i mi 6V y*Ir II' At /-.»•«'.«.•.«»*• LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA-CHAMPAICN B \ J492S \ 1856 icu«u* uuiti»£M mm ™ m v: „ ^a^ Ifflllllllilk^ 1 InH RXLATINO HER HISTORY TO THE AUTHOR. LIFE OF MARY JEMISON: DEH-HE-WA-MIS. By JAMES E. SEAVER. FOURTH EDITION, WITH GEOGRAPHICAL AND EXPLANATORY NOTES NEW YORK AND AUBURN: MILLER, ORTON & MULLIGAN. ROCHESTER: D. M. DEWEY. 1856. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1856, By D. M. DEWEY, In the Clerk's office of the District Court for the Northern District of New York. C. E. FELTON, STEREOTYPER, . . BUFFALO. 6 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON, DEH-HE-WA-MIS. THE WHITE WOMAN OF THE GENESEE. rUBLISHEK'S NOTE. The life of Mary Jemison was one of singular vicis- situde and trial. Taken captive at the early age of thir- teen years, and trained in the wilderness to the ordinary duties of the Indian female, she became imbued with their sentiments, and transformed essentially into one of their number. Born on the sea, as it were the child of accident, made an orphan by the tomahawk of the Red man, it was her sad destiny to become lost to the race from which she sprung, and affiliated with the one which she had every reason to abhor. This transformation, the reverse of the order of nature, was perfected by her becoming the wife of an Indian, and the mother of Indian children. As if in punishment of this unnatural alliance, two of her sons meet with a violent death at the hands of their brother, and afterward, to complete the tragedy, the fratricide himself dies by the hand of violence. Notwithstanding the severity of these domestic calam- ities, and the toilsome life she was forced to lead, she met 8 publisher's note. her trials with fortitude, and lived to the great age of ninety-one years. Her life, however, was not without its "sunny side." She found attached friends among her Seneca kindred, and was ever treated by them with con- sideration and kindness. The esteem and affection with which she was cherished is indicated by the liberal pro- vision made for her by the Seneca chiefs, before they dis- posed of their hereditary domain. They ceded to her in fee-simple, and for her individual use, the "Gardeau Reservation " upon the Genesee River, which contained upward of nineteen thousand acres of land; and thus raised her and her posterity to an affluence beyond the utmost dreams of the imagination, had she chosen after- ward to retain it, and return to civilized life. It was not the least hardship of her case, that, when liberty and res- toration were finally offered, and urged upon her, she found they came too late for her acceptance; and she was forced to fulfill her destiny by dying, as*she had lived, a Seneca woman. The narrative of her life can not fail to awaken our sympathies, while it may serve to remind us of the perils which surrounded our fathers during the period of colo- nization. As time wears away we are apt to forget, in the fullness of our present security, the dangers which sur- rounded the founders of the original colonies, from the period of the French and Indian war to the close of the publisher's note. 9 Revolution. It is well not to lose our familiarity with these trying scenes, lest we become insensible of our ever- continuing debt of gratitude to those who met those dan- gers manfully, to secure to their descendants the blessings we now enjoy. This narrative, while it brings to light a few of the darkest transactions of our early history, is not without some instruction. It is proper to state that this work was first published in 1824, during the lifetime of Mrs. Jemison, and that shortly afterward, the author, to whose diligence we are indebted for the preservation of the incidents of her his- tory, himself deceased. In 1842, the work was revised by Ebenezer Mix, Esq., who also added chapters V, VIII, and XV, and the four articles in the Appendix. The frequent inquiries made for the work of the pub- lisher since it went out of print induced him to undertake the publication of the present edition. The engraving which forms the frontispiece and also the illustrations are new, and were designed for this edition. As the pro- gress of Indian research, made since that day, has revealed some errors in the text, numerous foot-notes, historical and geographical, have been added, corrective or explan- atory, which are now, for the first time, published with the original narrative. Rochester, N. Y., March, 1856. INTRODUCTION. The peace which was concluded between the United States and Great Britain in 1783 led to a treaty of peace and amnesty between the United States and the Indian confederacy called the Six Nations, which took place at Fort Stanwix, (now Rome, N. Y.,) in 1784, conducted by commissioners on the part of the United States, and the chiefs, warriors, and head men of the Six Nations, on their part. By this treaty, all the prisoners who had been taken and were at that time retained by the Indians were to be set at liberty. On this joyful event, those prisoners who had escaped the tomahawk, the gauntlet, and the sacrifi- cial fire, were released from bondage, and restored to their friends, to society, and to the world. Although the num- ber of prisoners thus released were few, in proportion to the great number who had been taken, they were so numerous that their return brought the legends of deeds of torture and death to every section of the country. 12 INTRODUCTION. These horrid tales required not the aid of fiction, or the lasive powers of rhetoric, to highten their colorings, or gain credence to their shocking truths. In those days, Indian barbarities were the constant topic of the domestic fireside, the parlor, the hall, and the forum. It is pre- sumed that, at this time, there are but few native citizens that have passed the middle age who do not distinctly re- collect of hearing such frightful accounts of Indian bar- barities, oft repeated, in the nursery and in the family circle, until it almost caused their hair to stand erect, and deprived them of the power of motion. Time, however, has produced a confusion of incidents in those tales, and enveloped the fidelity of their trans- mission to us in clouds of doubt. To rescue from obliv- ion, and preserve in their primitive purity, some of those legends, and to exemplify and record, for the use of pos- terity as well as for the present generation, a faithful delineation of the characteristic traits of the Iroquois, is the object of these memoirs. At the same treaty, the Six Nations, or Iroquois, were left in undisturbed possession of the greater portion of the state of New York, and had the right of possession guar- antied to them by the United States of all the territory west of a line called the property line, running nearly paral- lel with, and less than eighty miles west of the Hudson Riv- er, two small tracts excepted. At this time, Mary Jemison INTRODUCTION. 13 had been with the Indians twenty-nine years — seven had transpired during the French war with the British, in which the Six Nations raised the tomahawk against the British and Americans; and seven during the revolution- ary war, in which the Indians arrayed themselves on the side of the British against the Americans; there being an interval of peace of fifteen years between — if peace it could be called — when they were constantly sending war parties against other Indian tribes, south and north, from the torrid to the frigid zone, and west to the Rocky Mountains. During this time, Mrs. Jemison had been twice married to Indian chiefs, and had a husband and seven children then living. She, too, was nearly two hundred miles from any white settlement, and knew not that she had a white relative or friend on earth : she, therefore, resolved not to accept of her freedom, but to spend the remainder of her days with the Indians, where she knew she had affectionate relatives and many kind friends. This reso- lution she carried fully into effect, and became their faith- ful and correct chronicler for more than three-fourths of a century. At this time, 1784. and for several years afterward, no settlements of white people were made in the state west of Cherry Valley, on the head waters of the Susquehanna, and the German Flats, on the Mohawk, as those places 14 INTRODUCTION. were situated nearly as far west as the property line, the boundary of the Indian lands. So fresh were the wounds which the whites had received from their savage neigh- bors, that the Indians were viewed with a jealous eye, even when unmolested and unprovoked. Under these circumstances, peaceable citizens were little inclined to trespass on their lands, or give them the least pretext for a quarrel, by even traveling into their country. No white people, therefore, visited their villages, except some half-savage traders, and a few of the refuse of soci- ety, who, to escape the meshes of civil or criminal law, bade adieu to civilized life, and took shelter in the re- cesses of the forest, under the protection of its lords. The Indian title to the lands surrounding Mrs. Jemi- son's residence was not sold to the whites until the great Council in 1797, when may be dated the first time of her associating with moral, social, civilized man, from the time of her childhood, after the lapse of forty-two years. Still, she had retained her native language with great purity ; and had treasured up, and constantly kept in her own breast, all those moral and social virtues, by the precepts of which civilized society professes to be guided, and by their directions always to be governed. At length, the richness and fertility of the soil excited emigration ; and here and there a family settled down and commenced improvements in the country which had INTRODUCTION. 15 recently been the property of the aborigines. Those who settled near the Genesee River soon became acquainted with "The White Woman/' as Mrs. Jeniison was called, whose history they anxiously sought, both as a matter of interest and curiosity. Frankness characterized her con- duct, and without reserve she would readily gratify them by relating some of the most important periods of her life. Although her bosom companion was an ancient warrior, and notwithstanding her children and associates were all Indians, yet it was found that she possessed an uncom- mon share of hospitality, and that her friendship was well worth courting and preserving. Her house was the stranger's home: from her table the hungry were re- freshed ; she made the naked as comfortable as her means would admit ; and in all her actions, discovered so much natural goodness of heart, that her admirers increased in proportion to the extension of her acquaintance, and she became celebrated as the friend of the distressed. She was the protectress of the homeless fugitive, and made welcome the weary wanderer. Many still live to com- memorate her benevolence toward them when prisoners during the war, and to ascribe their deliverance to the mediation of "The White Woman." The settlements of civilized society increased around her, and the whole country was inhabited by a rich and respectable people, principally from New England, as 16 INTRODUCTION. much distinguished for their spirit of inquisitiveness as for their habits of industry and honesty, who had all heard from one source and another a part of her life in detached pieces, and had obtained an idea that the whole taken in connection would afford instruction and amusement. Many gentlemen of respectability felt anxious that her narrative might be laid before the public, with a view not only to perpetuate the remembrance of the atrocities of the savages in former times, but to preserve some historical facts which they supposed to be intimately connected with her life, and which otherwise must be lost. Forty years had passed since the close of the Eevolu- tionary war, and almost seventy years had seen Mrs. Jemison with the Indians, when Daniel W. Banister, Esq., at the instance of several gentlemen, and prompted by his own ambition to add something to the accumu- lating fund of useful knowledge, resolved, in the autumn of 1823, to embrace that time, while she was capable of recollecting and reciting the scenes through which she had passed, to collect from herself, and to publish to the world, an accurate account of her life. I was employed to collect the materials, and prepare the work for the press ; and accordingly went to the house of Mrs. Jennet Whaley, in the town of Castile, Genesee County, N. Y., in company with the publisher, INTRODUCTION. 17 who procured the interesting subject of the following narrative to conic to that place, (a distance of four miles, ) and there repeat the story of her eventful life. » s lio came on foot, in company with ^Ir. Thomas Clute, whom she considered her protector, and tarried several days; winch time was busily occupied in taking a skeieh of her narrative as she recited it. In stature, she is very short, considerably under the middle size; but stands tolerably erect, with her head bent forward, apparently from her having for a long time been accustomed to carrying heavy burdens, sup- ported by a strap placed across her forehead. Her com- plexion is very white for a woman of her age, and although the wrinkles of fourscore years are deeply in- dented in her cheeks, yet the crimson of youth is dis- tinctly visible. Her eyes are light blue, a little faded by age, but naturally brilliant and sparkling. Her Bight is quite dim, though she is able to perform her necessary labor without the assistance of glasses. Her cheek-bones are high, and rather prominent ; and her front teeth, in the lower jaw, are sound and good. "When she looks up, and is engaged in conversation, her countenance is very expressive ; but from her long residence with the Indians, she has acquired the habit of peeping from under the eyebrows, as they do, with the head inclined downward. Formerly, her hair was of a light chestnut brown; it is 18 INTRODUCTION. now quite gray, a little curled, of middling length, and tied in a bunch behind. She informed me that she had never worn a cap or a comb. She speaks English plainly and distinctly, slightly tinged with the Irish idiom, and has the use of words so well as to render herself intelligible on any subject with which she is acquainted. Her recollection and memory exceeded my expectation. It can not be reasonably sup- posed that a person of her age has kept the events of seventy years in so complete a chain as to be able to assign to each its proper time and place. She, however, made her recital with as few obvious mistakes as might be expected from a person of fifty. Indeed, in every case, where she attempted to give dates, she was remarkably correct, — so uniformly so that she coincided exactly with history, except in one instance, which was the surrender of Fort Du Quesne by the French to the English; and this is more to be attributed to her ignorance at the time than to the treachery of her memory, for the fort was always filled with English or Yankee traders, trappers, hunters, and outlaws, as well as Frenchmen ; and the Ohio Indians knew little and cared less who commanded the fort, so long as they could trade there to suit them- selves. Under such circumstances, it is not remarkable that a young woman, fifteen or sixteen years old, domes- ticated among the Indians, and residing three or four INTRODUCTION. 19 hundred miles from the fort, should not know the precise time that' the French flag was struck and the English hoisted in its stead ; which absolutely took place in 1758, while she resided in that country. She walks with a quick step, without a staff, and can yet cross a stream on a log or pole as steadily as any other person. Her passions are easily excited. At a number of periods in her narration, tears trickled down her grief-wurn cheek, and at the same time a rising sigh would stop her utterance. Industry is a virtue which she has uniformly practiced from the day of her adoption to the present. She pounds her samp, cooks for herself, gathers and chops her wood, feeds her cattle and poultry, and performs other laborious services. Last season, she planted, tended, and gathered her corn ; in short, she is always busy. Her dress, at the time I saw her, was made and worn after the usual Indian fashion. She had on a brown, un- sed flannel short-gown, with long sleeves, the skirt reaching to the hips, being tied before in two places with doer-skin strings ; below the skirt of the gown was to be Beta three or four inches of the lower extremity of a cotton shirt, which was without collar or sleeves, and open before. Her petticoat, or the Indian substitute for that garment, was composed of about a yard and a quarter of blue broadcloth, with the lists on, and sewed 20 INTRODUCTION. together at the ends. This was tied around her waist, or rather above her hips, under her shirt, with a string, in such a manner as to leave one-fourth of a yard or more of the top of the cloth to be turned over the string, and display the top list, and four or five inches of the cloth below the bottom of the shirt — the main body of the garment and the other list reaching down to the calves of her legs ; below which was to be seen her leggins, consisting of pieces of blue broadcloth, wrapped around her legs, and tied or pinned on, reaching from her knees to just within the tops of her buckskin moccasins. She wore no footings or socks on her feet at any season, un- less some rags wrapped around her toes could be con- sidered such. Over her shoulders was wrapped a common Indian or Dutch blanket, and on her head she wore an old, brown woolen cloth, somewhat in the shape of a sun-bonnet. Thus attired — and it will be recollected that she was not caught in her dishabille, as she had come from home, the distance of four miles, for the express purpose of meeting us — thus attired, I say, we met the owner of two square miles of very fertile and productive land, ly- ing in the midst of a dense population, and near an ex- cellent market — with an annuity of three hundred dollars a year, secured to her, her heirs, and assigns forever. Yet such was the dress this woman was not onlv contented INTRODUCTION. 21 to wear but delighted in wearing. Habit having rendered it convenient and comfortable, she wore it as a matter of choice. Her house, in which she lives, is twenty by twenty- eight feet ; built of square timber, with a shingled roof and a framed stoop. In the center of the house is a chimney of stones and sticks, in which there are two fire- places. She has a good framed barn, twenty-six by thirty-six, well filled, and owns a fine stock of cattle and horses. Besides the buildings above mentioned, she owns a number of buildings occupied by tenants, who work her flats upon shares. Her dwelling is on the west side of Genesee River, about one hundred rods north of the Great Slide — a curiosity which will hereafter be described. Mrs. Jemison appeared sensible of her ignorance of the manners of the white people, and for that reason was not familiar, except with those with whom she was intimately acquainted. In fact, she was, to appearance, so jealous of her rights, or afraid that she should say something that would be injurious to herself or family, that if Mr. Clute had not been present, we should have been unable to have obtained her history. She, however, soon became free and unembarrassed in her conversation, and spoke with a degree of mildness, candor, and simplicity, that is calcu- lated to remove all doubts as to the veracity of the 22 INTRODUCTION. speaker. The vices of the Indians she appeared to palli- ate, or at least not to aggravate, and seemed to take pride in extolling their virtues. A kind of family pride inclined her to withhold whatever would blot the character of her descendants, and perhaps induced her to keep back many things that would have been interesting. For the life of her last husband we are indebted to her cousin, Mr. George Jemison, to whom she referred us for information on that subject generally. The thoughts of his deeds, probably, chilled her old heart, and made her dread to rehearse them ; and at the same time she well knew they were no secret, for she had frequently heard him relate the whole, not only to her cousin but to others. Before she left us, she was very sociable, and she re- sumed her naturally pleasant countenance, enlivened with a smile. Her neighbors speak of her as possessing one of the happiest tempers and dispositions, and give her the name of never having done a censurable act to their knowledge. Her habits are those of the Indians — she sleeps on skins without a bedstead; sits upon the floor, or on a bench ; and when she eats, holds her victuals on her lap, or in her hands. Her ideas of religion correspond in every respect with those of the great mass of the Senecas. She applauds virtue, and condemns vice. She believes in a future state, INTRODUCTION. 23 in which the good will bo happy, and the bad miserable ; and that the acquisition of that happiness depends prima- rily upon human volition, and the consequent good deeds of the happy recipient of blessedness. But she is a stran- ger to the doctrines of the Christian religion. Iler daughters are said to be active and enterprising women ; and her grandsons, who have arrived to manhood, are considered able, decent, and respectable men, in their tribe, and many of them are greeted with respect in civil- ized society. Having in a cursory manner introduced the principal subject of the following pages, I proceed to the narration of a life that has been viewed with attention, for a great number of years, by a few, and which will be read by the public with mixed sensations of pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow, and with interest, anxiety, and satisfaction. Pembroke, March, 1, 1824. CONTENTS. Letter from Ely S. Parker, l)o-ne-ho-ga' -weh, a Seneca sachem, . 29 Vowel Sounds, 31 CHAPTER I. Parentage of Mary Jemison — Born on the sea — Lands, with her parents, in Philadelphia, in 1743 — Settles on Marsh creek, in Western Pennsylvania — Indian alarms — Her childhood and education, 33 CHAPTER II. Fancied omen — Inroad of a band of Shawnees — Whole family taken captive in 1755 — Marched into the wilderness — Her mother's farewell address — Murder of her father, mother, two brothers, and sister — Preparation of scalps — Indian caution, to prevent pursuit — Arrival at Fort Du Quesne, 40 CHAPTER III. Mary is given to two Seneca women — They descend the Ohio — Arrival at She-nan-jee — She is dressed in Indian costume — Adopted as a Seneca — Ceremony of Adoption — Is named Deh- he-wa-mis — Nearly regains her liberty — Removal to Wi-ish-to — She is married to She-nin-jee, a Delaware — Birth and death of a child — Birth of another child, 52 CHAPTER IV. Visits Fort Pitt — Desire for liberty subsides — Labors of the Indian females — Removal from Wi-ish-to to the Genesee — Meet Shawnees who had murdered two white men, and were torturing a third — He is rescued by Mary — Arrive at Little Beard's Town, ... 69 26 CONTENTS. CHAPTER V. Geographical names — Dialects of the Iroquois — Little Beard's Town — The Genesee Valley — Land slide— Gardeau Flats— Subsequently • Mary Jemison Reservation — Mount Morris — Big Tree Village — Caneadea, **1 CHAPTER VI. Indians march to fight the British — Return with cattle and prison- ers Two prisoners burned — An Indian woman's eloquence — Tragedy of the " Devil's Hole "—Death of She-nan-jee — Attempt to take Mary to Niagara by force — She marries Hi-ok-a-too — Her children — Loss of a daughter, 98 CHAPTER, VII. Peace among the Indians — Their happy state — Troubles between Eng- land and the Colonies — Treaty with the Colonies — Iroquois agree to remain neutral — Treaty with the British — Join them against the Americans — Bounty for scalps — Four female prisoners — Battle of Fort Stanwix — Indian loss — Butler and Brandt, - 108 CHAPTER VIII. Approach of General Sullivan's army — A skirmish — Two Oneida Indians taken — One sacrificed — Lieutenants Boyd and Parker captured — Boyd's barbarous execution — Parker's death — Senecas retreat to the woods — Sullivan's army lays waste the country — Army retires — Senecas return, but to disperse — Mary goes to Gardeau Flats — Expedition to the Mohawk — Cornplanter and John O'Bail — Ebenezer Allen, 118 CHAPTER IX. Mary is offered her freedom — She declines accepting — Her reasons — Her favorite Indian brother dies — Great council at Big Tree, in 17-97 — Gardeau reservation given to Mary by the chiefs — Con- tained 17,927 acres of land — Traditions of the Senecas — The Great Serpent at Nan-de-wa-o, .130 CONTENTS. 27 OHAPTEB X. Little Beard's death — Singular superstition — Family government — Her sons Thomas and John quarrel — John Burden Thoma John is tried and acquitted bj the chien — Thomas' character — His wife and children — Death of lli-ok-a-too — His age and funeral — His character, LS9 CHAPTER XL Mary's family troubles continue — John's enmity toward his brother Jesse — They quarrel — Whisky the cause — John mnrdera Jesse — Jesse's funeral and character, lGli CHAPTER XII. Mary's pretended cousin, George Jemison — Ilis poverty — Her kind- ness and assistance — His ingratitude — Attempt to defraud her of a part of her reservation — Is expelled from the premises, . 158 CHAPTER XIII. John Jemison murdered — His funeral, life, and character — His widow and children — His murderers flee — Tall Chief's speech — They return — Their fate, 164 CHAPTER XIV. Mary sells part of her reservation — The hardships of her life — Great strength of constitution — Her temperance — Destructive effects of ardent spirits among the Senecas — Witchcraft — Accusations against her — Executions for witchcraft — Her descendants, . 175 CHAPTER XV. Life of Hi-ok-a-too, half-brother of Farmer's Brother — Naturally cru- el — Inroad upon the Catawbas in Tennessee — Present at Brad- dock's defeat — Battle of Fort Freeland — Expedition to Cherry Valley — His barbarity — Battle at Upper Sandusky — Colonel Crawford taken, and burned at the stake — Dr. Knight's escape — Hi-ok-a-too leads a war-party against the Cherokees — His personal appearance — Dies of old age, lt<5 28 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XVI. Ebenezer Allen — The belt of wampum — He lives at Mary's house — Marries a squaw — Taken by the Indians — Escapes and secretes himself — Fed by Mary — Taken again, tried, and acquitted — Builds a great mill at Rochester — Marries a white woman — Re- moves to Allen's creek — Marries a third wife — Removes to Cana- da with two wives — Abandons the first — His death, . . . 201 CHAPTER XVII. Government of the Iroquois — Civil and Military Chiefs — Counsel- ors _ Religious Beliefs — The Great Spirit— The Evil Spirit — Religious festivals — Sacrifice of the White Dog — The Dance — Marriage Customs — Chastity of the Indian — Polygamy, . 216 CHAPTER XVIII. Life of Mary continued — Seneca Reservations sold in 1825 — Is left among the whites — Discontented — Sold her remaining reserva- tion, and removed to Buffalo creek — Professes Christianity — Her death — Is buried near the Mission church — Description of her tombstone — Her descendants, 236 CHAPTER XIX. Confederacy of the Iroquois — Extent of their possessions — Red Jacket — Sales of reservations — Ogden Land Company — Govern- ment policy of removal west of the Mississippi — The ultimate ex- tinction of the Red race, ..... 244 CONCLUDING NOTE. Future destiny of the Indian — His reclamation — Schools of the missionaries — The Christian party — Schools of the state — Future citizenship — Their indebtedness to missionaries — Rights of pro- perty — Injustice of neglect — System of superintendence — Duty of the American people — The Indian Department, . . . 251 APPENDIX. 1. Tragedy of the Devil's Hole, 273 2. General Sullivan's Expedition to Western New York, . . . 278 3. Removal of the Remains of Boyd, 291 4. The Genesee country as it was and is, 293 6. Indian Geographical Names, 300 LETTER FROM ELY S. PARKER, Do-ne-ho-ua'-weh, A Seneca Sachem. Norfolk, Mch. 2\th, 1856. D. M. Dewey, Esq., Dear Sir : Yours of the 12th is received, and I am very happy to know that you are republishing the Life of Mary Jemison, the "White "Woman." Many years ago, I perused Seaver's book with great interest, and have since had good opportunity of testing its reliability, by comparing it with the traditional history preserved of her among the Indians with whom she lived and died, all of which more than corroborates every incident related in the narrative. I have, therefore, every reason to believe it to be entirely true. I am, with r expect, Yours truli/, E. S. PARKER, DO-NE-HO'-GA-YVEH. VOWEL SOUNDS. a as in arm. a as in at. a as in ale. g as in met. as in tone. LIFE OF MAltY JEMISON. DEH-HE-WA-MI8 CHAPTER I. Parentage of Mary Jemison — Born on the Sea — Landrf, with her parents, in Philadelphia, in 1743 — Settles in Marsh Creek, in West- ern Pennsylvania — Indian alarms — Iler childhood and edu- cation. Although I may have frequently heard the history of my aneestry, my recollection is too imperfect to enable me to trace it further back than to my father and mother, whom I have often heard mention the families from whence they originated, as having possessed wealth, and honorable stations under the government of the country in which they resided. On account of the great length of time thai has elapsed since I was separated from my parents and friends, and having heard the story of their nativity only in the days of my childhood, I am unable to state positively which of the two countries, Ireland or Scotland, was the land of my parents' birth and education. It, however, is my impres- sion, that they were born and brought up in Ireland. 34 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOH. My father's name was Thomas Jemison, and my mother's, before her marriage, was Jane Erwin. Their af- fection for each other was mutual, and of that happy kind which tends directly to sweeten the cup of life ; to render connubial sorrows lighter; to assuage every discontent- ment; and to promote not only their own comfort, but that of all who come within the circle of their acquaintance. Of their happiness, I recollect to have heard them often speak ; and the remembrance I yet retain of their mildness and perfect agreement in the government of their children, to- gether with their mutual attention to our common edu- cation, manners, religious instruction and wants, renders it certain in my mind that they were ornaments to the married state, and examples of connubial love worthy of imitation. After my remembrance, they were strict ob- servers of religious duties ; for it was the daily practice of my father, morning and evening, to attend, in his family, to the worship of God. Resolved to leave the land of their nativity, they re- moved from their residence to a port in Ireland, where they lived but a short time before they set sail for this country, in the year 1742 or 1743, on board the ship Wil- liam and Mary, bound to Philadelphia. The intestine divisions, civil wars, aud ecclesiastical rigidity and domination that prevailed in those days, were the causes of their leaving their mother country, to deii-he-wa-mis. 35 find a home in the American wil< . under the mild and tempen William Pennj where they might worship God according to the dictates of their own con-, ;ind pursue their lawful avocations without fear of molestation. In Europe, my parents had two sons and one daughter j their names were John, Tl md Betsey; with whom, after haying put their effects on board, they embarked, I large connection of relatives and friends, under all those painful sensations which are only felt when kindred give the parting hand and last farewell to • to whom they are endeared by every friendh During their voyage I was horn — to be the sport of fortune and almost an outcast to civil society; to stem current of adversity through a long chain of vicissi- tudes, unsupported by the advice of tender parents, or the hand of an affectionate friend; and even without the enjoyment, from others, of any of those tender sympathies which are calculated to sweeten the joys of life, except I as naturally flow from uncultivated minds, that have I een rendered callous by ferocity. Excepting my birth, nothing remarkable occurred to Oreutl on their passage ; and they were safely landed at Philadelphia. My father bring fond of rural life, and bavin*.' been bred to agricultural pursuits, BOOS left the citv, and removed his family to a tract of excellent 3 li * 36 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. land lying on Marsh Creek, on the frontier settlement of Pennsylvania. At that place, he cleared a large farm; and for seven or eight years enjoyed the fruits of his industry. Peace attended their labors; and they had nothing to alarm them, save the midnight howl of the prowling wolf, or the terrifying shriek of the ferocious panther, as they occasionally visited the improvements to take a lamb or a calf to satisfy their hunger. During this period my mother had two sons, between whose ages there was a difference of about three years. The oldest was named Matthew, and the other Robert. Health presided on every countenance, and vigor and strength characterized every exertion. Our mansion was a little paradise. The morning of my childish, happy days, will ever stand fresh in my memory, notwithstanding the many severe trials through which I have passed, in arriving at my present situation, at so advanced an age. Even at this remote period, the recollection of my pleasant home at my father's, of my parents, of my brothers and sister, and of the manner in which I was deprived of them all at once, affects me so powerfully that I am almost overwhelmed with grief that is seem- ingly insupportable. Frequently, I dream of those happy days : but alas ! they are gone ; they have left me to be carried through a long life, dependent for the little pleasures of nearly seventy years upon the tender mercies Dl ii-m:-\v .\-.Mh. 37 of the Indians! In the Bpring of 1752, and through the succeeding 3, the Btoriea of Indian barbarities Inflicted upon the whites in those days frequently excited in my parents the most serious alarm for our safety. The next year, the Btorm gathered faster; many mur- were committed; and many captives were eip to meet death in its nmst frightful form, by haying their bodies stuck full of pine splinters, which were imme- diately sel mi lire, while their tormentors were exulting in their distress and rejoicing in their agony. In 17^4, an army for the protection of the settlers, and to drive back the French and Indians, was raised from the militia of the eolonial governments, and placed, sec- ondarily, under the command of Colonel George Wash* mgton. In that army I had an uncle, whose name was John Jemison, who was killed at the battle of the Great Meadows, or Fort Necessity. His wife had died some time before this, and left a young child, which my mother nursed in the most tender manner, till its mother's Bister took it away, a few months after my uncle's death. The French and Indians, after the surrender of Fort Necessity by Col. Washington, (which happened the same season, and soon after his victory over them at that place,) grew more and more terrible. The death of the whites, and the plundering and burning of their property, was appa- rently their only object. But as yet we had not beard 38 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. the death-yell, nor seen the smoke of a dwelling that had been lit by an Indian's hand. The return of a new-year's day found us unmolested ; and though we knew that the enemy was at no great dis- tance from us, my father concluded that he would con- tinue to occupy his land another season, expecting, proba- bly from the great exertions which the government was then making, that as soon as the troops could commence their operations in the spring, the enemy would be con- quered, and compelled to agree to a treaty of peace. In the preceding autumn, my father either moved to another part of his farm, or to another neighborhood, a short distance from our former abode. I well recollect moving, and that the barn that was on the place we moved to was built of logs, though the house was a good one. The winter of 1754-5, was as mild as common fall seasons ; and spring presented a pleasant seedtime, and indicated a plenteous harvest. My father, with the assistance of his oldest sons, repaired his farm as usual, and was daily preparing the soil for the reception of seed. His cattle and sheep were numerous, and according to the best idea of wealth that I can now form, he was wealthy. But alas ! how transitory are all human affairs ! how fleeting are riches ! how brittle the invisible thread on which all earthly comforts are suspended! Peace in a DEH-HB-Wl-MIS. 39 moment can take an immeasurable flight ; health can lose its rosy cheeks; and life will Finish like ■ vapor at the appearance Of the sun ! In one fatal day, our prospectl were all blasted; and death, by cruel hands, inflicted upon almost the whole <'f the family. My education had received as much attention from my parents as their situation in a new country would admit. I had been at school some, where I learned to read in a book that was about half as large as a Bible ; and in the Bible I had read a little. I had also learned the Catechism, which I used frequently to repeat to my parents; and every night, before I went to bed, I was obliged to stand up before my mother, and repeat some words that I suppose was a prayer. My reading, catechism, and prayers, I have long since forgotten ; though, for a number of the first years that I lived with the Indians, I repeated the prayers as often as I had an opportunity. After the revolutionary war, I remembered the names of some of the letters when I saw them ; but have never read a word since I was taken prisoner. It is but a few years since a missionary kindly gave me a Bible, which I am very fond of hearing my neighbors read to me, and should be pleased to learn to r<-ad it myself; but my sight for ft number of yean has been so dim that I have not been able to distinguish one letter from another. 40 LIFE OF MARY JEMTSON. CHAPTER II. Fancied omen — Inroad of a band of Shawnees — Whole family taken captive in 1755 — Marched into the wilderness — Her mother's farewell address — Murder of her father, mother, two brothers, and sister — Preparation of scalps — Indian caution, to prevent pursuit — Arrival at Fort Du Quesne. On a pleasant day in the spring of 1755, when my fa- ther was sowing flax-seed, and my brothers driving the teams, I was sent to a neighbor's house, a distance of per- haps a mile, to procure a horse, and return with it the next morning. I went as I was directed. I went out of the house to which I had been sent in the beginning of the evening, and saw a sheet, wide spread, approaching to- ward me, in which I was caught, as I have ever since be- lieved, and deprived of my senses. The family soon found me on the ground, almost lifeless, as they said ; took me in, and made use of every remedy in their power for my recovery; but without effect, till daybreak, when my senses returned, and I soon found myself in good health, so that I went home with the horse very early in the morning. The appearance of that sheet I have ever considered as DEii-m:-\\A-.\ns. 41 a forerunner of the melancholy catastrophe that so soon afterward happened to our family; and my being caught in it, I believe, was ominous of my preservation from death at the time we were captured. As 1 before observed! 1 got home with my horse very early in the morning, where I found a man who lived in our neighborhood, and hie Bister-in-law who had three children, one son and two daughters. I soon learned that they had come there to live a short time; but for what purpose I can not say. The woman's husband, however, was at that time in Washington's army, lighting for his eountry; and as her brother-in-law had a house, she' had Lived with him in his absence. Their names I have for- gotten. Immediately after I got home, the man took the horse to go to his own house after a bag of grain, and took his gun in his hand for the purpose of killing some game, if he should chance to see any. Our family, as usual, were busily employed about their common business. Father was shaving an ax-helve at the side of the house; mother was making preparations for breakfast; my two oldest brothers were at work near the barn; and the little ones, with myself, and the woman and her three children, were in tin- ho; Break: not yet ready, when we were'alarmed by the discharge of a number of guns, that seemed to be near. Mother and the woman before mentioned almost 42 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOK. f • , u .j a ; H and every one trembled with fear. and horse lay dead near the house, having jusi been shot by the Indians. I was afterward informed, that the Indians discovered him at his own house with his gun, and pursued him to father's, where they shot him as I have related. They first secured my father, and then rushed into the house, and without the least resistance made prisoners of my mother, brothers, and sister, the woman, her three children, and myself; and then commenced plundering. My two brothers, Thomas and John, being at the barn, escaped and went to Virginia, where my grandfather Er- win then lived, as I was informed by a Mr. Fields, who was at my house about the close of the revolutionary war. The party that took us consisted of six Indians and four Frenchmen, who immediately commenced plundering, as I just observed, and took what they considered most valuable ; consisting principally of bread, meal, and meat. Having taken as much provision as they could carry, they set out with their prisoners in great haste, for fear of detection, and soon entered the woods.