.
HISTORY OF THE EARLY SETTLERS.

It appears from all authentic evidence that white traders ventured into the valley as early as 1740, but always left again after transacting their business. It was about the year 1741 that bold and daring men pushed into the valley with the evident determination of making it their home. They were nearly all Scotch-Irish,—a hardy race of devout Christians, whose ancestors had been persecuted in the north of Scotland, by Charles I., and driven to the north of Ireland, and who, fearful of the provisions of the Schism Bill, in their turn fled from Ireland to America, between the years 1714 and 1720. The first of them located near or about the line (then in dispute) between Maryland and Pennsylvania. Logan, the secretary of the province, who was probably an adherent to the religion professed by the proprietors, was very much annoyed at the Scotch-Irish assumption and maintenance of "squatter's rights." In a letter to the Provincial Government, in 1724, he said, "They (the Scotch-Irish and Scotch) have generally taken up the western lands; and as they rarely approach me to propose to purchase, I look upon them as bold and indigent strangers, giving as their excuse, when challenged for titles, that we had solicited for colonists, and they had come accordingly."

Notwithstanding this, they were not molested, for they were exempted from the payment of rents by an ordinance passed in 1720, in consequence of their being frontier-men, and forming a cordon of defence to the colony.

Logan, it must be admitted, had no friendly feeling toward the new comers. In 1725 he stated that they had taken possession of one thousand acres of land, resolutely sat down and improved it without having any right to it, and he expressed himself much at a loss to determine how to dispossess them. On this occasion he admitted that among them were a number of Germans.

In 1730, Logan wrote to the government, or probably the proprietors, complaining of the Scotch-Irish, in an audacious and disorderly manner, possessing themselves of the whole of Conestoga Manor, of fifteen thousand acres, being the best land in the country. In doing this by force, they alleged that it was against the laws of God and nature that so much land should be idle while so many Christians wanted it to labor on and raise their bread. They were finally dispossessed by the sheriff and his posse, and their cabins, to the number of thirty, were burned.

These men apparently held in contempt the sham purchases of Penn from the Indians; asserted that the treaties by which the lands were secured to the proprietors were nothing more than downright farces; and they justified their course by assuming that if the Penn family had a right to "fillibuster" on an extensive scale, the same right to enjoy enough land to support their families should not be denied them. If the disciples of George Fox, by craft and cunning, could obtain from the Indians thousands upon thousands of acres of land by a royal grant and the presentation of baubles that shamed the idea of a purchase, the disciples of John Calvin thought they had an equal right to possess themselves of at least a portion of the acres wrested by stratagem from the Indians. They considered the Penns usurpers and pretenders, and despised their feudal prerogatives which gave them pomp and circumstance, and refused to pay them the quit-rents, which enabled them to rule by deputy, and riot in the luxury of aristocratic life in England, rather than adopt the unostentatious manners of the new world.

Logan's successor was Richard Peters. He, too, was deeply devoted to the proprietors, and used his utmost exertions to get quit-rents out of the squatters. Failing to do so peaceably, he went to Marsh Creek, then in Lancaster county, for the express purpose of dispossessing them, and measuring the lands of the manor. This occurred in 1743. The squatters assembled in great force, notwithstanding the secretary was accompanied by the sheriff and a magistrate, and forbade Peters to proceed. On his refusal, the chain was broken, and demonstrations of a riot made, whereupon the surveying party retired. The settlers were afterward indicted, but the matter was compromised by the secretary granting them leases on very favorable terms.

From the counties of Chester and Lancaster, these settlers gradually worked their way to the west, and about 1748 the Kittochtinny Valley was tolerably well settled. The influx of emigrants from Europe—embracing Irish, Scotch, Scotch-Irish, German, and a few English—was so great, that it followed, as a matter of course, that the Juniata Valley was in its turn soon invaded.

There, in all probability, the proprietors would have suffered them to remain, as they knew little of, and cared less, about the land; but the Indians made complaint of the aggressions. The Six Nations took the matter in hand, and declared that usurping the lands they had guaranteed to their cousins, the Delawares, as a sacred hunting-ground, was a breach of faith, and that the settlers must be removed; or, if the settlers persisted in their encroachments, the Delawares would take up the hatchet against them. Only too glad to get rid of their settlers in the lower counties, the government made little effort to remove them from the Indian lands. True, to satisfy the Indians, they issued proclamations warning squatters to keep off these lands, under certain penalties which they knew could not be executed.

These usurpations of land, and the contumely with which the settlers treated the Indians, at length threatened serious consequences. The Delawares, as well as the Six Nations, made complaints such as could not be misunderstood. The proprietors, at length alarmed at the probable consequences of letting their squatters usurp the lands or hunting-grounds of the Indians, sent Peters and others to dispossess them. The following is Secretary Peters's report, sent to Governor Hamilton in 1750:—

TO JAMES HAMILTON, ESQ., GOVERNOR OF PENNSYLVANIA.

May it please your honor, Mr. Weiser and I having received your honor's orders to give information to the proper magistrates against all such as had presumed to settle on the lands beyond the Kittochtinny Mountains not purchased of the Indians, in contempt of the laws repeatedly signified by proclamations, and particularly by your honor's last one, and to bring them to a legal conviction, lest for want of their removal a breach should ensue between the Six Nations of Indians and this Province, we set out on Tuesday, the 15th of May, 1750, for the new county of Cumberland, where the places on which the trespassers had settled lay.

At Mr. Croghan's we met with five Indians,—three from Shamokin, two of which were sons of the late Shickcalamy, who transact the business of the Six Nations with this government; two were just arrived from Alleghany, viz., one of the Mohawk's nation, called Aaron, and Andrew Montour, the interpreter at Ohio. Mr. Montour telling us he had a message from the Ohio Indians and Twightwees to this government, and desiring a conference, one was held on the 18th of May last, in the presence of James Galbreath, George Croghan, William Wilson, and Hermanus Alricks, Esqrs., justices of the county of Cumberland; and when Mr. Montour's business was done, we, with the advice of the other justices, imparted to the Indians the design we were assembled upon; at which they expressed great satisfaction.

Another conference was held, at the instance of the Indians, in the presence of Mr. Galbreath and Mr. Croghan, before mentioned, wherein they expressed themselves as follows:—

"Brethren,—We have thought a great deal of what you imparted to us, that ye were come to turn the people off who are settled over the hills; we are pleased to see you on this occasion; and, as the council of Onondago has this affair exceedingly at heart, and it was particularly recommended to us by the deputies of the Six Nations when they parted from us last summer, we desire to accompany you. But we are afraid, notwithstanding the care of the governor, that this may prove like many former attempts. The people will be put off now, and next year come again; and if so, the Six Nations will no longer bear it, but do themselves justice. To prevent this, therefore, when you shall have turned the people off, we recommend it to the governor to place two or three faithful persons over the mountains who may be agreeable to him and us, with commissions empowering them immediately to remove every one who may presume after this to settle themselves, until the Six Nations shall agree to make sale of their land."

To enforce this they gave a string of wampum, and received one in return from the magistrates, with the strongest assurances that they would do their duty.

On Tuesday, the twenty-second of May, Matthew Dill, George Croghan, Benjamin Chambers, Thomas Wilson, John Finley, and James Galbreath, Esqrs., justices of the said county of Cumberland, attended by the under-sheriff, came to Big Juniata, situate at the distance of twenty miles from the mouth thereof, and about ten miles north from the Blue Hills—a place much esteemed by the Indians for some of their best hunting-ground; and there they found five cabins or log-houses; one possessed by William White, another by George Cahoon, another not quite yet finished, in possession of David Hiddleston, another possessed by George and William Galloway, and another by Andrew Lycon. Of these persons, William White and George and William Galloway, David Hiddleston, and George Cahoon, appeared before the magistrates, and, being asked by what right or authority they had possessed themselves of those lands and erected cabins thereon, they replied, by no right or authority, but that the land belonged to the proprietaries of Pennsylvania. They then were asked whether they did not know that they were acting against the law, and in contempt of frequent notices given them by the governor's proclamation? They said they had seen one such proclamation, and had nothing to say for themselves, but craved mercy. Hereupon the said William White, George and William Galloway, David Hiddleston, and George Cahoon, being convicted by said justices on their view, the under-sheriff was charged with them, and he took William White, David Hiddleston, and George Cahoon into custody; but George and William Galloway resisted, and having got at some distance from the under-sheriff, they called to us, "You may take our lands and houses, and do what you please with them; we deliver them to you with all our hearts, but we will not be carried to jail!"

The next morning, being Wednesday, the twenty-third of May, the said justices went to the log-house or cabin of Andrew Lycon, and finding none there but children, and hearing that the father and mother were expected soon, and William White and others offering to become security jointly and severally, and to enter into recognisance as well for Andrew's appearance at court and immediate removal as for their own, this proposal was accepted, and William White, David Hiddleston, and George Cahoon entered into a recognisance of one hundred pounds, and executed bonds to the proprietaries in the sum of five hundred pounds, reciting that they were trespassers, and had no manner of right, and had delivered possession to me for the proprietaries. When the magistrates went to the cabin or log-house of George and William Galloway, (which they had delivered up as aforesaid the day before, after they were convicted, and were flying from the sheriff,) all the goods belonging to the said George and William were taken out, and the cabin being quite empty, I took possession thereof for the proprietaries; and then a conference was held what should be done with the empty cabin; and after great deliberation, all agreed that if some cabins were not destroyed, they would tempt the trespassers to return again, or encourage others to come there should these trespassers go away; and so what was doing would signify nothing, since the possession of them was at such a distance from the inhabitants, could not be kept for the proprietaries; and Mr. Weiser also giving it as his opinion that, if all the cabins were left standing, the Indians would conceive such a contemptible opinion of the government that they would come themselves in the winter, murder the people, and set their houses on fire. On these considerations the cabin, by my order, was burnt by the under-sheriff and company.

Then the company went to the house possessed by David Hiddleston, who had entered into bond as aforesaid; and he having voluntarily taken out all the things which were in the cabin, and left me in possession, that empty and unfurnished cabin was likewise set on fire by the under-sheriff, by my order.

The next day, being the twenty-fourth of May, Mr. Weiser and Mr. Galbreath, with the under-sheriff and myself, on our way to the mouth of the Juniata called at Andrew Lycon's, with intent only to inform him that his neighbors were bound for his appearance and immediate removal, and to caution him not to bring him or them into trouble by a refusal; but he presented a loaded gun to the magistrates and sheriff; said he would shoot the first man that dared to come nigher. On this he was disarmed, convicted, and committed to the custody of the sheriff. This whole transaction happened in the sight of a tribe of Indians who had by accident in the night time fixed their tent on that plantation; and Lycon's behavior giving them great offence, the Shickcalamies insisted on our burning the cabin, or they would do it themselves. Whereupon every thing was taken out of it, (Andrew Lycon all the while assisting,) and, possession being delivered to me, the empty cabin was set on fire by the under-sheriff, and Lycon was carried to jail.

Mr. Benjamin Chambers and Mr. George Croghan had about an hour before separated from us; and on meeting them again in Cumberland county, they reported to me they had been at Sheerman's creek, or Little Juniata, situate about six miles over the Blue Mountain, and found there James Parker, Thomas Parker, Owen McKeib, John McClare, Richard Kirkpatrick, James Murray, John Scott, Henry Gass, John Cowan, Simon Girtee, and John Kilough, who had settled lands and erected cabins or log-houses thereon; and having convicted them of the trespass on their view, they had bound them, in recognisances of the penalty of one hundred pounds, to appear and answer for their trespasses on the first day of the next county court of Cumberland, to be held at Shippensburgh; and that the said trespassers had likewise entered into bonds to the proprietaries, in five hundred pounds penalty, to remove off immediately, with all their servants, cattle, and effects, and had delivered possession of their houses to Mr. George Stevenson for the proprietaries' use; and that Mr. Stevenson had ordered some of the meanest of those cabins to be set on fire, where the families were not large nor the improvements considerable.

On Monday, the twenty-eighth of May, we were met at Shippensburgh by Samuel Smith, William Maxwell, George Croghan, Benjamin Chambers, William Allison, William Trent, John Finley, John Miller, Hermanus Alricks, and James Galbreath, Esquires, justices of Cumberland county, who informed us that the people in the Tuscarora Path, in Big Cove, and at Aucquick, would submit. Mr. Weiser most earnestly pressed that he might be excused any further attendance, having abundance of necessary business to do at home; and the other magistrates, though with much reluctance, at last consenting, he left us.

On Wednesday, the thirtieth of May, the magistrates and company being detained two days by rain, proceeded over the Kittochtinny Mountains and entered into the Tuscarora Path or Path Valley, through which the road to Alleghany lies. Many settlements were formed in this valley, and all the people were sent for, and the following persons appeared, viz.: Abraham Slach, James Blair, Moses Moore, Arthur Dunlap, Alexander McCartie, David Lewis, Adam McCartie, Felix Doyle, Andrew Dunlap, Robert Wilson, Jacob Pyatt, Jr., William Ramage, Reynolds Alexander, Robert Baker, John Armstrong, and John Potts; who were all convicted by their own confession to the magistrates of the like trespasses with those at Sheerman's Creek, and were bound in the like recognisances to appear at court, and bonds to the proprietaries to remove with all their families, servants, cattle, and effects; and having voluntarily given possession of their houses to me, some ordinary log-houses, to the number of eleven, were burnt to the ground; the trespassers, most of them cheerfully, and a very few of them with reluctance, carrying out all their goods. Some had been deserted before, and lay waste.