* On our march that day, an Indian went behind us with a whip, with which he frequently lashed the children, to make them keep up. In this manner we traveled till dark, without a * As Mary was born in the year 1742 or 1743, and was taken cap- tive in 175?, she was at this time about thirteen years of age. — [Ed. m:ii-hf.-\v \-mis. 43 mouthful of food <>r I drop of water, although we had in »t eaten linos tin- eight before. Whenever the little children oried for water, the Indians would make then drink urine, ( »r go thirsty. At night they encamped in tlie WOOda, without lire and without shelter, when- we were watched with the greatest vigilance. Extremely fatigued, and very hungry, we were compelled to lieupOD the ground, without supper or a drop of water to satisfy the cravings of our appetites. A- in the day time, so the little ones were made to drink urine in the night, if they cried for water. Fatigue alone brought DJ a little Bleep for the refreshment of our weary limbs; and at the dawn of day wo were again started on our march, in the same order that we had proceeded the day before. About sun- v.e wire halted, and the Indians gave us a full breakfast of provision that they had brought from my father's house. Each of us, being very hungry, partook of this bounty of the Indians, except father, who was so much overcome with his situation, BO much exhausted by anxiety and grief, that silent despair seemed fastened Upon his countenance, and he could not be prevailed upon to refresh his sinking nature by the use of a monsl of food. Our repast being finished, we again resumed our march; and before noon passed a small fort, that 1 heard my father say was called Furt Oanagojigge. 44 LIFE OF MAEY JEMISON. That was the only time that I heard him speak from the time we were taken till we were finally separated the following night. Toward evening, we arrived at the border of a dark and dismal swamp, which was covered with small hemlocks or some other evergreen, and various kinds of bushes, into which we were conducted ; and having gone a short dis- tance, we stopped to encamp for the night. Here we had some bread and meat for supper; but the dreariness of our situation, together with the uncertainty under which we all labored, as to our future destiny, almost deprived us of the sense of hunger, and destroyed our relish for food. Mother, from the time we were taken, had manifested a great degree of fortitude, and encouraged us to support our troubles without complaining; and by her conver- sation, seemed to make the distance and time shorter, and the way more smooth. But father lost all his ambition in the beginning of our trouble, and continued apparently lost to every care — absorbed in melancholy. Here, as before, she insisted on the necessity of our eating; and we obeyed her, but it was done with heavy hearts. As soon as I had finished my supper, an Indian took off my shoes and stockings, and put a pair of moccasins on my feet, which my mother observed; and believing DEIMIE-WA-MIS. If that they would spare m\ life, eyen If the j should to the other captives, addressed me, as near as I ran rem her, in th** following words: "My dear little Mary. I fear that the time has arr: When we RlUSl he parted fur ever. Your lit*.-, my child, I think will he spand; hut we shall probably be l' hawked here in this lonesome place 1»\ the Indian-. Oh I how Btep carefully, and where no impression of their feet can btt 48 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. left — shunning wet or muddy ground. They seldom take hold of a bush or limb, and never break one ; and by observing these precautions, and that of setting up the weeds and grass which they necessarily lop, they com- pletely elude the sagacity of their pursuers, and escape that punishment which they are conscious they merit from the hand of justice. After a hard day's march we encamped in a thicket, where the Indians made a shelter of boughs, and then built a good fire to warm and dry our benumbed limbs and clothing ; for it had rained some through the day. Here we were again fed as before. "When the Indians had finished their supper, they took from their baggage a number of scalps, and went about preparing them for the market, or to keep without spoiling, by straining them over small hoops which they prepared for that purpose, and then drying and scraping them by the fire. Having put the scalps, yet wet and bloody, upon the hoops, and stretched them to their full extent, they held them to the fire till they were partly dried, and then, with their knives, commenced scraping off the flesh ; and in that way they continued to work, alternately drying and scraping them, till they were dry and clean. That being done, they combed the hair in the neatest manner, and then painted it and the edges of the scalps, yet on the hoops, red. Those scalps I knew at the time must Dl H-Hl i 3. • been token from our family, by tin* color of the hair. My mother*! hair was red; and I could easily distinguish my father's and the children's from each other. sij_ r bt was mod appalling; yet 1 was « ►! >1 i<_r***l to endure it without complaining. Jn the ooa the night, they made me to imdentand that they should nci have killed the family, if the whites had col pursued them. Mr. Fields, whom I have before mentioned, informed me that, at the time we were taken, he lived In the vicin- of my father; and that, on hearing of our captivity, the whole neighborhood turned ou1 in pursuii of the i ind to deliver us. if possible; but that their efforts unavailing. They, however, pursued us to the dark up, where they found my father, his family, and com- panions, stripped, and mangled in the moai inhuman man- ner: that from thence the march of the cruel monsters could in -t be traced in any direction; and that they re- turned to their homes with the melancholy tidings of our misfortunes, supposing we had all shared in the massacre. The next morning We pursued our journey, an Indian g l,cf i i. Ming up the Wi On the day re. At night, we encamped on the ground in the Open air, without a shelter or fire. In the momil OUl early, and traveled as on the two former days; though the weather was 50 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. extremely uncomfortable, from the continual falling of rain and snow. At night the snow fell fast, and the Indians built a shelter of boughs, and kindled a fire, where we rested tolerably dry through that and the two succeeding nights. When we stopped, and before the fire was kindled, I was so much fatigued from running, and so far benumbed by the wet and cold, that I expected that I must fall and die before I could get warm and comfortable. The fire, however, soon restored the circulation of blood; and after I had taken my supper, I felt so that I rested well through the night. On account of the storm, we were two days at that place. On one of those days, a party consisting of six Indians, who had been to the frontier settlements, came to where we were, and brought with them one prisoner — a young white man, who was very tired and dejected. His name I have forgotten. Misery certainly loves company. I was extremely glad to see him, though I knew from his appearance that his situation was as deplorable as my own, and that he could afford me no kind of assistance. In the afternoon the Indians killed a deer, which they dressed, and then roasted whole ; which made them a full meal. We were each allowed a share of their venison, and some bread, so that we made a good meal also. DEH-Hfc>\\ A-M1S. ,',1 Having spent three nights ami two da\ s at tliat p]f and the itonn baying ceased, earl} in tin- moraing the whole company, Consisting Of twelve Indians, fou 1'rench- 11. en, the young man. the little hoy. and myself, moved on at a moderate pace, without taking the previously-adopted intions t" obliterate or hide our trail. in the afternoon we came in sight of Tort Du < v (since Fori Pitt, now Pittsburg,) where we halted, while the Indians performed some ceremonies in conformity to their customs on such occasions. That fort was then pied by the French and Indian-. [1 -food at the junction of the Monongahela, (Falling-in-Banks,) and Alleghany rivers, where the Ohio Biver begins to take its name. The word O-hi-o signifies bloody.* At the place where we halted, the Indians combed the hair of the young man, the boy, and myself, and then painted our foes and hair red, in the finest Indian style. We were then conducted into the fort, where we received a little bread, and were then shut up in an uninhabited house, and left to tarry alone through the night. i i ,.t, -->jo, the radix of the word Ohio, signifies the "Beautiful j" and the Iroquois, by conferring it upon the Alleghany, or head branch of the Ohio, have not only fixed a name from their language upon one of the great rivers of the Continent, hut indirectly upon one of the noblest fetates of our Confederacy. — [League of the Iroquois, p. 436. 4 C 52 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. CHAPTER III. Mary is given to two Seneca women — They descend the Ohio — Arrival at She-nan-jee — She is dressed in Indian costume — Adopted as a Seneca — Ceremony of Adoption — Is named Deh- he-wa-mis — Nearly regains her liberty — Removal to Wi-ish-to — She is married to She-nin-jee, a Delaware — Birth and death of a child — Birth of another child. The night was spent in gloomy forebodings. What the result of our captivity would be, it was out of our power to determine, or even imagine. At times, we could almost realize the approach of our masters to butcher and scalp us ; again, we could nearly see the pile of wood kindled on which we were to be roasted ; and then we would imagine ourselves at liberty, alone and defenseless in the forest, surrounded by wild beasts that were ready to de- vour us. The anxiety of our minds drove sleep from our eyelids ; and it was with a dreadful hope and painful impatience that we waited for the morning to determine our fate. The morning at length arrived, and our masters came early and let us out of the house, and gave the young man and boy to the French, who immediately took them M \H\ BEING IERAYED IN IMU\N COSTI Ml.. DKH-HB-Wl-mSt h~* away. IMrftta I MTV leaned, as I have not nor hoard of them sin< I wai ww left alone iii the fort, deprived of my former companions, ami of every thing thai was near or dear to me luit life. Hut it was not long before 1 was in - measure relieved by the appearance of two pleasant* looking ■qnaws, of the Seneca tribe, who oame and examined me attentively for a short time, and then went out. After a few minutes' absence, they returned in com- pany with my former masters, who gaye me to the squaws f as they pleased. The Indians by whom I was taken were a party of Shawnees,* if I remember right, that lived, when at home, a long distance down the Ohio. My former Indian masters and the two squaws 1 soon ready t«» leave the fort, and accordingly embarked — the Indians in a large canoe, and the two squaws and myself in a small one — and went down the Ohio. When we set off, an Indian in the forward canoe took the scalps of my former friends, strong them on a pole that ho * The home country of the Shawnecs, at the period of colonization Lv the Km opmni, was in the ireftara part of the pn .'•■ "f Kentucky. They are thai lonted by Atari (Jallatin, on his map of the sites of the Indian triOM of kb< ('untinent, pobBthad in the s.-cuiid volume of the "Transactions of the American Ethnological The name of this nation in the Seneca dialect of the Iroquois lan- guage id Sa-wii-no-o-no. — [Ed. 56 LIFE OF MARY JEM1SOX. placed upon his shoulder, aud in that manner carried them, standing in the stern of the canoe directly before us, as we sailed down the river, to the town where the two squaws resided. On the way we passed a Shawnee town, where I saw a number of heads, arms, legs, and other fragments of the bodies of some white people who had just been burned. The parts that remained were hanging on a pole, which was supported at each end by a crotch stuck in the ground, and were roasted or burnt black as a coal. The fire was yet burning ; and the whole appearance afforded a spectacle so shocking that even to this day the blood almost curdles in my veins when I think of them. At night we arrived at a small Seneca Indian town, at the mouth of a small river that was called by the Indians, in the Seneca language, She-nan-jee, about eighty miles by water from the fort, where the two squaws to whom I belonged resided. There we landed, and the Indians went on ; which was the last I ever saw of them. Having made fast to the shore, the squaws left me in the canoe while they went to their wigwam or house in the town, and returned with a suit of Indian clothing, all new, and very clean and nice. My clothes, though whole and good when I was taken, were now torn in pieces, so that I was almost naked. They first undressed me, and i>rii-in:-\v.\-Mis. throw my rags into the river; then wished XM clean dressed dm in (he new suit they had just brought, in complete [ndian style; tad then 1 *- « 1 dm dodm and seated dm Id the oenter of their wigwam. I had been in that situation but a few minutes before all the SqoaWB in the town came in to MS me. I was soon surrounded by them, and they immediately Bel up a most dismal howling, crying bitterly, and wringing their hands in all the agonies of grief for a deceased relative. Their tears flowed freely, and they exhibited all the - of real mourning. At the commencement of this scene, one of their number began, in a voice somewhat between speaking and singing, to recite some words to the following purport, and continued the recitation till the ceremony was ended ; the company at the same time varying the appearance of their countenances, gestures, and tone of voice, so as to correspond with the senti- ments expressed by their leader. " Oh, our brother ! alas ! he is dead — he has gone ; he will never return ! Friendless, he died on the field of the slain, where his bones an- \et lying unburied ! Oh! who will not mourn his sad late | No tears dropped around him: oh, no! No tears of his sisters were there! lie fell in his prime, when his arm was nn»t needed to keep us from danger ! Alas ! he has gone, and left us in sor- row, his loss to bewail ! Oh, where is his spirit / His 3« 68 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. spirit went naked, and hungry it wanders, and thirsty and wounded, it groans to return ! Oh, helpless and wretched, our brother has gone ! No blanket nor food to nourish and warm him ; nor candles to light him, nor weapons of war ! Oh, none of those comforts had he ! But well we remember his deeds ! The deer he could take on the chase ! The panther shrunk back at the i sight of his strength ! His enemies fell at his feet ! He was brave and courageous in war ! As the fawn, he was harmless ; his friendship was ardent ; his temper was gentle ; his pity was great ! Oh ! our friend, our com- panion, is dead ! Our brother, our brother ! alas, he is gone ! But why do we grieve for his loss 1 In the strength of a warrior, undaunted he left us, to fight by the side of the chiefs ! His warwhoop was shrill ! His rifle well aimed laid his enemies low : his tomahawk drank of their blood : and his knife flayed their scalps while yet covered with gore ! And why do we mourn 1 Though he fell on the field of the slain, with glory he fell ; and his spirit went up to the land of his fathers in war ! Then why do we mourn ? With transports of joy, they received him, and fed him, and clothed him, and welcomed him there ! Oh, friends, he is happy ; then dry up your tears ! His spirit has seen our distress, and sent us a helper whom with pleasure we greet. Deh-he-wa-mis has come : then let us receive her with joy ! — she is hand- D&H-HB-WA-MI& some and pleasant! < >h ! -he is OUT sister, and gladly welcome her here. In tin- place of our brother she stands in our tribe. With OaW W6 will e/uard her from trouble ; and may she be happy till berspirit ihall leave us." In the course of that ceremony, from mourning they heraine >civiK\ — j«»y sparkled in their countenances, and they l oom ed to rejoice over me u oyer a Long-lost child J was made welcome among them as a sista| to the two squaws before mentioned, and was called I )ch-he-wii-mis ; which, being interpreted, signifies a pretty girl, a handr some girl, or a pleasant, good thing. Thai is tic name by Which 1 have ever since been called by the Indians. I afterward learned that the ceremony 1 at that time sd through was thai of adoption. The two squaws bad lost a brother in Washington's war, sometime in the >ear before, and in Consequence of his, death went up to Du Qoesne on the day on which I arrived there, in r to receive a prisoner, or an enemy's scalp, to supply their loss. Jt is a custom of the Indians, when one of their Dumber is slain or taken prisoner in battle, to give to the nearesi relative of tin* dead or ahsciit a prisoner, if they have chanced to take one; and if not, to give him the scalp of an enemy. On the return of the Indians from the cm, nest, which is always announced by peculiar shorn demonstrations of Joy, and the exhibition of some trophy of victory, the mourners come forward and 60 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. make their claims. If they receive a prisoner, it is at their option either to satiate their vengeance by taking his life in the most cruel manner they can conceive of, or to receive and adopt him into the family, in the place of him whom they have lost. All the prisoners that are taken in battle and carried to the encampment or town by the Indians are given to the bereaved families, till their number is good. And unless the mourners have but just received the news of their bereavement, and are under the operation of a paroxysm of grief, anger, or re- venge; or, unless the prisoner is very old, sickly, or homely, they generally save them, and treat them kindly. But if their mental wound is fresh, their loss so great that they deem it irreparable, or if their prisoner or pris- oners do not meet their approbation, no torture, let it be ever so cruel, seems sufficient to make them satisfaction. It is family and not national sacrifices among the In- dians, that has given them an indelible stamp as bar- barians, and identified their character with the idea which is generally formed of unfeeling ferocity and the most barbarous cruelty. It was my happy lot to be accepted for adoption. At the time of the ceremony I was received by the two squaws to supply the place of their brother in the family ; and I was ever considered and treated by them as a real sister, the same as though I had been born of their mother. i>i:ii-]n:-\v Y-Mis. »;i During the ceremony of my adoption, I sat motionless, nearly terrified to death at the ■p p ne r e e no and iotkmi of the Dompeny, expeoting every moment ta feel their ree> gpeilOO. and sutler deatli on the spot. I was. li .\v«\.r, hardly disappointed ; when at tin- olOM of the rrrniiony the company retired, and my sisters OOmmeBOed employ- ing every means for my consolation and eumfort * • "The Iroquois never exchanged prisoners with Indian nations, nor ever sought to reclaim their own people from captivity among thnn. Adoption or the torture were the alternative chances of the captive. * * * A regular ceremony of adoption was performed in each case to complete the naturalization. With captives this mony was the gauntlet, after which new names were assigned to them. Upon the return of a war party with captives, if they had lust any of their own number in the expedition, the families to which these be- longed were first allowed an opportunity to supply from the captives the places made vacant in their household. Any family could then adopt out of the residue any such as chanced to attract their favorable notice, or whom they wished to save. At the time appointed, the women and children of the village arranged themselves in two parallel rows just without the village, each one having a whip with whieh to lash the captives as they pawed between the lines. Tlie male cap- . who alone were required to undergo this test of their powers of endurance, were brought out, and each oue was shown in turn the bouse in which he was to take refuge, and which was to be his future home if he passed soccepsfully through the ordeal. They were then taken to :. . of lOftl long av.nue of whips, and were compelled, one after another, to run through it for their lives, and for the enter- tainment of the surrounding throng, exposed at every s-t- p, unde- fended, and with nuked bark?, to the merciless infliction of the whip. Tho»e who fell from exhaustion were immediately dispatched, as un- 62 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. Being now settled and provided with a home, I was employed in nursing the children, and doing light work about the house. Occasionally, I was sent out with the Indian hunters, when they went but a short distance, to help them carry their game. My situation was easy ; I had no particular hardships to endure. But still, the recollection of my parents, my brothers and sisters, my home, and my own captivity, destroyed my happiness, and made me constantly solitary, lonesome, and gloomy. My sisters would not allow me to speak English in their hearing ; but remembering the charge that my dear mother gave me at the time I left her, whenever I chanced to be alone I made a business of repeating my prayer, catechism, or something I had learned, in order that I might not forget my own language. By practicing in that way, I retained it till I came to Genesee flats, where I soon became acquainted with English people, with whom I have been almost daily in the habit of conversing. worthy to be saved ; but those who emerged in safety from this test of their physical energies were from that moment treated with the utmost affection and kindness. "When the perils of the gauntlet were over, the captive ceased to be an enemy, and became an Iroquois. Not only so, but he was received into the family by which he was adopted, with all the cordiality of affection, and into all the relations of the one whose place he was henceforth to occupy." — League of the Iroquois, p. 342. i>i:ii-iii:-\va-mis. My si<•< . alarmed, and, believing I should be taken from them, hurried me into their eai , and rc cr ots o d the river — took their bread 0H1 <>f the tire, and fled with me, without stopping, till they arrived at the rivrr Bhenanjee. So great was their tear of losing me, or of my being given up in the treaty, that they never once stopped rowing till they got home. Shortly after we left the shore opposite the fort. AC 1 was informed by one of my Indian brothers, the white people came over to take me hack ; hut after considerable inquiry, and having made diligent search to find where I was hid, they returned with heavy hearts. Although I had then been with the Indians something over a year, and had become considerably habituated to their mode of living, and attached to my sist.-rs, the sight of white people who could speak English inspired me with an un- speakable anxiety to go home with them, and share in the blessings of civilization. My sudden departure and escape from them seemed like a second captivity, and for a long time I brooded over the thoughts of my miserable situation with almost as much sorrow and dejection as I had done over those of my first sufferings. Time, the destroyer of every affection, wore away my unpleasant * GG ■ LIFE OP MARY JEMISOX. feelings, and I became as contented as before. "\Y e tended our cornfields through the summer; and after we had harvested the crop, we again went down the river to the hunting-grounds on the Sciota, where we spent the winter, as we had done the winter before. Early in the spring, we sailed up the Ohio River to a place that the Indians called Wi-ish-to, where one river emptied into the Ohio on one side, and another on the other, about eighty or ninety miles above the mouth of the Sciota. At that place the Indians built a town, and we planted corn. We lived three summers at Wiishto, and spent each winter on the Sciota. The first summer of our living at Wiishto, a party of Delaware Indians came up the river, took up their residence, and lived in common with us. They brought five white prisoners with them, who, by their conversa- tion, made my situation much more agreeable, as they could all speak English. I have forgotten the names of all of them except one, which was Priscilla Ramsay. She was a very handsome, good-natured girl, and was married soon after she came to Wiishto, to Captain Little Billy's uncle, who went with her on a visit to her friends in the States. Having tarried with them as long as she wished to, she returned with her husband to Can- a-ah-tua, where he died. She, after his death, married a DEH-HK-W A-MIS C,7 white man by tin- hum of Nettles, and now Uvea with him, if she is Living, on Grand River, Upper Canada. N.>t long after the Dclawares came t<» live with Di WiiflhtO, my sisters t
Ve came on to Upper Sandusky, to an Indian town which we found deserted by its inhabitants, in con- sequence of their having recently murdered some English traders, who resided among them. That town was owned and had been occupied by Delaware Indians, who, when they left it, buried their provisions in the earth, in order to prevent their enemies enjoying them, or to have a supply for themselves if they should chance to return. My brothers understood the customs of the Indians when they were obliged to fly from their enemies ; and, suspect- ing that their corn, at least, must have been hid, made diligent search, and at length found a large quantity of it, together with beans, sugar, and honey, so carefully buried that it wa9 completely dry, and as good as when they left it. As our stock of provisions was scant v, we con- D 78 LIFE OF MARY JEtflSON. sidered ourselves extremely fortunate in rinding so season- able a supply with so little trouble. Having caught two or three horses that we found there, and furnished our- selves with a good store of food, we traveled on till we came to the mouth of French creek, where we hunted two days, and from thence came on to Connewango creek, where we stayed eight or ten days, in consequence of our horses having left us and strayed into the woods. The horses, however, were found ; and we again prepared to resume our journey. During our stay at that place the rain fell fast, and had raised the creek to such a hight that it was seemingly impossible for us to cross it. A number of times we ventured in, but were compelled to return, barely escaping with our lives. At length we succeeded in swimming our horses, and reached the oppo- site shore ; though I and my little boy but just escaped from being drowned. From Sandusky, the path that we traveled was crooked and obscure ; but was tolerably well understood by my oldest brother, who had traveled it a number of times when going to and returning from the Cherokee wars. The fall by this time was consider- ably advanced, and the rains, attended with cold winds, continued daily to increase the difficulties of traveling. From Connewango we came to a place, called by the Indians Che-ua-shung-gau-tau, on the Alleghany River, at the mouth of what is now called Cold Spring creek, in the 1)i:ii-iii:-wa-mis. 79 town of Xapoli, Cattaraugus count}', state of New York, and from that to U-na-waum-gwa, or Tu-ne-un-gwan, (which means an eddy, not strong,) where the early fm>ts had destroyed the com, so that the Indians were in danger of starving for the want of bread. Having r< ourselves two days at that place, we came on to Canea- dea* and stayed one day, and then continued our march until we arrived at Little Beard's Town, in CJ»-ni>hau, at that time a large Seneca town, thickly inhabited. Those only who have traveled on foot the distance of five or six hundred miles, through an almost pathless wilderness, can form any idea of the fatigue and suffer- ings that I endured on that journey. My clothing was thin, and illy calculated to defend me from the continually drenching rains with which I was daily completely wet ; and at night, with nothing but my wet blanket to cover me, I had to sleep on the naked ground, and generally without a shelter, save such as nature provided. In addi- tion to all that, I had to carry my child, then about nine months old, every step of the journey on my back, or in my arms, and provide for his comfort and prevent his suffering, as far as my poverty of means would admit. Such was the fatigue that I sometimes felt, that I thought it impossible for me to go through, and I would almost * Caneadea is a well-preserved Seneca name. The original, Ga-6-y'd- de-o, signifies "where the heavens rest upon the earth." — [Ed. 80 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. abandon the idea of even trying to proceed. My brothers were attentive, and at length, as I have stated, we reached our place of destination, in good health, and without hav- ing experienced a day's sickness from the time we left Yishkahwana. We were kindly received by my Indian mother and the other members of the family, who appeared to make me welcome ; and my two sisters, whom I had not seen in two years, received me with every expression of love and friendship ; and that they really felt what they expressed, ^ I have never had the least reason to doubt. The warmth of their feelings, the kind reception which I met with, and the continued favors that I received at their hands, riveted my affection for them so strongly that I am constrained to believe that I loved them as I should have loved my own sister, had she lived, and had I been brought up with her. DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 81 CHAPTER V.* Geographical names — Dialects of the Iroquois — Little Beard's Town — The Genesee Valley — Land slide — Gardeau Flats — Subsequently Mary Jenii.-on Reservation — Mount Morris — Big Tree Village — Caneadea. Having conducted the principal subject of our narra- tive to Genishau, or Little Beard's Town,t on the banks of Genesee River, whereon, within the space of twelvo miles along that stream, she has since resided seventy-two years of her life — this likewise being the ground on which most of the scenes we are about to relate, whether of joy or sorrow, pleasure or pain, whether ludicrous or horrible, were enacted — we will give the reader a brief geograph- ical sketch of the country, and point out the localities, and those in the surrounding country, most of which have already been, or will hereafter be, referred to in this narrative. It will be understood, that, in describing Indian villages, * This chapter was added by Ebenezer Mix, Esq. — [Ed. f The name of Little Beard's Town was Dc-o-nun-d'd-pa-a, signify- ing "Where the hill is near." It was situated upon the west side of the Genesee Vallev, immediately in front of Cuyleryille. — [Ed. 4« LIFE OF MABY JEMISON. etc., we have relation to their state then; for some of them have long since been deserted by the Indians, and demolished by the whites; and at this time, 1842, all those on the Genesee Kiver have ceased to exist, scarce leaving a memorial or trace to point out the spot on which they stood. It will likewise be observed that the dis- tances herein given are according to the Indian trails or paths usually traveled by them in that early day. A few remarks on Indian names and the Indian lan- guage, in this place, may be serviceable to the reader who is unacquainted with the significant properties of Indian proper names, and the monotonous sounds and full aspirations of the language of the Iroquois. It has been often observed that a great discrepancy exists among writers, not only in the spelling, but in the necessary pronunciation of Indian names of the same persons or places. It requires but a short explanation to elucidate the cause of this difficulty. Among the Six Nations, not only each nation converses in a different dialect, but each tribe in the same nation have peculiarities in their lan- guage not common in the other tribes, although probably not varying more than the dialects in many of the counties in England. All Indian names, whether of persons or places, are significant of some supposed quality, appearance, or local situation; and the Indians having no written language I>I ll-IH.-W originally, denominated persona and placet in conformity to such quality, cic, in their OWB dialect. The battel to lie understood, we will incnl'iMii a partic- ular case nr two, which will ;_ r i\e a full explanation to the position assumed: Red Jacket, the oelebrated Indian r. had six Off MYta diiVereut, and in BOOM inMai dissimilar Indian nanus, as wril ten QffSpokeD; but they all meant, in the dialect to which they beloi '< Keeper Awake.* 1 The bum remarks will epply to the name of the creek which empties into Geneeee Kiver, near Mount .Morris, generally called Canniakraii which has four or live other quite different Indian names, all meaning the same, in English* to wit. "Among the Blippery-elme," ;>s the creek bote the name of an Indian village through which it paasedi the village having Keen named from its local situation. Theae explanations were obtained some years since, from the late ("'apt. Horatio Jones, who was one of the if not the beat Indian linguist in the countrx : ami vplanatiou had an influential bearing in an important land trial, as that creek had been called by several very different Indian names in the old title-deeds of Urge tracts of land. In order to have a correct idea of the *TI. v which thi-i creek and the village of Pan-iville i.< now known to the Sciieea.-* h, (/•i-mii-(jn-go > signifying, "among the milkweed." — [Ed. Si LIFE OP MARY JEMISON. pronunciation of Indian names, they must be divided into as many monosyllabical words as there are syllables, for so they originally were, and an h added to almost every syllable ending with a vowel. Therefore, as is the case in the pronunciation of all sentences composed of words of one syllable only, all difference of accent is destroyed, and the Indians use very little difference of emphasis. For example, take the original name of Canandaigua, as now spelled and pronounced in the Seneca language, Cah-nan-dah-gwah. * Formerly, in using Indian names, it was necessary to pay some attention to the Indian pronunciation, so as to be understood by the aborigines; but as they, together with their languages, are fast fading from among us, that necessity no longer exists. Therefore, it becomes neces- sary to Anglicise such names, and make them conform to the English pronunciation in as soft and smooth sounds as possible, to which the letters composing the word, when written, should be made to correspond. Little Beard's Town, where Mary Jemison first resided when she came to Genesee River, was the most consider- able Indian village, or town, in its vicinity. We have no means at this time of ascertaining, or even estimating, its extent or population ; but tradition, as well as Mary Jem- * Ga-nun-da-gwa, "a place selected for a settlement, " 13 the present spelling and pronunciation of this name. — [Ed. DEH-HE-WA-MIS. $5 ison, informs us. that it covered I large territory for a vil- lage, and that it was thickly populated. Its chief, or ruler, was Little Heard — a strong-minded, ambitious, and eruel man; and an arbitrary and despotic ruler. TWa vfllag (1 near the north end of the twelve miles in length here tofo re mentioned, en the Genesee Flats, on the west side of the river, between the pre villages ,,f Genesee and IfosoOW, about midway, although Beared to Moscow, and near the bite of the new village of Cayler, <>n the Genesee Valley Canal. The tract of country around its site has the most delightful appearance imaginable, considering there are no lofty snow-clad peaks, deafening cataracts, or unfath- omable dells, t" Btamp it with the appellation of romantic. The alluvial Hats through which the river meanders for four or five miles above and many miles below are from One Juilc to two miles wide, as level as a placid lake, and IS fertile, to Bay the least, as any land in this state. Thou- sands of acres of these flats were cleared "1* their timber when Indian tradition commences their description. These Hate are encompassed on each side by a rolling country, gradually rising as it recedes from the river, but in no place**so abrupt as to merit the cognomen of a hill. This was the terrestrial paradise of the Senecas ; and to this tract thev gave the name of Gen-ish-a-u, Chen-ne- 86 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. se-co, Gen-ne-se-o, or Gen-ne-see, as pronounced by the different Indian tribes, and being interpreted, all meaning substantially the same; to wit, Shining-Clear-Opening, Pleasant-Clear-Opening, Clear-Valley, or Pleasant-Open- Valley. From this favorite spot Genesee Hiver took its name ; and these flats, at that early period, assumed and still continue to retain exclusively the name of Genesee Flats, as a distinction from Gardeau, Caneadea, and other flats which bear local names although lying on the same river. Genesee River rises in Pennsylvania, and, after enter- ing this state, pursues its course with some rapidity, a little west of north, through a hilly country, forming little, if any, alluvial flats, until it approaches Belvidere, (Judge Church's villa near Angelica,) about twenty miles from Pennsylvania line. From thence it continues the same general course with less rapidity, winding its way through flats of a greater or less width, to a point in Caneadea, about thirty-three miles from Pennsylvania line, following the general course of the river, where it alters to east of north, which direction it pursues until it falls into Lake Ontario. From Belvidere to this bow, or rather angle in the river, and from the angle to the falls below Portageville, the flats are enclosed on each side by high lands, although not precipitous or lofty. The river continues to run with moderate rapidity through flats di:h-hi:-wa-mi>. 