At Aucquick, Peter Falconer, Nicholas De Long, Samuel Perry, and John Charleton, were convicted on the view of the magistrates, and having entered into like recognisances and executed the like bonds, Charleton's cabin was burnt, and fire set to another that was just begun, consisting only of a few logs piled and fastened to one another.

The like proceedings at Big Cove (now within Bedford county) against Andrew Donnaldson, John MacClelland, Charles Stewart, James Downy, John MacMean, Robert Kendell, Samuel Brown, William Shepperd, Roger Murphy, Robert Smith, William Dickey, William Millican, William MacConnell, James Campbell, William Carrell, John Martin, John Jamison, Hans Patter, John MacCollin, James Wilson, and John Wilson; who, coming before the magistrates, were convicted on their own confession of the like trespasses, as in former cases, and were all bound over in like recognisances and executed the like bond to the proprietaries. Three waste cabins of no value were burnt at the north end of the Cove by the persons who claimed a right to them.

The Little Cove (in Franklin county) and the Big and Little Conolloways being the only places remaining to be visited, as this was on the borders of Maryland, the magistrates declined going there, and departed for their homes.

About the year 1740 or 1741, one Frederick Star, a German, with two or three more of his countrymen, made some settlements at the place where we found William White, the Galloways, and Andrew Lycon, on Big Juniata, situate at the distance of twenty miles from the mouth thereof, and about ten miles north of the Blue Hills,—a place much esteemed by the Indians for some of their best hunting ground; which (German settlers) were discovered by the Delawares at Shamokin to the deputies of the Six Nations as they came down to Philadelphia in the year 1742, to hold a treaty with this government; and they were disturbed at, as to inquire with a peculiar warmth of Governor Thomas if these people had come there by the orders or with the privilege of the government; alleging that, if it was so, this was a breach of the treaties subsisting between the Six Nations and the proprietor, William Penn, who in the most solemn manner engaged to them not to suffer any of the people to settle lands till they had purchased from the Council of the Six Nations. The governor, as he might with great truth, disowned any knowledge of those persons' settlements; and on the Indians insisting that they should be immediately thrown over the mountains, he promised to issue his proclamation, and, if this had no effect, to put the laws in execution against them. The Indians, in the same treaty, publicly expressed very severe threats against the inhabitants of Maryland for settling lands for which they had received no satisfaction, and said that if they would not do them justice they would do justice to themselves, and would certainly have committed hostilities if a treaty had not been under foot between Maryland and the Six Nations, under the mediation of Governor Thomas; at which the Indians consented to sell lands and receive a valuable consideration for them, which put an end to the danger.

The proprietaries were then in England; but observing, on perusing the treaty, with what asperity they had expressed themselves against Maryland, and that the Indians had just cause to complain of the settlements at Juniata, so near Shamokin, they wrote to their governor, in very pressing terms, to cause those trespassers to be immediately removed; and both the proprietaries and governor laid these commands on me to see this done, which I accordingly did in June, 1743, the governor having first given them notice by a proclamation served on them.

At that time none had presumed to settle at a place called the Big Cove—having this name from its being enclosed in the form of a basin by the southernmost range of the Kittochtinny Hills and Tuscarora Hills; which last end here, and lose themselves in other hills. This Big Cove is about five miles north of the temporary line, and not far west of the place where the line terminated. Between the Big Cove and the temporary line lies the Little Cove,—so called from being likewise encircled with hills; and to the west of the Little Cove, toward Potowmec, lie two other places, called the Big and Little Conollaways, all of them situate on the temporary line, and all of them extended toward the Potowmec.

In the year 1741 or 1742 information was likewise given that people were beginning to settle in those places, some from Maryland and some from this province. But as the two governments were not then on very good terms, the governor did not think proper to take any other notice of these settlements than to send the sheriff to serve his proclamation on them, though they had ample occasion to lament the vast inconveniences which attend unsettled boundaries. After this the French war came on, and the people in those parts, taking advantage of the confusion of the times, by little and little stole into the Great Cove; so that at the end of the war it was said thirty families had settled there; not, however, without frequent prohibitions on the part of the government, and admonitions of the great danger they run of being cut off by the Indians, as these settlements were on lands not purchased of them. At the close of the war, Mr. Maxwell, one of the justices of Lancaster county, delivered a particular message from this government to them, ordering their removal, that they might not occasion a breach with the Indians, but it had no effect.

These were, to the best of my remembrance, all the places settled by Pennsylvanians in the unpurchased part of the province, till about three years ago, when some persons had the presumption to go into Path Valley or Tuscarora Gap, lying to the east of the Big Cove, and into a place called Aucquick, lying to the northward of it; and likewise into a place called Sheerman's creek, lying along the waters of Juniata, and is situate east of the Path Valley, through which the present road goes from Harris's Ferry to Alleghany; and lastly, they extended their settlements to Big Juniata; the Indians all this while repeatedly complaining that their hunting-ground was every day more and more taken from them; and that there must infallibly arise quarrels between their warriors and these settlers, which would in the end break the chain of friendship, and pressing in the most importunate terms their speedy removal. The government in 1748 sent the sheriff and three magistrates, with Mr. Weiser, into these places to warn the people; but they, notwithstanding, continued their settlements in opposition to all this; and, as if those people were prompted by a desire to make mischief, settled lands no better, nay not so good, as many vacant lands within the purchased parts of the province.

The bulk of these settlements were made during the administration of President Palmer; and it is well known to your honor, though then in England, that his attention to the safety of the city and the lower counties would not permit him to extend more care to places so remote.

Finding such a general submission, except the two Galloways and Andrew Lycon, and vainly believing the evil would be effectually taken away, there was no kindness in my power which I did not do for the offenders. I gave them money where they were poor, and telling them they might go directly on any part of the two millions of acres lately purchased of the Indians; and where the families were large, as I happened to have several of my own plantations vacant, I offered them to stay on them rent free, till they could provide for themselves: then I told them that if after all this lenity and good usage they would dare to stay after the time limited for their departure, no mercy would be shown them, but that they would feel the rigor of the law.

It may be proper to add that the cabins or log-houses which were burnt were of no considerable value; being such as the country people erect in a day or two, and cost only the charge of an entertainment.

Richard Peters.

July 2, 1750.

From this summary proceeding originated the name of the place called the Burnt Cabins, the locality of which is pointed out to the traveller to this day.

That these ejected tenants at will did not remain permanently ejected from the fertile valley of the Juniata is evident from the fact that their descendants, or many of them, of the third and fourth generations, are now occupying the very lands they were driven from.

In July, 1750, the government was thrown into alarm by the rumor that a Mr. Delany had, while speaking of the removal of the trespassers on the unpurchased lands northwest of the Kittochtinny Hills, said, "that if the people of the Great and Little Coves would apply to Maryland they might have warrants for their lands; and if those of the Tuscarora Path Valley would apply to Virginia, he did not doubt but they might obtain rights there."

Petitions were sent to the Council from the residents of the Coves, in which it was set forth that they did not wish to be either in the province of Maryland or Virginia, and prayed permission to remain, until the boundary of the provinces was determined, on the lands purchased from the Indians.

This proposition was not accepted, and was only followed up by proclamations imposing severe penalties upon trespassers. This was deemed absolutely necessary by Governor Hamilton, for the French were assuming a menacing attitude along the frontier, and it was necessary, at all hazards, to preserve the alliance of the Indians.

The Provincial Government was strong enough to drive the settlers out of the valley, but immeasurably too weak to keep them out. This brought about the treaty at Albany in 1754, to which we have previously alluded. Thomas and Richard Penn, seeing the government unable to remove the squatters permanently, in consequence of the feelings of the people being with the latter, bought from the sachems the very considerable slice of land in which was included the Valley of the Juniata, for the trifling consideration of £400. This was supposed to act as a healing balm for the trespasses upon their hunting-grounds, and at the same time the Penns undoubtedly entertained the idea that they could realize a handsome profit in re-selling the lands at an advanced price to those who occupied them, as well as to European emigrants constantly arriving and anxious to purchase.

The Indian chiefs and sachems who were not present at this treaty were highly indignant, and pronounced the whole transaction a gross fraud; and those who were present at the treaty declared they were outwitted by misrepresentations, and grossly defrauded. Conrad Weiser, the Indian interpreter, in his journal of a conference at Aughwick, stated that the dissatisfaction with the purchase of 1754 was general. The Indians said they did not understand the points of the compass, and if the line was so run as to include the west branch of Susquehanna, they would never agree to it. According to Smith's Laws, vol. xxi., p. 120, "the land where the Shawnee and Ohio Indians lived, and the hunting-grounds of the Delawares, the Nanticokes, and the Tutelos, were all included."

So decided and general was the dissatisfaction of the Indians, that, in order to keep what few remained from being alienated, the proprietors found it necessary to cede back to them, at a treaty held in Easton, in October, 1758, all the land lying north and west of the Alleghany Mountains within the province. The restoration, however, came too late to effect much good.

But even the lands west of the Alleghany Mountains were not sacred to the Indians, mountainous as they were and unfertile as they were deemed; for westward the squatter went, gradually encroaching upon the red men's last reserve, until he finally settled in their midst. These aggressions were followed by the usual proclamations from the government, but they had little or no effect in preventing the bold adventurers from crossing the Alleghany Mountains and staking out farms in the valley of the Conemaugh. This continued for a number of years, until the government, wearied by unavailing efforts to keep settlers from Indian lands, caused a stringent law to be passed by Council in February, 1768, when it was enacted "that if any person settled upon the unpurchased lands neglected or refused to remove from the same within thirty days after they were required so to do by persons to be appointed for that purpose by the governor or by his proclamation, or, having so removed, should return to such settlement, or the settlement of any other person, with or without a family, to remain and settle on such lands, or if any person after such notice resided and settled on such lands, every such person so neglecting or refusing to remove, or returning to settle as aforesaid, or that should settle after the requisition or notice aforesaid, being legally convicted, was to be punished with death without the benefit of clergy."

There is no evidence on record that the provision of this act was ever enforced, although it was openly violated. It was succeeded by laws a little more lenient, making fine and imprisonment the punishment in lieu of the death-penalty "without the benefit of clergy." Neither does the record say that the coffers of the provincial treasury ever became plethoric with the collection of fines paid by trespassers.

During the Indian wars of 1762-63, many of the inhabitants of the valley fled to the more densely populated districts for safety. Up to this time few forts were built for defence, and the settlers dreaded the merciless warfare of the savages. The restoration of peace in the latter year brought a considerable degree of repose to the long harassed colonies. The turbulent Indians of the Ohio buried the hatchet in October, 1764, on the plains of Muskingum, which enabled the husbandman to reassume his labors and to extend his cultivation and improvements. The prosperity of Pennsylvania increased rapidly; and those who were compelled by Indian warfare to abandon their settlements rapidly returned to them. The Juniata Valley, and especially the lower part of it, gained a considerable accession of inhabitants in the shape of sturdy tillers of the soil and well-disposed Christian people.

For a time the Scotch-Irish Presbyterians maintained rule in religion; but, about 1767, German Lutherans, Irish Catholics, and some few Dunkards and other denominations, found their way to the valley. Meeting-houses were built, stockade forts erected, and communities of neighbors formed for mutual protection, without regard to religious distinctions.

The first settlements of the upper portion of the valley were not effected until between 1765 and 1770. True, there was here and there an isolated family, but the danger of being so near the Kittaning Path was deemed too hazardous. It was in the upper part of the valley, too, that most of the massacres took place between 1776 and 1782, as the lower end of it was too thickly populated and too well prepared for the marauders to permit them to make incursions or commit depredations.

CHAPTER III.
JUNIATA ISLAND — AN INDIAN PARADISE — REV. DAVID BRAINERD AMONG THE SAVAGES — THE EARLY SETTLERS, HULINGS, WATTS, AND BASKINS — INDIAN BATTLES — REMARKABLE ESCAPE OF MRS. HULINGS, ETC.

Juniata Island—now called Duncan's Island, in consequence of the Duncan family being the proprietors for many years—is formed by the confluence of the Juniata and Susquehanna. Stretching northward, it presents a lovely and fertile plain, surrounded by gorgeous and romantic scenery, surpassed by few places in the State. This must have been a very paradise for the sons of the forest. Facing to the west, before them lay their beautiful hunting-grounds; facing to the south, the eye rested upon the "long crooked river," over whose rippling bosom danced the light bark canoe, and whose waters were filled with the choicest of fish. With such blessings within their reach, the inhabitants of the Juniata Island should have been superlatively happy, and probably would, had it not been for the internal feuds which existed among the tribes. Although the wigwams of two distinct tribes dotted the island on the arrival of the white man, social intercourse and the most friendly terms of intimacy existed between them. They were the Shawnees and the Conoys. Then, too, it betokened a peaceable spot, and yet it had been a famous Indian battle-ground in its day. The traditions speak of a battle fought many years ago, between the Delawares and the Cayugas, on this island, when the gullies ran red with blood of mighty warriors, and the bones of a thousand of them were entombed in one common grave upon the battle-field. Both tribes suffered severely. The Delawares, although they lost the most braves, and were ultimately driven from the field, fought with the most savage desperation; but the Cayugas had the advantage in point of numbers, and some of them used fire-arms, then totally unknown to the Delawares.