87 from this angle to near Portage ville, where the highlands close in to the river banks. At Purl age ville. about fifteen miles from the angl. Caneadea, begin llie great Portage Falls in thi< r From the upper falls to Mount -Morris and Sqnawkfts Hill, a distance of sixteen miles, the river runs through a ehasin. the sides of whieh are. the greater part of the tamo, formed by solid, and almost, or quite, perpendicu- lar walls of rock, from two to four hundred feet high. In some places, however, these walls diverge so far from each other *s to allow spots of excellent alluvial flats to be formed on one side of the river or the other, and in some places on both. Immediately above the upper falls there exists all the appearance of a ridge of rock having once run across the river, in which case it would have raised the water some two hundred feet above its present level, and, of COS formed a lake from one to two miles wide, and extending back over the Caneadea and other flats, to Belvideiv. a distance of twenty-eight or thirty miles; but. if ever this was the can', the river has, centuries ago. cut through this ad formed considerable rapids where it stood, above and opposite Portageville. The river, after appar- ently cutting through this ridge, precipitates itself into the chasm below, by a somewhat broken, although what would be termed perpendicular fall of sixty-.six feet. The 88 LIFE OF MAST JEHISON. stream at this place is about twelve rods wide, after which it flows through the chasm on a smooth rock bot- tom. Half a mile below the upper falls, the river, (where it is about fifteen rods wide,) again precipitates itself in an unbroken sheet, one hundred and ten feet perpendicu- larly into a deeper channel, forming the "Middle Falls." The magnificence and beauty of these falls is not exceeded by any thing of the kind in the state, except the cataract of Niagara. On the west side of the river, at the top of the falls, is a small flat piece of land, or rather rock, on which is a saw-mill and several dwelling houses, which can be approached, down a ravine from the west, with any kind of carriage. The stream pursues its course in the same direction, pent within its rock-bound and pre- cipitous shores, about two miles, where it takes its third and last leap in this vicinity, of ninety-three feet, into a still deeper chasm, the greater body of water falling on the eastern side, where a portion of it falls into a kind of hanging rock basin, about one-third of the distance down, and then takes another leap. This fall can be approached on the east side by pedestrians with perfect safety. The river then pursues its north-eastern course, through its deep and narrow channel, to Gardeau Flats, about five miles from the lower falls. The banks of the river, or rather the land bordering on the chasm the greater por- tion of this distance, is covered with elegant white and DBH-HI-Wi-MIS. 69 Norway ]»inc. At the Upper end of the fiardeau Flats is the Great Slide, which has been bo often noticed as a jjreat iiiriusity. In the month of May, 1817, a portion Of the land on the \v«st side of the river, thickly covered with heavy timber, suddenly gave way, and with I tremendous crash slid into the bed of the river, whirh is so completely filled that the stream formed a new channel on the east side of it, where ii eontinues to run. This slide, as it now lies, contains twenty-two acres, and has a considerable sharo of the timber that formerly covered it still standing erect and growing, although it has suffered the shock produced by a fall of some two hundred feet below its former elevation. The Gardeau Flats are from eighty to one hundred and twenty rods wide, and extend two miles and a quarter down the river, lying mostly on the west side of it. There are several ravines and depressions in the high banks on both sides of the river at the upper end of these flats, so that a road has been made which admits the passage of carriages from the highlands on one side of the river to the highlands on the other, a bridge having been erected aCTOefl the rhrer: this place above the slide is called St. Helena. Some four miles below St. Helena is Smoky Hollow, containing from two to three hundred acres of alluvial flats, approachable from the west only with sa: 90 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. and in that direction through a ravine and down a steep declivity : this was within 3Irs. Jemison's original reser- vation. Below this place three or four miles, the river receives the outlet of Silver Lake * This lake or pond is a beautiful pellucid sheet of water, three and a half miles long, and from half to three-fourths of a mile in breadth, lying about four miles west of, and several hun- dred feet above the Genesee Eiver, thereby creating a vast water-power for so small a stream. Some distance below the entrance of the outlet of Silver Lake into the river, is from twenty to twenty-five acres of alluvial flats in a perfect dell. It was purchased many years ago by a man who now resides on it, although his land extends over the high bank, and includes hand- some level land there. It is certain that he and his family do go in and out of this dell, and that he gets in cattle and other domestic animals ; but it would test the science of an engineer to ascertain how he effects it. At the distance of eleven miles from St. Helena is Mount Morris,t on the right or eastern side of the river, and Squawkie Hill on the left or western. These are not mountains, or even hills, within the common acceptance * G'a-na-y'dt — Its signification is lost. — [Ed. f The name of Mount Morris, in the Seneca dialect, was So-no'-jo- wan-ga. This was the name of Big Kettle, an orator not less distin- guished among the Senecas than Red Jacket himself. — [Ed. DBH-HS-Wl-XU. 91 of the words, but merely ad ro or thro- hun- dred feet, and thai m»t abrupt, nor is \\< existence in particular line of demarkation obserrable, from the upper plateau of land through which the depressed channel of ELiver runs down to Genesee Flats. Prom Mount Morris and Squawkk Hill, where the river disgorgei Itself from the thraldom of its rooky and precipitous banks, it mores slowly, taking a serpentine coarse through the Genesee and other flats: the high grounds on each side gradually diminishing in night, and alluvial Hats decreasing in width in proportion, until the stream merely Hows in its shallow channel through a champaign country, before it reaehes the great falls at Rochester, near forty miles from Mount Morris, where, after passing the rapids, it falls ninety-six feet perpen- dicularly into a chasm below, through which it flows and a half miles further, and then pas-« < two more perpendicular falls, within a short distance of each other, the upper one of twenty-five feet, and the lower of eighty-four feet. At the foot of these falls the river be- comes navigable for steamboats, and runs sluggishly five miles through a deep ravine a portion of the way to its mouth, where it disembogues itself into Lake Ontarl Bigtree* village, which bore the name of one of its chiefs, • The word Gd-un-do-vd-tia, which was the name of this village, signifies a " big tree." — [Ed. 92 LIFE OP MARY JEMISOX. was a small village lying a mile and a half north of Little Beard's Town. Ten miles still further down the river was situated Cannewagus* village, a place of some note for a sub-village. This was the residence of the patriarch Hot Bread. Tonawanda Indian village, whose inhabitants have always been remarkable for their peaceable and quiet dis- position, is situated on the Tonawanda creek, about forty miles north-west of Little Beard's Town, on the great Indian trail from east to west passing through this country. The Great Bend of the Tonawanda creek, be- tween Little Beard's Town and the Tonawanda village, where the village of Batavia now stands, was a noted camping-ground for the Indians while passing to and fro on this trail. Still further north-west, thirty-two miles from Tonawanda village, is Tuscarora village, inhabited by the most civilized, agricultural, mechanical, and com- mercial tribe of the Six Nations. Lewiston is three miles west of Tuscarora village, and Fort Niagara is seven * The Iroquois still retain their geographical names with great fidelity. As their proper names are descriptive, they still form a part of their language. Wherever an American village sprang up on one of their known localities, the name of the old village was immediately transferred to the new, and down to the present time the Iroquois still call them by their original names. Thus, G'd-no-wan-ges, signifying M Stinking Water." The name of this Indian village was transferred to Avon, by which it is still known among them'. — [Ed. DEII-HK-W A-MI<. miles north of Lewiston, making the whole mute from Little Beard's Town to Fort Niagara, following this trail, eighty-two miles. Prom Lewiston teyea miles south was Foil Scblosser, a mere Btookadefort; the Devfl'i Hole being about midway between thoee two points, I i Boniossei was at the northern termination of the navi- gable waters of the Niagara River above the mils; and this seven miles from Lewiston to Bchlossei was the only plane requiring land transportation foi men, it or merchandise, from Quebec to Fort Mackinaw, or In- deed, from the Atlantic Ooean to the end of Lake Supe- rior. These forts, therefore, Niagara and Bohlosser, were oensidered very important by tin- contending parties in olden times, the French and the English. From Tonawanda village about twenty-live miles south- westerly lies the first Indian village on the Buffalo creek, along which and its several branches there are a number of Indian villages and single wigwams. [Jp the shore of Lake Erie in a south-western direction, about thirty-five miles from Buffalo creek, is the village of Cat- taraugus, situated on the creek of the same name, two or three miles from its mouth, being about one hundred miles from Little Heard's Town, following this circuitous trail, which was the one always traveled by the Ind: unless an experienced runner took a shorter cut, at his own hazard, in a case of emergen 94 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. East of Little Beard's Town are Conesus, Hemlock, Candice, Honeoye, Canandaigua, and Seneca lakes ; five miles west of the foot of the latter stood the famous In- dian and tory head-quarters, called the " Old Castle." The foot of Canandaigua Lake is about ten miles west of the Old Castle, and thirty-four miles east of Little Beard's Town. The Indian village of Can-ne-skrau-gah, meaning "among the slippery-elms," was situated about four- teen miles south-easterly of Mount Morris, on a creek of the same name, which empties into Genesee River near the latter place. This village stood on or near the ground now occupied by the village of Dansville. East of the junction of Genesee River and Canneskraugah creek, extending some distance up the river and down the river, was a sparsely-settled Indian village or settlement, which appeared to be a kind of suburb of Genishau, or Little Beard's Town* Squawkie Hill village, lying about two miles south of Little Beard's Town, was a great resort for the Indians * Da-yo'-it-ga-o, the name of this village, means " Where the river issues from the hills." It describes the place where the Genesee River emerges from between two narrow walls of rock, and enters the broad valley of the Genesee. This valley, separating itself from the river at this point, extends up to Dansville, and the Caneserauga creek flows through it. — [Ed. DEI1-HK-W A-MIS. 95 to enjoy their sportive games, gymnastic f festivals. Caoeadea Indian village, or rather villages, were situ- ated op tin- i . Etivei "ii the Can< ginning at the month of Wiscoy, meaning "Many Fall," k, twenty miles from Mount Morris, and extending up the river, at intervals, eight or nine mfles, Dearly t«> the great angle in the river. From the southern end of ( neadea Indian settlement south-westerly about forty-five miles, on the Alleghany River, is the small Indian vfl called by Mr-. Jemison F-na-waum-gwa, but now known as Tu-ne-un-gwan. Further down the river is Kill Buck's Town, at the mouth of Great Valley creek, and Buck Tooth's Town, at the mouth of Little Valley creek. Below these is Chc-na-shung-gan-tan or Te-ush-un-ush-un- gau-tau, being at the mouth of what is now called Cold Spring creek, in the town of Xapoli, Cattaraugus county, N. V. This village is about eighteen miles below Tune- ungwan. Below these are several Indian settlements along the river, tin 1 most considerable of which is Corn- planter's settlement, extending Several miles along the river, Oornplanter himself being located near the (enter. Of the population of the several Indian villages and at the time Mr>. JemisOD emigrated t<> section of country, we can make no estimate; and even in latter years, so wandering are the habit- Indians 96 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. that a village may be filled to overflowing, apparently, with residents, one month, and be almost depopulated the next. Their manner of lodging, cooking, and eating, greatly facilitates their migratory propensities, as one large cabin will as well accommodate fifty as five. A deer-skin for a bed, a large kettle for a boiler, hot ashes or embers for an oven, a bark trough for a soup-dish and platter, a chip for a plate, a knife, (which each carries,) a sharp stick for a fork, and, perhaps, a wooden spoon and tin cup, comprehend a complete set of household furni- ture, cooking and eating utensils. Even at this day, the only time the number of individuals who compose a tribe is known, or pretended to be known, is when they are about to receive their annuities ; and it is then impossible to ascertain a " local habitation or a name" for but few of the individuals for whom annuities are drawn as be- longing to such a tribe. The following statement of the numbers and location of the Indians composing the Six Nations, in 1823, is a specimen of the precision adopted in the transaction of our public business relative to Indian affairs. This ac- count was obtained from Captain Horatio Jones, who was the United States agent for paying the annuities to the Six Nations. The individuals belonging to the Six Nations, in the state of New York, are located on their reservations from Dl ii-m:-\\ \-.Mi-. ■'? 'Oneida Lake westward t<» Lake Erie and Alleghany River, and amount to five thousand. Those located in Ohio on the Sandusky River amount to all hundred eighty-eight, to wit : three hundred and eighty Cayn one hundred Senecas, sixty-four Mohawks, sixty-four Oneidas, and eighty Onondagaa. The bulk of the Mo- hawks, together with some of each of the other five na- tions, reside on the Grand River, in Upper Canada. 98 LITE OF MARY JEMISON. CHAPTER VI. Indians march to fight the British — Return with cattle and prison- ers — Two prisoners burned — An Indian woman's eloquence — Tragedy of the " Devil's Hole " — Death of She-nan-jee — Attempt to take Mary to Niagara by force — She marries Hi-ok-a-too — Her children — Loss of a daughter. When we arrived at Genishau, the Indians of that tribe were making active preparations for joining the French, in order to assist them in retaking Fort Xe-a- gaw,* (as Fort Erie was called in the Seneca language,) from the British, who had taken it from the French in the month preceding. They marched off the next day after our arrival, painted and accoutered in all the habiliments of Indian warfare, determined on death or victory ; and joined the army in season to assist in accomplishing a plan that had been previously concerted for the destruc- tion of a part of the British army. The British, feeling themselves secure in the possession of Fort Xeagaw, and * The Seneca name of the Niagara River, and of Lake Ontario, wa3 Ne-ah'-gd. They derived this name from a locality near the site of Youngstown, in the vicinity of which is the present Fort Niagara. Our present name Niagara, is derived from this word. — [Ed. DEH-IIK-W a-MIn. 99 unwilling that their enemies should occupy any of thf> military posts in 1 1 ui t quarter, determined to tain Fori Bchlosser — lying ■ few miles up the river from N - gaw — which tiny expected i«» effect with but little I a ordingly, ■ detachment of soldiers, aufficientlj numer- ous, as was supposed, wee sent out to take It, leering a strong garrison In the fort ; and marched off* well prepared to effect their object. Hut on their way they were sur- rounded by the French and Indians, who lay in ambush t«» receive them, and were driven hack with great loss. Our Indians were absent but a few days, and returned in triumph, bringing with them two white prisoners, and a number of oxen. Those were the first neat cattle that ■ <-r brought to Genesee Flats. The next day after their return to Genishaa was apart as a day of feasting and frolicking, at the SX] < of the lives of their two unfortunate prisoners on whom they proposed to glut their revenge, and satisfy their love for retaliation upon their enemies. My sister was anxious to attend the execution, and to take me with her to witness the customs of the warriors, as it was one of the highest kind of frolics ever celebrated in their tribe, and one that was not often attended with BO mueh pomp and parade as it was expected that would he. I felt a kind of anxiety to witness the BCene, having never at- tended an execution ; and yet I felt a kind of horrid 100 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. dread that made my heart revolt, and inclined me to step back, rather than support the idea of advancing. On the morning of the execution, she made her intention of go- ing to the frolic and taking me with her known to our mother, who, in the most feeling terms, remonstrated against a step at once so rash and unbecoming the true dignity of our sex. " How, my daughter," said she, addressing my sister, " how can you even think of attending the feast, and see- ing the unspeakable torments that those poor, unfortunate prisoners must inevitably suffer from the hands of our warriors ? How can you stand and see them writhing in the warrior's fire, in all the agonies of a slow and lingering death ? How can you think of enduring the sound of their groanings, and prayers to the Great Spirit for sud- den deliverance from their enemies, or from life 1 And how can you think of conducting to that melancholy spot your poor sister Deh-he-wa-uris, (meaning myself,) who has so lately been a prisoner ; who has lost her parents and brothers by the hands of the bloody warriors ; and who has felt all the horrors of the loss of her freedom, in lonesome captivity ? Oh ! how can you think of making her bleed at the wounds which are now but partially healed ? The recollection of her former troubles would deprive us of Deh-he-wa-mis, and she would depart to the fields of the blessed, where fighting has ceased, and I>l.!I-Ili:-\V.\-\!I>. lul the com needs no tending — where bunting I tin; itfl delightful, the rammers arc pleasant, and the vis- ire mild] Oh! think onoe, my daughter , how sooe you may have a brave brother made prisoner in battle, and sacrificed to feast the ambition of the enemies of bis kindred, and leave us t<> mourn for the loss of I friend, ■ son, and a brother, whOM ROW brought us veni>oii, and supplied us with blankets! ( Mir task is quite easy at home, and our business needs our attention. With war we have nothing to do: our husbands and brothers are proud to defend us, and their hearts beat with ardor to I our proud foes. Oh! stay, then, my daughter: our warriors alone perform on their victims their cus- - of war! " This speech <>f our mother had the desired effect : 8, and attended to our domestic concerns. The prisoners, however, were executed, by having their off, their bodies cut in pices and >huckingly mangled, and then burnt to ashen, They were burnt 08 the north side "f Fallbrook. directly Opposite the town, which WSJ <»n the Booth Wme time in the month of 1769. Our Indians v. » among those who lay in ambush on the Niagara River to intercept a party of the British who were guarding a quantity <>f 1 from I • to Furt Schlosser. When the Briti>h party arrived at 7 E 102 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. the designated point, the Indians arose from their ambush, and drove the British off the bank of the river, into a place called the Devil's Hole, together with their horses, carriages, and loading, and everything belonging to the party. Not a man escaped being driven off ; and of the whole number, one only was fortunate enough to escape with life * I spent the winter comfortably, and as agreeably as I could have expected in the absence of my kind husband. Spring at length appeared, but Sheninjee was yet away ; summer came on, but my husband had not found me. Fearful forebodings haunted my imagination ; yet I felt confident that his affection for me was so great that if he was alive he would follow me, and I should again see him. In the course of the summer, however, I received intelligence that soon after he left me at Yiskahwana he was taken sick, and died at Wiishto. This was a heavy and unexpected blow. I was now in my youthful days, left a widow, with one son, and was entirely dependent on myself for his and my support. My mother and her fam- ily gave me all the consolation in their power; and in a few months my grief wore off, and I became contented. In a year or two after this, according to my best recol- lection of the time, the king of England offered a bounty * See " TTagedy of the Devil's Hole." i » i : 1 1- 1 1 1 :-\\ a-mis. 103 to those who would bring in the prisoneri that had ! taken in tliat war to BOme military post, where they might be redeemed, and set at liberty. John Via sice, a Dutchman, who had frequently been at our place, and was well acquainted with every pifo at Geniahau, rcsohcd to take me to Niagara, that I might there receive my liberty, and he the offered bounty. I was notified of his intention; but as I was fully deter- mined not to be redeemed at that time, especially with Hi assistance, I carefully watched Jua movements, in order to avoid falling into his hands. It so happened, however, that he saw me alone at w<»rk in a cornfield, aud thinking, probably, that he could secure me easily, ran toward me in great haste. I espied him at some (list; and well knowing the intent of his errand, run from him with all the speed I was mistress of, and never once stopped till I reached Gardeau. He gave up the ( ! and returned; but I, fearing that he might be lying in wait for me, stayed three days and three nights in an old cabin at Gardeau; and then went back, trembling at every step, for fear of being apprehended. I got home without difficulty; and soon after, the chiefs in council having learned the cause of my elopement, gave orders that I should not be taken to any military post without my consent; and that, as it was mv choice to stay, I should live among them quietly and undisturbed. But 104 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. notwithstanding the will of the chiefs, it was but a few clays before, the old king of our tribe told one of my In- dian brothers that I should be redeemed, and he would take me to Niagara himself. In reply to the old king * my brother said that I should not be given up ; but that, as it was my wish, I should stay with the tribe as long as I was pleased to. Upon this a serious quarrel ensued be- tween them, in which my brother frankly told him that sooner than I should be taken by force, he would kill me with his own hand^. Highly enraged at the old king, my brother came to my sister's house, where I resided, and informed her of all that had passed respecting me ; and * There is no propriety whatever in calling any of the Seneca chiefs by this title. The nation was originally governed by eight sachems, all of whom were equal in rank and authority ; and the title was hereditary in the tribe, although not strictly in the family of the indi- vidual. The son could never succeed his father, because the father and son were always of different tribes. There were eight tribes in the Seneca nation — the Wolf, Bear, Beaver, Deer, Turtle, Snipe, Heron, and Hawk. No man was allowed to marry into his own tribe ; and the children were of the tribe of the mother. The title being hereditary in the tribe, the son was thereby excluded from the succession. At a later day, a class of chiefs were created subordinate to the sachems ; but in course of time they came to have an equal voice with the sachems in the administration of the affairs of the nation. The office was elective, and for life, and was not hereditary. To this day they have the eight sachems, still holding by the ancient tenure, and about seventy chiefs. — [Ed. m:ii-iii:-\y.\-mis. 10.-, that, if the old king should attempt to take d i firmly believed he would, he would Immediately take my ami hazard the consequences, lie returned to the old king. As booh as 1 came In, my sister told me what she had just heard, and what she ezpeotod without douht would befall me. Full of pity, and anxious for my pre- servation, she then directed me to take my child, and go into some high Weedfl at no great distance from the he and there hide myself, and lay still till all was silent in the house; for my brother, she said, would return at evening, and let her know the final conclusion of the mat- ter, of which she promised to inform me in the following manner: If I was to he killed, she said she would bake a small cake, and lay it at the door, on the outside, in a place that she then pointed out to me. When all was silent in tin' house, I was to creep softly to the door, and if t: could not be found in the place specified, I was to go in; but if the cake was there, I was to take my child, and go as fast as I possibly could, to a large spring on the south side of Samp's creek, (a place that I had often seen,) and there wait till I should, by some means, hear from her. Alarmed for my own safety, I instantly followed her advice, and went into the weeds; where I lay in of the greatest anxiety till all was silent in the house, when I crept to the door, and there found, to my great 106 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. distress, the little cake. I knew my fate was fixed, un- less I could keep secreted till the storm was over ; and ac- cordingly crept back to the weeds where my little Thomas lay, took him on my back, and laid my course for the spring as fast as my legs would carry me. Thomas was nearly three years old, and very large and heavy. I got to the spring early in the morning, almost overcome with fatigue; and at the same time fearing that I might be pursued and taken, I felt my life an almost insupportable burden. I sat down with my child at the spring, and he and I made a breakfast of the little cake, and water of the spring, which I dipped and supped with the only im- plement which I possessed — my hand. On the morning after I fled, as was expected, the old king came to our house in search of me, to take me off; but as I was not to be found, he gave me up, and went to Niagara with the prisoners he had already got into his possession. As soon as the old king was fairly out of the way, my sister told my brother where he could find me. He im- mediately set out for the spring, and found me about noon. The first sight of him made me tremble with the fear of death; but when he came near — so near that I could discover his countenance — tears of joy flowed down my cheeks, and I felt a kind of instant relief, such as no one can possibly experience, unless when under the absolute sentence of death he receives an unlimited pardon. j)KH-m:-w a-.mis. Iu7 We were both rejoiced at the failure of the old kh projeel ; ami iftef staying at the spring through the night, set out together for borne early in the morning. When we got to i cornfield near the town, my brother ■ae rate d me till be could <_ r o ami ascertain how nrj i stood; and finding thai the old king was absent) and that all was peaceable, he returned to me, and I went home joyfully. Not long after this, my mother went to Johnstown, on the Mohawk River, with live prisoners, who were redeemed by Sir William Johnson, and set at liberty. When my son Thomas was three or four years old, I was married to an Indian, whose name was lliokatoo, commonly called Gardeau, by whom I had four daughters and two sons. I named my children, principally, after my relatives from whom I was parted, by calling my girls Jane, Nancy, Betsey, and Polly, and the boys John and Jesse. Jane died about twenty-nine years ago, in the month of August, a little before the great council at Big Tree, aged about fifteen years. My other daughter! are yet Hying, and have families. 108 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. CHAPTER VII. Peace among the Indians — Their happy state — Troubles between England and the Colonies — Treaty with the Colonies — Iroquois agree to remain neutral — Treaty with the British — Join them against the Americans — Bounty for scalps — Four female prison- ers — Battle of Fort Stanwix — Indian loss — Butler and Brandt. After the conclusion of the French war, our tribe had nothing to do till the commencement of the American Revolution. For twelve or fifteen years, the use of the implements of war was not known, nor the warwhoop heard, save on days of festivity, when the achievements f former times were commemorated in a kind of mimic fare, in which the chiefs and warriors displayed their and illustrated their former adroitness, by laying the ambuscade, surprising their enemies, and performing many accurate maneuvers with the tomahawk and scalp- ing knife ; thereby preserving, and handing to their children, the theory of Indian warfare. During that period they also pertinaciously observed the religious rites of their progenitors, by attending with the most scrupulous exactness, and a great degree of enthusiasm, to the sacrifices, at particular times, to appease the anger *i* •*&&$&■ ■jA.tL. Lf^. mm IN INDIAN < OSTl Ml. Al II!L \ x » i : 1 1- 1 1 1 :-\s k-M]& 1 1 1 of tlu- Evil Deity; <»r in excite the ooinmiscration of t lie Great Good spirit, whom they adored with re the author, governor, supporter, and cHspoai good thing of which they participated. They also practiced in various athletic games, raoh running, wrestling, Leaping, and playing hall, with ■ view that their bodies might be more supple — or, rather, that the) might n«»t become enervated, and that they might 1m- enabled to make a proper selection of chiefs for the Councils of the nation, and leaders for war. While the Indians were thus engaged in their round of traditionary performances, with the addition of bunt their women attended to agriculture, their families, and a few domestic concerns of email consequence and attended with but little labor. N«> people can live more happy than the Indians did in times of peace, before the introduction of Bpiritous liquors among them. Their lives were a continual round pleasures. Their wants were few, and easily satisfied, and their cares were only for to-day — the bounds their calculation for future comfort not extending to the incalculable uncertainties of fco-mOITOW. If peace ever dwelt with men, it was in former times, in the recess from . mong what are now termed barbarians. The n character of the Indians was (if I may be allowed I he expression; uncontaminated. Their fidelity was per: E* 112 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. and became proverbial. They were strictly honest ; they despised deception and falsehood ; and chastity was held in high veneration, and a violation of it was considered sacrilege. They were temperate in their desires, moderate in their passions, and candid and honorable in the ex- pression of their sentiments, on every subject of importance. Thus, at peace among themselves and with the neigh- boring whites — though there were none at that time very near — our Indians lived quietly and peaceably at home, till a little before the breaking out of the Eevolutionary War, when they were sent for, together with the chiefs, and members of the Six Nations generally, by the people of the states, to go to the German Flats, and there hold a general council, in order that the people of the states might ascertain, in good season, who they should esteem and treat as enemies, and who as friends, in the great war which was then upon the point of breaking out between them and the king of England. Our Indians obeyed the call, and the council was holden, at which the pipe of peace was smoked, and a treaty made, in which the Six Nations solemnly agreed that, if a war should eventually break out, they would not take up arms on either side ; but that they would observe a strict neutrality. With that the people of the states were satisfied, as they had not asked their assistance, nor did they wish it. The Indians returned to their homes 1)i:ii-iii:-\v.\-mis. 1 i;{ well pleased that they oonld live on neutral ground, but- rounded by the din of war. without being . d \ n it. About a year ptBSed off, and we, as usual, were enjoy - ourselves in the employments of pea* sable times, when a messenger arrived from the British commissioners, requesting all the Indians (if our tribe to attend a general council which was soon to be held at Oswego. The council convened, and being opened, the British com- missioners informed the chiefs that the object of calling a council of the Six Nations was to engage their assistance in subduing the rebels — the people of the stales, who had risen up against the good king, their master, and were about to rob him of a great part of his possessions and wealth — and added that they would amply reward them for their services. The chiefs then arose, and informed the commissioners of the nature and extent of the treaty which they had entered into with the people of the states, the year before ; and that they should not violate it by taking up the hatchet against them. The commissioners continued their entreaties without success, till they addressed their avarice, by telling our people that the people Of the states were few in number, and easily BUbdned; and that, on the account of their disobedience to the king, they justly merited all the punishment that it was possible for white men and Indians 114 LIFE OF MART JEMISON. to inflict upon them ; and added, that the king was rich and powerful, both in money and subjects ; that his rum was as plenty as the water in Lake Ontario ; that his men were as numerous as the sands upon the lake shore ; and that the Indians, if they would assist in the war, and per- severe in their friendship to the king till it was closed, should never want for money or goods. Upon this the chiefs concluded a treaty with the British commissioners, in which they agreed to take up arms against the rebels, and continue in the service of his majesty till they were subdued, in consideration of certain conditions which were stipulated in the treaty to be performed by the British government and its agents.* As soon as the treaty was finished, the commissioners made a present to each Indian of a suit of clothes, a brass kettle, a gun, and tomahawk, a scalping-knife, a quantity of powder and lead, a piece of gold, and promised a bounty on every scalp that should be brought in. Thus richly clad and equipped, they returned home, after an absence of about two weeks, full of the fire of war, and anxious to encounter their enemies. Many of the kettles * Unanimity was a fundamental law of the Iroquois civil polity. When the question of joining the English came before the council of the League, the Oneidas refused to concur, and thus defeated the measure ; but it was agreed that each nation might engage in it upon its own responsibility. It was impossible to keep the Mohawks from the English alliance. — [Ed. i»i:ii-iii:-\v a-.mis. IK, Which the Indians received at thai time arc DOH in DM on tin* Genesee Flats. Hired to commit depredations upon the whites, who had given them do offense, they waited impatiently to commence their labor, till sometime in the spring of I when a convenient opportunity offered fur them t<> make an attack. At that time a parly of our Indians wen- at Cau-te-ga, who shot a man that was looking after his horse, for the sole purpose, as I was informed by my Indian brother, who was present, of commencing hos- tilities. In May following, OUT Indians were in the first battle with the Americans; but at what place 1 am un- able to determine. While they were absent at that time, my daughter Nancy was bom. The same year, at Cherry Valley, our Indians took a woman and her three daughters prisoners, and brought them on, leaving one at Canandaigua, one at Honeoye, one at Cattaraugus, and one (the woman) at Little Beard's Town, where I resided. The woman told me that Bhe and her daughters might have escaped, but that they expected the British army only, and therefore made no effort Her husband and sons got away. After some time, they were all taken to Fori Niagara, where they ■were redeemed by Col. Butler, well clothed, and sent home — except one daughter, who was married to a British officer at the fort, by the name of Johnson. 116 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. Johnson was of the party who captured her; at which time he very unceremoniously took from her finger a gold ring, and appropriated it to his own use. When he saw her again at Niagara, he recognized her, restored the ring so impolitely borrowed, courted and married her ; and although the marriage ceremony was celebrated in a wilderness, far from the rendezvous of civilized society, and destitute of the facilities of obtaining the elegances, conveniences, or even the necessaries of life, they were singularly provided with a wedding-ring. In the same expedition, Joseph Smith was taken pris- oner at or near Cherry Valley, brought to Genesee, and detained till after the Revolutionary War. He was then liberated ; and the Indians made him a present, in com- pany with Horatio Jones, of six thousand acres of land, lying in the present town of Leicester, in the county of Livingston. Previous to the battle of Fort Stanwix, the British sent for the Indians to come and see them whip the rebels ; and at the same time stated that they did not wish to have them fight, but wanted to have them just sit down, smoke their pipes, and look on. Our Indians went, to a man ; but, contrary to their expectation, instead of smok- ing and looking on, they were obliged to fight for their lives ; and in the end of the battle were completely beaten, with a great loss in killed and wounded. Our I »i :i 1-11 1:-\\ a-.mis. 117 Indians alone had thirty-six killed, and a gieoi numher wounded. ( >ur town exhibited i scene of real Borrow distress, when our warriors returned, recounted their mis- fortunes, and stated the real Ion they had sustained in the engagement The mourning waa md was expressed l»y the moat doleful yells, shrieks, and howl- . and by Inimitable gesticulations. 1'iring the Revolution, my house was the home of Colonels Butler and Brandt, whenever they chanced to come into our neighborhood, afl they paaaed to and from Fort Niagara, which was the seat of their military opera- tions. Many and many a night 1 have pounded samp for them from sunset till sunrise, and furnished them witli the necoeoery provisions, and clean clothing, for their journey. 118 LIFE OF MARY JEMlSON. CHAPTER VIII. Approach of General Sullivan's army — A skirmish — Two Oneida Indians taken — One sacrificed — Lieutenants Boyd and Parker captured — Boyd's barbarous execution — Parker's death — Senecas retreat to the woods — Sullivan's army lays waste the country — Army retires — Senecas return, but to disperse — Mary goes to Gardeau Flats — Expedition to the Mohawk — Cornplanter and John O'Buil — Ebenezer Allen. For four or five years we sustained no loss in the war, except in the few who had been killed in distant battles ; and our tribe, because of the remoteness of its situation from the enemy, felt secure from an attack. At length, in the fall of 1779, intelligence was received that a large and powerful army of the rebels, under the command of General Sullivan, was making rapid progress toward our settlement; burning and destroying the huts and corn- fields; killing the cattle, hogs, and horses; and cutting down the fruit-trees belonging to the Indians throughout the country* Our Indians immediately became alarmed, and suffered every thing but death, from fear that they should be taken by surprise, and totally destroyed at a single blow. * See Appendix — General Sullivan's Expedition. DKII-UJ : i s. i j j i B In order tO present BO great I rophe, the\ Ollt I few spies. WhO Were to keep 1 llcinsrlvcS a f | slmrl distance in front of the Invading army, in oxta fco watch operations, and give Information of its advances and Sullivan arrived at Canandai-ua Lake, and liad finished his work Of destruction there; and it was that he was about to march to our Hats, when our Indians Ived to give him battle on the way, and prevent, if .Me, the distress to which they knew we should bo Subjected, if lie should succeed in reaching our town. ingly, they sent all their women and children into the woods a little west of Little Board's Town, in order that we might make a good retreat, if it should be neces- sary; and then, well armed, set out to face the conquering enemy. The place which they fixed upon for their battle- ground, lay between Honeove creek and the head of Gonesus Lake. At length a Bcouting-pari y from Sullivan's army arrived at the spot selected, when the Indiai from their ambush with all the fiei and terror that it WIS possible for them to ezei td directly put the party upon a retreat o Oneida Indians were all the prisoners thai were taken in that skirmish. One of them a pilot of Gen. Sullivan's, and had been very active in the war, rendering to the people of the statj tial services. At the commencement of the Revolution, he 8 120 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. had a brother older than himself, who resolved to join the British service, and endeavored, by all the art that he was capable of using, to persuade his brother to accom- pany him; but his arguments proved abortive. One went to the British, and the other to the American army. At this critical juncture they met, one in the capacity of a conqueror, the other in that of a prisoner ; and as an Indian seldom forgets a countenance that he has seen, they recognized each other at sight. Envy and revenge glared in the features of the conquering savage, as he advanced to his brother (the prisoner,) in all the haughti- ness of Indian pride hightened by a sense of power, and addressed him in the following manner : "Brother, you have merited death! The hatchet or the war-club shall finish your career ! When I begged of you to follow me in the fortunes of war, you was deaf to my cries — you spurned my entreaties ! " Brother ! you have merited death ; and shall have your desserts ! When the rebels raised their hatchets to fight their good master, you sharpened your knife, you brightened your rifle, and led on our foes to the fields of our fathers! You have merited death, and shall die by our hands ! When those rebels had driven us from the fields of our fathers to seek out new homes, it was you who could dare to step forth as their pilot, and conduct them even to the doors of our wigwams, to butcher our DEii-m>\\ \-mi-. 121 children, and to put 01 to death I No crime can bi greater! Bat, though you have merited death and shall die on thifl BDOt, my hands shall imt D6 stained in the blood of i brother! Wh* wSk rtrUu little Beard, who was standing l>y, u boob at the ended, struck the prisoner on the head with his tomahawk, and dispatched him at om Little Beard then Informed the other Indian prisoner that, as they WON at war with tin* whites only, and not With the Indians, they would spare his life; and, af while, give him his liberty In an honorable manner. The Oneida warrior, however, was jealous of Little Beard's fidelity; and BUSpeoting thai he should soon fall by his hands, watched for a favorable opportunity to make his pe; which he soon effected. Two Indians were lead- ing him, one on each side, when he made a violent effort, threw them upon the ground, and ran for his life toward Where the main body of the American army was en- camped. The Indians pursued him without success; but in their absence they fell In with s small detachment of Sullivan's men. with whom they had a shorl hut severe skirmish, in which they killed a number of the enemy, took Captain (or Lieutenant) Thomas Boyd and one pri- vate prisoners, and brought them to Little Beard's Town, where they were soon after put to death in the D shocking and cruel manner. Little Beard, in il G 122 LIFE OF MAST JEMISON. all other scenes of cruelty that happened at his town, was master of ceremonies, and principal actor. Poor Boyd was stripped of his clothing, and then tied to a sapling; where the Indians menaced his life, by throwing their tomahawks at the tree directly over his head, brandishing their scalping-knives around him in the most frightful manner, and accompanying their ceremonies with terriffic shouts of joy. Having punished him sufficiently in this way, they made a small opening in his abdomen, took out an intestine, which they tied to the sapling, and then un- bound him from the tree, and drove him round it, till he had drawn out the whole of his intestines. He was then beheaded, his head was stuck upon a pole, and his body left on the ground unburied. Thus ended the life of poor Thomas Boyd, who, it was said, had every appearance of being an active and enterprising officer, of the first tal- ents.* The other was, if I remember distinctly, only beheaded, and left near Boyd. This tragedy being finished, our Indians again held a short council on the expediency of giving Sullivan battle, if he should continue to advance ; and finally came to the conclusion that they were not strong enough to drive him, nor to prevent his taking possession of their fields ; but that, if it was possible, they would escape with their * See Appendix — "Removal of the remains of Lieutenant Boyd." ;i-m:-\v i-mg, L93 own liTH their families, and leave their l>o8§et- eions to be overran by the Invading army. The women and children were then >*u\ on still further .ird Buffalo, to a la: k, which was called by the Indians ('atawha, [Bit k, which empties into the Tonawanda creek at Varysbnrg, Wyoming com COmpanied by a ]»art of the Indian*, while the remainder ted themselves in the WOOdfl hack of Little Beard's D, tit watch the movements of the army. At that time I had three children who went with me on foot, one who rode on horsehack, and one whom I carried on my back. Our corn was good that year, a part of which we had .ered and secured for winter. In one or two days after the skirmish at Oo nonifl Lake, Sullivan and his army arrived at GteMSee Kiver, where they destroyed every article of the food kind that they could lay their hands on. A pari of our com they burnt, and threw the remainder into the river. They burnt our houses, killed what few cattle and horses they could find, iestn >ur fruit-trees, and left nothing hut the I soil and Umber. BoJ the Indians had cloned, and Were not to he found. Having cr id recroaood the river, and finished the work of destruction, the army marched offto the I Our Indians saw them move off, but. ting it wai 124 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. Sullivan's intention to watch our return, and then to take us by surprise, resolved that the main body of our tribe should hunt where we then were, till Sullivan had gone so far that there would be no danger of his returning to molest us. This being agreed to, we hunted continually till the Indians concluded that there could be no risk in our once more taking possession of our lands. Accordingly, we all returned; but what were our feelings when we found that there was not a mouthful of any kind of sustenance left — not even enough to keep a child one day from per- ishing with hunger. The weather by this time had become cold and stor- • ; a and as we were destitute of houses, and food too, I imme- diately resolved to take my children, and look out for myself, without delay. With this intention, I took two of my little ones on my back, bade the other three follow, and traveled up the river to Gardeau Flats, where I arrived that night. At that time, two negroes, who had run away from 'their masters some time before, were the only inhabitants of those flats. They lived in a small cabin, and had planted and raised a large field of corn, which they had not yet harvested. As they were in want of help to secure their crop, I hired to them to husk corn till the whole was harvested. DEH-HB-WA-MI8. 1U0 I have laughed a thousand times to myself when I have thought of the good old negro who hind me, who, fearing that I should get taken or Injured by the Indians, d by me constantly when I was busking, with a loaded gun in his band, in order to keep <»tr the enemy; and thereby Lost ss much labor of his owi received from me, by paying good wages. I, however, was not displeased with hie attention; for 1 knew that 1 should need all the corn that I could earn, even if 1 should husk the whole. 1 husked enough for them, to gain for myself, at every tenth string, one hundred Btringa of ears, which equal to twenty-five bushel* of shelled corn. Thi3 Bonable supply made my family comfortable for samp and cakes through the succeeding winter, which was the most severe thai I have witnessed since my remem- brance. The snow fell about five feet deep, and remained BO for a long time ; and the weather was extremely cold, M much ><>, indeed, that almost all the game upon which the Indians depended for subsistence perished, and reduced them almost to a state of starvation through that and three or four succeeding years. When the snow melted in the spring, deer were found dead upon the ground in vast numbers; and other animals of every de- scription perished from the cold also, and were found dead in multitudes. Many of our people barely escaped 126 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. with their lives, and some actually died of hunger and freezing. Having been completely routed at Little Beard's Town, deprived of a house, and without the means of building one in season, after I had finished my husking, and having found from the short acquaintance which I had had with the negroes that they were kind and friendly, I concluded, at their request, to take up my residence with them for a while in their cabin, till I should be able to provide a hut for myself. I lived more comfortably than I expected to through the winter, and the next season made a shelter for myself. The negroes continued on these flats two or three years after this, and left them for a place that they expected would suit them much better. But as that land became my own in a few years, by virtue of a deed from the chiefs of the Six Xations, I have lived there from that to the present time. The next summer after Sullivan's campaign, our In- dians, highly incensed at the whites for the treatment they had received, and the sufferings which they had conse- quently endured, determined to obtain some redress, by destroying their frontier settlements. Cornplanter, other- wise called John O'Bail, led the Indians ■ and an officer by the name of Johnston commanded the British in the ni:u-ni:-WA-Mi<. 127 expedition. The force tM large, ai gjy bent OpOD exemplary retaliation and ample revenge that appa- rently nothing oonld avert its march or prevent its depre- dations. After leaving <■■ they marehed directly t<» some of the head-waters of the Susquehanna River and Schoharie creek ; went down that creek to the Mohawk River: thence up that river to Pari Stanwix ; and from thence came home. In their route, they burnt a number of places, destroyed all the cattle and other property that fell in.their way, killed a numher of white people, and brought home a few prisoners. In that expedition, when they came to Fori Plain, on the Mohawk River, Cornplanter and a party of his In- dians took old John O'Bail, a white man, and made him a prisoner. Old John O'Bail, in his younger days, had frequently passed through the Indian settlements that lay between the Hudson and Fort Niagara : and in some of xcursions had become enamored of a squaw, by whom he had a son, that was called Cornplanter. < lornplanter* was a chief of considerable eminence ; and having been informed of his parentage and of the place of his father's residence, took the old man, at this time, in order that he might make an introduction leisurely, and become acquainted with a man to whom, though a stran- ger, he was satisfied that he owed his existence. • Cornplanter'a tomahawk is now in the State Indian Collection, at Albany. — TEd. P 128 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. After he Lad taken the old man, his father, he led him as a prisoner ten or twelve miles up the river, and then stepped before him, faced about, and addressed him in the following terms : " My name is John O'Bail, commonly called Corn- planter. I am your son ! you are my father ! You are now my prisoner, and subject to the customs of Indian warfare. But you shall not be harmed — you need not fear, I am a warrior. Many are the scalps which I have taken. Many prisoners have I tortured to death. I am your son ! I am a warrior. I was anxious to see you, and to greet you in friendship. I went to your cabin, and took you by force. But your life shall be spared. In- dians love their friends and their kindred, and treat them with kindness. If now you choose to follow the fortune of your yellow son, and to live with our people, I will cherish your old age with plenty of venison, and you shall live easy ; but if it is your choice to return to your fields, and live with your white children, I will send a party of my trusty young men to conduct you back in safety. I respect you, my father ; you have been friendly to Indians, and they arc your friends." Old John chose to return. Cornplanter, as good as his word, ordered an escort to attend him home, which was done with the greatest care. Among the prisoners who were brought to Genesee, i)i:ii-iii:-\\.\-.Mis. 12 t William Xewkirk, a man by the nai: two : Price lived a while with Little Beard, and afterward with Jack Berry, an Indian. When he left . ; rry, lie wmt to Niagara; where he now resicl Newkirk was brought to Little Beard'a Town, lived with Little Heard and at Port Niagara ahoiit year, and then enlisted under Butler, and went with him on an expedition t<» the Ifonongahela. About this time, one Ebenezer Allen ran away from Pennsylvania, and came to live among ua. lie was much at my house with my son Thomas j he was always hon- orable, kind, and even generous to me; but the history of his life Le ;e of crimes and baseness of the blai dye. I have often heard him relate his inglorious feats, and confess erimes, the rehearsal of which made my blood curdle, as much accustomed as 1 was to hear of bloody and barbarous deeds. 6* 130 LIFE OF MART JEMISOX. CHAPTER IX. Mary is offered her freedom — She declines accepting — Her reasons — Her favorite Indian brother dies — Great council at Big Tree, in 1797 — Gardeau reservation given to Mary by the chiefs — Con- tained 17,927 acres of land — Traditions of the Senecas — The Great Serpent at Xan-de-wa-o. Soon after the close of the Revolutionary War, my In- dian brother, Kau-jises-tau-ge-au, (which being interpreted signifies Black Coals,) offered me my liberty, and told me that if it was my choice I might go to my friends. My son Thomas was anxious that I should go; and offered to go with me, and assist me on the journey, by taking care of the younger children, and providing food as we traveled through the wilderness. But the chiefs of our tribe, suspecting, from his appearance, actions, and a few warlike exploits, that Thomas would be a great warrior, or a good counselor, refused to let him leave them on any account whatever. To go myself, and leave him, was more than I felt able to do ; for he had been kind to me, and was one on whom I placed great dependence. The chiefs refusing to let him go was one reason for my resolving to stay ; but M.ii-in.-w \-\n-. i;;l another. niiTt- powerfh] [f possible, thai 1 nadj large family of Indian children that I nraai ami that, if I should be ao fortunate ind m> rela- tives they would despise them, if not myself, and I as enemies, or, i , with a degree of oold indifl which I thonghl I could not endue. Aeoordingly, after I had dulj I told my brother that it was nrj the remainder of my days with my Indian friends, ami liye with my family as I hitherto had done, He apjiean d Well pleased with my resolotlon, and informed me thai that was my choice, 1 Bhonld have a piece of land that I could call my own, where I could live unmolested, and have something at my decease to leave f«>r the benefit of my children. In a short time, he made himself ready to <_ r o to Upper Canada; but before he left us he told me he would speak true <'f the chiefs at Buffalo, to attend the great council, which he expected would convene in a few \- fur- :, and convey to nie such a tract of land a- 1 should ■elect My brother left III as he had proposed, and - after died at Grand ltiv< r. Ki fi i stangeao was an excellent man, and erer ted me with kindness. J'erhape no one of his tribe, at any time, exceeded him in natural mildness of temper and warmth and tenderness of affection. If he had taken 132 LIFE OF MART JEMISON. my life at the time when the avarice of the old king in- clined him to procure my emancipation, it would have been done with a pure heart, and from good motives. He loved his friends', and was generally beloved. During the time that I lived in the family with him, he never offered the most trifling abuse; on the contrary, his whole conduct toward me was strictly honorable. I mourned his loss as that of a tender brother, and shall recollect him through life with emotions of friendship and gratitude. I lived undisturbed, without hearing a word on the subject of my land, till the great council was held at Big Tree, in 1797, when Farmer's Brother, whose Indian name is Ho-na-ye-wus, sent for me to attend the council. When I got there, he told me that my brother had spoken to him to see that I had a piece of land reserved for my use ; and that then was the time for me to receive it. He requested that I would choose for myself, and de- scribe the bounds of a piece that would suit me. I ac- cordingly told him the place of beginning, and then went round a tract that I judged would be sufficient for my purpose, (knowing that it would include the Gardeau Flats,) by stating certain bounds with which I was acquainted. When the council was opened, and the business afforded a proper opportunity, Farmer's Brother presented my claim, and rehearsed the request of my brother. Red Jacket, whose Indian name is Sagu-yu-what-hah, (which, T>i:ii-m:-\v 1-KI& interpreted, la Keeper-awake,) opposed me and my claim with all his Inflaenoe and eloqaenoe. Farmi >ther ted upon the necessity, propriety, and expediency of his proposition, and got the land granted. The deed was made and signed, securing to me the title of all the land Iliad described; under the same restrictions and regu- lations that other Indian lands arc Bubject to. This tract is more than six miles long from •. and nearly four and three-fourths miles wide from north to south, containing seventeen thousand nine hun- dred and twenty-seven acres, with the Genesee River run- ning centrally through it. from south to north. It has been known ever since as the Gardeau Tract, or the Gar- deau Reservation. Bed .Jacket not only opposed my claim at the council, but he withheld my money two or three years, on the account of my lands having been granted without his en- sent. Jasper Tarrish and Horatio Jones, who had both been taken prisoners by the Indians, adopted and detained with them many years, the first being the Indian a. for the United States, and the other interpreter, inter- l, and at Length convinced Eted Jacket that ir was the white people, and not the Indians, who had given me the land ; and compelled him to pay OVOT all the money which he had retained on my account. My land derived its name, Gardeau, from a hill that is within its limits, which 134 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. is called, in the Seneca language, Kautam. Kautam, when interpreted, signifies up and down, or down and up, and is applied to a hill that you ascend and descend in passing ; or to a valley. It has been said that Gardeau was the name of my husband Hiokatoo, and that my land derived its name from him ; that, however, is a mistake ; for the old man always considered Gardeau a nickname, and was uniformly offended when called by it. My flats were extremely fertile, but needed more labor than my daughters and myself were able to perform, to produce a sufficient quantity of grain and other necessary productions of the earth for the consumption of our family. The land had lain uncultivated so long that it was thickly covered with weeds of almost every descrip- tion. In order that we might live more easy, Mr. Parrish, with the consent of the chiefs, gave me liberty to lease or let my land to white people to till on shares. I accord- ingly let out the greater part of my improvements, and have continued to do so, which makes my task less bur- densome, while at the same time I am more comfortably supplied with the means of support. About three hundred acres of my land, when I first saw it, was open flats, lying on the Genesee River, which is supposed was cleared by a race of inhabitants who pre- ceded the first Indian settlements in this part of the country. The Indians are confident that many parts of this IS. country were settled, and f«»r a Dumber of -h-d, by i!;i people of whom their fathers never bad any tradi- tion, as they never had seen them. Whence those people inated, and whither they went, I ha\e never I H of the eldest and wisest Indian^ pretend to When 1 first came to Genishan, the bans (rook had just slid off, and exposed a !. 1». 'ties, which the Indians said w< tied th- re their fathers ever saw the place, rod that they did not know what kind of people they were. It, however, and is, believed by our people that the) w< Indi The tradition of the 6 [ndians, in regard to their origin, is, that they broke <>nt of the earth from a 1. mountain at the head of Canandaigna Lake; and that mountain they still venerate as the place of their birth. Thence they derive their name, M Ge-nun-de-wah, ,N> or Bill," and are called "The Great Hill People," which is the taroe definition of the word Bene e great hill at the head of Canandaigna Lake, from called Genundewah, and baa for a long time ; en the place where the Indians of that met in council, to bold great talks, and to * T: uf the Seneca9 i8 Nwt da- tra-o, "a great hill." Benoa the name of Efonda, from -'■ 44 hilly." — [Ej». W F" 136 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. offer up prayers to the Great Spirit, on account of its having been their birthplace ; and, also, in consequence of the destruction of a serpent at that place in ancient time, in a most miraculous manner, which threatened the destruction of the whole of the Senecas, and barely spared enough to commence replenishing the earth. The Indians say, that the fort on the big hill, or Ge- nundewah, near the head of Canandaigua Lake, was sur- rounded by a monstrous serpent, whose head and tail came together at the gate. A long time it lay there, con- founding the people with its breath. At length they attempted to make their escape, some with their hominy blocks, and others with different implements of household furniture ; and in marching out of the fort walked down the throat of the serpent. Two orphan children, who had escaped this general destruction by being left on this side of the fort, were informed, by an oracle, of the means by which they could get rid of their formidable enemy — which was, to take a small bow and a poisoned arrow, made of a kind of willow, and with that shoot the serpent under its scales. This they did, and the arrow proved effectual ; for, on its penetrating the skin, the serpent became sick, and, extending itself, rolled down the hill, destroying all the timber that was in its way, disgorging itself, and breaking wind greatly as it went. At every motion a human head was discharged, and rolled down DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 1,77 the hill into the hike, where they lie at this day in a petri- fied state, haying ttw hardness and appearance of stoi and the Pagan Indians of the Seneeas believe, that all the little snakei wen made of the blood <>f the greet serpent, after it rolled into the lake. To this day, the Indians visit that sacred place to mourn the loss of their friends, and to celebrate l rites that are peculiar to themselves. To tin- knuwi' of whin people, there has been no timber on the great hill since i; was first discovered by them, though it lay apparently in a state of nature for a great number of years, without cultivation. Stones in the shape of Indians' heads may be seen lying in the lake in great plenty, which are said to be the same that were deposited there at the death of the serpent. The Seneeas have a tradition, that previous to, and for some time after their origin at Genundewah, the country, especially about the lakes, was thickly inhabited by a of civil, enterprising, and industrious people, who wen totally destroyed by the great serpent that afterward surrounded the great hill fort, with the assistance of others of the same Bpeofeij and that they (the Seneeas) went into possession of the improvements that were left. In those days the Indians throughout the whole country, as the Beneoas say, spoke one language; but having he- come considerably numerous, the before-mentioned great 138 LIFE OF MART JEmSON. serpent, by an unknown influence, confounded their lan- guage, so that they could not understand each other ; which was the cause of their division into nations — as the Mohawks, Oneidas, etc. At that time, however, the Senecas retained the original language, and continued to occupy their mother hill, on which they fortified them- selves against their enemies, and lived peaceably, until having offended the serpent, they were cut off as I have before remarked. DEn-nE-wA-Mis. 139 CHAPTER X. Li. tie Board's death — Singular Mpentitiou — Family government — Her sons Thomas and John quarrel — John murders Thoma- — John is tried and acquitted by the chiefs — Thomas' character — H:s wife and children — Death of Ili-ok-a-too — Ilis age and funeral — Hi.- character. From the time I secured my land, my life passed for many years in an unvaried routine of superintending my family and taking care of my property, without the occur- rence of any event relative to me or my affairs worth notic- ing, and but few in which the nation or our villages felt much interest. About the first of June, 1S06, Little Beard died, and was buried after the manner of burying chiefs. In his lifetime he had been quite arbitrary, and had made some enemies whom he hated, probably, and was not Ifl by them. The grave, however, deprives enmity of its malignity, and revenge of it- keennei Little Beard had been dead but a few days when the lipee of the >un took place, OD the lGth of June, Which excited in the Indians a great degree of astoiii>hnunt ; for as they were ignorant of astronomy, they were totally 140 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. unqualified to account for so extraordinary a phenomenon. The crisis was alarming, and something effectual must be done without delay, to remove, if possible, such coldness and darkness, which it was expected would increase. They accordingly ran together in the three towns near the Genesee River, and after a long consultation agreed that Little Beard, on the account of some old grudge which he yet cherished toward them, had placed him- self between them and the sun, in order that their corn might not grow, and so reduce them to a state of starva- tion. Having thus found the cause, the next thing was to remove it, which could only be done by the use of powder and ball. Upon this, every gun and rifle was loaded, and a firing commenced, that continued without cessation till the old fellow left his seat, and the obscu- rity was entirely removed, to the great joy of the ingeni- ous and fortunate Indians. I have frequently heard it asserted by white people, and can truly say from my own experience, that the time at which parents take most satisfaction and comfort with their families, is when their children are young, in- capable of providing for their own wants, and are about the fireside, where they can be duly observed and in- structed. In the government of their families among the Indians, the parents are very mild, the women superintending DEII-HI>\\ A-MI<. 141 the children. The word of the father, bower e r , ti law, and must be obeyed l>y tin* whole who are ndet his au- thority. The Indians art* very tenaeJoua .»f their precedence and suj>rt'iuac\ over their wire*! and the wires acknowledge it l»y their actions, with the greeted subserviency, it ruh' inculcated in all the Indian trihes, and practj generation after generation, that a squaw shall nut walk before her husband, or take the lead in JWt business. For this reason we DOYef 80S a party on the march, in which squaws are not directly in the rear of their partner* Pew mothers, perhaps, have had le^s tronble with their children during their minority than myself. In general, my children were friendly t<> each other, and it WIS very seldom that I knew them t«» have the least difference or quarrel; so far Indeed were they from rendering them- selves OX me Uncomfortable, that I considered m\ happy — more so than commonly falls to the lot of par- ents, especially t<> women. My happiness in this respect. however, was oof without alloy; fbc m\ ion Thomas, from some cause unknown to from the time he was a small lad. always called his brother John a witch, which was the cause, as fchej grew toward manhood, of frequent and severe quarrels bet-'. tln.'uj, and gave me much trouble and anxietj for I Fafcty. After Thomas and John had arrived to the If 142 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. manhood, another source of contention arose between them, founded on the circumstance of John's having two wives. Although polygamy * was tolerated in our tribe, Thomas considered it a violation of good and wholesome rules in society, and tending directly to destroy that friendly social intercourse and love which ought to be the happy result of matrimony and chastity. Consequently, he frequently reprimanded John, by telling him that his con- duct was beneath the dignity, and inconsistent with the principles of good Indians ; indecent, and unbecoming a gentleman ; and, as he never could reconcile himself to it, he was frequently — almost constantly, when they were together — talking to him on the subject. John always resented such reprimand and reproof with a great degree of passion, though they never quarreled, unless Thomas was intoxicated. In his fits of drunkenness, Thomas seemed to lose all his natural reason, and to conduct like a wild or crazy man, without regard to relatives, decency, or propriety. At such times he often threatened to take my life for hav- ing raised a witch, (as he called John,) and has gone so far as to raise his tomahawk to split my head. He, how- ever, never struck me ; but on John's account he struck * Although polygamy has prevailed to a limited extent among the Senecas in later times, it was prohibited in earlier days, and con« iidered disgraceful. — [Ed, DEH-HB-WA-MIB. 1 IS Hiokatoo, and thereby excited in John a high d< indignation, which was extinguished only bj blood. For i Dumber of years their difficult oonseqi anhappiness oontinued, and rather increased, continually exciting in my breast the most fearful apprehensi greatest anxiety for their safety. Willi tears in my i I advised them to become reconciled to each other, and to be friendly ; told them the oonsequencea of their con- tinuing to cherish so much malignity and malice — that it would end in tlu-ir destruction, the disgrace "1" their families, and bring me down to tie- grave. No OM Conceive Of the constant trouble that I daily endured on their account — en the account of my t\v<> i whom I loved equally, and with all the feelings and al tiou of a tender mother, stimulated by an anxious concern for their fate. Parents, mothers especially, will love their children, though ever so unkind and disobedient. Their of compassion, of real sentimental affection, will be involuntarily extended after them, in their greatest ax- es of iniquity ; and those fine filaments of 0008**- gninity, which gently entwine themselves around the filial love and parental car noal, will be tied and enlarged I mingly of Buffi< ■ii and reclaim the wanderer. I know that Fuch exercises are frequently unavailing; but notwith- standing their ultimate failure, it still remains true, and 144 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. ever will, that the love of a parent for a disobedient child will increase, and grow more and more ardent, so long as a hope of its reformation is capable of stimulating a dis- appointed breast. My advice and expostulations with my sons were abortive ; and year after year their disaffection for each other increased. At length, Thomas came to my house on the first day of July, 1811, in my absence, somewhat intoxicated, where he found John, with whom he imme- diately commenced a quarrel on their old subjects of dif- ference. John's anger became desperate. He caught Thomas by the hair of his head, and dragged him out of the door, and there killed him, by a blow which he gave him on the head with his tomahawk. I returned soon after, and found my son lifeless at the door, on the spot where he was killed. Xo one can judge of my feelings on seeing this mournful spectacle ; and what greatly added to my distress was the fact that he had fallen by the murderous hand of his brother. I felt my situation insupportable. Having passed through various scenes of trouble of the most cruel and trying kind, I had hoped to spend my few remaining days in quietude, and to die in peace, surrounded by my family. This fatal event, however, seemed to be a stream of woe poured into my cup of afflictions, filling it even to over- flowing, and blasting all my prospects. di:h-iii:-wa-mi-. ] l g As soon as I had recovered I little from the Bhook which 1 felt at the si:_ r ht of my departed Mill ami of the neighbors had oohm in to help take em of the OOrpee, I hired Shanks, an Indian, to go to Buffalo, and carry the sorrowful news ofThomae' death to our friemN at that place, and request tin* chiefs to hold a council, and dispoee of John as they should think proper, shanks set out on his errand Immediately, and .John, fearing that he should be apprehended and punished for tin- crime he had committed, at the same time went off toward Caneadea. Thomas was decently Interred in a style corresponding with his rank. The chiefs soon assembled in council on the trial of John, and after having seriously examined the matter according to their laws, justified his conduct, and acquitted him. They considered Thomas to have been the first trai^ ;•; and that, for the abuses which he had offered, he had merited from John the treatment that he had •!. John, on learning the decision of the council, returned to his family. Thomas, except when intoxicated, which was not be- nt, wai a kind and tender child, willing to aeaM me in my labor, and to rcn • -r\ obftack to my comfort. Hm natural abilities wen- said to be of a superior i and he soared above the trifling subjects of revenge which 7 146 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. are common among Indians, as being far beneath his attention. In his childish and boyish days, his natural turn was to practice in the art of war, though he despised the cruelties that the warriors inflicted upon their subju- gated enemies. He was manly in his deportment, cour- ageous, and active ; and commanded respect. Though he appeared well pleased with peace, he was cunning in In- dian warfare, and succeeded to admiration in the execu- tion of his plans. At the age of fourteen or fifteen years, he went into the war with manly fortitude, armed with a tomahawk and scalping-knife ; and, when he returned, brought one white man a prisoner, whom he had taken with his own hands, on the west branch of the Susquthanna River. It so happened, that as he was looking out for his enemies, he discovered two men boiling sap in the woods. He watched them unperceived till dark, when he advanced with a noiseless step to the place where they were stand- ing, caught one of them before they were apprised of danger, and conducted him to the camp. He was well treated while a prisoner, and redeemed at the close of the war. At the time Kaujisestaugeau gave me liberty to go to my friends, Thomas was anxious to go with me ; but as I have before observed, the chiefs would not suffer him to leave them, on the account of his courage and skill in war : ih.ii-iii:-\n A-MIS. 117 expecting tliat they should Deed 1 B a great counselor, and ■ chief when quite you !, In the last capacity, went two or three times to Philadelphia! to assist in making treaties with the people of the Thomas, at the time of bis death, was i few over fifty-two yean old. Be was then living with liis fourtli wife, having lost three; by whom he bad ei children. As lie was naturally good-natured, and sessed a friendly disposition, he would not nave eon so untimely a death, had ii d for his intemperance. lie fell a victim to the l rdenl spirits: a poison that will soon exterminate the indian tribes In this pari of the country, and leave their names without root or branch. The thought is melancholy ; but no argument cam- ples, however persuasive or impressive, are sufficient to deter an Indian for an hour from taking the potent draught, which he knows at the time will derange his facm luce him to a level with the brutes, or deprive him of life. Ja D, Thou ond son by his last wife, ■who is at this tune, l ^ J : J . twenujr-seven or twenty -ei years of ui ;•» Dartmouth College, in the sprii >, for the purpose of receiving an education, where it >aid he was an industrious s< holar, and made g proficiency in the study of the different branches of educa- tion to which ho attended. Having spent two >ears in 143 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. that institution, he returned in the winter of 1818, and is now at Buffalo, where I have understood he contemplates the study of medicine as a profession. In the month of November, 1811, my husband Hiok- atoo, who had been sick of consumption for four years, died at the advanced age of one hundred and three years, as nearly as the time could be estimated. He was the last that remained to me of our family connection, or rather of my old friends with whom I was adopted, except a part of one family, which now resides at Tonawanda. Hiokatoo was buried decently, and had all the insignia of a veteran warrior buried with him; consisting of a war-club, tomahawk and scalping-knife, a powder-flask, flint, a piece of spunk, a small cake, and a cup ; and in his best clothing. According to the Indian mode of burial, the deceased is laid out in his best clothing, and put into a coffin of boards or bark ; and with him is deposited, in every in- stance, a small cup and a cake. Generally two or three candles are put into the coffin, and in a few instances, at the burial of a great man, all his implements of war are buried by the side of the body. The coffin is then closed and carried to the grave. On its being let down, the per- son who takes the lead of the solemn transaction, or a chief, addresses the dead in a short speecji, in which he charges him not to be troubled about himself in his new I>KH-Hi:-\Y .-MIS. 1 } i situation, nor on his Journey, ud not to trouble his M< wife, or children, whom he hie left ; telle him thai, if he meets with strangers on hie way, he mnal inform them what bribe he belongs to, who his relatives ere, tin- situ- ation in which la- left them; and that, haying done this, tusl keep on till he arrive* at the good fields in the country of Xauwaneu ; that, WOOD he arrives then will see all his ancestors and personal friends that have gone before him, who, together with all the chiefs of celebrity, will receive him joyfully, and furnish him with y article of perpetual happiui The grave is now filled and left till evening, when some of the DCared relatives of the dead build a fire at the I of it, near which they sit till morning. In this way continue to practice nine successive nights, when, believing that their departed friend has arrived at the end of his journey, they discontinue their attention. During this time the relatives of tl used are not allowed to da i. rmerly, frolics were held for the dead, after the ex- piration of nine days, at which all the squaws got drunk; and ill" isions on which they were intoxicated : hut lately thOM are discontinued, and squaws fed no delicacy in getting inebriated. 1 •Tl U i of the Iroquois taught that it was a jounur from earth to heaven, ot many days 1 duration. Originally it *as 150 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. Hiokatoo was an old man when I first saw him ; but he was by no means enervated. During the time of nearly fifty years that I lived with him, I received, according to Indian customs, all the kindness and attention that was my due as his wife. Although war was his trade from his youth till old age and decrepitude stopped his career, he uniformly treated me with tenderness, and never of- fered an insult. supposed to be a year, and the period of mourning for the departed was fixed at that term. At its expiration it was customary for the relatives of the deceased to hold a feast — the soul of the departed having reached heaven, and a state of felicity, there was no longer any cause for mourning. In modern times the mourning period has been reduced to ten days, and the journey of the spirit is now believed to be performed in three. The spirit of the deceased was supposed to hover around the body for a season before it took its final departure ; and not until after the expiration of a year, according to the ancient be- lief, and ten days according to the present, did it become permanently at rest in heaven. A beautiful custom prevailed, in ancient times, of capturing a bird, and freeing it over the grave on the evening of the burial, to bear away the spirit to its heavenly rest. Their notions of the state of the soul when disembodied are vague and diversified ; but they all agree that, during the journey, it required the same nourish- ment as while it dwelt in the body. They, therefore, deposited beside the deceased his bow and arrows, tobacco and pipe, and necessary food for the journey. They also painted the face, and dressed the body in its best apparel. A fire was built upon the grave at night, to enable the spirit to prepare its food. With these tokens of affection, and these superstitious concernments for the welfare of the deceased, the children of the forest performed the burial rites of their departed kindred." — [League of the Iroquois, p. 174. DEH-Iir.-W A-MIS. 1",J I have frequently beard him repeal the history of his life from his childhood j end when he to that part which related t«> hit action*) his braVery, and valor in war; when he spoke of the amboah,tbe combat, the spoil- ing of his enemies, and the aauiikw of his rietime, animate his frame, ami to pro- duce th»- heated gesture* which he bad practiced in mid- lie waa ■ man of tender feelingi fee his friei y and willing to assist them in distress, yet. as a war- rior, his cruelties t<> his enemies perhaps were unparal- leled, and will nut admit a word of palliation. 10 G ft 152 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. CHAPTER XL Mary's family troubles continue — John's enmity toward his brother Jesse — They quarrel — Whisky the cause — John murders Jesse — Jesse's funeral and character. Being now left a widow in my old age, to mourn the loss of a husband, who had treated me well, and with whom I had raised five children ; and having suffered the loss of an affectionate son, I fondly fostered the hope that my melancholy vicissitudes had ended, and that the remainder of my time would be characterized by nothing unpropitious. My children dutiful and kind, lived near me, and apparently nothing obstructed our happiness. But a short time, however, elapsed, after my husband's death, before my troubles were renewed with redoubled severity. John's hand having been once stained in the blood of a brother, although acquitted of murder by the chiefs, it was not strange that every person of his acquaintance should shun him, from a fear of his repeating upon them the same ceremony that he had practiced upon Thomas. My son Jesse went to Mount Morris, a few miles from home, on business, in the winter after the death of his father; DEH-HE-WA-MI& ].',:; and it bo happened thai his l»mt h.