The first adventurers who went up the Susquehanna were Indian traders, who took up articles for traffic in canoes. Fascinated by the beautiful scenery of the country, and impressed with the idea that corn and fruits grew upon the island spontaneously, these traders did not fail to give it a name and reputation; and curiosity soon prompted others to visit the "Big Island," as they called it. Some of them soon went so far as to contemplate a settlement upon it. This, however, the Indians would not permit; they were willing to trade at all times with them, but the island was a kind of reservation, and on no condition would they permit the pale-faces to share it with them. Even had they suffered white men to settle among them, none would have repented the act, as a rash step, more bitterly than the white men themselves; for the Shawnees were a treacherous nation, and exceedingly jealous of any innovations upon their rights or the customs of their fathers.

Still, the island became settled at an early day. The roving Shawnees pushed their way westward, and the prejudices of those who took their place were probably overcome by presents of guns, ammunition, tobacco, and fire-water.

The Rev. David Brainerd, a devout and pious missionary, visited the island in 1745, in the spring while going up the river, and in the fall while returning. His object was to convert the Indians, which he found quite as hopeless a task as did Heckwelder and Loskiel, who preceded him with the same object in view. During his peregrinations Brainerd kept a journal, which, together with his life, was published by the American Tract Society. From this journal we extract the following, in order to give his views of savage life, as well as an interesting account of what he saw and heard at the island:—

Sept. 20.—Visited the Indians again at Juneauta Island, and found them almost universally very busy in making preparations for a great sacrifice and dance. Had no opportunity to get them together in order to discourse with them about Christianity, by reason of their being so much engaged about their sacrifice. My spirits were much sunk with a prospect so very discouraging, and specially seeing I had this day no interpreter but a pagan, who was as much attached to idolatry as any of them, and who could neither speak nor understand the language of these Indians; so that I was under the greatest disadvantages imaginable. However, I attempted to discourse privately with some of them, but without any appearance of success; notwithstanding, I still tarried with them.

The valuable interpreter was probably a Delaware Indian, who was a visitor to take part in the dance and sacrifice, while the inhabitants of the island were Shawnees, who originally came from the south, and their languages were entirely dissimilar. Brainerd calls them "pagans" and "idolaters." This is a charge the Indians used to combat most vehemently. They most unquestionably had small images carved out of wood to represent the Deity; yet they repudiated the idea of worshipping the wood, or the wooden image, merely using it as a symbol through which to worship the Unseen Spirit. If such was the fact, they could not well be called pagans in the common acceptation of the term. The journal goes on to say:—

In the evening they met together, nearly one hundred of them, and danced around a large fire, having prepared ten fat deer for the sacrifice. The fat of the inwards they burnt in the fire while they were dancing, which sometimes raised the flame to a prodigious height, at the same time yelling and shouting in such a manner that they might easily have been heard two miles or more. They continued their sacred dance nearly all night; after which they ate the flesh of the sacrifice, and so retired each one to his own lodging.

Making a burnt-offering of the deer-fat to illuminate the dance, and to make a meat-offering to the insatiate Indian appetite, after undergoing such fatigues, of the roasted venison, had not much idolatry in it. Unconnected with any religious ceremony, such a proceeding might have been considered rational, and coming altogether within the meaning of the Masonic principle which recognises "refreshment after labor." Mr. Brainerd continues:—

Lord's-day, Sep. 21.—Spent the day with the Indians on the island. As soon as they were well up in the morning, I attempted to instruct them, and labored for that purpose to get them together, but soon found they had something else to do; for near noon they gathered together all their powaws, or conjurors, and set about half a dozen of them playing their juggling tricks and acting their frantic, distracted postures, in order to find out why they were then so sickly upon the island, numbers of them being at that time disordered with a fever and bloody flux. In this exercise they were engaged for several hours, making all the wild, ridiculous, and distracted motions imaginable; sometimes singing, sometimes howling, sometimes extending their hands to the utmost stretch and spreading all their fingers: they seemed to push with them as if they designed to push something away, or at least to keep it off at arm's-end; sometimes stroking their faces with their hands, then spouting water as fine as mist; sometimes sitting flat on the earth, then bowing down their faces to the ground; then wringing their sides as if in pain and anguish, twisting their faces, turning up their eyes, grunting, puffing, &c.

This looks more like idolatry than sacrificing ten fat deer and dancing by the light of their burning fat. Yet, if curing disease by powwowing, incantation, or the utterance of charms, can be considered idolatry, we are not without it even at this late day. We need not go out of the Juniata Valley to find professing Christians who believe as much in cures wrought by charms as they do in Holy Writ itself.

"Their monstrous actions tended to excite ideas of horror, and seemed to have something in them, as I thought, peculiarly suited to raise the devil, if he could be raised by any thing odd, ridiculous, and frightful. Some of them, I could observe, were much more fervent and devout in the business than others, and seemed to chant, whoop, and mutter, with a degree of warmth and vigor as if determined to awaken and engage the powers below. I sat at a small distance, not more than thirty feet from them, though undiscovered, with my Bible in my hand, resolving, if possible, to spoil their sport and prevent their receiving any answers from the infernal world, and there viewed the whole scene. They continued their hideous charms and incantations for more than three hours, until they had all wearied themselves out, although they had in that space of time taken several intervals of rest; and at length broke up, I apprehend, without receiving any answer at all."

Very likely they did not; but is it not most singular that a man with the reputation for piety and learning that Brainerd left behind him should arm himself with a Bible to spoil the spirit of the Indians, in case their incantations should raise the demon of darkness, which, it would really appear, he apprehended? In speaking of the Shawnee Indians, or "Shawanose," as they were then called, he stigmatizes them as "drunken, vicious, and profane." What their profanity consisted of he does not say. According to all Indian historians, the Indians had nothing in their language that represented an oath. Brainerd goes on to say of the Shawnees:—

Their customs, in various other respects, differ from those of the other Indians upon this river. They do not bury their dead in a common form, but let their flesh consume above the ground, in close cribs made for that purpose. At the end of a year, or sometimes a longer space of time, they take the bones, when the flesh is all consumed, and wash and scrape them, and afterward bury them with some ceremony. Their method of charming or conjuring over the sick seems somewhat different from that of the other Indians, though in substance the same. The whole of it, among these and others, perhaps, is an imitation of what seems, by Naaman's expression, (2 Kings v. 11,) to have been the custom of the ancient heathen. It seems chiefly to consist of their "striking their hands over the deceased," repeatedly stroking them, "and calling upon their God," except the spurting of water like a mist, and some other frantic ceremonies common to the other conjurations which I have already mentioned.

In order to give Mr. Brainerd's impression of their customs, as well as an interesting account of a "medicine-man" who possessed rather singular religious opinions, we shall close with his journal, with another paragraph:—

When I was in this region in May last, I had an opportunity of learning many of the notions and customs of the Indians, as well as observing many of their practices. I then travelled more than one hundred and thirty miles upon the river, above the English settlements, and in that journey met with individuals of seven or eight distinct tribes, speaking as many different languages. But of all the sights I ever saw among them, or indeed anywhere else, none appeared so frightful or so near akin to what is usually imagined of infernal powers, none ever excited such images of terror in my mind, as the appearance of one who was a devout and zealous reformer, or rather restorer of what he supposed was the ancient religion of the Indians. He made his appearance in his pontifical garb, which was a coat of bear-skins, dried with the hair on, and hanging down to his toes; a pair of bear-skin stockings, and a great wooden face, painted, the one half black, the other half tawny, about the color of an Indian's skin, with an extravagant mouth, but very much awry; the face fastened to a bear-skin cap, which was drawn over his head. He advanced toward me with the instrument in his hand which he used for music in his idolatrous worship, which was a dry tortoise-shell with some corn in it, and the neck of it drawn on to a piece of wood, which made a very convenient handle. As he came forward, he beat his tune with the rattle, and danced with all his might, but did not suffer any part of his body, not so much as his fingers, to be seen. No one would have imagined, from his appearance or actions, that he could have been a human creature, if they had not had some intimation of it otherwise. When he came near me, I could not but shrink away from him, although it was then noonday, and I knew who it was, his appearance and gestures were so prodigiously frightful. He had a house consecrated to religious uses, with divers images cut upon the several parts of it. I went in, and found the ground beaten almost as hard as a rock with their frequent dancing upon it. I discoursed with him about Christianity. Some of my discourse he seemed to like, but some of it he disliked extremely. He told me that God had taught him his religion, and that he never would turn from it, but wanted to find some who would join heartily with him in it; for the Indians, he said, were grown very degenerate and corrupt. He had thoughts, he said, of leaving all his friends, and travelling abroad, in order to find some who would join with him; for he believed that God had some good people somewhere, who felt as he did. He had not always, he said, felt as he now did; but had formerly been like the rest of the Indians, until about four or five years before that time. Then, he said, his heart was very much distressed, so that he could not live among the Indians, but got away into the woods, and lived alone for some months. At length, he said, God comforted his heart, and showed him what he should do; and since that time he had known God and tried to serve him, and loved all men, be they who they would, so as he never did before. He treated me with uncommon courtesy, and seemed to be hearty in it. I was told by the Indians that he opposed their drinking strong liquor with all his power; and that if at any time he could not dissuade them from it by all he could say, he would leave them, and go crying into the woods. It was manifest that he had a set of religious notions, which he had examined for himself and not taken for granted upon bare tradition; and he relished or disrelished whatever was spoken of a religious nature, as it either agreed or disagreed with his standard. While I was discoursing, he would sometimes say, "Now that I like; so God has taught me," &c.; and some of his sentiments seemed very just. Yet he utterly denied the existence of a devil, and declared there was no such creature known among the Indians of old times, whose religion he supposed he was attempting to revive. He likewise told me that departed souls went southward, and that the difference between the good and bad was this: that the former were admitted into a beautiful town with spiritual walls, and that the latter would forever hover around these walls in vain attempts to get in. He seemed to be sincere, honest, and conscientious, in his own way, and according to his own religious notions, which was more than ever I saw in any other pagan. I perceived that he was looked upon and derided among most of the Indians as a precise zealot, who made a needless noise about religious matters; but I must say that there was something in his temper and disposition which looked more like true religion than any thing I ever observed among other heathens.

If Brainerd was not grossly imposed upon, the Indian was a remarkable man, and his code of ethics might be used with profit by a great many persons now treading the paths of civilization and refinement. But it is more than probable that he had based the groundwork of his religion on what he had learned from the Moravian missionaries. In the ensuing summer Brainerd again ascended the Susquehanna, where he contracted disease by exposure, and died in the fall.

The earliest permanent white settler upon the island was a gentleman named Hulings, who located near the mouth of the Juniata, over which, in after years, he established a ferry; and, after travel increased and the traders took their goods up the rivers on pack-horses, he built a sort of causeway, or bridge, for the passage of horses, at the upper end of the island. He settled on the island in 1746. He was followed by another adventurer, named Watts, who staked out a small patch of land, with the view of farming it. It was already cleared, and he purchased it from the Indians. The children of these families intermarried, and their descendants to this day own the greater portion of the island. A few years after the settlement of Watts and Hulings, a gentleman named Baskin came from below, and settled near the point of the island. He was an enterprising man, and had no sooner erected himself a temporary shelter than he established a ferry across the Susquehanna. The ferry became profitable, and Baskin realized a fortune out of it. It was a sort of heirloom in the family for several generations, until the State improvements were built, when a bridge was erected. Baskin's Ferry was known far and wide; and there are still some descendants of the name residing, or who did reside a few years ago, where the ferry crossed.

Shortly after Braddock's defeat, the country was greatly alarmed by rumors that the French and Indians were coming down the Susquehanna in great numbers, with the avowed intention of slaughtering the British colonists and laying waste all their habitations. Nor was this rumor without foundation; for the massacres already committed up the Susquehanna seemed fully to justify the apprehension. Travel along the river was suspended, and a portion of the settlers fled to Paxton. Hulings abandoned his ferry, and, with a convoy of friendly Delaware Indians, he went to Fort Duquesne, where he immediately purchased land, with the view of settling permanently. There, however, he found little more peace and quiet than he enjoyed at the island. The country was rife with alarms of Indian depredations, and the settlers were in constant dread of an attack which they could not repel. Hulings became dissatisfied, because the exchange had disappointed all his reasonable expectations, and he determined to return. To this end he disposed of his land for £200—land which now composes the heart of the city of Pittsburg, and could not be purchased for £2,000,000. In company with another party of friendly Indians on their way to the east, he returned to the island, re-established his ferry, built himself a house at the bridge, and for some years lived in security.