-r John was there, who requested Jesse to oome home with him. Ji thai John would oommenoe a quarrel with him on the way. declined the invitation, and tarried over sight Prom thai time John conceived himself despised by .1 . snd was highly enraged at the treatmenl which 1 1 « - had received from him. Very little was said, howi and it all passed oil apparently, till Bometime in the month Of May, 1812; at which time Mr. Etoberl Whah-y. who lived in the town of Castile, within four miles of me. came to my house early nil Monday morning, to hire George Chongo, my son-in-law, and John and Jesse, to L r o that oay and help him Blide a quantity of boards from the top of the hill to the river, where he calculated to build a raft of them for market. They all concluded to go with .Mr. Whah-y, and made read. possible. But before they set out, I charged them not to drink any whisky ; for 1 was confident that if they did, they would surely have a quarrel, in con- Bequence of it. They went and worked till almost night, when a quarrel ensued between Chongo and Jesse, in oon« Bequenee of the whisky which they had drank through the day, which terminated in a battle, and OhongO got whipped. When Jesse had gol through with Chongo, he told Mr. Whaley that he would go home, and directly went off. 7« 1-54 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. He, however, went b*ut a few rods, before he stopped and lay down by the side of a log to wait, as was sup- posed, for company. John, as soon as Jesse was gone, went to Mr. Whaley, with his knife in his hand, and bade him jogo; i. e., be gone; at the same time telling him that Jesse was a bad man. Mr. Whaley, seeing that his coun- tenance exhibited a demon-like malignity, and that he was determined upon something desperate, was alarmed for his own safety, and turned toward home, leaving Chongo on the ground drunk, near to where Jesse had laid, who by this time had got up, and was advancing toward John. Mr. Whaley was soon out of hearing of them ; but some of his workmen stayed till it was dark. Jesse came up to John, and said to him, "You want more whisky, and more fighting," and after a few words went at him, to try in the first place to get away his knife. In this he did not succeed, and they parted. By this time the night had come on, and it was dark. Again they clenched, and at length in their struggle they both fell. John, having his knife in his hand, came under; and in this situation gave Jesse a fatal stab with his knife, and repeated the blows till Jesse, crying out "Brother you have killed me," quit his hold, and settled back upon the ground. Upon hearing this, John left him, came to Thomas' widow's house, told them that he had been fighting with their uncle, whom he killed, and showed them his knife. l»l.Il-HI>\\ a-.MIS. ].,.", N. \t morning, on as it wuf light. Thm, John's children came and told me lliat Jesse Wi in the woods, and also Informed i: • in- came 1>- death. John soon followed them, and Informed me him- self of all that had taken place between him md Ids brother, and : to he Bomewhal BorrowrVri for his con- duct. You can better imagine what my fcelin than 1 can describe them. My darling son — i child — him on whom [depended — \ \- and . of a helping hand ! A- - it was i n! for me, I got Mr. I Jamison (of whom I shall have oooasion to -peak.) I with his sleigh to where Jesse was, and bring him home — a di- i f three or four miles. My daughter Polly arrived at the fatal spot lir>i ; we got there BOOn after her, though J went the whole distance on foe this time, who was 1,-ft on the ground drunk the night before, had 1> loher, and sensible of the g misfortune which had happened to our family. J \ ■.Mm,' with grit-fat the sight of my murdered far l«--t the command of myi boheal- frantic ; and those who were to hold me froi r him. On examining ti found that it had • en WOOnds, BO deep and large that ii believed that either of them would have proved mortal. i. 156 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. The corpse was ca#ied to my house, and kept till the Thursday following, when it was buried after the manner of burying white people. Jesse was twenty-seven or eight years old when he was killed. His temper had been uniformly very mild and friendly ; and he was inclined to copy after the white people, both in his manners and dress. Although he was naturally temperate, he occasionally became intoxicated ; but never was quarrelsome or mischievous. With the white people he was intimate, and learned from them their habits of industry, which he was fond of practicing, especially when my comfort demanded his labor. As I have observed, it is the custom among the Indians for the women to perform all the labor in and out of doors, and I had the whole to do, with the help of my daughters, till Jesse arrived to a sufficient age to assist us. He was disposed to labor in the cornfield, to chop my wood, milk my cows, and attend to any kind of business that would make my task the lighter. On the account of his having been my youngest child, and so willing to help me, I am sensible that I loved him better than I did either of my other children. After he began to understand my situ- ation, and the means of rendering it more easy, I never wanted for anything that was in his power to bestow ; but since his death, as I have had all my labor to perform alone, I have constantly seen hard times. DEII-ITE-Wa-MI*. 157 Jesse shunned Um oompany <>f his brothers, and the Indians generally and never attended their (roll it was supposed that this, together with my partialir. him, were tin* causes which excited in John ><> Lrreat a of envy t hat nothing short of deatli Would sati>fv it.* * "Soon after (he War of 181S, an altercation occurred bi-twecn David Reese, (who was at that time the government black.-mith for the BflMOM, upon the I :i near Buffalo,) and a Seneca Indian called Young King, which resulted in a PM blow with a scythe, inflicted ' which nearly severed one of the Indian's arms; bo near, in fact, that amputation was immediate! i to. The cir- cumstance created considerable excitement among the Indians, which extended to Gardeau, the then home of the Jemison family. John Jemison headed a party from there, and went to Buffalo, giving out, as he traveled along the road, that he was going to kill Reese. The author saw him on his way, and recollects how well he personated the ideal "Angel of Death." His weapons were the war-club and the tomahawk ; red paint was daubed on his swarthy face, and long bunches of horse-hair, colored red, were dangling from each arm. His warlike appearance was well calculated to give an earnest to his :s. Reese was kept secreted, and thus, in all probability, avoided the fate that even kindred had met at the hands of John Jemison." — [Turner's History of m Holland Purchase, p. I 158 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. CHAPTER XII. Mary's pretended cousin, George Jemison — His poverty — Her kind- ness and assistance — His ingratitude — Attempt to defraud her of a part of her Reservation — Is expelled from the premises. A year or two before the death of my husband, Capt. H. Jones sent me word that a cousin of mine was then living on Genesee Flats, by the name of George Jemison; and as he was very poor, thought it advisable for me to go and see him, and take him home to live with me on my land. My Indian friends were pleased to hear that one of my relatives was so near, and also advised me to send for him and his family immediately. I accordingly had him and his family moved into one of my houses, in the month of March, 1810. He said that he was my father's brother's son — that his father did not leave Europe till after the French war in America, and that when he did come over, he settled in Pennsylvania, where he died. George had no personal knowledge of my father ; but from information, was con- fident that the relationship which he claimed between himself and me actually existed. Although I had never DEH-HB-W1-MI& re hr-ard <>f my father ha (him who was killed at Fort N In* might have had ethers; and, as the b1 carried with it a probability that it was brae, I him as i kinsnian, and treated him with - friendship which his situation demanded. I found that he was destitute of the •. and in debt to the amount ol out the ability to pay one cent Be had dog finally was completely poor. 1 paid his debts to the amount I iy-two dollars, and bought him a I which I paid twenty dollars ; and a sow and pigs, that I paid eight dollars for. I also paid sixteen dollar- pork which I gave him. and furnished him with ol provisions and furniture; *o that his family was comibrt- ahle. As h»- v. . titute of a teajij, I furnished him team, with one, and also supplied him with t<>. Is for far;. I ddition to all this, 1 let him haw .me of Thomas/ sasons, My only object in mentioning his poverty, and the articles with which I rapplied him, is to show how ungrateful a person can he for favors reo rod how they will apparently forget charitable (hviU, and ainat tin- interest of a benefactor. Thus furnished with the i ry impl< I ::i, and as much land BS he OOuld till, 160 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. he commenced farming on my flats, and for some time labored well. At length, however, he got an idea that if he could become the owner of a part of my reservation, he could live more easily, and certainly be more rich ; and accordingly set himself about laying a plan to obtain it, in the easiest manner possible. I supported Jemison and his family eight years, and probably should have continued to have done so to this day, had it not been for the occurrence of the following circumstance : When he had lived with me some six or seven years, a friend of mine told me that as Jemison was my cousin, and very poor, I ought to give him a piece of land, that he might have sometbing whereon to live that he could call his own. My friend and Jemison were then together at my house, prepared to complete a bargain. I asked how much land he^anted ? Jemison said that he should be glad to receive his own field, (as he called it.) contain- ing about fourteen acres, and a new one that contained twenty-six. I observed to them that as I was incapable of transacting business of that nature, I would wait till Mr. Tbomas Clute, (a neighbor on whom I depended,) should return from Albany, before I should do anything about it. To this Jemison replied, that if I waited till Mr. Clute returned, he should not get the land at all ; and appeared very anxious to have the business closed with i'i:ii-ni>\\ a-.mi<. \r,\ out delft/. Ol my ]>art. 1 frit disposed to irive liim laml; hut knowing my ignorance of writing, feared I it alone, leal thej might include as moon land ta they pleased, without my knowled| They then read the ih^-d. which my friend had prepared mie from home, describing i piece of land hy certain hounds that were ■ specified number of chains and links from each other. Nol understanding the lei of a chain or link, I described the hounds of a | land that 1 intended Jemison Bhonld have, which they said was just the same that the deed contained, and no more. I told theni that the deed inu>t not include a lot that was eulled the Steele place, and they assured mo that it did not. Upou this — putting confidence in them both — I signed the deed to George Jemison, containing, and conveying to him, as I supposed, forty acres of land. The deed being completed, they chimed me never to mention the bargain which I had then made to any per- Bonj because if I did, they said, it would spoil the con- tact. The whole matter was afterward disclosed; when it was found that that deed, instead of containing only forty at : ained four hundred, and that one-half of 'ually 1 to my friend, as it had been given to him hy Jen a reward for his trouble in procuring the deed in the fraudulent manner above mentioned. M\ friend, however, by the advice of some Well-disposed 162 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. people, a while afterward gave up his claim. George Jemison, however, held on to his claim ; but knowing that he had no title to the land — even if I had then possessed the power of conveying, which it since appears that I did not — as the deed was void, having been ob- tained by falsehood and fraud, he dared not press his claims under it himself, for fear cf being punished for a misdemeanor. He therefore sold his claim for a mere trifle, to a gentleman in the south part of Genesee county, who lost that trifle, whatever it was. But had Jemison been content with getting a deed of the forty acres which I intended to have given him, and not have undertaken to defraud me out of more, I should have made his title good to that land when I did receive the power ; and the forty acres would have been worth to him from forty to fifty dollars per acre. This is another proof that, in all cases, " honesty is the best policy." Some time after the death of my son Thomas, one of his sons went to Jemison to get the cow that I had let him have for two years ; but Jemison refused to let her go, and struck the boy so violent a blow as to almost kill him. Jemison then ran to Jellis Clute, Esq., to procure a warrant to take the boy ; but Young King, an Indian chief, went down to Squawky Hill, to Mr. Clute's, and settled the affair, by Jemison's agreeing never to use that club again. Having satisfactorily found out the unfriendly DBH-m-WA-MIS. 1C3 disposition of my cousin toward me, I go( bin premise! as soon a< possible. I am now confi d en t thai George Jemisoa li nol sin, but that be claimed relationship only to obtain 164 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. CHAPTER XIII. John Jemison murdered — His funeral, life, and character — His widow and children — His murderers flee — Tall Chief's speech — They return — Their fate. Trouble seldom comes single. While George Jemison was busily engaged in his pursuit of wealth at my ex- pense, another event of a much more serious nature occurred, which added greatly to my afflictions, and con- sequently destroyed at least a part of the happiness which I had anticipated was laid up in the archives of Provi- dence, to be disposed of on my old age. My son John was a doctor, considerably celebrated among the Indians of various tribes for his skill in curing their diseases, by the administration of roots and herbs, which he gathered in the forests, and other places, where they had been planted by the hand of Nature. In the month of April, or first of May, 1817, he was called upon to go to Buffalo, Cattaraugus, and Alleghany, to cure some who were sick. He went, and was absent about two months. When he returned, he observed the Great Slide of the bank of Genesee River, a short dis- tance above my house, which had taken place during his :■;: • RDEK "I ONI Ot IIKH SONS, I;\ 111 — BROTHER {-fil.-v. K,7 absence : audi considering thai «•; ; i of his own death, called al his sister N her that he Bhould live but a few days, and wepl bitt .lie oear approach of his dissolution, ored iade him that his trouble was in. that he ought not to I"- affected by a fancy which waa nary. Ber arguments were ineffectual, and n<» alleviation to his m< otal Bufl Prom his e iif went t<> bis own bouse, where ho only two . and t! 8 lawky Hill, to procure money, with which to purchase flour for the use of hi- family. While at Squawky Hill he got into the company of two Bquawky Hill Indians, whose names were Doctor and Jack, with whom he drank freely, and in the afternoon had a desperate quarrel, in which his opponent afterward understood, agreed to kill him. The <[uar- rel ended, and each appeared to 1..- friendly. John bought >its, of which they all drank, and the: home. John and an Allege : dian were on hoi and Doctor and Jack were on fool I' was dark when thc\ They had not proceeded far when D< and. ed another quarrel with John, clem and dragged him off his DOT then With I him blow "ii hit head that BOOM Of his brains were discharged from the wound. Tin -any Indian, 168 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. fearing that his turn would come next, fled for safety as fast as possible. John recovered a little from the shock he had received and endeavored to get to an old hut that stood near ; but they caught him, and with an ax cut his throat, and beat out his brains, so that when he was found, the con- tents of his skull were lying on his arms. Some squaws who heard the uproar, ran to find out the cause of it ; but before they had time to offer their assist- ance, the murderers drove them into a house, and threat- ened to take their lives if they did not stay there, or if they made any noise. Next morning Mr. Clute sent me word that John was dead; and also informed me of the means by which his life was taken. A number of people went from Gardeau to where the body lay, and Dr. Levi Brundridge brought it home, where the funeral was attended after the manner of the white people. Mr. Benjamin Luther and Mr. William Wiles preached sermons and performed the funeral ser- vices ; and myself and family followed the corpse to the grave as mourners. I had now buried my three sons, who had been snatched from me by the hands of violence, when I least expected it. Although John had taken the life of his two brothers, and caused me unspeakable trouble and grief, his death made a solemn impression upon my mind, and seemed, in DEH-HK-WA-MIS, \C,{) iddition to my former misfo rtun es, enough to brine down . hairs with SOTTOW U) ihe \<\, OB a sec- • 'iid Lhouglrt, I copUJ nut mourn for him as I had for my e I knew thai his death was just, : he had deterred for ■ long time, from the hni Join's vi© • greed and so aggravated that I ha\«- nothin j in hie favor; yet, as i ojoiher, I pit- ied li i in while he lived, and ha\e ever felt a gieti d« of sorrow for him, beonnne of ins had c onduc t, Prom ln< childhood, lie carried something in his fea- tures Indicative of in evil disposition, that would result in tlie perpetration of enormities of some kind; and it the opinion and saying of Ebeneier Allen that he would he a had man, and he guilty of some crime deserv- ing of death. There is no doutyf hut what thoughts of murder rankled in his breast, and disturbed his mind 1 in his sleep; f«»r he once dreamed that he had killed nas for a trifling offense, ami thereby forfeited his own life. Alarmed si the revelation, and fearing that he might in some Onguarded moment destroy lii^ hrother, he went to the Blank Chief, to whom he told the dream, and expressed 1, that the vision Would he verified. Having related the dream, together with his feelings on the subject, he ssked foe the host advice that his old friend was capable of giving-, to prevent so sad an event. 11 170 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. The Black Chief, with his usual promptitude, told him, that from the nature of the dream he was fearful that something serious would take place between him and Thomas ; and advised him by all means to govern his temper, and avoid any quarrel which in future he might see arising, especially if Thomas was a party. John, however, did not keep the good counsel of the chief; for, soon after he killed Thomas, as I have related. John left two wives, with whom he had lived at the same time, and raised nine children. His widows are now living at Canneada, with their father, and keep their chil- dren with and near them. His children are tolerably white, and have got light-colored hair. John died about the last day of June, 1817, aged fifty-four years. Doctor and Jack, having finished their murderous de- sign, fled before they could be apprehended, and lay six weeks in the woods back of Canisteo. They then re- turned, and sent me some wampum by Chongo, my son- in-law, and Sun-ge-gaw,* that is, Big Kettle, expecting *"The greatest of all human crimes, murder, was punished with death ; but the act was open to condonation. Unless the family were appeased, the murderer, as with the ancient Greeks, was given up to their private vengeance. They could take his life wherever they found him, even after the lapse of years, without being held accountable. A present of white wampum sent on the part of the murderer to the family of his victim, when accepted, forever obliterated the memory of the transaction." — [League of the Iroquois, p. 331. M.II-Hi.-W A-Mls. 17| I WOOld pardon them, and siifTer them to liv. had tli their tribe. I. however, would ooi their wampom, hut • ted that, rather than haTe them killed, I: Id run away and keep Olll Of dan Ob their receiving back the wampom, the] took my and prepared to leave their country and people immediately. Their relatii ompanied them i short ince on their journey, and when about to part, tln-ir old uncle, the Tall Chief, addressed them in the folloi pathetic and sentimental speech: -•I bear my i When the- Great spirit [ndi made them all good, and gave them all good cornfields; good rivers, well stored with fish; good forests, filled with game, and good bows and arrows. But ?ery BOOn each wanted more than his share, and In- dians quarrel* d with Indians, and some were killed, and othen were wounded Then the Great Spirit mat'; very good word, and put it in every Indian'.- breast, to tell us when we have done :_ r ""d. or when we have done — and that word DAI never told a lie. -•I ' whenever yoo have stole* or got drank, or lied, thai good word has told yoo that yon w< i Indiana, and made you afraid ofgood lndian>; and D you ashamed, and took down. •• Friends! your crime is greater than all those; you 172 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. have killed an Indian in a time of peace; and made the -wind hear his groans, and the earth drink his blood. You are bad Indians ! Yes, you are very bad Indians ; and what can you do ? If you go into the woods to live alone, the ghost of John Jemison will follow you, crying " Blood! blood! " and will give you no peace. If you go to the land of your nation, there that ghost will at- tend you, and say to your relatives, " See my murderers ! " If you plant, it will blast your corn ; if you hunt it will scare your game ; and when you are asleep, its groans, and the sight of an avenging tomahawk, will awake you ! What can you do ? Deserving of death, you can not live here ; and to fly from your country, to leave all your relatives, and to abandon all that you have known to be pleasant and dear, must be keener than an arrow, more bitter than gall, more terrible than death ! And how must we feel ? Your path will be muddy ; the woods will be dark ; the lightnings will glance down the trees by your side, and you will start at every sound ! Peace has left you, and you must be wretched. "Friends, hear me, and take my advice. Return with us to your homes. Offer to the Great Spirit your best wampum, and try to be good Indians. And if those whom you have bereaved shall claim your lives as their only satisfaction, surrender them cheerfully, and die like good Indians. And — " DEH-HB-Wi-MIg. 173 Here Jack, highly incensed, Interrupted the old man, and bade bin stop peaking, or he would take his life. Affrighted at tin- appearaaee of bo much desperation, the company hastened toward home, and left Doctor and Jack t<> consult their own feelings. A- -< "ii at they were alone, Jack said to Doctor, "I had rather die here than maw my country and friends. Tut the muzzle of your rifle into my mouth, and I will put the muzzle of mine into yours, and at a given signal we will discharge them, and rid ourselves at once of all the troubles under which we now labor, and satisfy the claims which justice holds against us." Doctor heard the proposition, and, after a moment's pause, made the following reply : u I am as sensible as you can be of the unhappy situation in which we have placed ourselves. "We are bad Indians. We have for- feited our lives, and must expect in some way to atone for our crime. But, because we are bad and miserable, shall we make ourselves worse ? If we were now inno- cent, and in a calm, reflecting moment should kill our- BelTeS, that UA would make us bad, and deprive us of our share of the good hunting in the land where our fathers have gOD€ ! What would Little Beard say to us on our arrival at his cabin? lie would say. 'Bad In- dians ! Cowards ! You were afraid to wait till we wanted your help ! Go (jogo) to where snakes will lio 174 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. in your path ; where the panthers will starve you by de- vouring the venison ; and where you will be naked, and suffer with the cold ! Jogo ! (go,) none but the brave and good Indians live here./ I can not think of performing an act that will add to my wretchedness. It is hard enough for me to suffer here, and have good hunting here- after — worse, to lose the whole." Upon this, Jack withdrew his proposal. They went on about two miles, and then turned about and came home. Guilty and uneasy, they lurked about Squawky Hill near a fortnight, and then went to Cattaraugus, and were gone six weeks. When they came back, Jack's wife earnestly requested him to remove his family to Tona- wanda ; but he remonstrated against her project, and utterly declined going. His wife and family, however, tired of the tumult by which they were surrounded, packed up their effects, in spite of what he could say, and went off. Jack deliberated a short time upon the proper course for himself to pursue ; and finally, rather than leave his old home, he ate a large quantity of muskrat root, and died in ten or twelve hours. His family, being immediately notified of his death, returned to attend the burial, and are yet living at Squawky Hill. Nothing was ever done with Doctor, who continued to live quietly at Squawky Hill till some time in the year 1819, when he died of consumption. i)i:ii-iii:-\\ a-mi<. }-.', OHAPTEB XIV. Mary |dll put of her r i — Tlw lianl.-liijH of her lifi> — Great strength <>f constitution — Ber temperance — DoftroctiTi of ardent spirits among the Senecaa — Witchcraft — Accusations ■utions for witchcraft — Jl.-r deOOl ndants. l\ the year i s i<;. IGoab Brooks, Esq., of Bloomfield, tario county, and Jellis Clute, Esq., of Lelcef :n to aegociate with me for the purchase <»f i part of my land, as it lay in an unproductive slate to me. Many tacles presented themselves in the transaction of the business. In the firs! place, it was objected thai I was not a citizen of the United States, and could not legally convey land, without a special act of the legislature. To surmount this difficulty) Messrs. Brooks and Clute procured a Bpeoial act of the legislature of this state to <1, oonferring naturalization on me. and oonfirming tie to the land as far as that body could effect it. then di ; that tin- assent of the chiefs of CS nation mUSl he had to the OOni eyaiiee, and that the proceedings to obtain such assent must be in council, uinh-r the superintendence of a commissioner appointed by tie- President of the United States. 176 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. Afrer much delay and vexation in ascertaining what was necessary to be done to effect the object in a legal manner, and having consulted my children and friends, in the winter of 1822-3, I agreed with Messrs. Brooks and Clute, that if they would get the chiefs of our nation, and a United States commissioner of Indian lands, to meet in Moscow, Livingston county, X. Y., I would sell to them all my right and title to the Gardeau reservation, containing 17,927 acres, with the exception of a tract for my own benefit, two miles long and one mile wide, lying on Genesee River, where I should choose it; and also reserving a lot I had promised to give to Thomas Clute, as a recompense for his faithful guardianship over me and my property for a long time. The arrangement was agreed to, and the council assem- bled on the third or fourth day of September last, at the place appointed, consisting of Major Carrol, Judge Howell, and X. Gorham, acting for and in behalf of the United States government ; Jasper Parish, Indian agent ; Horatio Jones, interpreter; and a large number of Seneca chiefs. The bargain was assented to unanimously, and a deed was executed and delivered by me and upward of twenty chiefs, conveying all my right and title to the Gardeau reservation, except the reservations before mentioned, to Henry B. Gibson, Micah Brooks, and Jellis Clute, their heirs and assigns forever. i)i:n-iii.-\\ a-.mis. 177 The tract which 1 resenred for myself begins at the center of the Great Slide; thenoe running west one mflej thence north two miles; thenoe east about a mUe to the river j and thenoe running southerly np the river j and bounding on the west l.ank to tin- place of beginn In consideration of the before-mentioned sale to K< SOU, Brooks, and (lute, among other things, they bound themselves, their heirs. . .. to pay to nie, my heirs or succes-ui>, three hundred dollars a year forever. "When I review my life, the privations that I have suf- fered, the hardships I have endured, the vicissitudes 1 have passed! and the complete revolution that I have experienced in my manner of living; when I consider my reduction from a civilized to a savage state, and the various steps by which that process has been effected, and that my life has been prolonged, and my health and rea- son spared, it seems a miracle that I am unable to account for, and is a tragical medley that I hope will never be repeated. The bare loss of liberty is but a mere trifle, when compared with the ciroumstanoes that necessarily attend, and are inseparably connected with it. It is the recollection of what we once were, of the friends, the home we have left, and the pleasures that we h; the anticipation of misery, the appearance of wretched- . the anxiety for freedom, the hope of release, the II 178 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. devising of means of escaping, and the vigilance "with which we watch our keepers, that constitute the nauseous dregs of the bitter cup of slavery. I am sensible, how- ever, that no one can pass from a state of freedom to that of slavery, and in the latter situation rest perfectly con- tented; but as every one knows that great exertions of the mind tend directly to debilitate the body, it will appear obvious that we ought, when confined, to exert all our faculties to promote our present comfort, and let future days provide their own sacrifices. In regard to ourselves, just as we feel, we are. For the preservation of my life to the present time I am indebted to an excellent constitution, with which I have been blessed in as great a degree as any other per- son. After I arrived to years of understanding, the care of my own health was one of my principal studies ; and by avoiding exposures to wet and cold, by temperance in eating, abstaining from the use of spirits, and shunning the excesses to which I was frequently exposed, I effected my object beyond what I expected. I have never once been sick till within a year or two, only as I have related. Spirits and tobacco I have never used, and I have never once attended an Indian frolic. When I was taken prisoner, and for some time after that, spirits were un- known among the Indians ; and when they were first intro- duced, it was in small quantities, and used only by the DEH-HB-WA-3o& ]79 Indians; so that it was ■ long time before the It. women began even to taste it. After the French war, for I number of years it was the practice of the Indians of our tribe ty Bend to K ara and get twoor three kega Of rum — in all six or eight gallon* — and hold a frolic as long as it lasted. When the rum was brought to the town, all the Indians eol- ed\ and la-fore a drop was drank, nave all their kn: tomahawks, gnns, and other instruments of war, to one Indian, whose business it was to bury them in a private. place, keep them coneealed, and remain perfectly sober till the frolic was ended. Having thus diverted thein- selves, they commenced drinking, and continued their frolic till every drop was consumed. If any of them became quarrelsome, or got to fighting, those whr> were Bober enough bound them upon the ground, where they were obliged to lie till they got sober, and then were un- :d. When the fumes of the spirits had left the com- pany, the sober Indian returned to each the instruments with which they had entrusted him, and all went home Satisfied. A frolic of that kind was held but OBCC a \ear, and that at the time the Indians quit their hunting, and came in with their deer-skins. In those fri.lies the women never participated. B after the Revolutionary War, however, spirits b. M common in our tribe, and have been used indiscriminately ISO LIFE OF MARY JE3IISOX. by both sexes ; though there are not so frequent instances of intoxication among the squaws as among the Indians. To the introduction and use of that baneful article which has made such devastation in our tribes, and threatens the extinction of our people, (the Indians,) I can with the greatest propriety impute the whole of my misfortune in losing my three sons. But as I have before observed, not even the love of life will restrain an Indian from sipping the poison that he knows will destroy him. The voice of nature, the rebukes of reason, the advice of parents, the expostulations of friends, and the numerous instances of sudden death, are all insufficient to restrain an Indian who has once experienced the exhilarating and inebriating effects of spirits, from seeking his grave in the bottom of the bottle. My strength has been great for a woman of my size ; otherwise I must long ago have died under the burdens which I was obliged to carry. I learned to carry loads on my back, supported by a strap placed across my fore- head, soon after my captivity; and continue to carry in the same way. Upward of thirty years ago, and with the help of my young children, I backed all the boards that were used about my house from Allen's mill at the outlet of Silver Lake, a distance of five miles. I have planted, hoed, and harvested corn every season but DSH-HB-WA-MI8. 181 one sin<-«' i was taken prisoner. Even this pen full. L823, I have busked my oorn, end becked it into th« bouse. The first DOW that I ever owned, I boughi of | saal appearance — Dies of old l| Hiokatoo was born on tlu- banks of the Susquehanna, in the year 1708, in one of the tribes of the Senecas which inhabited thai region at the time of his birth. He WU OWI OOTUrin to Farmer's Brother, a chief who had been justly celebrated for his worth. Their mothers were sisters, and it was through tin- influence of Farmer's Bro tlier that I became Hiokatoo'a wife. In early life In- showed siems of thirst for blond, by at tending only to the art of war, in the use of the toma- hawk ami scalping-knife, ami in practicing orueltiee apon everything that chanced to fall into his hands which WM susceptible <»f pain. In that way he learned to use bis implements of war effectually, and at the same time * This chapter was added by Ebenezer Mix 12 H* 186 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. blunted all those finer feelings and tender sympathies that are naturally excited by hearing or seeing a fellow-being in distress. He could inflict the most excruciating tor- tures upon his enemies, and prided himself upon his forti- tude in having performed the most barbarous ceremonies and tortures without the least degree of pity or remorse. Thus qualified, when very young he was initiated into scenes of carnage by being engaged in the wars that pre- vailed among the Indian tribes. When he was a young man, there lived in the same tribe with him an old Indian warrior who was a great counselor, by the name of Buck-in-je-hil-lish. Buekinje- hillish having, with great fatigue, attended the council when it was deliberating upon war, declared that none but the ignorant made war, and that the wise men and the warriors had to do the fighting. This speech exas- perated his countrymen to such a degree that he was ap- prehended and tried for being a witch, on the account of his having lived to so advanced an age ; and because he could not show some reason why he had not died before, he was sentenced to be tomahawked by a boy on the spot, which was accordingly done. In 1731, Hiokatoo was appointed a runner, to assist in collecting an army to go against the Catawbas, Chero- kees, and other southern Indians. A large army was col- lected, and after a long and fatiguing march, met its ene- DEH-HE-WA-MI& 1-7 mios in what was then called tin- "low, dark, and bloody lands," near tin* month of Bed Etiyer, in what is now called the state <.f Tennessee, at or near the site of the present vil- of Olarksville, in tin- county of Montgomery. The Oatawbas and their assoeiates had, by some monnn, been apprised of their 1 approach, and lay in ambnsh to take them at once, when they should come within their reach, and destroy the whole army. The northern Indians, with their nsnal sagacity, discovered the situation of their • mies, rushed upon the ambuscade, and massacred twelve hundred on the spot. The 1 tattle Continued f<»r two days and two nights with the utmost severity, in which the northern Indians were victorious, and so far succeeded in destroying the Oatawbas that they at that time ceased to he a nation. The victors suffered an immense loss in killed: but gained the hunting-ground, which was their grand object, though the Gherokees would not giye it up in a treaty, or consent to make peace. Bows and am at that time wen- generally used as implements of Indian warfare, although a few gUUS had been introduced. From that time he was engaged in a number of battles, in which, SS in the Qatawba and Cherokee wars, Indians only were engaged, and made fighting his business till the commencement of the French war. In th-.se battles he a number of Indians prisoners, whom he killed by tying them to trees, and setting small Indian boys to 188 LIFE OF MART J EM I SON. shooting at them with arrows, till death finished the mis- ery of the sufferers ; a process that frequently took two days for completion. During the French war he was in every battle that was fought on the Susquehanna and Ohio rivers; and was so fortunate as never to have been taken prisoner. At Braddock's defeat, he took two white prisoners, and burnt them alive in a fire of his own kindling. In 1777, he was in the battle at Fort Freeland, in Northumberland county, Pa. The fort contained a great number of women and children, and was defended only by a small garrison. The force that went against it con- sisted of one hundred British regulars, commanded by a Colonel McDonald, and three hundred Indians under Hiokatoo. After a short but bloody engagement, the fort was surrendered. The women and children were sent under an escort to the next fort below, and the men and boys taken off by a party of British to the general Indian encampment. As soon as the fort had capitulat- ed and the firing had ceased, Hiokatoo, with the help of a few Indians, tomahawked every wounded American, while earnestly begging with uplifted hands for quarter. The massacre was but just finished when Captains Dougherty and Boon arrived- with a reinforcement to assist the garrison. On their arriving in sight of the fort, they saw that it had surrendered, and that an Indian i>i:ii-m->\\ 189 holding the flag. This bo much inflan l Dougherty that he left hla command, stepped forwards and shot the Indian at the first tire Another took the ami had no sooner got it erected than Dougherty dropped him u he had the Bret A third presumed t<> hold it. wh»> was also slmi down by Dotigherty. Hiokatoo, sperated at the Bight of such bravery, sallied out with a party of his [ndians, and killed Oapt's Dougherty, Boon, and fourteen men, at t ho first lire. The remainder <>f the two companies escaped by taking to flight, and - arrived at the fori which they had left lint a few honrshefi.ro. In an expedition that went out against ( 'lurry Valley and the neighboring settlements, Captain David, a Mohawk Indian, was first, and Biokatoo the second in command. The fon Isted of several hundred Indians, who were determined on mischief, and the destruction of the wl A continued series of wanton barbarity characterized their career, for they plundered and burned every thing that came in their way. and killed a number of per- among whom were a number of infants, whom Hiol. butchered <»r dashed upon the stones with his own hands, the instances which have been mentioned, he was in a number of parties daring the Revolutionary War, where in* ever acted a conspicuous part. The Indians, having removed the seal of their de] dations and war to the frontiers of Pennsylvania, Ohio, 190 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. Kentucky, and the neighboring territories, assembled a large force at Upper Sandusky, their place of general rendezvous, from whence they went out to the various places which they designed to sacrifice. Tired of the desolating scenes that were so often wit- nessed, and feeling a confidence that the savages might be subdued, and an end put to their crimes, the American government raised a regiment, consisting of three hun- dred volunteers, for the purpose of dislodging them from their cantonment, and preventing further barbarities. Col- onel William Crawford, and Lieutenant-Colonel David Williamson — men who had been thoroughly tried and approved — were commissioned by General Washington to take the command of a service that seemed all -important to the welfare of the country. In the month of July, 1782, well armed, and provided with a sufficient quantity of provisions, this regiment made an expeditious march through the wilderness to Upper Sandusky, where, as had been anticipated they found the Indians assembled in full force at their encampment, prepared to receive an attack. As Colonel Crawford and his brave men advanced, and when they had got within a short distance of the town, they were met by a white man, with a flag of truce from the Indians, who proposed to Colonel Crawford, that, if he would surrender himself and his men to the Indians, DEH-HB-WA-MIS. 1 '1 their live- should be Spared: hut tliat, if tlnv in their undertaking, and attacked the town, they should all l>c massacred to a man. Crawford, while hearing the proposition, attenth surveyed its hearer, and recognized in his features 01 his former schoolmates and companions, with whom he was perfectly acquainted, by the oame of Simon Gorty. Gnrty, hut a shor( time before this, had been a soldier in the American army, in the same regiment with Crawford ; hut en the account of his cot baying received the promo- tion that he expected, he became disaffected, swore an eternal war with his countrymen, tied to the Indians, and joined them, as a If ader well qualified to conduct them to where they could satiate their thirst lor blood, upon the innocent, unoffending and defenseless settlers. Crawford stt-rnly inquired of the traitor if his name was not Simon Gurty ; and being answered in the affirmative, lie informed him that he despised the offer which he had made; and that in- should not surrender his army, unless he should be compelled to do so by a superior force Gurty returned, and Crawford immediately commenced an engagement that lasted till night, without the ap] sues of victory en either side ; when the firing ceased, and the OOfnbatantfl On both sides retired to take refreshment, and to rest through the night. Crawford encamped in the woods near half a mile from the town, where, after the 192 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. sentinels were placed, and each had taken his ration, they slept on their arms, that they might be instantly ready in case they should be attacked. The stillness of death hovered over the little army, and sleep relieved the whole, except the wakeful sentinels, who vigilantly attended to their duty. But what was their surprise when they found, late in the night, that they were surrounded by the In- dians on every side, except a narrow space between them and the town. Every man was under arms, and the offi- cers instantly consulted each other on the best method of escaping ; for they saw that to fight would be useless, and that to surrender would be death. Crawford proposed to retreat through the ranks of the enemy in an opposite direction from the town, as being the most sure course to take. Lieutenant Colonel Williamson advised to march directly through the town, where there appeared to be no Indians, as the fires were yet burning. There was no time or place for debates. Colonel Craw- ford, with sixty followers, retreated on the route that he had proposed, by attempting to rush through the enemy ; but they had no sooner got among the Indians than every man was killed or taken prisoner. Among the prisoners were Colonel Crawford, and Doctor Knight, surgeon of the regiment. Lieutenant-Colonel Williamson, with the remainder of the regiment, together with the wounded, set out at the same time that Crawford did, went through m:u-iii:-\v.