About 1761, accounts of Indian depredations above again alarmed the lower settlements; but Mr. Hulings paid no attention to them, until a large number of them were seen but a short distance above the island, encamped upon a piece of table-land. In great haste he packed up a few of his most valuable articles, and, putting his wife and child upon a large black horse, took them to the Point, so as to be ready to fly the moment the savages made their appearance. At this place there was a half-fallen tree, from the branches of which an excellent view of his house, as well as of the path beyond it, could be obtained. Here Hulings watched for some time, hoping that if the Indians did come down, and find his house abandoned, they would go up the Juniata. Suddenly it occurred to Hulings that in his haste he had left some valuable keepsakes, and he returned forthwith alone. After reconnoitering for some time, he entered the house, and was somewhat surprised to find an Indian tinkering at his gun-lock. The savage was unable to shoot, and, as Hulings was a man of powerful frame, he feared to make a personal attack upon him. Both appeared to be ready to act upon the defensive, but neither was willing to risk an attack.

In the mean time, the reconnoitering and parleying of Hulings had taken up so much time that Mrs. Hulings became alarmed, and concluded that her husband had been murdered. Without a thought of the danger, she took her child upon the horse before her, plunged him into the Susquehanna, and the noble charger carried them safely to the other shore—a distance of nearly a mile, and at a time, too, when the river was unusually high! Such an achievement in modern times would make a woman a heroine, whose daring would be extolled from one end of the land to the other.

Soon after this extraordinary feat, Mr. Hulings arrived, and he, in turn, became alarmed at the absence of his wife; but he soon saw her making a signal on the other side, and, immediately unmooring a canoe at the mouth of the Juniata, he got into it and paddled it over. It was the only canoe in the neighborhood,—an old one left by Baskin when he fled. Hulings had scarcely rejoined his wife before he saw the flames shooting up from the old log ferry-house, and the savages dancing around it, brandishing their weapons; but they were out of harm's way, and succeeded in reaching Paxton the same day. In a year or so they returned, and ended their days on the island.

Reference is made by historians to a battle fought between the whites and Indians on the island in 1760. The old inhabitants, too, spoke of one, but we could ascertain nothing definite on the subject. No mention whatever is made of it in the Colonial Records.

After this period but few of the roving bands or war-parties ever came down either the Susquehanna or the Juniata as far as the island. The massacre of the Conestoga Indians inspired the up-country savages with so much terror that they deemed it certain death to go near the settlement of the Paxton boys.

By the time the Revolution commenced, the neighborhood of the mouth of the Juniata was thickly populated, and the inhabitants had within their reach ample means of defence; so that the savages in the employ of the British prudently confined their operations to the thickly-settled frontier.

CHAPTER IV.
INDIAN TOWNS ALONG THE JUNIATA — LOST CREEK VALLEY DISCOVERED — MEXICO FIRST SETTLED BY CAPTAIN JAMES PATTERSON IN 1751 — INDIAN ATTACK UPON SETTLERS AT THE HOUSE OF WILLIAM WHITE — MASSACRE OF WHITE — CAPTURE OF A LAD NAMED JOHN RIDDLE — HIS RELEASE FROM CAPTIVITY, ETC.

[For the facts on which the two chapters following are based we are indebted to a gentleman named Andrew Banks, an old resident of Lost Creek Valley, Juniata county. He was born near York, and settled near his late place of residence in 1773, and was nearly eighty-nine years of age when we called upon him early in December, 1855. We found him enjoying the evening of a long and well-spent life, with his sense of hearing somewhat impaired, but his intellect and memory both good. He was a man of considerable intelligence, and we found him quite willing to give all he knew of the past worthy of record. He died about the last of the same month.]

The river, from the island to Newport, is hemmed in by mountains; and while it afforded excellent territory for hunting, fishing, and trapping, it held out no inducements for the Indians to erect their lodges along it. The first Indian village above the mouth of the river was located on the flat, a short distance above where the town of Newport now is. Another was located at the mouth of a ravine a little west of Millerstown. At the former place the Cahoons, Hiddlestons, and others were settled, who were ejected, and had their cabins burnt by Secretary Peters. After the purchase of these lands at Albany, in 1754, both these towns were destroyed, and the Indians went to Ohio.

Lost Creek Valley, unquestionably one of the most beautiful valleys in the Juniata region, was entered by some Indian traders as early as 1740. They found it occupied by two or three Indian settlements, and they made a successful barter with the aborigines. The next year they essayed to revisit the place, but were unable to find it. The following summer they found it again; hence arose the name of the lost creek. There is no record of any massacres by the Indians in this valley, and the impression is that they left it about 1754, some going toward the frontier, and others to the head of Tuscarora Valley.

The first settlement on the river, in what now constitutes Juniata county, was made in 1751, by an adventurous Scotch-Irishman known as Captain James Patterson. He came across the country from Cumberland county, accompanied by some five or six others, most of whom settled very near to where Mexico now stands. Patterson was a bold and fearless man; and he had not long resided in his new location before the Indians of the neighborhood both hated and feared him. He and his companions cleared the land on both sides of the river, built two large log-houses, and pierced them with loopholes, so that they might defend themselves from any attacks the savages might make. Patterson soon became aware of the fact that his reckless daring, especially in braving the proclamations of the proprietors in settling upon unpurchased Indian lands, had inspired the Indians with fear; hence he did not condescend to make an effort to purchase from the Indians, or even build a fort for the protection of his little colony. In addition to his recklessness, he possessed a good share of cunning, that on many occasions served his purpose. For instance, he used to keep a target, the centre of which was riddled with bullets, leaning against a tree. Whenever he found a party of friendly Indians approaching, he used to stand under his door and blaze away at the target, but always stop when the Indians were near the house. The Indians would invariably examine the target, measure the distance—about four hundred feet—with the eye, and conclude among themselves that Patterson would be an exceedingly tough customer in a fight! His reputation for shooting obtained for him among the Delawares the name of "Big Shot."

Patterson was a very bold squatter, and staked off for himself a large body of land, declaring that Providence had designed it for the use of Christian people to raise food upon, and not for Indian war-dances. But, with all his fancied security and his contemptuous opinion of the "cowardly red-skins," they put him to his trumps at last. In the year 1755 they no longer visited his settlement on the friendly mission of bartering furs and venison for rum and tobacco, but they commenced prowling about in small parties, painted for war, armed with the rifle—the use of which they had already acquired—and exceedingly dangerous-looking knives and tomahawks. Patterson became alarmed, and, actuated by a settled conviction that "discretion" was the better part of valor, himself and his companions crossed the Tuscarora Mountain and took refuge in Sherman's Valley. A few years after he returned, but he found his land parcelled, and occupied by others, who held deeds of purchase for it from the proprietory government. Nothing daunted, however, he took possession of another piece of land, and commenced cultivating it, without going through the land-office formula of obtaining a legal title for it. He was a man of some intelligence, and held in supreme contempt the Penn family and their treaties with the Indians. He declared that the Albany treaty did not give them a shadow of right to the land; and, as it was not considered morally wrong for the Penns to wheedle the Indians out of millions of acres of land for the paltry sum of £400, he did not see any wrong in his cheating the Penn family out of a farm.

For some years peace and quiet reigned in the neighborhood; but in the spring of 1763 the red man again lifted the hatchet, and the settlers were thrown into awe and consternation. Constant rumors were afloat of their depredations, and at length a scouting party returned with the unwelcome intelligence that a body of Shawnees were encamped in Tuscarora Valley. As speedily as possible, all the movable effects were placed upon pack-horses, and the settlers, by extremely cautious manœuvering, succeeded in escaping safely, and again took up their residence in Sherman's Valley.

The spring having been exceedingly favorable, the grain crop was ready to cut early in July, and a party was formed by the settlers, and some few others, to go back and assist each other in getting in their harvest. On their arrival they set vigorously to work; and, no traces of savages being perceptible, in their anxiety to get in the grain they appeared to forget them, notwithstanding each man carried with him his trusty rifle wheresoever he went. On Sunday, while resting from their labors, some ten or twelve Shawnee Indians approached the house of William White, where all the settlers were spending the Sabbath. They crawled up to the house unperceived, and fired a volley through the open door, killing Mr. White and wounding some of his family. The wildest consternation seized upon the party within, and, in the great confusion which followed, all escaped by the back-door except William Riddle. Some swam the river; others escaped in different directions. Riddle did not see a son of his, aged about twelve years, escape; and, without probably being conscious of what he was doing, walked toward the front-door, where a savage fired at him. The muzzle of the gun was so near Riddle's face that the discharge literally filled it with gunpowder. The ball grazed, but did not injure him. At the moment the savage discharged his rifle, Riddle was tripped by something upon the floor, and fell. The Indians took it for granted that both were killed, and set up a loud shout of victory. While holding a consultation about their future movements, Riddle jumped up suddenly and ran. Several Indians fired, and for a short distance pursued him; but he soon distanced the fleetest runner among them. The marauders then returned, and, after scalping Mr. White, plundered the house of all the ammunition they could find, some few other trifling articles, and then set fire to it.

On taking their departure from the place, from a high bluff near the house they discovered Riddle's son, who was trying to conceal himself in a rye-field. They captured him and took him along with them. In order to give an account of his captivity, we shall be compelled to defer an account of the further depredations of the same band until the next chapter.

Some years after peace was restored—the precise year not known, but supposed to have been in 1767,—Riddle started for the frontier in search of his son. This was a time of almost profound peace, which followed the numerous massacres of the few preceding years, and a time, too, when the Indians had been taught some severe lessons, and were disposed to act friendly toward the whites. Riddle travelled on horseback, and passed numerous Indian villages, but could hear no tidings of his son until he came upon an encampment of Shawnee Indians near Lake Erie. As he neared the village, he saw the warriors returning from the chase, and among them a youthful-looking brave with an eagle-feather waving on his cap, and all the paraphernalia of a young chief decorating his person. His bearing erect, his step firm, he trod the path with a proud and haughty air. But a single glance sufficed for Riddle to recognise in the youthful warrior his son John. Dismounting from his horse, he sprang forward and attempted to throw himself into his arms; but, strange to say, his advances were repulsed! Even when the lad was convinced that he was Riddle's offspring, he refused to go with him, but declared his determination to remain with the tribe.

During the few years that he had been among the sons of the forest, he had most thoroughly imbibed their habits and a strong love for their wild and romantic life. The chase, the woods, the council-fires and the wigwams, the canoe and the dance of the squaws, were enchantment to him, in the enjoyment of which he lost all recollections of home or his parents; and when his father declared that he would use a parent's prerogative to force him to accompany him, young Riddle, almost frantic with despair, called upon his warrior friends to interfere in his behalf. But the Indians, fearful of the consequences that might result from any interference of the kind, acknowledged Riddle's right to reclaim his son, since the red man and the white man had smoked the pipe of peace. It was, therefore, with great reluctance that John Riddle prepared to depart immediately. He took a hasty farewell of his warrior companions, and, mounting behind his father, they turned their faces toward the valley of the Juniata. Mr. Riddle, with commendable zeal and a great deal of prudence, put as much ground between him and the Shawnee village, before nightfall, as possible. He pitched his tent for the night on the edge of a thicket, and partook of some provisions which he had in his saddle-bag; and, after talking for an hour or two, they stretched themselves before the fire to sleep. Young Riddle appeared resigned, and had even conversed gayly and cheerfully with his father; but the old man had his misgivings, and he feared that treachery was hidden beneath this semblance of cheerfulness. The consequence was that he lay awake for hours; but at length the fatigues of the day overcame him, and he sank into a deep sleep, from which he did not awake until the sun was up, and then only to find that his son had fled! The emotions of a father under such circumstances may be imagined, but certainly they cannot well be described. A man of less energy would have given up the object of his mission as hopeless, and returned home.

Not so, however, with Riddle, for he hastened back to the Indian village, and asked the Indians sternly for his son. Unused or unwilling to dissemble, they frankly told him that he was in the council-house, and demanded their protection; that he had eaten, drank, and smoked, with the red man, and that he was unwilling to acknowledge a pale-face as a father or a brother. This highly incensed Riddle, and he declared that if his son were not delivered up to him, he would bring the forces from the nearest fort and exterminate them; and, further, that, if any injury befell him, his friends, who knew his mission, would follow and avenge him. A council was immediately called, and the subject debated. The young warriors of the village were determined that young Riddle should remain among them at all hazards; but the counsel of the older chiefs, who evidently foresaw what would follow, prevailed, and young Riddle was again placed in charge of his father. The old man, profiting by experience, took his son to a frontier fort, and from thence home, reasoning with him all the way on the folly of adopting the life of a savage.

Riddle grew to manhood, and reared a large family in Walker township, all of whom many years ago went to the West. He is represented by Mr. Banks as having been a quiet and inoffensive man, except when he accidentally indulged in the too free use of "fire-water." It was then that all the characteristics of the red man manifested themselves. "On such occasions his eye flashed, and all his actions betokened the wily savage."

CHAPTER V.
EARLY SETTLERS AT LICKING CREEK — RELICS OF AN INDIAN BATTLE — HOUSE OF ROBERT CAMPBELL ATTACKED — JAMES CAMPBELL WOUNDED AND TAKEN PRISONER — SCOUT SENT FROM SHERMAN'S CREEK — ENCOUNTERED INDIANS AT BUFFALO CREEK — FIVE OF THE SCOUT KILLED, ETC.

The neighborhood of the mouth of Licking Creek was settled about 1750. The first settler was Hugh Hardy, a Scotch-Irishman, who located about a mile from the mouth of the creek. He was followed by families named Castner, Wilson, Law, Scott, Grimes, and Sterrit, all Scotch-Irish, and the last two traders in Indian goods.