\-mi<. 1 13 tin* town Without losing a man, and, l>y tin- help guides, arrived at their homes in safety. The next day after the i nent, the J mil. d of all their prisoners to the different tribes, • » >nel Crawford and DootOX Knight ; hut those unfur- tunate nun wen reserved for a more cruel destiny. A council was immediately held en Saiulu>k\ Plains, i ing of all the chiefs and warriors, ranged in their tomery order, in a circular form; and Crawford and _ lit were brought forward and seated in the center of the circle. The council being opened, the chiefs began to examine Crawford on various subjects relative to the war. At length they inquired who conducted the military opera - - of the American army on the ( >hio and Susquehanna rivers during the year before ; and who had led that army against them with so much skill, and such uniform - Crawford, very honestly, and without suspecting any harm from his reply, promptly answered that he was the man who had led his countrymen to victory, who had driven enemy from the settlements, and by that means had proeured a great of happiness to many of hifl fcllow- citiz* :.-. Upon hearing this, a chief, who had lo>t a the yen before, in a battle where Colonel Crawford OOBh manded, left his station in the council, stepped \>> (raw- 194 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. ford, blacked his face, and at the same time told him that the next day he should be burned. The council was immediately dissolved on its hearing the sentence from the chief, and the prisoners were taken off the ground, and kept in custody through the night. Crawford now viewed his fate as sealed ; and, despairing of ever returning to his home or his country, only dreaded the tediousness of death, as commonly inflicted by the savages, and earnestly hoped that he might be dispatched at a single blow. Early the next morning the Indians assembled at the place of execution, and Crawford was led to the post — the goal of savage torture, to which he was fastened. The post was a stick of timber, placed firmly in the ground, having an arm framed in at the top, and extend- ing some six or eight feet from it, like the arm of a sign- post. A pile of wood, containing about two cords, lay about two feet from the place where he stood; which he was informed was to be kindled into a fire that would burn him alive, as many had been burned on the same spot, who had been much less deserving than himself. Gurty stood and composedly looked on the prepara- tions that were making for the funeral of one of his for- mer playmates, a hero by whose side be had fought ; of a man whose valor had won laurels which, if he could have returned, would have been strewed upon his grave by his .i-m:-\\A-Mi<. grateful countrymen. Dreading the igonythal he '■"lit to feel, l imenl which hit peri could Buggest, to prevail i liiui at any price, and deliver liiiu. in his power, from sa\ i;d their torn;, (iurty heard liis prayen and expostulation*, and saw his ■s with indifference; and finally told the forsaken vic- tim that he would not procure him a moment'a respite, nor atTord him the most trifling ice. The OOlonel was then bound, stripped naked, and tied by hlfl v the arm which extended horizontally from the post, in such a manner that his arms were extei over his head, with his | | Btandingupon the ground. This being done, the sava.L r e> placed the wood in a circle around him, at the distance of a few feet, in order that hi- misery mighl he protracted to the greatest length, then kindled it in a number of places at the same time. The flames arose, and the scorching heat became a!:. Insupportable. Again he prayed to Gurty, in all the an- guish of hifl torment, to rescue him from the fire, or shoot him dead QpOfl the spot A demoniac smile suffused the noe of (iurty, while he calmly replied to the dying suppliant, that lie had no pity lor his Buffering; that he was then satisfying that spirit of rev( hich for a long time lie had hoped to have an opportunity to wreak upon him. Nature being almost exhausted froa 196 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. the intensity of the heat, he settled down a little, when a squaw threw coals of fire and embers upon him, which made him groan most piteously. while the whole camp rung with exultation. During the execution, they mani- fested all the ecstasy of a complete triumph. Poor Craw- ford soon died, and was entirely consumed. Thus ended the life of a patriot and hero, who had been an intimate with General Washington, and who shared, in an eminent degree, the confidence of that great, good man, to whom, in the time of Bevolutionary perils, the sons of legitimate freedom looked with, a degree of faith in his mental resources unequaled in the history of the world. That tragedy being ended, Doctor Knight was informed that on the next day he should be burned, in the same manner that his comrade Crawford had been, at Lower Sandusky. Hiokatoo, who had been a leading chief in the battle with, and in the execution of Crawford, painted Doctor Knight's face black, and then bound him, and gave him up to two able-bodied Indians to conduct to the place of execution. They set off with him immediately, and traveled till toward evening, when they halted to encamp till morning. The afternoon had been very rainy, and the storm still continued, which rendered it very difficult for the Indians to kindle a fire. Knight, observing the difficulty under which they labored, made them to understand, by signs, hi H-iII.-W.\-.MlS. l'.»7 tliat if they would unbind him, In* would assist them. They accordingly unloosed him, and be boob bu< in making a fire by the application of Borne drj >tufT, which, at considerable trouble, and displaying much u nuity, he procured. While the Indians wen warming themselves, the Doctor continued to gather wood to last through the night ; and in doing iliis he found a club, which he placed in a situation whence he could take it veniently, win-never an opportunity should present itself in which he could use it effectually. The Indians continued wanning, till at length the Doctor saw thai they had placed themselves in a favorable position for the Dution of his design, when, stimulated by the love of life, he cautiously took bis olub, and, at two Mows, kna them both down. Determined to finish the work of death which he had so well begun, he drew one of their BCalp- ing-knives, with which he beheaded and scalped them both. He then took a rifle, tomahawk, and some ammu- nition, and directed his course for home, where he arrived without having experienced any difficulty on his journey. The next morning the Indians took the track of their victim and his attendants, to go to Lower Sandusky, there execute the sentence which they had pronounced upon him. But what was their surprise and disappoint- ment, when they arrived at the place of encampment, i when they found their trusty friends scalped and decapi- 198 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. tated, and that their prisoner had made his escape. Cha- grined beyond measure, they immediately separated, and ■went in every direction in pursuit of their prey ; but after having spent a number of days unsuccessfully, they gave up the chase, and retired to their encampment. In the time of the French war, in an engagement vrhich took place on the Ohio River, Hiokatoo took a British colonel, by the name of Simon Canton, whom he carried to the Indian encampment. A council was held, and the colonel was sentenced to suffer death, by being tiec>on a wild colt, with his face toward its tail, and then having the colt turned loose,' to run where it pleased. He was accordingly tied on, and the colt let loose, agreeable to the sentence. The colt ran two clays, and then returned with its rider yet alive. The Indians, thinking that he would never die in that way, took him off, and made him run the gauntlet three times ; but in the last race a squaw knocked him down, and he was supposed to have been dead. He, however, recovered, and was sold for fifty dollars to a Frenchman, who sent him as a prisoner to Detroit. On the return of the Frenchman to Detroit, the colonel besought him either to ransom him or set him at liberty, with so much warmth, and promised with so much solemnity to reward him as one of the best of benefactors, if he would let him go, that the Frenchman took his word, and sent him home to his family. The colonel DEH-HK-WA-MIS. 199 remembered his promise, and in i short r. I Mi deliverer one hundred end fifty dollan as a reward for ity, Binoe the oommenoemenl of the Revolutionary War, Hiokatoo has been In seventeen campaigns, four of which • in the Cherokee war. Be was so great en enemy to the Cherokeee, and bo fully determined apon their Bubju- gation, that on hid march to their oountry, be raised his own army for those four campaigns, and commanded it ; and also superintended its subsistence. In one of thoee campaigns, which continued two whole years without inter- mission, he attacked his enemies on the Mobile, drove them to the country of the Creek nation, where be con- tinned to harass them, till, being tired of the war, he re- turned to his family. He brought home a great Dumber Of BOalpS, which he had taken from the enemy, and ever . d to | an anconquerable determination that the Che: llOUld he utterly destroyed. Toward the 6 f wampum — Be liv. [OftW — Takrti by the Indians — K- to (Jardeau, where I resided. He was, apparently, without any business that would support him; but he booh became acquainted with my son Thomas, with whom he hunted for ■ long time, and made his In. me with him at my DOUSe, Winter can* ntinued his stay.* When Allen came to my house, I had a white man . ;i was no hero, but, rat' : cruelty and I gey" — [Tcrkkb's Histoby or thk Holland Pc rouse, p. I 13 1 202 LIFF OF MARY JEMISOX. living on my land, who had a Xanticoke squaw for his wife, with whom he had lived very peaceably; for he was a moderate man commonly, and she was a kind, gentle, cunning creature. It so happened that he had no hay for his cattle ; so that in the winter he was obliged to drive them every day perhaps a mile from his house, to let them feed on the rushes, which in those days were so nu- merous as to nearly cover the ground. Allen, having frequently seen the squaw in the fall, took the opportunity when her husband was absent with his cows, daily to make her a visit ; and in return for his kindnesses she made and gave him a red cap, finished and decorated in the highest Indian style. The husband had for some considerable length of time felt a degree of jealousy that Allen was trespassing upon his rights, with the consent of his squaw ; but when he saw Allen dressed in so fine an Indian cap, and found that his dear Xanticoke had presented it to him, his doubts all left him, and he became so violently enraged that he caught her by the hair of her head, dragged her on the ground to my house, a distance of forty rods, and threw her in at the door. Hiokatoo, my husband, exasperated at the sight of so much inhumanity, hastily took down his old tomahawk, which for a while had lain idle, shook it over the cuckold's head, and bade him jogo (i. e. go off.) The enraged husband, well knowing that he should feel a DEH-Hi;-W\-MI<. blow if he waiicd to hear the order repeated, instantly re- treated, and went down the river to his cattle. We pro- ed the i • Nanticoke woman, and gave her victuals; and Allen sympathized with her in her misfort ones till Bpring, when her husband came to her, acknowledged his former errors, and that he had abased her without a cause, promised a reformation, and she received him with every mark of a renewal of her affection. They went home lov- ingly, and soon after removed to Niagara. The same spring, Allen commenced working my flats, and continued to labor there till after the peace of I' He then went to Philadelphia on some business that de- tained him but a few days, and returned with a horse and some dry goods, which he carried to a place that is now called Mount Morris, where he built or bought a small house. The British and Indians on the Niagara frontier, dissat- isfied with the treaty of peace, were determined, at all hazards, to continue their depredations upon the white settlements which lay between them and Albany. They actually made ready, and were about setting out on an edition to that effect, when Allen (who by this time understood their system of war) took a belt of wampum, Which he had fraudulently procured, and carried it a- a token of peace from the Indians to the commander of the nearest American military post. The Indians w< 204 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. answered by the American officer, that the wampum was cordially accepted, and that a continuance of peace was ardently wished for. The Indians, at this, were chagrined and disappointed beyond measure; but as they held the wampum to be a sacred thing, they dared not go against the import of its meaning, and immediately buried the hatchet, as it respected the people of the United States, and smoked the pipe of peace. They, however, resolved to punish Allen for his officiousness in meddling with their national affairs, by presenting the sacred wampum without their knowledge ; and went about devising means for his detection. A party was accordingly dispatched from Fort Niagara to apprehend him ; with orders to con- duct him to that post for trial, or for safe keeping, till such time as his fate should be determined upon in a legal manner. The party came on ; but before it arrived at Gardeau, Allen got news of its approach., and fled for safety, leav- ing the horse and goods that he had brought from Phila- delphia an easy prey to his enemies. He had not been long absent when they arrived at Gardeau, where they made diligent search for him till they were satisfied that they could not find him, and then seized the effects which he had left, and returned to Niagara. My son Thomas went with them, with Allen's horse, and carried the goods. Allen, on finding that his enemies had gone, came DBH-BB-WA-VISi Mf back to my lions.-, where be lived as before; l>ut af his return thej n notified at Niagara, and Netties, (who married Prisoflla BLamsay,) with i small part] Indians, came <>n to take liim. Be, however, l>y some moans found iliat they were near, and gave me bk bos of money and trinkets to keep safely till be railed for it, and again took to the woods. Netties oame on, drier- mined, at all events, to take him before he went back : and, in order to accomplish his design, he, with his Indians, hunted in the day time, and lay by at night at my house? and in that way they practiced for a number of days. Allen watched the motions of his pursuers, ami every night after they had gone to rest, came home and got some food, and then returned to his retreat. It was in tin- fall, and the weather was cold and rainy, so that he suffered extremely. Borne sights he sat in my chamber till nearly daybreak, while his enemies were below; and when the time arrived, I assisted him to e s cap e unnoticed. Nettles at length abandoned the chase, went some, and Allen, all in tatters, came in. By running in the woods his clothing had become torn into rags, SO that he was in a snflerinti ttles came on, and the whites, as they had agreed, gave poor Allen up to him. He was bound, and carried to Niagara, where he WM confined in prison through the winter. In the spring he was taken to Montreal or Quebec for trial, and was honorably acquitted. The crime for which he tried was for having carried the wampum to the icans, and thereby putting too sudden a BtO] their war. in the place of his trial he went directly to Phila- delphia, and purchased on credit a boat-load oi which he brought by water to Ooohocton, where he lefl them, and came to Mount Morris for assistance to get 1* 210 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. them brought on. The Indians readily went with horses, and brought them to his house, where he disposed of his dry goods ; but not daring to let the Indians begin to drink strong liquor, for fear of the quarrels which would naturally follow, he sent his spirits to my place, where we sold them. For his goods he received ginseng roots, principally, and a few skins. Ginseng* at that time was plenty, and commanded a high price. We prepared the whole that he received for the market, expecting that he would carry them to Philadelphia. In that I was disap- pointed ; for, when he had disposed of, and got pay for, all his goods, he took the ginseng and skins to Niagara, and there sold them, and came home. Tired of dealing in goods, he planted a large field of corn on or near his own land, attended to it faithfully, and succeeded in raising a large crop, which he harvested, loaded into canoes, and carried down the river to the mouth of Allen's creek, then called by the Indians Gin-is- a-ga, where he unloaded it, built him a house, and lived with his family. The next season he planted corn at that place, and built a grist and saw-mill on Genesee Falls, now called Rochester. At the time Allen built the mills, he had an old Ger- man living with him by the name of Andrews, whom he sent in a canoe down the river with his mill-irons. Allen i>i:n-m:-\\ \-mi<. 21 1 went down at tlu' same time; but, before they got to the mills. Allen threw tin- old man overboard, m it \\;>- then generally believed, for he was never wen 01 heard of •ward. In tin- oonrse of the season in which Allen built his mills, he became acquainted with the daughter "fa white man who was moving to Niagara. She wan handsome, and Allen soon got into her good gnu thai he married and took her home, to he a joint partner with Bally, the squaw, whom she had never heard of till site got heme and found her in full possession; hut it was too la;.- 1>> retract' the hasty steps ahe had taken, for her lather had left her in the care of a tender hushand, and gone Oil. She. however, found that ahe enjoyed at least an equal half of her hushand's affections, and made herself con- tented. Her father's name 1 have forgotten, hut her's Lucy. Allen was not contented with two wives, for in a short time after he had married Lucy he came ap to my house, where he found a young woman who had an old hushand with her. They had been on a long journey, and called at my place mail and rest themselves. She tilled Allen's eye. and he accordingly fixed open a plan to her into hifl possession. He praised his situation, enu- merated his advantage!, and finally persuaded them to go home and tarry with him a few da\ I at least, and par- 212 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. take of a part of his comforts. They accepted his gene- rous invitation, and went home with him. But they had been there but two or three days, when Allen took the old gentleman out to view his flats ; and as they were deliberately walking on the bank of the river, pushed him into the water. The old man, almost strangled, suc- ceeded in getting out ; but his fall and exertions had so powerful an effect upon his system that he died in two or three days, and left his young widow to the protection of his murderer. She lived with him about one year, in a state of concubinage, and then left him. How long Allen lived at Allen's creek I am unable to state; but soon after the young widow left him, he re- moved to his old place at Mount Morris, and built a house, where he made Sally — his squaw, by whom he had two daughters — a slave to Lucy, by whom he had one son; still, however, he considered Sally to be his wife. After Allen came to Mount Morris at that time, he married a girl by the name of Morilla Gregory, whose father, at the time, lived on Genesee Flats. The ceremony being over, he took her home to live in common with his other wives ; but his house was too small for his family — for Sally and Lucy, conceiving that their lawful privileges would be abridged if they received a partner, united their strength, and whipped poor Morilla so cruelly that he was obliged to keep her in a small, Indian house, a short distance i »i :i i-ni:-\\ a-mis. l'J:> from his own, or lost- ber entirely. aforilla, 1- 1 Kit Mount Morris, had tour children. One of l£orill&'s Bisters lived with Allen abort a year after Morilla was married, and then quit him. A short time after they had been living at Mount Mor- ris, Allen prevailed upon the chiefs to give t<» hi I children a tract of land two miles s.juaiv, where he then resided. The chiefs them the land* but In* so art- fully contrived the conveyance that he could apply it to his own use. and by alienating his right, destroy the claim of his children. Saving secured the land in that way to himself, he sent his two Indian girle to Trenton, X. J., and his white son to Philadelphia, for tin? purpose of giving each of them a respectable English education. While his children were at school, he went to Phila- delphia, and sold his right to the land, which lie had ed of the Indians fur his children, to Robert Morris. r that, he >ela- \ Town* on the Etiver l><- Trench, in Opper Canada, AN 'hen he hft Mount liorria, Sally, his scpiaw, inaj upon going with him, and actually followed him, crying 214 LIFE OF MART JEMISOX. bitterly, and praying for his protection, some two or three miles, till he absolutely bade her leave him, or he would punish her with severity. At length finding her case hopeless, she returned to the Indians. At the great treaty in 1797, one of Allen's daughters claimed the Mount Morris tract, which her father had sold to Robert Morris. The claim was examined, and decided against her, in favor of Morris' creditors. He died at the Delaware Town, on the River De Trench, in the year 1S14 or 1815, and left two white widows and one squaw, with a number of children, to lament his loss. By his last will, he gave all his property to his last wife, Morilla, and her children, without providing in the least for the support of Lucy, or any of the other mem- bers of his family. Lucy, soon after his death, went with her children down the Ohio River, to receive assistance from her friends. In the Revolutionary \Yar, Allen was a Tory, and by that means became acquainted with our Indians, when they were in the neighborhood of his native place, deso- lating the settlements on the Susquehanna. In those predatory battles he joined them, and for cruelty was not exceeded by his Indian comrades. At one time, when he was scouting with the Indians, he entered a house very early in the morning, where he found a man, his wife, and one child, in bed. The man m.h-iii:-\\'a-.mi^. 216 !:tly sprang m the Boor, for the purpose of di himself and little family; but Allen dispatched him it om blow. H' then cul off bit head, and threw It, bleed Into the bad with the terrified woman; took the little in- fant from its mother's breast, dashed its head against the Jamb, ami left the anhappy widow and mother, t<> mourn alone ever her murdered family. It has been said by e, that, after he had killed the child, in- opemd the fire, and buried it under the coals and embers; but of that I am n«»i certain. 1 have often beard him speak of that transaction with I degree of sorrow, and as the foulest crime he had ever committed — one for which I have DO doubt he repented.* Governor Simcoe g im three thousand acres of land, upon condition that be would build a saw-mill, ■ grist-mill, and ■ church — all but the church t rty. lb- performed bit of the contract, and the title to his land was confirmed In I tie, he had his mills, a comfortable dwelling, large improT em ej i good liver. • knew him at that period I able and aim. At a another, tor pass- II aeqnic L lb- i It that a- '. him that w;l> promoted bj personal enmity -\:i ;ht on embarrassments, which terminated in an almost entire loss ( 4 He died in lsii."— Tiknkk's Himohy or Tilt iioLLAM' PUBGBA! >3. 216 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. CHAPTER XVII. Government of the Iroquois — Civil and Military Chiefs — Counsel- ors—Religious Beliefs — The Great Spirit— The Evil Spirit — Religious festivals — Sacrifice of the White Dog — The Dance — Marriage Customs — Chastity of the Indian — Polygamy. The government of the Six Nations when they were in the zenith of their prosperity and power, was an oligarchy, composed of a mixture of elective and hereditary power ; and to the skeleton of such a government the remnant of the race still adhere. Their government was adminis- tered by chiefs — each tribe having two; one of whom was hereditary, and the other elective ; the term of whose office was during good behavior, and might be removed for any real or supposed sufficient cause, which, however, was seldom put in execution. The elective sachem was the military chieftain, whose duty it was, to attend to all the military concerns of the tribe, and command the war- riors in battle. They were both members of the general council of the confederacy, as well as of the national council, which met as often as necessity required, and settled all questions, involving matters in which their own nation only had an interest ; but the general council of the confederacy met but once a year, except in cases of DEII-Hli-WA- II>. 217 emergency, [t then met ai Onondaga, being the head- quartan of the mosl oentral nation, where ai] turns of general Interest, such as peace and war — the concerns of tributary nations, and all aegociationfl with the French and English were debated, deliberated upon, and decided. All decisions made by the chiefs of a tribe, which affected the members of that tribe only — all de- cisions of the national council, solely relative to the afl of that nation, (a majority of chiefs concurring,)*and all inns of tin- general council of tin- confederacy, were laws and decrees from whieh there was DO appeal. There is also a elaachfins themeeiTea were equal in rank and authority, and inatead «■: I territorial jui , their p .lion and fraud, Mich sach.-iu was " raised ttp," and invested with •y a council of all t ma, with suitable forms and cere- monies. Until this ceremony of confirmation or investiture, no one could become a ruler. He received, when raised up, the name of the 11 218 LIFE OF MAEY JEMISON. Perhaps no people are more exact observers of religious duties, than those Indians among the Senecas who are denominated Pagans, in contradistinction from those, who, having renounced some of their former superstitious no- tions, have obtained the name of Christians. The tradi- tionary faith of their fathers, having been orally trans- mitted to them from time immemmorial, is implicitly believed, scrupulously adhered to, and rigidly practiced. They are agreed in their sentiments — are all of one order ; sachem ship itself, as in the case of the titles of nobility, and so also did bis successors, from generation to generation. The sachemships were distributed unequally between the five nations. Nine of them were assigned to the Mohawk nation, nine to the Oneida, fourteen to the Onondaga, ten to the Cayuga, and eigbt to the Seneca. The sa- chems, united, formed the council of the League — the ruling btfy in whom resided the executive, legislative, and judicial authority. It thus appears that the government of the Iroquois was an oligarchy, taking the t^n, at least, in the literal sense, " the rule of the few ; " and while more system is observable in this, than in the oligarchies of antiquity, it seems, also, better calculated in its framework to resist political changes Next to the sachems, in position, stood the chiefs — an inferior class of rulers, the very existence of whose office was an anomaly in the oligarchy of the Iroquois. The office of chief was made elective, and the reward of merit ; but without any power of descent, the title terminating with the individual After their election they were raised up by a council of the nation ; but a ratification by the general council of the sachems was necessary to complete the investiture. The powers and duties of the sachems and chiefs were entirely of a civil character, and confined by their organic laws to the affairs of peace."— [League of the Iroquois, p. 62-11. i > i : 1 1- 1 1 1:-\\ \-\n>. individual and public good, especially among themeel being the great motive which excitee them to attend to those moral virtues thai are directed and explained by all their rules, and in all their oeremonj Many yean have elapsed since the introduction of I □ missionaries among them, whom they have heard, and ?ery generally understand the purport of the thej were sent to deliver. They say that it is highly probable that Jesus Christ came into the world in old tinn fcablisb a religion that would promote the happfaieSS of the White people on the other >ide of the • water, (meaning tin* I nd that he died for the sin- of his people, as the missionaries have informed tln^s. But, they say that Jesus Christ had nothing to do with them; and that the Christian religion was not lied for their benefit ; but rather, should they em- brace it, they are confident it would make them W< consequently do them an injury. They saj also, that the Great Good Spirit gave them their reli>:i«>n : that it i- adapted to their circumstances, situation, ami habits, and to the promotion of their present comfort, and ultimate happiness, than any System that ever has or can be devised They, however, believe that th< I tian religion is better calculated tor the good of white people than theirs is, and wonder that thOM who I embraced it, du nut attend mure strictly to it 220 LIFE OF MARY J EM I SON. and feel more engaged for its support and diffusion among themselves. At the present time, they are opposed to preachers or schoolmasters being sent or coming among them, and appear determined by all means to adhere to their ancient customs. They believe in a Great Good Spirit, whom they call in the Seneca language Nau-wah-ne-n,* as the creator of the world, and of every good thing ; that he made men, and all inoffensive animals; that he supplies men with all the comforts of life; and that he is particularly partial to the Indians, who, they say, are his peculiar people. They also believe that he is pleased in giving them (the Indians) good gifts; and that he is highly gratified with their good conduct, that he abhors their vices, and that he is willing- to punish them for their bad conduct, not only in this wonWuit in a future state of existence. His residence, they suppose, lies at a great distance from them, in a country that is perfectly pleasant, where plenty abounds, even to profu- sion. That there the soil is completely fertile, and the seasons so mild that the corn never fails to be good — that the deer, elk, buffalo, turkeys, and other useful ani- mals, are numerous, and that the forests are well calculated to facilitate their hunting them with success — that the streams are pure, and abound with fish; and nothing is wanting, to render fruition complete. Over this terri- * Hd-rjcen-ne-yu. — [Ed. DBH-HE-WA-MI8. tory fch< Nauwahneu presides as an all | king; and that without l he admits to his plea all whom be oonaidera bo be worthy of enjoying s<> r l»li*ssc*ilMt~ To thii Being the] prayers, off ive thanks for I and per- form many arts of devotion and reverem - . Tiny likewise believe that Nauwahneu has a brother that N lesi powerful than himself, and who is opposed to him, ami every one that is or wishes to be good; that this Bad Spirit* made all evil things, snakes, Wolves, cata- mounts, and all other poisonOUfl or nozions animals and : prey, except the bear, which, on tin- aooonnl of the exoellenoe of its moat for food, and -kin for olothing, thuv say was made by Nauwahneu. Besides all this, they Bay be makes and sends thom their diseases, had ther, and had 0rop8j and that he makes and supports witches. He owns a large oonntry adjoining that of his brother, with whom he i< continually at variance. His fields are unproductive; thick clouds intercept the rays of the sun, and consequently destructive frosts are fre- quent ; game lb very scarce, and not easily taken; raven- imeronfl ; repti • erj poisoned tooth lie in the path of the traveler; the Mivams are muddy; and hunger, nakedness, and general misery, are severely felt by those who unfortunately become his tenant-. He • JIa-itf-yj-utt-'/t/t, the "Evil-iiiin-Jcd." — [Ku. 2*22 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. takes pleasure in afflicting the Indians here, and, after their death, receives all those into his dreary dominions who, in their lifetime have been so vile as to be rejected by Xauwahneu, under whose eye they are continued in an uncomfortable state for ever. To this source of evil they offer some oblations, to abate his vengeance, and render him propitious. They, however, believe him to be, in a degree, under subjection to his brother, and incapable of executing his plans only by his high permission. Pub- lic religious duties are attended to in the celebration of particular festivals and sacrifices, which are observed with circumspection, and attended with decorum. In each year they have five feasts,* or stated times for assembling in their tribes, and giving thanks to Xauwahneu, for the blessings which they have received from his kind, liberal, *"Six regular festivals, or ' thanksgivings/ were observed by the Iroquois. The first in the order of time was the Maple festival. This •was a return of thanks to the maple itself, for yielding its sweet waters. Xext was the Planting festival, designed chiefly as an invocation of the Great Spirit to bless the seed. Third came the S-trawberry festival, instituted ass a thanksgiving for the first fruits of the earth. The fourth was the Green Corn festival, designed as a thanksgiving acknowledgement for the ripening of the corn, beans, and squashes. >"ext was celebrated the Harvest festival, instituted as a general thanksgiving to ' our supporters,' after the gathering of the harvest. Last in the enumeration is placed the New Year's festival, the great jubilee of the Iroquois, at which the white dog was sacrificed." — [League of the Iroquois, p. 183. B-HB-WA-ma and provident hand ; and also to cm.-. poo the beflJ means of meriting a continuance of his fa of these feasts is immediately after they have fini rhiLT. at which time they give thanks lor the favorable weather and gieal quantity of sap they have had. and for the sugar thai they have been allowed to make for the !it of their families. At this, as at all tie- hiefs arise singly, and address the audience Kb a kind of exhortation, in which they express their own thankfulness, orgs the necessity and propriety serai gratitude, and point out the course which ought to be pnrsned by each individual, in order that Xauwahneu may inne to bless them, and that the evil spirit may he defeated. occasions the chiefs describe a perfectly Straight line, half an inch wide, and perhaps ten miles . which they direct their people to travel upon, by plac'. foot before the other, with the heel of one on the toe of the other; and so on till they arrive at the end. The meaning Of which is, that they must not turn aside to the right hand or t.» the left into the paths Of vice ; hut keep Straight ahead in the way <»f wcll-d- • will lead them to the paradise of Xauwalineu. I econd G after planting; when they render thanks for the pleasantness of the a; for the , time they have had fbf pre parin g their ground and plant- 224 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. ing their corn ; and are instructed by their chiefs by what means to merit a good harvest. When the green corn becomes fit for use, they hold their third or green corn feast. Their fourth is celebrated after corn harvest ; and the fifth at the close of their year, and is always celebrated at the time of the old moon in the last of January or first of February. This last deserves particular description. The Indians having returned from hunting, and having brought in all the venison and skins that they have taken, a committee is appointed, consisting of from ten to twenty active men, to superintend the festivities of the great sacrifice and thanksgiving that is to be immediately cele- brated. This being done, preparations are made at the council-house, or place of meeting, for the reception and accommodation of the whole tribe ; and then the cere- monies are commenced ; and the whole is conducted with a great degree of order and harmony, under the direction of the committee. Two white dogs, without spot or blemish, are selected, (if such can be found, and if not, two that have the fewest spots,) from those belonging to the tribe, and killed near the door of the council-house, by being strangled. A wound on the animal, or an effusion of blood, would spoil the victim, and render the sacrifice useless. The dogs are then painted red on their faces, edges of their ears, and m:ii-iii:-\\.\-mi-. on various parts of their bodies, and an curiously d< with ribbons of different colon* and fine feathers, tied and through the .: with bearskin en their legs; and at every time they i gun. They also beg through the tribe, basket in which to receive what. !. The al; Indian tobtt 226 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. other articles that are used for incense or sacrifice. Each manager, at this time, carries a dried tortoise or turtle shell, containing a few beans, which he frequently rubs on the walls of the houses, both inside and out. This kind of manoeuvring by the committee continues two or three days, during which time the people at the council-house recreate themselves by dancing. On the fourth or fifth day, the committee make false faces of the husks, in which they run about, making a frightful but ludicrous appearance. In this dress, still wearing the bearskin, they run to the council-house, smear- ing themselves with dirt, and bedaub every one who refuses to contribute something toward filling the basket of in- cense, which they continue to carry, soliciting alms. Dur- ing all this time, they collect the Evil Spirit, or drive it off entirely, for the present, and also concentrate within themselves all the sins of their tribe, however numerous or heinous. On the eighth or ninth day, the committee having received all their sins, as before observed, into their own bodies, they take down the dogs ; and after having transfused the whole of them into one of their own num- ber, he, by a peculiar sleight of hand, or kind of magic, works them all out of himself into the dogs. The dogs, thus loaded with all the sins of the people, are placed upon a pile of wood, that is directly set on fire. Here DEH-HB-WA-MIS. they are burned, together with iln* sins with which they were loaded, surrounded by the multitude, who throw [noemse of tobacco, <>r the like, into the I'm', the ; of which, they My, goes op to Naowahneu, to whom it is pleasant and acceptable.