At the time of their advent at Licking Creek, the Indians were exceedingly friendly, and pointed out to them a famous battle-ground near the creek. The oral tradition of the battle preserved by them was as follows:—On the one side of the creek was a village of the Delawares, on the other a village of the Tuscaroras. Both tribes lived in harmony—hunted on the same grounds, seated themselves around the same council-fires, and smoked in common the pipe of peace, and danced the green-corn dance together beneath the pale rays of the mellow harvest-moon. These amicable relations might have existed for years, had not a trivial incident brought about a sad rupture. Some Indian children at play on the bank of the creek commenced quarrelling about a grasshopper. High words led to blows. The women of the respective tribes took up their children's quarrel, and in turn the wives' quarrel was taken up by the men. A bloody and most sanguinary battle was the result. The struggle was long and fierce, and hundreds of warriors, women, and children, fell beneath the deadly tomahawk or by the unerring arrow. To this day, relics, such as arrow-heads, pipes, and human bones, are found upon the spot where tradition says the battle occurred. The "grasshopper war" was long held up by the sachems as a terrible warning to any tribe about to embroil itself in a bootless war.

Some historians assert that there was once a fort at the mouth of Licking Creek, called Fort Campbell, all traces of which are now obliterated. Such was not the case. Robert Campbell owned the largest house in the settlement, which was pierced with loopholes for defence similar to that belonging to Patterson. The settlers had also been driven away, and had returned to reap their harvest. On the Sabbath referred to in the preceding chapter, while the harvesters were gathered in the house of Campbell, and immediately after the massacre at Patterson's, the same hand of Indians stealthily approached the house of Campbell and fired a volley at the inmates. Several persons were wounded, but there is no authentic record of any one being killed.

James Campbell was shot through the wrist, and taken prisoner. He was taken to the frontier, probably to Lake Erie, and returned in a year or eighteen months afterward. But the particulars attending his captivity were never published, neither could we find any person who knew any thing about the matter further than that he was captured, and returned again to his home.

Immediately after the Indians had discharged their rifles, one of them sprang into the house, and with uplifted tomahawk approached a bed on which a man named George Dodds was resting. Fortunately for Dodds, his rifle was within reach, which he immediately grasped and fired at the savage, wounding him in the groin. The Indian retreated, and Dodds made his way up-stairs, and through an opening in the roof he escaped, went direct to Sherman's Valley, and spread the alarm.

This same band of marauders proceeded up Tuscarora Valley, laying waste the country as they went. In the dusk of the evening, they came to the house of William Anderson. They shot down the old man, who was seated by the table with the open Bible upon his lap, and also killed and scalped his son and a young woman—an adopted daughter of Mr. Anderson. Two brothers named Christy, and a man named Graham, neighbors of Mr. Anderson, hearing the guns firing, conjectured that the Indians had attacked him; and, their own means of defence being inadequate, they fled, and reached Sherman's Valley about midnight. Their arrival spread new terror, and a volunteer force of twelve men was soon raised to go over to the valley to succor the settlers. This force consisted of three brothers named Robinson, John Graham, Charles Elliot, William and James Christy, Daniel Miller, John Elliot, Edward McConnel, William McCallister, and John Nicholson.

Fearing that the savages would murder men engaged in harvesting farther up the valley, they endeavored to intercept them by crossing through Bigham's Gap early on Monday morning. They had no sooner entered the valley than they discovered traces of the enemy. Houses were pillaged, and some razed to the ground. At one place they had killed four hogs and a number of fowls, which they had roasted by a fire, fared sumptuously and dined leisurely. At Graham's there were unmistakable signs that they had been joined by another party, and that the entire force must number at least twenty-five Indians. From their tracks, too, it was evident that they had crossed the Tuscarora Mountain by way of Run Gap. The dread to encounter such a force would have deterred almost any small body of men; but the Robinsons, who appeared to be leaders of the party, were bold, resolute back-woodsmen, inured to hardship, toil, and danger, and, without taking time to reflect, or even debate, upon the probability of being attacked by the enemy from ambuscade, they pushed forward rapidly to overtake the savages.

At the cross-roads, near Buffalo Creek, the savages fired upon the party from an ambuscade of brush, and killed five. William Robinson was shot in the abdomen with buckshot; still he managed to follow Buffalo Creek for half a mile. John Elliot, a mere lad of seventeen, discharged his rifle at an Indian, and then ran. The Indian pursued him, but, fearing the boy would get off, he dropped his rifle, and followed with tomahawk alone. Elliot, perceiving this, threw some powder into his rifle at random, inserted a ball in the muzzle, and pushed it in as far as he could with his finger; then, suddenly turning around, he shot the Indian in the breast. The Indian gave a prolonged scream, and returned in the direction of his band. There is little doubt but that the Indian was killed; but, agreeably to their custom, his companions either concealed the body or took it with them.

Elliot went but a short distance before he overtook William Robinson, who was weltering in his blood upon the ground, and evidently in the agonies of death. He begged Elliot to carry him off, as he had a great horror of being scalped. Elliot told him it was utterly impossible for him to lift him off the ground, much less carry him. Robinson then said—

"Take my gun, and save yourself. And if ever you have an opportunity to shoot an Indian with it, in war or peace, do so, for my sake."

There is no record of the fact that he obeyed the dying injunction of his friend; but he did with the rifle what was more glorious than killing ignorant savages; he carried it for five years in the Continental army, and battled with it for the freedom of his country. How many of his Majesty's red-coats it riddled before the flag of freedom floated over the land, is only known to the God of battles. The body of Robinson was not found by the Indians.

During the action Thomas Robinson stood still, sheltered by a tree, until all his companions had fled. He fired a third time, in the act of which two or three Indians fired, and a bullet shattered his right arm. He then attempted to escape, but was hotly pursued by the Indians, one of whom shot him through the side while in the act of stooping to pass a log. He was found scalped and most shockingly mutilated. John Graham died while sitting upon a log, a short distance from the scene of action. Charles Elliot and McConnel escaped, and crossed Buffalo Creek, but they were overtaken and shot just as they were in the act of ascending the bank. Their bodies were found in the creek.

These bloody murders caused the greatest alarm in the neighborhood. The Indians, flushed with success, manifested no disposition to leave; and the inhabitants of the sparsely-settled country fled toward the lower end of Sherman's Valley, leaving all behind them. A party of forty men, armed and organized and well-disciplined, marched in the direction of the Juniata for the purpose of burying the dead and slaying the Indians; but when they came to Buffalo Creek, they were so terrified at the sight of the slaughtered whites and probably exaggerated stories of the strength of the enemy, that the commander ordered a return. He called it prudent to retire; some of his men called it cowardly. The name of the valiant captain could not be ascertained.

Captain Dunning went up the valley from Carlisle with a posse, determined to overtake and punish the savages if possible. Before his arrival, however, some five or six men conceived the rash idea of giving the Indians battle, and attacked them while in a barn. The attack was an exceedingly ill-judged affair, for but few Indians were wounded, and none killed. They bounded out with great fury, and shot the entire party but one, who managed to escape. Those who were killed were Alexander Logan and his son John, Charles Coyle, and William Hamilton. Bartholomew Davis made his escape, and at Logan's house overtook Captain Dunning and his command. Judging that the Indians would visit Logan's for plunder, Captain Dunning ambuscaded his men, and in a very short time the savages came, boldly, and entirely unconscious of impending danger. They were greeted by a volley from Dunning's men, and but a short engagement followed. Three or four Indians fell at the first fire; and the rest, dismayed, fled in consternation toward the mountain, and were not pursued.

Thus it will be perceived that a large number of most cruel and cold-blooded murders were committed by these marauders before they were checked, simply because in treachery and cunning the white men could not cope with them.

CHAPTER VI.
TUSCARORA VALLEY — ITS EARLY SETTLERS — ITS MOUNDS AND ITS FORTS —  MASSACRES, ETC.

Tuscarora Path Valley, as it was formerly called, is one of the most fertile and beautiful within the Juniata range. It embraces an extent of probably thirty miles in length, beginning in Franklin county, and ending at the river at Perrysville, in Juniata county. The name of "Path" was given to it in consequence of the old western Indian path running through it nearly its entire length.

Tuscarora, in its day, must have been a famous place for the Indians. Its great natural advantages, and the abundance of game it contained, must alone have rendered it an attractive place, independent of the fact that it was the regular highway between the East and the West, where the warrior, the politician, and the loafer, could lie in the

"Umbrageous grots and caves of cool recess,"

before the wigwam door, and hear from travellers all the news astir worthy of their profound attention.

Tradition, however, speaks of battles among them; for they would fight among themselves, and that, too, with all the relentless fury that characterized their warfare with the whites. But of these battles said to be fought in the valley the tradition is so vague and unsatisfactory that we omit any further mention of them.

There are two mounds in the valley,—one of them near its head, the other some twelve or fourteen miles from its mouth, at or near a place, we believe, now called Academia. Some persons who examined this mound about twenty years ago tried to make it appear that it had been enclosed in a fortification, as they averred that they had discovered fragments of a wall. This was probably a wrong conclusion, as a burial-place would not likely be within a fortification. If the mound was once enclosed within a wall for protection, it was an act that stands without a parallel in Indian history.

Near the lower mound is an academy; and during the last ten years the students used their leisure hours in exhuming the bones and searching for relics, so that by this time, probably, but a mere visible trace of it is left.

The first settlers in Tuscarora were Samuel Bigham, Robert Hagg, and James and John Grey,—all Scotch. They came from Cumberland county about the year 1749, or probably 1750. They were in search of a location for permanent settlement. The valley pleased them so well that they immediately staked out farms; and, notwithstanding the Indians of the valley treated them with apparent hospitality, they took the precaution to build themselves a fort for defence, which was named Bigham's Fort. By the year 1754 several other persons had settled in Tuscarora, among them George Woods and a man named Innis.

Some time in the spring of 1756, John Grey and Innis went to Carlisle with pack-horses, for the purpose of procuring groceries. On their return, while descending the mountain, in a very narrow defile, Grey's horse, frightened at a bear which crossed the road, became unmanageable and threw him off. Innis, anxious to see his wife and family, went on; but Grey was detained for nearly two hours in righting his pack. As far as his own personal safety was concerned, the detention was a providential one, for he just reached the fort in time to see the last of it consumed. Every person in it had either been massacred or taken prisoners by the Indians. He examined the charred remains of the bodies inside of the fort, but he could find none that he could bring himself to believe were those of his family. It subsequently appeared that his wife and his only daughter, three years of age, George Woods, Innis's wife and three children, and a number of others, had been carried into captivity. They were taken across the Alleghany to the old Indian town of Kittaning, and from thence to Fort Duquesne, where they were delivered over to the French.

Woods was a remarkable man, and lived to a good old age, and figured somewhat extensively afterward in the history of both Bedford and Alleghany counties. He took his captivity very little to heart, and even went so far as to propose marriage to Mrs. Grey while they were both prisoners in the fort.

The French commander, in apportioning out the prisoners, gave Woods to an old Indian named John Hutson, who removed him to his own wigwam. But George proving neither useful nor ornamental to Hutson's establishment, and as there was no probability of any of his friends paying a ransom for him—inasmuch as he had neither kith nor kin,—he opened negotiations with George to let him off. The conditions made and entered into between the two were that the aforesaid George Woods should give to the aforesaid John Hutson an annuity of ten pounds of tobacco, until death should terminate the existence of either of the parties named. This contract was fulfilled until the massacre of the Bedford scout, when Harry Woods, a lieutenant of the scout, and son of George Woods, recognised among the most active of the savages the son of John Hutson, who used to accompany his father to Bedford, where Harry Woods had often seen him. It is hardly necessary to add that old Hutson never called upon Woods after that for his ransom annuity.

Woods was a surveyor by profession, and assisted in laying out the city of Pittsburg, one of the principal streets of which bears his name, or, at least, was named after him, notwithstanding it is called "Wood" instead of Woods street.

Mr. Woods, after he removed to Bedford, became a useful and influential citizen. He followed his profession, and most of the original surveys in the upper end of the Juniata Valley were made by him. He reared a large family, and his descendants are still living. One of his daughters was married to Ross, who was once a candidate for the office of governor of the State. He lived to a good old age, and died amid the deep regrets of a most extended circle of acquaintances.

Mrs. Grey and her daughter were given to some Indians, who took them to Canada. In the ensuing fall John Grey joined Colonel Armstrong's expedition against Kittaning, in hopes of recapturing, or at least gaining some intelligence of, his family. Failing to do this, he returned home, broken in health and spirits, made his will, and died. The will divided the farm between his wife and daughter, in case they returned from captivity. If the daughter did not return, a sister was to have her half.

About a year after the fort was burnt, Mrs. Grey, through the connivance of some traders, managed to escape from bondage, and reached her home in safety, but, unfortunately, was compelled to leave her daughter behind her. She proved her husband's will and took charge of the property. The treaty of 1764 brought a large number of captive children to Philadelphia to be recognised and claimed by their friends. Mrs. Grey attended, in hopes of finding her child; but she was unsuccessful. There remained one child unclaimed, about the same age as Mrs. Grey's; and some person, who evidently knew the provisions of the will, hinted to her the propriety of taking the child to save the property. She did so, and in the year 1789, the heirs of the sister, having received some information as to the identity of the child, brought suit for the land. The trial was a novel one, and lasted from 1789 to 1834, a period of forty-five years, when it was decided in favor of the heirs and against the captive.