* * "On the morning of the fifth day, 1000 after dawn, the whir was burned cm an altar of wood, erected bj the " keeper! of tin- frith," Bear the council homo. It is difficult, from outward a a, to draw forth the true intent with wliit-h the dog was burned. Tl scuritj with which tin- objool wss v. [led has led to rations conjee- Among other things, it bee been prononneed ■ sacrinN In the religioue system of the [roquou there is no recognition of the doctrine of atonement for sin, or of the absolution or fa I'pon this whole subject their system is silent. An act OOee done, ed beyond the power of change. Tin advance upon this point of faith was, the belief that good deeds CSU- eeDed the evil, thus placing heaven, through good works, within the . of all. The notion that this was an expiation for sin is thus 1 by their system of theology itself The other idea, that the pie, by some mystic proc tra nsfer red to the by him thus borne away, on the principle of the - of th< Without any foundation in truth. The burning of the dog bad not the slightest connection with the sin of the people. On the contrary, the simple idea of the sacrifice was, to a ad ap the spirit of the do^ as. a n. Spirit, to *nnOUn< 6 their continued fidelity to fa . and, also, to convey to him their I thanks for the b The fidelity of the nion of the Indian, as a hunter, blematical of their fidelity. No messenger so trust] could be Bund, to bear their peti* The Iroquois believed that the « Spirit made a covenant with their fathers, to th< 228 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. This feast formerly continued nine days, hut at present it is not usually held more than from five to seven, although until within a few years nine days were strictly observed ; and during that time the chiefs review the national affairs of the year past ; agree upon the best plan to be pursued through the next year, and attend to all internal regulations. On the last day, the whole company partake of a dinner in common, consisting of meat, corn, and beans, boiled together in large kettles, and stirred till the whole is com pletely mixed and soft. This mess is devoured without much ceremony. Some eat with a spoon, by dipping out of the kettles ; others serve themselves in small dippers ; some in one way, and some in another, till the whole is consumed. After this, they perform the war-dance, the peace-dance, and smoke the pipe of peace ; and then, free from iniquity, each repairs to his place of abode, prepared to commence a new year. In this feast, temperance is observed, and commonly order prevails in a /greater degree than would naturally be expected. They are fond of the company of spectators, who are disposed to be decent, and treat them politely in their they should send up to him the spirit of a dog, of a spotless white, he would receive it as a pledge of their adherence to his worship, and his ears would thus be opened in a special degree to their petitions." — [League of the Iroquois, p. 216. Dl B-HE-WA-BH& way: l»ut havii frequently Imposed npon by the wliitrs. they treat them generally with indifferent Even their danoes appear to be religious r chilly their war and peaoe dances. The war-danoc Is said to have originated about iln* time that the Bh N urthern Indians, commenced the old war with the Cberokees and other southern Indian nations, about one hundred 3 ears ago. When a tribe, <»r ■ number of tribes* of the six Natl had assembled for the purpose of going to battle with their enemies, the chiefs sang this song, and accompa- nied the music with dancing, and gestures thai corre- sponded with the sentiments expressed, as a kind of stim- ulant to increase their courage and anxiety, to march forward t<» the place of earns Those days having passed away, the Indians at this (lay sing the "war-song," to commemorate the achi< iin-nts of their lathers, and as a kind of amusement. When^hey perform it, they arm themselves with a war- club, tomahawk, and knife, and commence singing with a firm voice, and a stern, resolute countenance; I. ut 1 • . they gei through, they exhibit in their features and •ns the mosl shocking appearance of anger, fury, and oe, that can be imagined. No exhibition of the kind can be more terrifying to a stranger. 230 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. The peace-dance is performed to a tune without words, by both sexes. The Indians stand erect, in one place, and strike the floor with the heel and toes of one foot, and then of the other, (the heels and toes all the while nearly level,) without changing their position in the least. The squaws at the same time perform it, by keeping the feet close together, and, without raising them from the ground, move a short distance to the right, and then to left, by first moving their toes, and then their heels. This dance is beautiful, and is generally attended with decency No people on earth appear to be so strictly moral — in conformity to their laws and customs — as the North American Indians generally, in their intercourse between the sexes. The several nations have different forms of approaching to courtship and marriage, which, however, are all very similar — most of the tribes tolerate and practice polygamy and divorce ; some, however, do not. Among the Senecas, both are tolerated, and practiced to some extent. For neither marriage nor divorce is there any particu- lar form or ceremony, other than when an Indian sees a squaw whom he fancies, he sends a present to her mother or parents, who, on receiving it, consult with his parents, his friends, and each other, on the propriety and expe- diency of the proposed connection. If it is not agreeable, DEH-HB-WA-MI8. tfae present is returned; bu( If it is, the foVtf Ifl iiii'.-i of his good fortune, and Immediately goet i<» liw with her, or takes her t»> a hui of bis own preparin *"'■ was not found. <1 upon the affections, which constitute nly legitimate basis of tin- relation in dvili/ ., bat was regulated excluai rel j aa a matter of physical It wai :i the parties to be married; i»ut lubatantiallj their mothers, acting oftentimes under tin- f the matrons and tries men of the tribes to which the parti * * * "When the mother considered her son of a suitabk fur marriage, she locked about her for a maiden, whom, from report or 1 would accord with him in disposition nation between the the near relative.-, and the elderly persons of | - to which each belonged, were • hut their opinions were of no avail, independently of the wish( - of the moth' -. Not the least singular feature of th< transaction ..tire ignorance in which the parties remained • i ; the first intimation they receive :nee- ment without, perh ..noun o. each other. Bemi tion on th, fa attei! tch other as the gift of their parents, As obedience to them in all their requirements was inculcated i mount du r m, in addition to these motives, wss sufficient to .a father iiev. I himself COD- his children. To interfere would 1 an in i de immunii aatever the] ••■ as sa< . 1 by him, as h flexible in enforcii • fur hi- own. * * * * '• Ikon the very nature of the marriage institution among the Iruquuia, 232 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. If a difficulty of importance arises between a married couple, they agree to separate. They divide their prop- erty and children ; the squaw takes the girls, the Indian the boys, and both are at liberty to marry again. From all history and tradition, it would appear that neither seduction, prostitution, nor rape, was known in the calendar of crimes of this rude savage race, until the females were contaminated by the embrace of civilized man. And it is a remarkable fact, that, among the great number of women and girls who have been taken prison- ers by the Indians during the last two centuries, although it follows that the passion of love was entirely unknown among them. Affection after marriage would naturally spring up between the parties, from association, from habit, and from mutual dependence ; but of that marvelous passion which originates in a higher development of the powers of the human heart, and is founded upon a cultivation of the affections between the sexes, they were entirely ignorant. In their temperaments they were below this passion in its simplest forms. "Attachments between individuals, or the cultivation of each other's affections before marriage, was entirely unknown ; so also were pro- mises of marriage. The fact that individuals were united in this rela- tion, without their knowledge or consent, and perhaps without even a previous acquaintance, illustrates and confirms this position. This in- vasion of the romances of the novelist, and of the conceits of the poet, upon the attachments which sprang up in the bosom of Indian society, may, perhaps, divest the mind of some pleasing impressions ; but these are entirely inconsistent with the marriage institution, as it existed among them, and with the facts of their social history." — [League of the Iroquois, pp. 320-323. DEH-HE-W1-MI& they have often been tomahawked and Boalped, their I let ripped open while alive, and otherwise barbarously tortured, not a Bingle instance Is on record, or has ever found currency in the great stock of gossip and Btory which civilized society is so prone to circulate, thai a fe- male prisoner has ever been Ill-treated, abused, or her esty insulted, l>y an Indian, with reference to h<-r • This universal trail in the Indian character can nol be wholly, if in the least, attributed to the cold temperament of their constitutions — the paucity of their animal func- tions, or wan! of natural propensities — for polygamy is not only tolerated but extensively indulged in, an nearly all the North American tribes, of this we have the most abundant proof, not relying solely on the testi- mony <»f Mrs. Jemison, who Btates that it was tolen and practiced in tin- Seneca nation, hut on the statements of all writers on that BUDJect, and of all travelers and sojourners in the Indian country. Major llarston, commanding officer at the l'. s. l Armstrong, in the North-western Territory, in 1820, in an official reportto our government, relative t«> the condition, . ligion, etc. of the various iril.es ,,f the North- ! Hans, -tan-, tint! '• many i>\ these Indian> have three wives; the greatest number that I have known any man to have at one tin five. When an Indian wants more than one wife, he generally prefers 15 J* 234 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. that they be sisters, as they are more likely to agree, and live together in harmony. A man of fifty or sixty years old, who has two or three wives, will frequently marry a o girl of sixteen." On the other hand, this abstemiousness can not be at- tributed to the dictates of moral virtue, as that would be in direct opposition to all their other traits of character. And, again, no society or race of men exists, so purely moral, but that, if there was any crime within their power to perpetrate, to which they were prompted by their passions, some one or more would be guilty of commiting it, if restrained by moral virtue only. Therefore we are driven to the conclusion, that the young warrior has been taught and trained up from his infancy, to subdue this passion ; and to effect that object, he has been operated upon by some direful, superstitious awe, and appalling fear of the consequences of the vio- lation of female chastity ; and, with the same anathema held to his view, taught to avoid temptation, by demean- ing himself perfectly uninquisitive and modest, in the presence of females, and especially female prisoners. It is not supposed, however, that great exertions are made at the present day, to instill those prejudices, if I may be allowed so to apply the word, into the Indian youth, for those dicta have been so long promulgated, and obedience thereto so rigidly enforced, through so many generations DBB-m-wi-mg. that tin y have become an Inborn characteristic of the We tan easily perceive the policy of the ancient found- of this precautionary branoh of savage education, it is worthy of the paternity of a Solon. By this precau- tion. Jealousy, feuds, strife, and bloodshed, are avoided ainon^r the warriors, while they are out on their predatory DS, stealthily seizing prisoners, scalps, or plunder by ni^rlit, or warily and noiselessly Winding their 00 through the forest hy day. 236 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. CHAPTER XVIII * Life of Mary continued — Seneca Reservations sold in 1825 — Is left among the whites — Discontented — Sold her remaining reserva- tion, and removed to Buffalo creek — Professes Christianity — Her death — Is buried near the Mission church — Description of her tombstone — Her descendants. More than eighteen years have elapsed since Mary Jemison related the preceding narrative of her life, and most of its appendages, to our deceased friend, the au- thor of the first edition; during which period many im- portant incidents have transpired, and material changes taken place involving the destiny of the principal sub- ject of this memoir, her family and friends, although none very remarkable or unexpected. Mary Jemison continued to reside on her flats, plant, hoe, and harvest her corn, beans, squashes, etc., annually, in the same routine of laborious activity and undisturbed tranquility, which she had always pursued and enjoyed, in times of peace in the nation, and concord in her family. But the evening of her eventful life was not suffered thus smoothly to pass away. The Senecas having sold all their reservations on th^Genesee River in 1825, and * This chapter was written by Ebenezer Mix, Esqr. ftllOWING BEB H--I-I, AM> MODKRM MPBOVKMBNTfl i DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 239 given po8se88ioD to the whites goon after, they remi with their families to Tonawanda, Buffalo Creek, Cattaraugus reservations, leaving lire. Jamison, her daughters, and their husbands, on her two square miles, BUITOUnded l>y the whites in every direct ion. Thus situ- ated, she and her children grew as discontented and un- easy, afl Alexander Selkirk W88 en the Island of Juan Fernandas. They determined to leave their solitary and Isolated abode among the whites, and again join their tribe, mix in tl ;y. and partake of the joyfl and the sorrows of their kindred and friends. With this in view, Jemiaon 80ld her annuity of three hundred dollars per annum, or rather, received of the obligors a commutation therefor, in ready money. She likewise sold her remain- ing two square miles of land, including her "flat-." t-> ire. Henry B. Gibson and Jellis Olute. In the sum- mer of 1831, ahe removed to Buffalo Creek reservation, where she purchased the Indian possessory righl I • farm on the Buffalo Flats, on which ahe resided in a b1 of peace and Quietude, until the time of her <;• Sire, Jemiaon'i good traits of character were i wholly "f the negative kind; ahe exhibited a rare exam* of unostentatious charity and true benevolent • appeared t«» take pleasure and Belf-aatiafaction in reliev- ing the distress, and supplying the Wantfl of her Wi.. T . 240 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. creatures, whether white or red ; any thing she possessed, however much labor it might have cost her, was freely given, when she thought the necessities of others required it. It would redound much to the honor of the Christian religion, if some of its members would pattern, in some measures, after the pagan woman, in practicing this most exalted of Christian virtues, chanty, in feelings as well as in actions. The bodily infirmities of old age gradually increased in Mrs. Jemison, and enervated her frame ; yet she re- tained her reason and mental faculties to an uncommon extent, for a person of her age ; and her society was not only endurable, but rendered highly interesting and de- sirable, by her natural exuberant flow of animal spirits and good nature. In the summer of 1833, she, in a peacea- ble and friendly manner, seceded from the pagan party of her nation, and joined the Christian party, having in her own view, and to the satisfaction of her spiritual instruc- tor, the Rev. Asher Wright, missionary at that station, repudiated paganism, and embraced the Christian religion. In the autumn succeeding, she was attacked by disease for almost the first time in her protracted pilgrimage, and dropped away suddenly from the scenes of this life, on the 19th day of September, 1833. at her own dwelling on the Buffalo Creek reservation, aged about ninety-one years. Her funeral was conducted after the manner, and with DEH-HK-w a-mi-;. 841 I tho usual ceremonies practiced at ( "liri>tian l.ur. ami was attended l»y i Urge concourse of people, a marble dab DOH marks tin* spot whSN BCI earthly re- uiains rest, in the graveyard msir tin- Beneca Mission ohnrehj with the following Inscription s In lory of TlJK WlIlTE WuMAX, M A R V JEM 1 SON, Daughter of Thomas JeMOM k Jan>: Iilwis, Born on the oeetB, bttWSMI Inland uud Phila., in 1742 or 3. Taken captive at Marsh Creek, Pa. in 11 oH carried down the Ohio, Adopted into an Indian family. In 1751* removed to Genesee River. Was naturalized in 1817. K. in iv.-l to this place in 1831. And having survival two husbands and five children, leaving three still alive; She Died Sept 19th 1833 aged about ninety-one years, II.ivii._' a In expressed a hope of pardon through .-is dean " The counsel of the Lord that shall stand." Mrs. Jenrison's three children, Betsey! Nancy, and ,, who rorvived her, all lived respected, ami died re- grettodf at their several places of residence on the Seneca •\atiuns, in the -hurt ipeCC of 01160 umiiths, in the autumn of is:jo, aged, respectiyely, sixty-nine, sixty-tl 11 242 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. and fifty-eight years, leaving a large number of children and grandchildren to lament their loss. Jacob Jemison, the grandson of Mrs. Jemison, men- tioned by her in Chapter X, as having received a liberal education, and having commenced the study of medicine, passed through a regular course of medical studies, with great success, and was appointed an assistant surgeon in the United States Navy ; in which capacity he sustained an excellent moral, social, and professional character, which requires no stronger confirmation, than the laconic eulogium pronounced by Capt. E., the commander of the vessel on board of which he performed duty 7 . Capt. E., being asked by a gentleman who had known Jemison when a boy, how he sustained the character of his situ- ation, promptly replied : " There is no person on board the ship so generally esteemed as Mr. Jemison, nor a better surgeon in the navy." ' Dr. Jemison died five or six years ago, on board his ship in the Mediterranean squadron, when about forty years of age. Several of the grandchildren of Mrs. Jemison, now living, are highly respected in their nation ; while their talents and moral standing are duly appreciated, and their civilities reciprocated among the whites. They have ac- quired the use of the English language sufficiently to speak it fluently, and have adopted the dress, habits, and manners of civilized society. Her grandchildren and DEH-HB-WA-KI& 248 greai-grandohfldreii are nomerooe: the] on the remaining Beneoa reservations in tbj at present ; hut will, undoubtedly, ere long, take their departure from tin* hind of their fathers, and assume Important positions in legislative and judicial stations in the new Indian trrri- torj :" the Mississippi.* ' • "The author, in fall boyhood, has often seen the ' Whit* Woman,' as she was uniformly called by ti. rs well •.em in which .-In- was held. hail one ion who wee ■ terror to Indians as well as to the early white lettlen - left many d.'.-e.ndants who are not unworthy of her good name. Jacob Jamison, e grandson of here, received a liberal education, peeeed through a OOOrM Of medical stud: is appointed assistant surgeon in the United States Navy, lie died on board of his ship in the Mediterranean." [Tl km. it's LIist. or the Holland Pcrcuask, p. 295. 244 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. CHAPTER XIX. Confederacy of the Iroquois — Extent of their possessions — Red Jacket — Sales of reservations — Ogden Land Company — Govern- ment policy of removal west of the Mississippi — The ultimate ex- tinction of the Red race. History and tradition alike inform us that the Mo- hawks, the Oneidas, the Cayugas, and the Senecas, had, from time immemorial, formed themselves into a great confederacy, strictly adhering to an offensive and defensive alliance. They occupied, for their dwelling grounds, a wide-spread territory, extending from near the banks of the Hudson to the shores of Lake Erie, and from the mouth of the Alleghany to the confines of the St. Law- rence. This tract comprises a greater body of more fertile land, combined with a temperate and healthy climate, great facilities of water communication — not only within the territory, but extending from it in all directions — with extensive hunting grounds and fisheries, than any other tract of the same extent in North America. This territory is admirably adapted to the occupation of a roving and migratory people, who depend more on the chase and on the spontaneous productions of nature DEII-IIE-Wa-MIs\ i*tenance, than on agriculture and the regular pro- dnctkmi of labor. Beside thli rasl domain for i i e, they claimed an ezolojdre right to all that n of country between the Ohio River and Lake now the State of Ohio.) for a spacious hunting ground; and tin- martial prowess of that mighty confederacy enabled them promptly t<» repel any intrusion firom other bribes. They were Indeed a mighty people — whose forcei oonld ; • seen, and whose power oonld 1><' felt, and often was filt. firom the hanks of the St. Lawrence t«> the Golf of M- dco, and firom tin- tides of the Hudson to tin- bans the Mississippi. Until the y»-ar 1712, this people were calh-d by the English* "The Five Nations," or "The erates;" by the French, "The Iroquoi<;" by the Dutch, "The lffaqnas ;" and by themselyee •The Min- !/•• During that year, the Tnsoaroras, whose habita- tion had been in the west part of North Carolina, after B disturbances with the whites in that region, evaou- I their possesions in that colony, removed to Western Fork, and were adopted }>y the Mil a sixth nation. They lived between the ( meidas and ( mondi on lands assigned them for a residence by the former; * This is an error of the author. The Iroquois never called them- , but always the y/"-. icals and pamphlets, using petitions, memorials, and re- monstrances to the United Status government, fin th**ir heavy artillery, by a portion of the Sen*-. ably a majority,) a few restless spirits among the whites, Whfl ftlwmya hang around the borders of Indian Bettlem and the New York, Pennsylvania, and Maryland Q on the one hand; who insist that, although the j bribery and corruption has been resorted to, the treaty has not been executed in council, according to the and customs of the Indians, nor has it been oonfin according to the laws of the United States; while on the other hand, the Ogden Land Company, their ^retainers, and a portion of the Senecas, backed by another class of worthless whites, insist that the treaty has been formally uted by all the parties, and that as few bribes have bet n distributed as is usual an such occasions. If the only object of the nullifiers was to procure for the Indians an equivalent for their trouble and privat: in making exchange of lands, their proceedings might be justifiable; but they insist that the poor Indians shall not emigrate. It certainly can not be of any great impor- tance to the individuals of this remnant of the r whether they are removed by the government, or whether they remain where they now are; provided, thai in adopt- either course, they do it willingly and cheerfully; and it cannot be doubted but that, if they had been left to the 250 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. unbiased volition of their own minds, the Senecas, as a body, would have accepted with joy, the proposition of the government for their removal. The Indians should be honestly and honorably dealt with, and their rights should be guarded with vigilance, and protected with firmness and effect ; but as the Unit- ed States government has adopted the policy of inducing all the Indians, within the territory of the several states, to leave their present abode, and retire, with the aid, and under the fostering care and protection of that govern- ment, to a country peculiarly adapted to their wants, habits, and mode of life, where no state jurisdiction can ever interfere with their laws, customs, and peculiarities, it is the duty of the citizens to assist the government in carrying its measures into effect, as far as they can do so, honestly and honorably; or at least, to remain neutral in relation thereto, and not undertake to thwart the measures of government, and at the same time render the pretended objects of their care more miserable than they otherwise would be ; or we will venture to predict, that, notwithstanding the most vigorous exertions of such philanthropists to the contrary, the time is not far distant, when the Genius of the Empire State will behold the last of the Iroquois wending his way toward the setting sun. DEH-H [S. \» LUDING NOTE. l ROM "i.i: \<.i i: OF THE [ROQ1 0W. W Future d< :" the Indian — Wis reclamation — Schools of tho nu I | irty — Bel turc ■ iip — Their indebtedness to ul'- - —Rights of pro- — Duty oi pie — Th ..t. Tn future destiny of the Indian upon this oontft [fl a Bobjed of DO ordinary interest. If the fact that lie ran not he save I in his native state needed any proof perienoe of the pant, it could be demonstrated from the nature of things. Our primitive Inhabitants are environed with civilized life, the haleful and disastrous inftnence of which, when brought in contact with Indian ltfe, is wholly irresistible. Civilization Kfl well Sfl DTO| — a positive state of society, af taole, overwhelming every lesser agency, •od searching out and filling up every crevl th in the moral and physiosl world; while Indian life is an un- armed condition, a negative Mate, without inherent vital- ity, and without poweri of resistance The Institnl of the red man fix him to the BOfl with a fragile and i«; K * 252 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. carious tenure ; while those of civilized man, in his high- est estate, enable him to seize it with a grasp which de- fies displacement. To uproot a race at the meridian of its intellectual power, is next to impossible ; but the ex- pulsion of a contiguous one, in a state of primitive rude- ness, is comparatively easy, if not an absolute necessity. The manifest destiny of the Indian, if left to himself, calls up the question of his reclamation, certainly, in it- self, a more interesting, and far more important subject than any which have before been considered. All the Indian races now dwelling within the Republic have fall- en under its jurisdiction ; thus casting upon the govern- ment a vast responsibility, as the administrator of their affairs, and a solemn trust, as the guardian of their future welfare. Should the system of tutelage and supervision adopted by the national government find its highest aim and ultimate object in the adjustment of their present difficulties from day to day, or should it look beyond and above these temporary considerations, toward their final elevation to the rights and privileges of American citi- zens? This is certainly a grave question, and if the lat- ter enterprise itself be feasible, it should be prosecuted with a zeal and energy as earnest and untiring as its im- portance demands. During the period within which this question will be solved, the American people can not remain indifferent and passive spectators, and avoid res- DKH-HK-Wi-lOS. ponsihility; fur whiK* tin* government is chief!_ ble fof tin' administration of their civil affairs, tie moral and religious character, which, at least, arc nut important, appeal to the enlightened benevolence of the public at Lai Whether a portion of the Indian family may yet be reclaimed and civilized, and thus saved eventually from the fate which has already befallen su many of uur abor- . will furnish the theme fur a few concluding What is true of the Iroquois, in a general B, can he predicted of any other portion of our prim- inhahitants. For this reason, the facts relied upon itablisb the hypothesia that the Indian can he perma- bly reclaimed and civilized, will he drawn exclusively oial history of the former. There are now about four thousand Iroquois living in the State of New York. Saving for many yean been surruunded by civilization, and shut in from all inter- course with the ruder tribes of the wilderness, they have not <»nly Loei their native fierceness, but have become quite tractable and humane. In addition to this, the ricultural pursuits into which they have gradually he- B initiated, have introduced new modes of life, and ad new aspirations, until a change, in i ■oaroelj perceptible to the casual obs erv er, but in reality Very great, has already been accomplished. At the pres- 254: LIFE OF MAKY JEMISON. ent moment their decline has not only been arrested, but they are actually increasing in numbers, and improving in their social condition. The proximate cause of this universal spectacle is to be found in their feeble attempts at agriculture ; but the remote and the true one is to be discovered in the schools of the missionaries. To these establishments among the Iroquois, from the days of the Jesuit fathers down to the present time, they are principally indebted for all the progress they have made, and for whatever prospect of ultimate recla- mation their condition is beginning to inspire. By the missionaries they were taught our language, and many of the arts of husbandry, and of domestic life ; from them they received the Bible and the precepts of Christianity. After the lapse of so many years, the fruits of their toil and devotion are becoming constantly more apparent : as, through years of slow and almost imperceptible pro- gress, they have gradually emancipated themselves from much of the rudeness of Indian life. The Iroquois of the present day is, in his social condition, elevated far above the Iroquois of the seventeenth century. This fact is sufficient to prove that philanthropy and Christianity are not wasted upon the Indian; and further than this, that the Iroquois, if eventually reclaimed, must ascribe their preservation to the persevering and devoted efforts of those missionaries, who labored for their welfare when DEH-HB-W1-MI& 1 1 1 « - > injured and defrauded by the anscropnlooj, neglected by the civil authorities, and oppressed by the multitude Of misfortunes which accelerated their decline. Then are but two means of reSOOing the Indian fr». m liis Impending destiny; and these ;tre education and Christianity. It" he will n.-.i\«- into his mind the light of knowledge, and tfafl spirit of civilization, he will Bess, noi onrj the means of self-defense, l»ut the power with which to emancipate himself from the thraldom in which he is held. The frequent attempts which have been made to educate the Indian, and the numerous fail- in which these attempts have eventuated. ha\. tent; created a belief in the public mind, that his education and reclamation are both impossible. This enterprise may still, perhaps, be considered an experi- ment, and of uncertain issue; but experience lias not yet shown that it is hopeless There is now, in each Indiau community in the state, a large and respectable class who have become habitual cultivators of the s,,il ; man WhOm have adopted our mode of life, haV€ become inein- rfonary churches, speak our language, and are I set and sensible men. In this particular olaat there is a strong desire for the adoption of the customs of civilized life, and more especially the education of their children, upon which subject they often express tL»' stron g est solicitude. Among the youth 256 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. who are brought up under such influences, there exists the same desire for knowledge, and the same readiness to improve educational advantages. Out of this class Indian youth may be selected for a higher education, with every prospect of success, since to a better preparation for supe- rior advantages, there is superadded a stronger security against a relapse into Indian life. In the attempted edu- cation of their young men, the prime difficulty has been to render their attainments permanent, and useful to themselves. To draw an untutored Indian from his forest home, and, when -carefully educated, to dismiss him again to the wilderness, a solitary scholar, would be an idle experiment ; because his attainments would not only be unappreciated by his former associates, but he would incur the hazard of being despised because of them. The education of the Indian youth should be general, and chiefly in schools at home. A new order of things has recently become apparent among the Iroquois, which is favorable to a more general education at home, and to a higher cultivation in partic- ular instances. The schools of the missionaries, estab- lished as they have been, and are, in the heart of our Indian communities, have reached the people directly, and laid the only true and solid foundation of their per- manent improvement. They have created a new society in the midst of them, founded upon Christianity ; thereby i>i:ii-ni:-\VA-.Mis. awakening new desires, creating new habits, and arousing new aspirations, In fact, they have gathered together the better elements of Indian society, and quiokened them with the Light of religion and of knowledge. A clasa lias thus been gradually formed, which, if encouraged and strengthened, will eventually draw over U) itself that portion of cur Indian population which i improvement and elevation, and willing to make th tempt Under the fostering can- of the government, both state and national, and under the still more efficient tute- of religio hopes may be Justly rtained of the ultimate and permanent civilization of this portion of the Iroquois. It is, indeed, a great undertaking to work off the Indian temper of mind, and infuse that of another race. It is necessary, to its accomplishment, to commence in infancy, and at the missionary school, where our lang t is sub- stituted for the Indian language, our religion for the Indian mythology, and our amusements and mode of life for theirs. When this has been effected, and op mind thus prepared has been shed the light of a higher knowledge, there is not even then a firm assurance that the Indian nature is forever suhdued, and Submerged in that superior one which civilization create-. In the depths et' Indian society there is a spirit and a sentiD to which their minds are attuned by nai 258 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. must be the power, and constant the influence, which can overcome the one, or eradicate the other. In the education of the Iroquois, New York has re- cently made a commencement. Prior to 1846 our Indian youth were excluded from the benefits of the common school fund ; their want of preparation for such schools furnishing, to some extent, a sufficient reason. At that time schools were first opened among them under appro- priations from the public fund. These schools have not met with encouraging success ; but their efficiency would have been much greater if they had been organized upon the boarding-school or missionary plan, instead of that of the common school. The former is the more prac- ticable and successful system of Indian education ; and it is greatly to be hoped that it will soon be adopted. To meet the growing demand for a higher education, the State Normal School, within the past year, has not only been opened to a limited number of Indian youth, but a sufficient appropriation made for their maintenance while improving its advantages. These two important events form an interesting era with the modern Iroquois. It remains only to give them permanent boarding-schools at home for the instruction of the mass of their youth, with access to the Normal School for their advanced scholars, and in a few years they will rise in the scale of intelli- gence, as far above their present level, as their fathers il then. In the days of aboriginal oty, above the tore! i mporary nation In addition to the special claim which the residu< the [roqnoifl have upon the people of the stsfc principle of philanthropy pleads for the encouragement of ihcir young men In their efforts t<> obtain ■ higher course Of inslruclion than the limited earning! of Indian husbandry can afford. The time has come, in their social progr e s s , when they are capable of a thorough intellectual training, and are able to achieve as high and accurate a scholarship as many of their white competitors. The time has also arrived when academical attainments will prove i blessing to thei and to their families. 1.. thr diffusion of knowledge among them, the way will be facilitated for the introduction of the mechanic arts, and for their improvement in agricultural pursuits. A small ! of educated VOUUg men in each Indian community would find suffioienl employment for their acquired Capacities, in the various stations of teacher, physician, DSniOi and fanner; in each and all of which they id greatly promote tin- general welfare. If the d< for improvement, which now prevails among them, is met and encouraged, it will require hut a few years to initiate them into the arts of civili/ed life, and to prepare them eventually for ■ ing those rights of property, righ'.