Innis remained among the Indians until the treaty. His wife escaped a short time previous. Two of her children she recovered in Philadelphia, but a third had been drowned by the savages on their way to some place in Canada. By the exposure it became sick and very weak, and, to rid themselves of any further trouble with it, they put it under the ice. When the captive children were at Philadelphia, some person had taken one of Innis's, and he had considerable difficulty to recover it. Had it not been for a private mark by which he proved it, the person who had it in charge would probably never have surrendered it.

The Indians of Tuscarora, before the French war, were on terms of great intimacy with the whites. They used to meet at the fort, and shoot mark, and, when out of lead, would go to the mouth of the valley, and return with lead ore, almost pure. Lead was a valuable article, and difficult to transport; hence the settlers were anxious to discover the location of the mine. Many a warrior was feasted and liquored until he was blind drunk, under a promise of divulging the precise whereabouts of the lead mine. Its discovery, if it contained any quantity of ore, would have realized any man a speedy fortune in those days; but, in spite of Indian promises and the most thorough search for years, the lead mines of Tuscarora were never found, and probably never will be until it is occupied by another race of cunning Indians.

The fort burnt down in 1756 was rebuilt some four years afterward, through the exertions of Ralph Sterrit, an old Indian trader. His son William was born in Bigham's Fort, and was the first white child born in Tuscarora Valley. At the time of burning the first fort, Sterrit was absent with his family.

It is related of Ralph Sterrit, that, one day, while sitting outside of the second fort, a wayworn Indian came along, who was hungry, thirsty, and fatigued. Sterrit was a humane man, and called the savage in, gave him bread and meat, a drink of rum, and some tobacco, and sent him on his way rejoicing.

The circumstance had entirely passed out of Sterrit's mind, when, one night in the spring of 1763, when the Indians had again commenced hostilities, the inmates of the fort were alarmed by a noise at the gate. Sterrit looked out, and by the light of the moon discovered that it was an Indian. The alarm was spread, and some of the more impetuous were for shooting him down as a spy. Sterrit, more cool than the others, demanded of the Indian his business. The Indian, in few words, reminded him of the circumstance above narrated, and for the hospitality extended to him he had come to warn the white man of impending danger. He said that the Indians were as "plenty as pigeons in the woods," and that even then they had entered the valley, and, before another moon, would be at the fort, carrying with them the firm determination to murder, scalp, and burn, all the whites in their path. The alarm was sounded, and it was soon determined, in consequence of the weakness of the fort, to abandon it. Nearly all the settlers of the valley were in it; but the number stated by the savage completely overawed them, so that they set to work immediately packing upon horses their most valuable effects, and long before daylight were on their way to Cumberland county.

The Indians came next night, and, after reconnoitering for a long time, approached the fort, which, much to their astonishment, they found evacuated. However, to show the settlers that they had been there, they burnt down the fort, and, on a cleared piece of ground in front of it, they laid across the path a war-club painted red—a declaration of war to the death against the whites.

The benevolent act of Sterrit, in relieving the weary and hungry Indian, was the means of saving the lives of eighty persons.

CHAPTER VII.
FORT GRANVILLE — OLD INDIAN TOWN — THE EARLY SETTLERS — CAPTAIN JACOBS — ASSAULT ON AND CAPTURE OF THE FORT.

Previous to the settlement by the whites, the flat on which the eastern part of Lewistown now stands was an Indian town of considerable importance. It was the outlet of a large and fertile valley, through which ran a north-western Indian path, and in which dwelt five or six tribes, who found this the natural outlet to the Juniata. The council-house stood upon the east side of the creek, near its mouth, and the line of wigwams stretched toward the north.

The first white settlers in this neighborhood came from the Conecocheague, by way of Aughwick. They consisted of Arthur Buchanan and his two sons, and three other families, all Scotch-Irish. Buchanan was a man of great energy, and very fond of roving in the woods, far from the haunts of men. He was the master-spirit of the party, and with great self-reliance pitched his tent opposite the Indian village, on the west bank of the creek. He then called upon the Indians, and signified his intention to purchase land. They were at first unwilling to sell; but Captain Jacobs, (as Buchanan christened the chief, in consequence of his close resemblance to a burly German in Cumberland county,) who was the head chief, having been liberally plied with liquor, decided that Buchanan should have the much-coveted land. What was paid for it never transpired, but it is more than probable that the remainder of the contents of Buchanan's rum-keg, a few trinkets, and some tobacco, made him owner of the soil. This was in 1754.

Captain Jacobs had always professed great friendship toward the British colonists; but he was among the very first won over by the French. He became very much dissatisfied with Buchanan, more especially as the latter had induced a number of his friends and acquaintances to come there and settle. By this means the lands of Jacobs were encroached upon, which greatly roused his temper; and one day, without deigning to give an explanation of any kind, the Indians destroyed their town and left. This was a movement the settlers did not understand; neither did they like it, for it seemed to forebode no good. After a very brief consultation among them, they resolved forthwith to build a fort for protection. They had for a time noticed a growing coldness on the part of Jacobs and his warriors, and, fearful that they might come down the valley, joined by other bands, and massacre the people, Fort Granville was erected with as much despatch as possible. It was located about a mile above Lewistown, in order to be near a large spring. Contrary to expectations, the Indians did not come, and things generally prospered about Fort Granville settlement during the summer and winter of 1755. In the spring of 1756 the Indians made their appearance in Kishicoquillas Valley, in considerable numbers; and parties of roving tribes in search of scalps and plunder, emboldened by the success of the French and Indians the year previous, sometimes came down to the mouth of the creek, but, unable to ascertain the power of resistance concentrated within the fort, they never made an attack upon it. These incursions, however, became so frequent, that in the summer of 1756 the settlers only left the fort when necessity demanded it. Finally, succor reached them in July. The government despatched Lieutenant Armstrong from Cumberland county with a militia force to protect them while engaged in taking in their harvest, and, directly after his arrival, hearing of the exposed condition of the people in Tuscarora, Armstrong sent a portion of his command, with Lieutenant Faulkner, in order to guard them while reaping their grain.

In the absence of the latter, on or about the 22d of July, (the Indians having ascertained the strength of the garrison,) some sixty or seventy warriors, painted and equipped for battle, appeared before the fort and insolently challenged the settlers to combat. The commander pretended to treat the challenge with contempt, though in truth he was considerably alarmed at the prospect of an attack. The Indians fired at one man, and wounded him. He happened to be outside, but got into the fort without sustaining any serious injury. The Indians divided themselves into small parties and started off in different directions. One of these parties killed a man named Baskins, a short distance from the river, burnt his house, and carried his wife and children into captivity. Another party took Hugh Carrol and his family prisoners.

On the 30th of July, Captain Edward Ward had command of Fort Granville, with a company regularly enlisted and in the pay of the province. He went, with all of his men but twenty-four, to Sherman's Valley, to protect the settlers while harvesting. The enemy soon ascertained this, and on the first of August, according to the affidavit of John Hogan, then and there taken prisoner, (Colonial Records, vol. vii. p. 561,) one hundred Indians and fifty Frenchmen made an attack upon the fort. They assaulted the works during the entire afternoon and part of the night without gaining any advantage. About midnight the enemy got below the bank of the river, and by a deep ravine they approached close enough to the fort to set fire to it before they were observed. The fire soon spread, and through an aperture made the Indians shot Lieutenant Armstrong, and wounded some two or three others who were endeavoring to put out the fire. The French commander ordered a suspension of hostilities, and offered quarter to all who would surrender, on several occasions; but Armstrong would not surrender on any condition. He was certainly a brave man, and held out nobly almost against hope. Peter Walker, who was in the fort at the time and taken prisoner, after his escape from Kittaning gave an account of the capture of the fort to General John Armstrong. He said that "of the enemy not less than one hundred and twenty returned, all in health, except one Frenchman, shot through the shoulder by Lieutenant Armstrong, a little before his death, as the Frenchman was erecting his body out of the hollow to throw pine-knots on the fire made against the fort; and of this number there were about a dozen of French, who had for their interpreter one McDowell, a Scotchman."

There appears to be a discrepancy between the statements of Hogan and Walker in regard to the number engaged in the assault, but it is quite likely that the latter's estimate is correct.

General Armstrong, in his letter to Robert Hunter Morris, goes on to say:—

This McDowell told Walker they designed very soon to attack Fort Shirley with four hundred men. Captain Jacobs said he could take any fort that would catch fire, and would make peace with the English when they had learned him to make gunpowder. McDowell told Walker they had two Indians killed in the engagement; but Captains Armstrong and Ward, whom I ordered on their march to Fort Shirley to examine every thing at Granville and send a list of what remained among the ruins, assure me that they found some parts of eight of the enemy burnt, in two different places, the joints of them being scarcely separated; and part of their shirts found, through which there were bullet-holes. To secrete these from the prisoners was doubtless the reason why the French officer marched our people some distance from the fort before he gave orders to burn the barracks, &c. Walker says that some of the Germans flagged very much on the second day, and that the lieutenant behaved with the greatest bravery to the last, despising all the terrors and threats of the enemy whereby they often urged him to surrender. Though he had been near two days without water, but little ammunition left, the fort on fire, and the enemy situate within twelve or fourteen yards of the fort, under the natural bank, he was as far from yielding as when at first attacked. A Frenchman in our service, fearful of being burned up, asked leave of the lieutenant to treat with his countrymen in the French language. The lieutenant answered, "The first word of French you speak in this engagement, I'll blow your brains out!" telling his men to hold out bravely, for the flame was falling, and he would soon have it extinguished; but he soon after received the fatal ball. Col. Rec., vol. vii. p. 232.

Directly after Armstrong fell, a man named Turner opened the gates and admitted the enemy. A soldier named Brandon, who had been shot through the knee, approached the French, told them he was a Roman Catholic, and would go with them. His faith, however, availed him little; for, as soon as it was discovered that he was not in marching condition, one of the Indians clove his skull with a tomahawk.

The soldiers, who loved their lieutenant, asked permission to bury him; but the inhuman French officer refused, although they offered to do it in a very few minutes where they had raised clay to stay the progress of the flames.

The Indians were under the command of Captain Jacobs and Shingas, but the name of the gallant French officer has not been preserved.

The prisoners taken were twenty-two soldiers, three women, and several children. For fear of being overtaken by the provincial forces, they made forced marches to Kittaning. When they arrived there, they pitched upon Turner to make a terrible example of. In front of the council-house they planted a stake painted black, and to this they tied him; and, after having heated several old gun-barrels red-hot, they danced around him, and, every minute or two, seared and burned his flesh. Without knowing but what such might be their own fate, the prisoners were compelled to look at the heart-rending sight, and listen to the shrieks and groans of the victim, without daring to utter a word. After tormenting him almost to death, the Indians scalped him, and then held up an Indian lad, who ended his sufferings by laying open his skull with a hatchet.

Some of the prisoners made their escape, and others were restored to their friends; but some few of the soldiers were never heard of again, having probably shared the fate of Turner.

One of the prisoners, named Girty, returned in a wounded condition. When he escaped, he was followed by two Indians to the head-waters of Blacklick, where they attempted to re-capture him; but in the fight that followed he slew one of the Indians, and the other ran. He scalped the one he killed, and took his scalp to Aughwick. The women and children were recovered, by the first exchange of prisoners that took place, in 1757.

CHAPTER VIII.
ORGANIZATION OF MIFFLIN COUNTY — DISPUTE WITH HUNTINGDON COUNTY ABOUT THE BOUNDARY LINE — RIOT IN LEWISTOWN, ETC.

[Note.—It was not the author's original intention to publish any thing of modern occurrence in the Juniata Valley, but to confine himself exclusively to its early history; but several friends in Lewistown made a particular request that we should insert an account of the dispute arising from the boundary question, and the riot of 1791. The latter has been repeatedly published. Still, as it occurred sixty-four years ago, and few, if any, living witnesses of the occurrence are to be found, it may be as well to preserve the record.]

Shortly after Mifflin county was formed, in 1789, an attempt was made to run the boundary line,—a proceeding which gave rise to great excitement and came very near ending in riot and bloodshed. The bone of contention was a strip of disputed territory claimed by both Huntingdon and Mifflin counties; and we are under the impression that a majority of those residing in the territory in dispute favored the Mifflin county cause. They were mostly Irish; and, since the wars were over and no enemy to fight, were ever ready, with true Irish hospitality, to take a brush with their neighbors. Accordingly, when the sheriff of Huntingdon came into the disputed territory to serve a process upon a man, a party congregated at an Irish tavern, and, lying in wait for the sheriff, arrested and carried him to Lewistown and committed him to jail. He sued out a habeas corpus, and the judge discharged him. Filled with wrath, the sheriff went home swearing vengeance. He soon summoned a posse in Huntingdon, for the avowed purpose of taking his man at all hazards, and proceeded to the disputed territory. The people, aware of his coming, fired signal guns, and soon met in great numbers. The sheriff and his posse fortunately took a different route, which alone prevented riot and bloodshed. The boundary question was soon after settled amicably.

SCENE ON THE RIVER BELOW M'VEYTOWN.

The riot of 1791, however, was a more serious affair. It will be remembered that in those days the military spirit in the Juniata Valley ran very high, though we are free to acknowledge that it has sadly degenerated since then. A gentleman named Bryson had been appointed an Associate Judge by the governor. Previous to his appointment, he held the office of Brigade Inspector; and, in his official capacity, refused to commission two colonels elected by their regiments, but in their stead commissioned two men of his own selection. This he had a right to do under the existing militia law; nevertheless, the men composing the regiments looked upon it as a most unwarrantable assumption of power in thus setting at defiance the expressed will of the majority, and they resolved that Judge Bryson should not enjoy his office. The following copy of a letter published in a paper in York, Pennsylvania, from the district attorney, is a full history of the case:

On Monday, the 12th of September, 1791, the Hon. W. Brown, James Bryson, and James Armstrong, Esquires, met in the fore-noon, in order to open the court and proceed to business; but Thomas Beale, Esq., one of the associate judges, not having arrived, their honors waited until three o'clock in the afternoon; at which time he arrived, and was requested to proceed with them and the officers of the court to the court-house. He declined going, and the procession moved on to the court-house, where the judges' commissions were read, the court opened, and the officers and the attorneys of the court sworn in, and the court adjourned till ten o'clock next morning.

About nine o'clock, while preparing business to lay before the grand-jury, I received information that a large body of men were assembled below the Long Narrows, at David Jordan's tavern, on the Juniata, and were armed with guns, swords, and pistols, with an avowed intention to proceed to Lewistown and seize Judge Bryson on the bench, and drag him from his seat, and march him off before them, and otherwise ill-treat him. This information was instantly communicated to Messrs. Brown, Bryson, and Armstrong, the judges, who agreed with me that Samuel Edminton, Esq., the prothonotary, Judge Beale, —— Stewart, Esq., —— Bell, Esq., should, with George Wilson, Esq., the sheriff of Mifflin county, proceed and meet the rioters. And the sheriff was commanded to inquire of them their object and intention; and, if hostile, to order them to disperse, and tell them that the court was not alarmed at their proceedings.

Two hours after this the court opened, and a grand-jury was impanelled. A fife was heard playing, and some guns fired, and immediately the mob appeared, marching toward the court-house, with three men on horseback in front, having the gentlemen that had been sent to meet them under guard in the rear; all of whom, on their arrival at Lewistown, they permitted to go at large, except the sheriff, whom four of their number kept a guard over. The court ordered me, as the representative of the commonwealth, to go and meet them, remonstrate against their proceedings, and warn them of their danger; which order was obeyed. But all endeavors were in vain, the mob crying out, "March on! march on! draw your sword on him! ride over him!" I seized the reins of the bridle that the principal commander held, viz., —— Wilson, Esq., brother of the sheriff aforesaid, who was well mounted and well dressed, with a sword, and, I think, two pistols belted around him; a cocked-hat, and one or two feathers in it. He said he would not desist, but at all events proceed and take Judge Bryson off the bench, and march him down to the Narrows, to the judge's farm, and make him sign a written paper that he would never sit there as a judge again.

The mob still crying out, "March on! march on!" he drew his sword, and told me he must hurt me unless I would let go the reins. The crowd pushed forward and nearly pressed me down; one of them, as I learned afterward, a nephew of Judge Beale, presented his pistol at my breast, with a full determination to shoot me. I let the reins go, and walked before them until I arrived at the stairs on the outside of the court-house, when Judge Armstrong met me, and said, "Since nothing else will do, let us defend the stairs." We instantly ascended, and Mr. Hamilton, and the gentlemen of the bar, and many citizens; and the rioters, headed by William Wilson, Colonel Walker, and Colonel Holt, came forward, and the general cry was, "March on, damn you; proceed and take him!" Judge Armstrong replied, "You damned rascals, come on; we will defend the court and ourselves; and before you shall take Judge Bryson you shall kill me and many others, which seems to be your intention, and which you may do!" At this awful moment, one Holt seized Judge Armstrong by the arm with intent to pull him down the stairs, but he extricated himself. Holt's brother then got a drawn sword and put it into his hands, and damned him to run the rascal through; and Wilson drew his sword on me with great rage, and young Beale his sword, and cocked his pistol, and presented it. I told them they might kill me, but the judge they could not, nor should they take him; and the words "fire away!" shouted through the mob. I put my hand on his shoulder, and begged him to consider where he was, who I was, and reflect but for a moment. I told him to withdraw the men, and appoint any two or three of the most respectable of his people to meet me in half an hour and try to settle the dispute. He agreed, and with difficulty got them away from the court-house. Mr. Hamilton then went with me to Mr. Alexander's tavern, and in Wilson and Walker came, and also Sterrett; who I soon discovered to be their chief counsellor.

Proposals were made by me that they should return home, offer no insult to Judge Bryson or the court, and prefer to the governor a decent petition, stating their grievances, (if they had any,) that might be laid before the legislature; and that, in the mean time, the judge should not sit on the bench of this court. They seemed agreed, and our mutual honor to be pledged; but Sterrett, who pretended not to be concerned, stated that great delay would take place, that injuries had been received which demanded instant redress, and objected to the power of the governor as to certain points proposed. At this moment young Beale and Holt came up, the former with arms, and insisted on Wilson's joining them, and broke up the conference. I followed, and on the field, among the rioters, told Wilson, "Your object is that Judge Bryson leave the bench and not sit on it this court." He and Walker said "Yes." "Will you promise to disperse and go home, and offer him no insult?" He said, "Yes;" and our mutual honor was then pledged for the performance of this agreement.

Mr. Hamilton proceeded to the court, told the judge, and he left his seat and retired. I scarce had arrived until the fife began to play, and the whole of the rioters came on to the court-house, then headed by Wilson. I met them at the foot of the stairs, and told them the judge was gone, in pursuance of the agreement, and charged them with a breach of the word and forfeiture of honor; and Walker said it was so, but he could not prevail on them. Wilson said he would have the judge, and attempted going up the stairs. I prevented him, and told him he should not, unless he took off his military accoutrements. He said he had an address to present, and complied with my request, and presented it, signed "The People." Young Beale, at the moment I was contending with Wilson, cocked and presented his pistol at my breast, and insisted that Wilson and all of them should go; but on my offering to decide it by combat with him, he declined it; and by this means they went off swearing, and said that they were out-generalled.

The next day, Colonel M'Farland, with his regiment, came down and offered to defend the court, and addressed it; the court answered, and stated that there was no occasion, and thanked him.

Judge Bryson read a paper, stating the ill-treatment he received, and mentioned that no fear of danger prevented him from taking and keeping his seat; but that he understood an engagement had been entered into by his friends that he should not, and on that account only he was prevented. The court adjourned until two o'clock that day, and were proceeding to open it, with the sheriff, coroner, and constable in front, when they observed that Judge Beale was at the house of one Con. They halted, and requested the sheriff to wait on him and request him to walk with them. He returned, and said the judge would not walk or sit with Bryson, and addressed Judge Bryson with warmth, who replied to it in a becoming manner. The sheriff struck at him, and kicked also. Judge Armstrong seized the sheriff, and commanded the peace, and took the sheriff's rod from him; the coroner took his place, and the sheriff was brought up before the court. I moved he might be committed to gaol; and his mittimus being written and signed, the court ordered the coroner and gaoler to take him, and he submitted. The court adjourned. After night the drum beat, and Holt collected about seventy men, who repeatedly huzzaed, crying out "liberty or death;" and he offered to rescue the sheriff, but the sheriff refused. At ten o'clock at night I was informed expresses were sent down the Narrows, to collect men to rescue the sheriff, and Major Edmiston informed me he was sorry for his conduct, and offered to beg the court's pardon and to enter into recognisance. I communicated this to the Judges Brown and Armstrong, and requested they would write to the gaoler to permit him to come down. They did, and the sheriff came with Major Edmiston, begged pardon of every member of the court but Judge Bryson, who was not present, and entered into recognisance to appear at next sessions.

The next day near three hundred were assembled below the Narrows, and I prevailed on some gentlemen to go down and disperse them; and upon being assured the sheriff was out of gaol, they returned to their respective homes, and the court have finished all business. Nothing further requiring the attendance of the grand-jury, the court dismissed them and broke up. I must not omit to inform that Judge Beale had declared, during the riot, in court, that he would not sit on the bench with Judge Bryson, and that both he and said Stewart appeared to countenance the rioters, and are deeply concerned.

I must now close the narrative with saying that, owing to the spirit and firmness of Judge Armstrong and the whole of the bar, I was enabled to avert the dreadful blow aimed at Judge Bryson, and to keep order and subordination in court; and unless the most vigorous measures are exerted soon, it will be impossible ever to support the laws of the State in that county, or punish those who dare transgress.

The excise law is execrated by the banditti; and, from every information, I expect the collection of the revenue will be opposed.

I am happy to add, the dispute, which originated by a mistake, between Huntingdon and Mifflin counties, is happily closed in the most amicable manner, without any prosecution in Mifflin.

I am, sir, your most obedient,

John Clark, Dy. St. Attorney.

To Thomas Smith, Esq., President of the Court of Mifflin county.

The following is another account of the affair, and evidently written by a friend of the offending judge:—

Carlisle, September 21.

At a period when the general voice of the people proclaims the excellence of the Federal Government, and the State of Pennsylvania in particular is anticipating every blessing from a Constitution so conformable to it, an alarming sedition, together with a most daring turbulent temper, has unhappily manifested itself in the county of Mifflin.

The Governor has lately appointed Samuel Bryson, Esquire, second Associate Judge of the Court of Common Pleas of that county. This gentleman, having been Lieutenant of the county of Mifflin, had excited the determined enmity of two men who were ambitious of being colonels of militia, and against the commissioning of whom (as unfit persons) Mr. Bryson, as County Lieutenant, had made representations. Enraged at the promotion of Judge Bryson, and unhappily yielding to the impulse of the most unjustifiable passions, one William Wilson, brother to the sheriff of Mifflin county, and one David Walker, levied a considerable force, and marched at the head of about forty armed men, with a fife playing, to Lewistown, with the avowed determination to seize upon the person of Judge Bryson whilst on the bench, drag him from thence, oblige him to resign his commission, and compel him to march many miles along the rugged Narrows of Juniata River.

Secresy marked this unexampled treasonable riot. It was not known at Lewistown until about an hour before the insurgents appeared. Justice Stuart, who had been lately commissioned, and who is a very worthy man, had been imprisoned in the morning by four men who belonged to the party of the rioters. They attempted to make him engage his word that he would not give information; but he refused. Ignorant of the private movers of this daring and turbulent procedure, it was agreed by Judges Brown and Armstrong, and other gentlemen, to request the sheriff of the county and Judge Beale, who were presumed to have influence over them, together with the prothonotary of the county, to represent the illegality and imprudence of their conduct, and prevail on them if possible, to return. No advantage has been derived from this step. Mr. Edmiston, the prothonotary, was insulted; the sheriff was taken into a mock imprisonment; and Judge Beale soon after adopted a part which evinced that little real exertion could have been expected from him in quieting this disturbance.

The court was sitting when this armed force, levying war against the State, with a fife playing, marched resolutely forward. At this juncture Judge Bryson asked Judge Beale if it was not likely they would stop; to which the other replied that they never would whilst such a rascal sat upon the bench.

Mr. Clark and Mr. Hamilton, two attorneys of the court, at the desire of some of the judges, remonstrated with Mr. Wilson, who was on horseback and within a few paces of the court-house, at the head of the troops, respecting his conduct. Mr. Wilson was dressed in a military style, with a cockade in his hat, and was armed with a horseman's sword and pistols. He declared his intention was to oblige Mr. Bryson to resign his commission and go down the Narrows with him and his men. He was warned by the gentlemen of the danger of the attempt; he observed that nothing would divert him from his purpose, and immediately drew his sword and marched to storm the court-room, where Judge Armstrong and others were stationed at the door. The two gentlemen who had addressed Wilson ran to the steps in front of the force, where they found a number of persons on the stairs. The rioters followed, with a cry of "Liberty or Death!" Mr. Armstrong halloed out repeatedly, "Villains, come on, but you shall first march over my dead body before you enter." This resolution, seconded by the circumstance of the gentlemen above mentioned, and a number of other persons, keeping their ground on the stairs, (although once or twice some called to the rioters to fire,) seemed to stagger the resolution of Wilson. At this moment a gentleman proposed to him that if he would disarm, he might have admittance into the court-room. To this he seemed immediately to accede. The troops were filed off to a short distance. It was then agreed that a meeting should take place in half an hour with the leaders of the party. Messrs. Clark and Hamilton, with the assent of some members of the court, met Messrs. William Wilson, David Walker, and William Sterrett, who appeared on behalf of the rioters. Entertaining hopes of preserving the person of Mr. Bryson from injury, it was thought prudent to promise, if the party would disperse, that Mr. Bryson would not sit during that week on the bench. During this conference, Mr. Wilson offered no other charge against Mr. Bryson but what respected the militia commissions for him and Mr. Walker; but it was not until after much discourse that the leaders of the troops could be convinced that an extorted resignation would not avail. When they saw the futility of this idea, it was long insisted that Mr. Bryson should go with them down the Narrows.

Mr. Wilson, in contravention of the agreement, marched the troops to the court-house. In the meantime, Judge Bryson had sent for a horse and effected his escape. It was then Mr. William Sterrett exclaimed, with an oath, "We are out-generalled!"

An address was presented by Mr. Wilson to the court, who went in unarmed, signed "The People." It was in the handwriting, as is supposed, of Mr. Sterrett. It congratulated the other judges upon their appointments, but mentioned and avowed their design in coming armed to the court to force the dismission of Judge Bryson. Mr. Beale, one of the most active of the rioters, armed with a sword and pistols slung around him, wished to force his way into the court-room, but was prevented by Mr. Clark. Four armed men surrounded the person of the sheriff. Under this delusive imprisonment, all intercourse of conversation with him was prohibited. In the evening, the rioters departed in a turbulent, straggling manner, generally intoxicated. At night, one Corran, who had been very active in raising men, was drowned, together with his horse, in a mill-dam, about one mile and a half from the town.

About twelve or one o'clock the next day, Judge Bryson returned. Soon afterward, Col. James McFarland, with about seventy militia on horseback, appeared in support of the court and the laws. At three o'clock, Judges Brown, Bryson, and Armstrong, preceded by the sheriff, prepared to open the court. The sheriff was sent with a message to Judge Beale, informing him that the judges waited for him to join them in proceeding to the court-house. His reply was that he would not go whilst Mr. Bryson was with them. The judges had not walked more than a few paces, followed by the attorneys and citizens, when the sheriff, with his rod of office in his hand, suddenly stopped, and demanded of Mr. Bryson if he had said any thing injurious of him. Mr. Bryson made a very moderate reply; notwithstanding, he was immediately assaulted by the sheriff, and received a kick in the same leg which had been shattered by a ball at the battle of Germantown. The sheriff was immediately taken into custody. The coroner received the sheriff's rod, and undertook to go before the judges to court. There the sheriff refused to give any recognisance for his appearance at the next court, and was therefore committed to jail.

Colonel McFarland presented an address to the judges on behalf of himself and the militia under his command, mentioning his abhorrence of the proceedings which had taken place, and offering, at the hazard of their lives, to protect the court. To which the following answer was returned:—

"The judges of the Court of Common Pleas of the county of Mifflin are very sensible of the laudable zeal of Colonel McFarland and the militia now under arms, subject to his command, in support of the laws and government of Pennsylvania, and particularly for the purpose of protecting this court from injury and insult. They trust that the daring mob who, being armed, assembled yesterday and assaulted the court, threatening the lives of the members, are now too conscious of the magnitude of their offence and the spirit of the citizens of this county to repeat their attack. Measures are preparing to vindicate the dignity of our insulted laws, and to bring to a just punishment the atrocious offenders and their abettors, who have brought disgrace upon the county and trampled upon the most sacred rights of the community. The court, therefore, sir, return you thanks for the support which you and the militia under your command have with so much alacrity brought to the aid of the administration of justice in this county; but being of opinion that all danger from these infatuated men has ceased, we do not think it necessary that your attendance should be longer continued."

After which Judge Bryson, standing at the bar, spoke the following words:—

"Fellow-citizens:—It is not my intention to resume my seat on the bench during this term. I do not decline it from any apprehension of the mob who yesterday assaulted the court and marked me for their vengeance. Supported by my country, by every virtuous citizen, and a consciousness of my integrity, I have nothing to fear; but understanding that some gentlemen, anxious for my personal safety, entered into an engagement with the leaders of the banditti that I should not sit as judge during this court, my respect for these gentlemen is my sole and only motive for making this declaration."

Colonel McFarland, after this, thanked the militia in the following terms:—

"Colonel McFarland returns his thanks to the militia of his regiments who now attend in support of the laws of their country. He is particularly indebted to Captain Robert Johnston and Captain John Brown, for their extraordinary vigilance in collecting the men of their respective companies upon a notice given to them so late as last night after twelve o'clock. He has no doubt but that the same zeal which has distinguished the militia under his command upon this occasion will always be as honorably manifested, should this county ever be so unhappy as to be disgraced by a similar necessity."

Soon after which, the militia, having been discharged by the court, returned home.

The evening of the day was replete with alarms. One Holt, who thought he had cause of complaint respecting a militia commission, assembled a body of men to the amount of about forty. They paraded a considerable time with sound of drum. At length, at eight o'clock, they appeared before the prison-door, with an intention to break it and enlarge the sheriff. Mr. Sterrett then appeared, and informed them that the sheriff thanked his friends for their intention to serve him, but this is not a proper period; or words to that effect.

About nine o'clock, several persons, having long applied to the sheriff without success, prevailed on him at length to give a recognisance to appear at the next court to answer for the assault and battery on Judge Bryson. Happily, the sheriff, in this instance, relinquished a system which was collecting new horrors and threatened to involve in new scenes of guilt a number of the inhabitants. Great numbers in Tuscarora Valley and its vicinity prepared the following day to march and liberate the sheriff, and probably to demolish the court-house and prison. The news of his release arrived in time to stop the progress of those infatuated men, who appear to have lost sight of the social compact, and whose felicity seems to lie in scenes of tumult, disorder, and licentiousness. It is to be hoped, however, that government, when it comes to enforce the laws, will contemplate the ignorance and delusion of these unfortunate men, and that mercy will so far temper the prosecution as that it will not be extended to a capital charge; yet it is indispensably necessary that they be taught that genuine liberty consists in the power of doing every thing which is not prohibited by the laws, and that the exercise of an unbounded licentiousness which threatens the dissolution of society itself must receive a punishment in some degree commensurate to the greatness of the offence.

How far Mr. Bryson's representations to the governor against Messrs. Wilson, Walker, and Holt, have been founded in a just estimate of the characters of these men, cannot be elucidated here; but it would appear to afford the highest evidence of its propriety that they were the principals in this most unexampled riot.

CHAPTER IX.
KISHICOQUILLAS VALLEY — THE SHAWNEE CHIEF KISHICOKELAS — THE MINGO CHIEF LOGAN.

Among the many valleys composing the Juniata Valley, or, indeed, among all the fine and productive valleys of the State, few, if any, can surpass Kishicoquillas. Its outlet is at Lewistown, from whence it stretches west a distance of nearly thirty miles, varying in breadth from two to four miles.

After the treaty of Fort Stanwix, the whites returned to the neighborhood of Granville, and some of them commenced exploring the valley. The land was then included in what was termed the new purchase, and was in the market. The land-office was opened in 1769, and the first actual settler in the valley was Judge Brown.

Old Kishicokelas was a Shawnee chief, on terms of friendship with the whites. With the Buchanans he was very intimate, and gave them early intimation of the impending danger, which enabled them to escape. While the Delawares and most of his own tribe went over to the French in a body, Kishicokelas remained loyal to the proprietary government; and, although they made him splendid offers at the time they corrupted Jacobs, he rejected them all, and declared that no earthly consideration could induce him to lift the hatchet against the sons of Onas.

It is to be regretted that historians never made mention of Kishicokelas, except incidentally. He was the fast friend of the old chief Shickalemy, who resided at Fort Augusta, and it is probable that he was converted by some of the Moravian missionaries. He died in 1756, as appears by a letter directed to his sons, as follows:—

"Philadelphia, June 13, 1756.

"I am obliged to you for your letter by our good friend, John Shickcalamy. Your father's letter and present were received by the late Governor Hamilton, who acquainted me with it; and I intended, at a time when less engaged by public business, to have sent you my acknowledgments and answer.

"I heartily condole with you on the loss of your aged father, and mingle my tears with yours, which however I would now have you wipe away with the handkerchief herewith sent.

"As a testimony of love the proprietors and this government retain for the family of Kishycoquillas, you will be pleased to accept of the present which is delivered to John Shickcalamy for your use.

"May the Great Spirit confer on you health and every other blessing. Continue your affection for the English and the good people of this province, and you will always find them grateful.

"I am your assured friend,

"Robert H. Morris."

Soon after the treaty at Albany,—probably in 1755,—settlers, who had heard of the beauty and fertility of Kishicoquillas Valley, flocked thither for the purpose of locating lands. Few locations, however, were effected, for the Indians of the valley, with the exception of the chief Kishicokelas and his immediate followers, were opposed to it, and threw every obstacle, short of downright murder, in the way of the new-comers. There is no positive evidence that any murders were committed in Kishicoquillas at that period, but the savages certainly did every thing in their power to menace and harass the settlers, in order to induce them to relinquish the design of settling upon what they still considered their lands. The following letter from Colonel Armstrong to Governor Morris gives some information of the trials these early settlers were subjected to:—

"Carlisle, May 26, 1755.

"This day I received a letter from my brother, who is laying out lands for the settlers in the new purchase, giving an account of three Indians, very much painted, who last week robbed and drove off several settlers from the Valley of Kishicoquillas. One of the Indians, by his skulking position, seemed as if he designed secretly to have shot, but, the white man discovering him, escaped. They took three horses, three or four guns, and some cash. 'Tis said they robbed another man up Juniata.

"To-morrow I am to set out for Kishicoquillas, there to decide some controversies, and thence to proceed to Susquehanna, near Shamokin, where I expect to meet Conrad Weiser. If he is there, he may, by the assistance of the Shickcalamies, be of use in regard to those robberies.

"I am, sir, yours, &c.,

"John Armstrong."

Colonel Armstrong did go to Shamokin, where he met Shickalemy, and induced him to use his influence in behalf of the settlers in the new purchase; but Shickalemy's labors were lost, for he could effect nothing among the savages of Kishicoquillas, and the settlers were forced to fly for protection to Fort Granville; nor did they or any other whites venture into the valley until some time in 1765.

Shickalemy, or Shickellimus, as he was sometimes called, was a Cayuga chief, of the Six Nations, and for many years resided at Fort Augusta, on the Susquehanna, where Sunbury now stands. He was converted to Christianity by the Moravian missionaries about 1742, and was, to the day of his death, the firm and steadfast friend of the English colonists. To his exertions, in a great measure, may be traced the cause why none of the Six Nations on the Susquehanna joined the French, and why a portion of the Delawares spurned the most tempting offers of the French agents and remained loyal to the colonists.

Shickalemy attended numerous treaties in Philadelphia, during which he was kindly entertained by James Logan, the secretary of the province. The chief esteemed him so highly that he named his second son after him, on his return from one of these treaties, and immediately had him, as well as two other sons, baptized with Christian rites by the Moravians.

In 1755, Shickalemy paid a visit to the old chief Kishicokelas, for the purpose of adopting some conciliatory measures to prevent the Indians of the valley from committing depredations upon the settlers. On this occasion he was accompanied by his sons, John and James Logan. The latter, probably charmed with the beauty of the valley, soon after the demise of Kishicokelas settled in the valley which bore the name of his father's friend. He built himself a cabin (not a wigwam) by the side of a fine limestone spring, whose pure waters gushed out of a small hill-side in the very heart of the valley, where his sole pursuit was hunting. This was Logan, the Mingo chief, whose name is perpetuated by counties, towns, townships, valleys, paths, mountains, and even hotels, and which will live in history, probably, to the end of time.

There is no evidence that he had a family at the time he resided in Kishicoquillas; neither was he a chief at that time, for he lived away from his tribe, and what little intercourse he held with his fellow-men was with the whites, to whom he bartered venison and deer-skins for such articles as he stood in need of. He maintained himself solely by hunting, and was passionately fond of it. A gentleman who saw Logan at Standing Stone, in 1771 or 1772, described him to Mr. Maguire as "a fine-looking, muscular fellow, apparently about twenty-eight years of age. He weighed about two hundred pounds, had a full chest, and prominent and expansive features. His complexion was not so dark as that of the Juniata Indians, and his whole actions showed that he had had some intercourse with the whites." This noble specimen of the red men, unfortunately, had the failing common to his kind: he would indulge in intoxicating liquors to excess on nearly every occasion that offered. When sober, he was dignified and reserved, but frank and honest; when intoxicated, he was vain, boastful, and extremely foolish.

Judge Brown, a short time previous to his death, in the course of a conversation with R. P. Maclay, Esq., about Logan, said:—

"The first time I ever saw that spring, (Logan's,) my brother, James Reed, and myself, had wandered out of the valley in search of land, and, finding it very good, we were looking about for springs. About a mile from this we started a bear, and separated to get a shot at him. I was travelling along, looking about on the rising ground for the bear, when I came suddenly upon the spring; and, being dry, and more rejoiced to find so fine a spring than to have killed a dozen bears, I set my rifle against a bush, and rushed down the bank, and laid down to drink. Upon putting my head down, I saw reflected in the water, on the opposite side, the shadow of a tall Indian. I sprang to my rifle, when the Indian gave a yell, whether for peace or war I was not just then sufficiently master of my faculties to determine; but upon my seizing my rifle and facing him, he knocked up the pan of his gun, threw out the priming, and extended his open palm toward me in token of friendship. After putting down our guns, we again met at the spring, and shook hands. This was Logan—the best specimen of humanity I ever met with, either white or red. He could speak a little English, and told me there was another white hunter a little way down the stream, and offered to guide me to his camp. There I first met your father, (Samuel Maclay.) We remained together in the valley for a week, looking for springs and selecting lands, and laid the foundation of a friendship which never has had the slightest interruption.