~ of citizenship, which are common b 260 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. How much more noble for the state to reclaim and save this interesting and peculiar portion of her people, than to accelerate their extinction by injustice ; or to abandon them to their fate, when they are struggling to emancipate themselves by taking into their hands the implements of agriculture, and opening their minds to the light of knowledge. There is no want of sympathy for their welfare among the people of New York ; on the contrary, there is a wide-spread and deep-seated interest in their future recla- mation. Whatever can be done to ameliorate their con- dition, and encourage that portion who have commenced the work of their own improvement, would receive the warmest commendation. If the Indian puts forth his hand for knowledge, he asks for the only blessing which we can give him in exchange for his birthright which is worthy of his acceptance. The education and Christianization of the Iroquois is a subject of too much importance, in a civil aspect, to be left exclusively to the limited and fluctuating means of religious societies. The schools established and sustained among them by private benevolence, are, to the Indian, almost the same as common schools to our own people ; and without them the Indian would, in times past, have been denied all means of instruction. These schools bring together the youth for elementary tuition, as a DEH-HE-WA-MW. g .1 necessary preparation for moral and religions traini "While there, thej adopt, in all r< the habits of civilized life, are taught our language, and tb< sim- ple elementary studies. In so r.ir, it would be hut a just act of public beneficence to allow those pupils to draw the same share of public money which falls to the other children of the slate. A S\ Btem of public Indian educa- tion, apon Buch a plan as their circumstances demand, should either he adopted by the state, or a portion of the pnblie money bearing some proportion to tin- number of Indian pupils, should he placed at the disposal of the local missionary, to he expended with an equal portion contributed by private benevolence, or by the [ndians themselves. It is time that our Indian youth were re- garded, in all respects, as a pail of the children of the state, and brought under such a Bystem of tutelage that relation would impose. The Vasl extent of the rele/lolis enterprises of the ! ent day has tended to draw the attention of the Christian world away from the Indian, into fields more distant, perhaps more attractive. During the past sixty y< the [roquois have received hut a small share of the Ohris- watchfulneSS to which their wants entitle them. r hful and zealous missionaries, it is true, have lah among them, producing result sr than rally believed; hut the inadequate scale upon which t] 262 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. missions were organized, and the fluctuations in their effi- ciency, which were inseparable from their irregular and limited supplies, have prevented them from earning for- ward their work to its full cempletion. But whatever has been done, is chiefly to be ascribed to them, and to the denominations which they represent. Too much can not be said of the teachableness of the Indian, and of his aptitude to learn, when subjected to systematic discipline. If the same means, and the same influences which are employed to educate and elevate the mass of our own people, and without the constant appli- cation of which, they themselves would soon fall into ig- norance, were brought to bear upon our Indian popula- tion, they would rise under it with a rapidity which would excite both surprise and admiration. Instances are not wanting among the present Iroquois, of attainments in scholarship which would do credit to any student. To give employment to those Indian youth whose ac- quired capacities would enable them to fill stations of trust and profit among ourselves, is another species of encouragement which commends itself to the generous mind. Both in our civil and social relations with the red men, we regard them as a distinct and separate class ; when in each of these relations they should not only be regarded as our fellow-men, but as a part of our own peo- ple. Born upon the soil, the descendants of its ancient M.II-i: [Ig. proprietors, then It do principle whi h Bbonld make then aliens in the land of their nativity, or exclude them from any of those advantages which are reserved to oursel - ir as they ar<- able to appreciate and enjoy the privileges which pertain to the mass of the people, the claim for participation which their situation silently puts forth Bhonld not be disregarded. The lands of the [roquois are still held in common, the title being voted in the people. Their prog raid a higher agricultural life has rendered this ancient tenure iroe of inconvenience; although they are not as yefl prepared for their division among the people. Each indi- vidual can improve and inclose any portion of their com- mon domain, and sell or retain such improvements, in the same manner as with personal property ; hut they have no power to transfer the title to the land to each other, or to strangers. A- . , riy i - the rei,L r n of James the Second, the riL r ht of pujrchasing Indian lands was made a govern- ment right exclusively, by royal proclamation j and it proved such a necessary shield <■ the rapacity ol that this humane provision Lb still retained law in all the states of the Dnlon, and by the national rnment. When the Iroquois reach such a stable p">i- iculturists, a- to make it safe to divide their land- among the several remittee of each nation, with the power of alienation, it will give to them that stimulus 264 LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. and ambition which separate rights of property are so well calculated to produce. The present system has at least the merit of saving all the people from poverty and va- grancy, if it does not enable a portion of them to become thrifty and substantial agriculturists. The first step towards the amelioration of their condition in this par- ticular, would be a division among themselves, with the power of alienation to each other, under such restrictions as would be adapted to the case. This would serve to prepare the way for other changes, until finally they could be restored, with safety to themselves, not only to the full possession of those rights of property which are common to ourselves, but also to the rights and privi- leges of citizens of the state. When this time arrives, they will cease to be Indians, except in name. The progressive elevation of our Indian population, here indicated, if carried to a successful result, would save but a portion of the Indian family ; but that portion would become, in every respect, as useful and respect- able as any other portion of our people. They would neither be wanting in ability, or morality, or public spirit ; and perhaps it is not too much to conjecture, that specimens of the highest genius, and of the most conspicuous talent, hereafter destined to figure in the civil history of our republic, may spring from the ranks of the Indian citizens. On the other hand, if they are left, unencouraged and I » i : 1 1- 1 1 1:-\\ i-MJB. una- to sin;- insl i heir adverse move fatal still, if they arc subjected to i false and unjust superintendence, the whole Indian family will ere long fade away, and finally become enshrouded in tin* sair.' in which the nu ; land li«' entombed. The present Bystem of national supervision is evi- dently temporary in its plan and purposes, and i lor the administration of our Indian affairs with the least lible inconvenience, rather than fur their ultimate reclamation, to be followed by the bestowmenl of citizen- ship. It carries, upon all its features, the in. that the presence of the Indian npon this continent is temporary ; and that he must inevitably surrender tho remainder df hi Bsions, when he dial! havener surrounded by the white man, and the bui in for the i i apitulation. The sentiment which tem proclain I as emphatic as that embla- d upon the Ron icy toward the Carthaginians — \ago est (hhrtdd, — "Carthage must be destroy! but it reads in do< less Bignificant charaotera — T / im'i nation. This sent iuient, whiell is so wi< i as to have h neral theme for Bchoolboy declamation, is not only founded upon errone- ous views, hut it has been prejudicial to the Indian him- self. If, then, public opinion and the national policy uru 12 266 LIFE OF MARY JEMISOX. both wrong upon these great questions, or if there are even strong grounds for suspecting them to be so, it becomes an act of justice, as well as of duty, to correct the one, and change the other. Our Indian relations, from the founda- tion of the republic to the present moment, have been administered with reference to the ultimate advantage of the government itself; while the reclamation of the Indian has been a secondary object, if it ever entered into the calculation in the slightest degree. Millions of money, it is true, have been expended, and some show of justice preserved in their complicated affairs ; but in all promi- nent negotiations the profit has been on the side of the government, and the loss on that of the Indian. In addition to this, instances of sharp-sighted diplomacy, of ungenerous coercion, and of grievous injustice, are to be found in the journal of our Indian transactions — a perpetual stigma upon the escutcheon of our republic. If references are demanded to the paragraphs, the reader may turn to that upon the Seminoles, or to the Georgia Cherokee treaty, executed by the government, or to the more recent treaties with the Iroquois themselves, in which the government bartered away its integrity, to minister to the rapacious demands of the Ogden Land Company. Jefferson made the civilization of the Indian a subject of profound consideration, and a favorite element of the national policy during his administration. Washington DEH-HB-WA-HI& at a still earlier period, regarded the future welfare of the Indian with deep solicitude. In founding the first system tercoursc end superintendence, he wu guided by tho moat enlightened principles of justice and benevoli and to rach a degree were tin- [roquois, in particular, iiu- with the goodness and beneficence of Ids oharacter, thai they nut only bestowed upon 1dm. in common with other Indian nations, the appelation of Father, but i<» this day he is kn<»wn among theiii as "The Great American." The rive Bpirii of the people, however, in connection with the Blight estimation in which Indian rights were held, v.r been found too powerful an element to be stayed. It has had free ooursc during the last sixty yean, until the whole territory east of the Mississippi, with incon- siderable exceptions, has been swept from the Indian. This fart renders any argument superfluous, to show, that within this period the reclamation and preservation of tie- n-d man has formed no part of the public policy. But within th<- same period the moral elements of i ty have hem developed and strengthened to such a • »- as t» work a change in public sentiment a kindlier feeling toward the Indian is everywhere appa- rent, Joined with an unwillingness to allow him t<> be urged into further extremities. He has been sufficiently the victim of adverse fortune, to he entitled I" a donbk 17 26S LIFE OF MARY JEMISON. portion . of the interest and assistance of the philan- thropist; and a new day, it is to be hoped, has already dawned upon his prospects. It can not be forgotten, that in after years our republic must render an account to the civilized world, for the disposal which it makes of the Indian. It is not suffi- cient, before this tribunal, to plead inevitable destiny ; but it must be shown affirmatively, that no principles of justice were violated, no efforts were omitted, and no means were left untried, to rescue them from their peril- ous position. After all has been accomplished which the utmost efforts of philanthropy, and the fullest dictates of wisdom can suggest, there will still be sufficient to la- ment, in the unpropitious fate of the larger portion of the Indian family. It is the great office of the American people, first, to shield them against future aggression, and then to mature such a system of supervision and tu- telage as will ultimately raise them from the rudeness of Indian life, and prepare them for the enjoyment of those rights and privileges which are common to ourselves. To the Indian Department of the National government the wardship of the whole Indian family is, in a great measure, committed ; thus placing it in a position of high responsibility. If any discrimination could be made be- tween the several departments of the government, this DEH-HK-W A-MIS. 269 should be guided by the most enlightened justice, the nsSdentte philanthropy. Great li the trust re- 1, far it involves the character of the whit*' race, and the existence of the red. May it ever be quickened to duty by I vivid impression of its responsibilities, and never violate, for any consideration, the sacred trust com- mitted to its charge. APPENDIX. APT i: N D IX. I. TRAGEDY OF THE DEVIL'S HOLE. i;y BBBNBZBB Ml \. BSQ. Thi author and oompQei of the first edition of this work took much pain* to procure a oorreoi statement of this transaction, as its details had never before been pub- lished. He procured the statement of Jesse "Ware, then a resident at Fort Schloaser — an aged man, who, after the occurrence, had been for a long time an intimate friend and boon companion of William Stedman, the principal, if not the only person of the English party, who escaped this horrible massacre with life. This statement an to hare awakened inquiry, by which some erron bave been detected, and some new information obtained; therefore, we gire a remodeled statement of the affair, . all the materials now in our PQHOBiion. bee forts Niagara and Schloeser were taken from the French by the British, in July, L750, Bir William J. dm- 274 APPENDIX. son, the British commander, made a contract with Wil- liam Stedman to construct a portage road from Lewiston landing to Fort Schlosser, the distance of eight miles, to facilitate the transportation of provisions and military stores from one place to the other, and superintend the transportation of the same. On the 20th of June, 1763, Mr. Stedman, in conformity to his agreement, having finished the road, started, for the first time, with twenty- five loaded wagons, from Lewiston to Fort Schlosser. Sir William Johnson, being suspicious of the integrity of the Seneca Indians, although the French war was then ended, and amnesty between all parties, the Six Nations included, reciprocally declared, detached a party of fifty soldiers, with their officers, to escort Mr. Stedman's party. The Seneca Indians, who, from their late allies, the French, had imbibed an inveterate hatred against the English, watched the progress of the con- struction of the road, and were determined to nip in the bud the first attempt to use it ; as they considered it a trespass on their premises, and an infringement on their rights. By means of their friendly intercourse with the English, they easily ascertained the time the first attempt would be made to cross the portage with teams. They accordingly congregated their whole force at that time, and lay in ambush on the Niagara River, about half-way APPENDIX. 275 between Lewiston and Fort Schlosser. At this place the road approaches within ■ fa w feel of the edge of the pre- cipice, at an acute-angle in the eastern bank of the river, which descends from eighty to a hundred feet almost perpendicularly, into a hideous-looking dell, called the Devil's Hole. As soon as the British transportation party arrived at this place, the Indians sullied from their ambuscade, in- closed the whole body of the English, and either killed on the spot, or drove off the banks, every soldier, officer, teamster, and assistant, amounting to near one hundred men, together with their horses, carriages, loading, and every thing else pertaining to the expedition, except Mr. Stedman, the superintendent, who was on horseback. A robust and gigantic Indian seized Mr. Stedman's horse by the bridle reins, and was leading him east to the woods, through the scene of deadly strife, probably foi the purpose of devoting him to the more excruciating tor- ments of a sacrifice ; but, while the captor's attention was drawn in another direction for a moment. Stedman, with his knife, cut the bridle reins near the bits, at the same time thrusting his spurs into the flanks of his well-trained charger, rode east into the forest — being the target of hundreds of Indian rifles, aimed at his person and flying ■!, from which neither he nor his horse received the least injury. He continued his course east about two miles, L 276 APPENDIX. where he struck Gill creek, which he followed down to its mouth, and then down the bank of the Niagara River to Fort Schlosser. From all the accounts of this barbarous transaction, Mr. Stedman was the only person belonging to his party who was not either driven or thrown off into the Devil's Hole. Tradition has transmitted to us various accounts of the fate of some few others of the party ; that is, that one, two, or three others escaped with life, after being driven off the bank, although badly wounded and maimed by the fall. Most of the accounts agree in the escape of a little drummer, who was caught, while falling, in the limb of a tree, by his drumstrap, from which he extricated himself, and descended the body of the tree to the ground. The account of this escape is the most to be relied on, because the most probable. Pieces of the wreck of this expedition are to be found at the bottom of the Devil's Hole at the present day. As no attempt was made by the Indians, in this affair, except in the case of Stedman, to take prisoners, scalp the dead, or procure plunder, it appears that those minor objects were entirely merged in the more exalted pursuit, (according to their views,) of destruction, blood, and carnage. The escape of Mr. Stedman, not only from the iron grasp of one of their most athletic and powerful warriors, APPENDIX. :J77 Imt from tlic shown of rifle halls discharged si him from the ritlt-s of their best and most unerring marksmen, oon- fonnded the Indians with wonder and tVur, rurnishii subject whereon to feed their most absnrdi snperstitioni whims. They at once pronounced him s favorite of the Great spirit ; snd t<> sppease its wrath, made Btedman a • nt of til.- bract "i" land In- had encompassed in liis retreat t.> Fori Bchlosser; to wit, beginning at the Devil's Hole; thence running east, to Gill creek; thence south- erly, down the creek, to tin- Niagara River; thence i down the river, to Niagara Falls; and thence northerly, still bounding en the river, to the place of beginni being a tract about two miles wide, and three and a halt' miles long. But neither the British government, nor the United States, or either of the states, has ratified or con- firmed that gift ; although Jesse Ware, claiming under Stednian, has, for a number of years in succession, sailed our legislative halls for the land, or some remune- ration therefor. Nor does it appear that even the Indians themselves, after the excitement produced by the tr action had subsided, recognized any validity in Stedman's title: for tin- next year, 1764, they ceded tin- same tract, her with other land-, extending north to Lake Ontario, to the king of (ireat Britain, for a oanying-plaOi around the Tails of Niagara. 278 APPENDIX. II. GENERAL SULLIVAN'S EXPEDITION TO WESTERN NEW YORK. During the years 1777 and 1778, the warriors of the Six Nations, the greater portion of the Oneidas excepted, bribed by British gold, clothing, rum, and gewgaws, and impelled by their natural thirst for blood — entirely dis- regarding all former treaties and pledges — attacked and laid waste the north-western frontier settlements of New York and Pennsylvania. Their footsteps were indelibly marked with the tomahawk and ihe scalping-knife, with- out regard to age, sex, or conditiou ; and the destruction of all property on which the firebrand or rifle-ball could be made to take effect — as the valley of Wyoming, the fields of Cherry Valley, and the banks of the Mohawk, bore melancholy testimony. It became necessary for the safety, if not for the very existence of our border settlements, that these hired plun- derers, incendiaries, and assassins should receive a signal chastisement for their predatory and barbarous incursions ; APPENDIX* not only as an act of retributive justice, bill to deprive them of the means of repeating these atrocities. To effect tins grand desideratum, in the spring of L779 mea- sures weft- taken to destroy their abodes and their means of subsistence — drive them from their retreats to more re- mote regions, and strike them with terror at the extermi- nating principles of the mode of warfare adopted; this being decided to be the only means of Bubduing, or even Crippling the strength of a faithless toe, whose treaties are made only to he broken, and who are seldom to be Caught or found, except when, for motives of advantage, they choose to stay or to reveal themselv< As no connected account of this transaction, in detail, has ever been published, to our knowledge, we are under the necessity of culling from all the sources now access- ible, the most authentic materials to form a connected narrative. For these materials, we acknowledge our- selves indebted to Marshall's Life of Washington, the British Annual Register, the EncvcloptBdis Americana, the Researches of De Witt Clinton, Washington's Letters, the Statement of .John Salmon. Esq., late of GfOVeland, Livingston comity, X. Y., who was orderly sergeant in the rifle company commanded by ('apt. Michael Simpson and Lieut. Thomas Boyd, forming part of Bullivaa*! army; and last, although not least, the statements of ( ,ur 260 APPENDIX. worthy friend Major Moses Van Campen, who bore a conspicuous part in the battle which took place on the Tioga, and now resides as a retired gentleman, in the valley of the Genesee. The original plan of this important campaign was, that the country of the Six Nations should be entered by three divisions of the army at the same time. The prin- cipal body, composed of generals Maxwell, Hand, and Poor's brigades, together with a train of artillery, the whole consisting of about three thousand men, to rendez- vous at Wyoming under the immediate command of Major General Sullivan ; from whence to march up the Susquehanna, and enter the heart of the territory of the Six Nations, occupied by the Senecas and Cayugas. The second division, composed of General Clinton's command of about fifteen hundred, who had wintered at Schoharie, were to ascend the valley of the Mohawk, pass through the territories of the Oneidas, as they had adhered to the treaty of neutrality, and attack and lay waste the settlements of the Tuscaroras and Onondagas; after which they were to join Gen. Sullivan in'the Genesee country; and the third division, consisting of between five and six hundred men, under the command, of Colonel Brodhead, to march from Pittsburgh up the Alleghany, and after laying waste the Seneca villages and settle- APPENDIX. incuts on that river, lik o Join General Sullivan, if ry. the troops destined for the grand expedition been pal in motion, owing to tome anfbrtanatc oirconv as, an enterprise of less extent was projected b i ral Bchnyler, and its execution carried Into efted with m. On the nineteenth <»f April. Colonel Scheie] ted by Lieutenant-Colonel Wilh-t and Major Cochran, at the bead of between five and six hun- dred smb., marched from Fori Bchnyler, (Utica,) amj^on third day reached and surprised the Onondaga Indian settlements. In the first village which they attacked, killed twelve Indians, and made thirty-four pri including cue white man; tins giving the alarm, the Indians deserted the other villages, extending ov< large territory, and fled to the woods. The party then, without mo l es ta tion, bnrned all their boUdings, provisions, and other combustible property in tin- several villi killed their horsr<, cattle, and other stock, and ut; ■d the whole set t lenient . With BUCfl preeipi- bad the Indiane fled from their villages, that they about a hundred lines and gnni in theirhooses. The party having finished their work of destruction, retut to Fori Bchnyler On tin- sixth day, without the h>>> of a man. '1 he eastern division of the army, under the command 252 APPENDIX. of General Clinton, marched to Schenectady in the month of May, and proceeded up the Mohawk in boats, over- awing and putting to flight the remnant of the Mohawks, who were still hanging around their native valley. But in consequence of the principal object of their being as- signed to that route, the destruction of the Onondaga settle- ments, having been accomplished by the enterprise of Colonel Van Schaick and his party, on their arrival at Can- ajoharie, General Clinton received orders from Major-Gene- ral jjullivan, under whose command he was, to march his division to Otsego Lake, provide boats, and make other preparations to descend the eastern branch of the Susque- hanna River, and meet him at Tioga Point when after- ward directed. Agreeable to orders, Gen. Clinton marched his division to Otsego Lake, provided two hundred and eight boats, and necessary provision, threw a dam across the outlet, thereby raising the water in the lake two feet or over, to enable him, when he pleased, to cause a freshet in the river, to float his boats down with the greater rapidity and safety. He then waited for further orders. The main army, which rendezvoused at TTyoming, under the command of General Sullivan, for the want of supplies, and by reason of other adverse circumstances, did not leave that place until the last of July, when it marched to Tioga Point, where, on the 22d of August, it was joined by the eastern division under General Clinton. APPENDIX. Alter the junction of the two di\: ral Sullivan ned the oommand In chief, haying, for hfti bnmedlate subordinates, generals OUntOD, Maxwell, Poor, and Hand, and Major Parr, of the rifle oorpa. Genera] Sullivan then marched Dp the 'l logo Etiver m search of the enemy, who, he had ascertained, were in •am force, at no great distance on that route. On the 29th ofAnguat, at n o'clock, a.m.. the enemy was dis- hy the ran-guard, about one mile below Newton, (now Klmira.) The whole force that the enemy were able to collect, amonnting, according to Sullivan's acconnt, t<» fifteen hnndred, Of Whom tWO hundred were white s, known as Butler's i and the reaidne In- dians, commanded by Brandt, the two Button, Grey, I Johnaon, and McDonald, were be ambled, covered by a lengthy breaatworfc, rudely constructed of logs and felled trees, masked with pine and shrub-oak hushes stuck in the ground. The right flank of this work wai by the rivn the Genesee River. They •d the fooi of Canandaigna Lake, meting out i full ore of destruction and desolation on the village and settlement at that place, as well as on the village at the outlet of the Boneoye, On their arrival at the head of Concern Lake, within eighl or nine miles of Little Beard'i Town, they encamped on the ground, now known a- II. m- on'a Flats. rly in the evening, a party of twenty-one men •. detached, and sent out under the command of Lieutenant mpanied by a faithful Oneida Indian i guide, for the purpose of reconnoitering in the vicinity of 1..- Bet rd'i Town. Their firs I point of destination was an Indian villa-.- on the Easl side of Genesee Etiver, ly opposite the capital of th< to which it a kind of BUburb. On the arrival of the party at the Village, they found that it had been lately I ■:. as fires in the huts wen- >till burning. Being much 2S6 APPENDIX. fatigued, and the night being far spent, they encamped for the residue of the night in a secluded place near the village, sending two of their number back to the main army to report. In the morning they crept from their place of concealment, and discovered two Indians hover- ing about the settlement, one of whom was immediately shot and scalped by one of the riflemen, by the name of Murphy. Having thus exposed their presence in the place, Lieutenant Boyd, concluding that any further attempt to gain information would not only be useless, but rashly hazardous, ordered a retreat to the main army. This little band retraced their steps until they arrived within a mile and a half of the camp, when they were intercepted by a party of observation from the enemy's camp. They fought desperately and rashly, for there was no chance to retreat. The result was, that twelve were killed, including their faithful guide. Lieutenant Boyd and a private by the name of Parker were taken prisoners, and the remaining seven made their escape by flight through the enemy's ranks, among whom was the brave but incautious Murphy. The dead of this little heroic band were left on the ground by the Indians, and Lieutenant Boyd and Parker were immediately con- ducted to Little Beard's Town. When Lieutenant Boyd began to realize his situation as a prisoner of the Indians, he solicited an interview APPENDIX. with Brandt, who, ho knew, commanded bis oapi of whose eharaoter be had received some Information. chief immediately presented himself, when Lieuten- ant Boyd, by one of those appeals which an- known only to those who hare been Initiated and duly Instructed in sin mysteries, and which will never fail to bring our to a " distressed brother," addressed him as the only source from which be could expert a respite from cruel punishment or a lingering and painful death. The appeal was recognised, and Brandt immediately, and in the strongest langi sored him that his lit'. d. Brandt, however, being called on to perform particular service which required a few hours ace, left the prisoners in the charge of the British colonel, Butler, of the rangers. A- soon as Brandt had left, Butler commenced his inter . to obtain from the prison katement of the number, situation, and intentions of the army under I ieral Sullivan, and threatened, in case they lien- or prevaricated in their snswers, <<• deliver them up to -d by the Indians, who. in Brand'- and with the encouragement of their more - oom- . B Her, were ready to commit the greatest cru- elties. Belying, probably, on the promises which Brandt had mad.- them, and which undoubtedly he intended to fulfill, they refu.-ed to ghrc Butler the desired information. 28S APPENDIX. Butler, upon this, hastened to put his threat into exe- cution. They were delivered to some of their most fero- cious enemies, who, after having put them to the most severe torture, killed them by severing their heads from their bodies.* The main army, immediately after hearing of the dis- aster which befell Lieutenant Boyd's detachment, moved on toward Genesee River, and finding the bodies of those who fell in Boyd's heroic attempt to break through the enemy's ranks, buried them on the battle ground, which is now in the town of G-roveland. Upon their arrival at the Genesee River, they crossed over and found Little Beard's Town and all the adjacent villages deserted. The bodies of Lieutenant Boyd and Parker were found and buried in one grave, near the bank of Little Beard's creek, under a clump of wild plum trees. Mr. Salmon was one who assisted in committing to the earth the remains of his friend and companion in arms, the gallant Boyd. The army, having scoured the country for many miles up and down the river, burning all the Indian villages, and destroying all their com, hogs, cattle, and other means of subsistence, finally, to close their labors of destruction, applied the torch to the ancient metropolis of the Seneca nation, Little Beard's Town, which con- tained one hundred and twenty-eight houses. *See Mrs. Jemison's account, page 122. APPENDIX. White Genera] Sullivan had 1h-.ii laying Cayuga, and pail of the Seneca settlement, the western division under Colonel Brodhead marched op tin Alle- ghany River and French creek. Here too, the [ndiani totally onable to reaisl the force with winch they were invaded. After one onsnoceeatoJ Bkirmiah, they abandoned their village* and property, and fled to the da for pereonal safety. Oolonel Brodhead, ba •d the settlements on French creek, ascended the Alleghany to (Mean Point, destroying all the Indian \il- a oo French creek and on the Alleghany Hirer; and, rtaining that it was not necessary for him to Join the main army, he returned with his division to Pittsburgh, . Buffalo Creek, and Tonawanda tleim-nts exempt from this general destruction. General Sullivan, with the main army and the eastern division, having destroyed forty Indian villages, (including \rd by Colonel Van Schaiok's party, and the era division under Colonel Brodhead,) one hundred and >i\ty thousand luishels of OOrh, vast quantith- I i ,.! other vegetables, a great Dumber of her ttle, farming utensils, etc.. a' rythlng that :li of labor "i- produce of cultivation — I the sanguinary achievement of three weeks unmol< and unremitting employment <>f between four and thui^and men — OOUntennarohedtO Newtown, has 290 APPENDIX. absent five weeks ; thence past Tioga Point, Wyoming, and Easton, to New Jersey, where he went into winter quarters ; having lost but about forty men during the whole campaign, either by sickness or the fortunes of war. APPENDIX. 291 III. REMOVAL OF THE REMAINS OF BOYD. BY BBBNBZBB MIX, l>a. In the year 1841, some gentlemen in Rochester, and along the Genesee Valley, determined to pay ■ tribute of Bci to the memory <>f Lieatenanl Boyd and his com- panions, who fell or were sacrificed at Little Beard's Town and it* vicinity, during General Sullivan's cam- d, by removing their remains to Rochester, and rein- terring them, with appropriate solemnities, in the new v al Mount 1 1 « »i »« - . The necessary preparations were made, by disinterri the remains, depositing them in the capacions urn. and raising a large mound of earth over tin- grave <•{" Lmutrn- ■ r a memorial. On the twentieth of August, 1841, a large conoourse of people assembled at tin* vil- of Cuyh-r, among whom w< i Revolutioi patriots, and in particular Major M \ an Campen, and other feUow-soldleri who were with Boyd and Ids un- fortunate companions, in Sullivan's army, when the urn 292 APPENDIX. containing the remains was removed from the top of the mound, under convoy of a military escort, composed of several independent companies, and a band of music from Rochester, to Colonel Cuyler's grove, near the village of Cuyler, where a pertinent and lucid, historical and bio- graphical discourse was pronounced by Treat, Esq., after which, the remains were escorted to Rochester, by the military, music, citizens, etc., in several canal-boats. The next day, the remains were removed from the city of Rochester to Mount Hope, escorted as before, and at- tended by His Excellency, Governor Seward, his military suite, and an immense concourse of citizens. After an appropriate address by His Excellency, and an appeal to the throne of Grace by the Rev. Mr. E. Tucker, the re- mains were reinterred by the military with the honors of war. APPENDIX. IV. THE GENESEE I < HJNTB1 As it was AND i>. i:\ BBBNBZBB MIX. B8Q. 1 r may not be uninteresting i" ilic readert t<» com] the >tat<- of the "Genesee country " as it was eighty-two yean ago, when our narrative first Introduced as into that region, with what it is now; ami view tin- c.ii>tra>t. Along the northern border of the district referred t<>, then t<><> rude ami desolate even for an Indian resid< tin- Erie ('anal now winds its way, floating the products of the fertile regions <>i" the west, to tin- great commercial emporium of the nation; and returning to the western ■ olturists, contributions from the manufacturing estah- lishmente of every nation, and the productions of the clime. Tin Valley ("anal, now being constructed, is in a forward and ; -tate, being now navigable from Rochester to Mount Morris. 'This canal i the Brie canal at Rochester, up the west bank of i (-Mr Uiver, and fl iville — near Fowlers\ille ami <.<:.•- 294 APPEXDIX. through the village of Cuyler, and past Moscow, to Squawkie Hill and Mount Morris, having passed through the ancient sites of Cannewagus, Bigtree, Little Beard's and Squawkie Hill villages. At Squawkie Hill it crosses Genesee River in a pond, where it diverges from the river and pursues its course through the village of Mount Morris, and up to the valley of the Canneskraugah creek, to the Shaker settlement, in the town of Groveland; from which place a branch canal extends along the val- ley of the Canneskraugah to Dansville — the main canal here taking the valley of Cushaqua creek, converging again toward the river, passing through the villages of Nun da Valley and Messenger's Hollow, reaches Genesee River again at Portageville, after having been carried through the " deep cut," necessary to disengage it from the valley of the Cushaqua ; and the Tunnel upward of sixty rods in length, through the ridge of rock, mentioned in Chapter V, page 87, as having, according to conjec- ture, once extended across the river, and filled its present channels above the upper falls. At Portageville the canal is taken across the river in an aqueduct ; it then traverses the western bank of the river, and the western margin of the flats, passing Mix- ville within half a mile of its center, from which is con- structing a navigable feeder into the canal ; from thence it continues along the western margin of Canneadea Flats, i . N 1 1 1 X . k crrrk, which approaches the from the. south-w< The canal then passes np the vail, y of Black creek, to the summit level in the town of C thence amis* I lu* summit level, about two miles thn a marsh, to the water- ; thence dowi y, through the village of Onba, to Hinsdale, at the Junction of OD and [schna creeks, whence the stream mes the name of Olean creek; thence down the d valley to the village of Olean, on the Alleghany river, which is about fourteen miles above tin* Indian village of Unawaumgwa or Tuneunguan, Introduced to our readers in the fourth and fifth chapters, it U however Unimportant it may appear, that this canal. : D to Little Heard's Town, follows, with no ma'. deviation, the old Indian path, or trail, which Mar\ .1 sen traveled nearly a century ago, when she first I ishau. Although the wh«»!e of the Genesee country Is now red with groves, orchards, and fields; studded with villa its, farm-ho . and granai it will not be thought invidious t-> ] arttanlarizc tie- p Ituatioo of the localities especially ed t«» in The ground on which stood the great metropolis of the Seneca — Little Beard's Town — la now con verted into fruitful corn and wheat lields ; but adjoining is the village 296 APPENDIX. of Cuyler, which has sprung up, as it were by magic, since the Genesee Valley Canal became navigable to Mount Morris. The village of Geneseo, with its court- house and other county buildings, churches, academies, and elegant private mansions, lies about three miles to the north-east, while Moscow, with its spacious public square, churches, academy, etc., lies two miles to the south-west. The sites of Bigtree and Cannewagus vil- lages are known but as fertile fields, yielding abundant har- vests ; while on the east side of the Genesee, near Canne- wagus, is the pleasant village of West Avon, and the Avon mineral springs, the medical properties of whose waters, and the romantic scenery displayed in its location and environs, render it, of late years, a desirable retreat for invalids and the infirm; and a fashionable resort for health and beauty. The old encamping ground at the "Big bend " is now occupied by the staid business village of Batavia, with its county buildings, five churches, female seminary, etc. The Tonawanda, Tuscarora, Cattaraugus, and Buffalo Creek villages are still occupied by the remnant of the Senecas ; but Tonawanda has its neighboring villages of Akron and Caryville — Tuscarora its Lewiston, Cattar- augus its Lagra'nge, and the Buffalo Creek villages are closely bordered by the city of Buffalo, with its immense commerce, and all the various component parts, with the APPENDIX. useful and ornamental appendages whioh constitute i city. Geneva oooeupiei 1 1 1 * * ground on wbiefa GK Sullivan captured a village containing one papa the Bite of the "Old Castle » i. now flanked I i Tin- Sabbatioal and wealthy Tillage of Ganandaigua, with nt public and private edift nds in bold oon- ■ with the midnight pow-wov I ah aan-dah-gwa, with its cluster of wigwams. Dansville takes its station M among the Slipperj " and Impro Ith oom- aeali its manufacturing facilities. Although the site of Squawkie Hill village Is used for agricultural purpoees only; in its vicinity, on tin- ground where itood one of Ebenezer or Indian Allen's harems. DOW stands the lively and pleasant village of Mount Rforris. Above the Portage Kails is the village of Portageville, with it> ; water-power, and numerous factories, Near the site of the Lower Ganneadea Indian village i> the village liwille, with its church and other public buildings — 1 facilities for using its permanent water-pow- er and its present machinery propelled thereby. The !i> River villages are still occupied by the Indians. .War the month of Allen 1 .. between Mount aCor- ad Rochester, where stood Indian Allen's other harem, .standi th.- village of Soettavflle, a flourishing : iness place; and at the northern succession .'.Is on tin- ' B, where Allen built ; 298 APPENDIX. apology for a grist-mill in the west, now stands the city of Rochester, with all its superb public and private edi- fices, its commerce and manufactures, together with its hundred run of stones in its flouring-mills, manufacturing more flour annually than is produced at any other place on the globe. Some idea of the improvements in a social and relig- ious point of view which have taken place on this terri- tory within less than thirty years may be drawn from the following fact : In the year 1811, there was standing near the Caledo- nia Springs a wood-colored house, without porch, steeple, dome, or tower, to denote its use. This building was oc- cupied as a Scotch Presbyterian meeting-house; and it was at that time the only building erected or exclusively used for Divine Worship in the State of Xew York, on or west of Genesee River, although the territory then contained at least twenty-five thousand inhabitants. During the three following years, this territory was the scene of a border warfare, in which no age or sex was exempt from slaughter, and no edifice too sacred for the application of the torch. The observance of the Sab- bath was merged in the tumults of the camp ; and the din of battle, with its . martial music, usurped the place of the deep-toned organ and the harmonious choir ; while the full voice of the commanding chief silenced the per- API'KXLIX. suasive eloquence of the apostolic minister — the messen- ger of peace. This territory now contains two Urge cities, and is thickly interspersed with thriving villages; — the cities contain numerous houses for public worship; each vi. is provided with from one to live; and in tlie hack fanning towns, where there is no oompaci settlement Berving the name of a Tillage, the eye of the traveler will Boaroely lose Bighl of one or more of those spires, cupo- las, <»r towers, pointing toward the sides, emphatically proclaiming to his mental ear, as from the surrounding habitations, "We, too, worship God." 19 M 300 APPENDIX. V. INDIAN GEOGRAPHICAL NAMES,* IN THE STATE OF NEW YORK. NUN-DA'-WA-O-NO'-GA. OR THE TERRITORY OF THE SENECAS. SENECA DIALECT. CHAUTAUQUE COUNTY. ENGLISH NAME. INDIAN NAME. SIGNIFICATION. Dunkirk, Gii-na'-da-wa-o, Running through the Hem- locks. Cattaraugus Creek, \ ^a-da'-ges-ga-o, ) Fetid B&nk3m ( Ga-hun'-da,f ) Silver Creek, Ga-a-nun-da'-ta, G. A mountain leveled down. Chautauque Creek, Gii'-no-wun-go, G. In the Rapids. Conewango River, Ga'-no-wun-go, G In the Rapids. [locks. Canadawa Creek, Gii-na'-da-wa-o, G. Running through the Ilem- Cassaclaga Creek, Gus-da'-go, G. Under the Rocks. Cassadaga Lake, Gus-da'-go. Te-car- ne-o-di',f Under the Rocks. Chautauque Lake, Cha-da-queh, T. Place where one was lost. Cattaraugus, Ga'-da-ges'-ga-o, Fetid Banks. CATTARAUGUS COUNTY. Alleghany River O-hee'-yo, G. The Beautiful River. Great Valley Creek, O-da'-squa-dos-sa, G. Around the Stone. [one. Little Valley Creek, O-da'-squa-wa-teh' G. Small Stone beside a large * From The League of the Iroquois, p. 465. f Gd-hun' -da and Te-car-ne-o-di' are common nouns, signifjing, the former u a river," or " creek," and the latter, " a lake." They are always affixed hy the Iroquois, in speaking, to the name itself. DIX. I ' Burto Lin Kllit-uttville, Haak >> oil Spru • Trail nn 1 II.- - fog < » I. I I' J - - .-.!■ k, Q. | ; . [ndian, i .-\mi:i-.1u, I. ! Q-di-QUl, H icO f'-»r boldil •neh, I in. II' - Sun- 1 .. By tl I L-no, . Spring. iili, Bejond to Oil. I».i -u-de-bok-to, At the B •BO, W..-.i -L'wtu-iic-vuh. ERIE COUS Two Sisters C; l M BOTtt 4< Buffido " CajUgB u Ellicott M Grand lal i If He •L-k, ! Jo, k, WUliamsTiQe, 1 QoQoir, Aki L Vil. I i. lit tin^r the Fork. Through the 1 1 n s 9 - Level 11' . On the Island. Pull of B I Ilk. :ig. I : iffido Creek. do. A i: re, Ifanj FaDa. Full of II :k. • ■i IT . utet .or.) I off I BdL The i r .: lioata, or P 302 APPENDIX. ENGLISH NAME. Tonawanda Creek, Aliens u Black " INDIAN NAME. Ta'-na-wun-da, G. O'-at-ka, G. Ja'-go-o-geh, G. GENESEE AND WYOMING COUNTIES. SIGNIFICATION. Swift Water. The Opening. Place of Hearing. (This is Feminine.) Place of Hearing. The Great Hearing Place. Place of many Trenches. By the Cedar Swamp. By the Plains. Ya'-go-o-geh, Deo-on'-go-wii, Te-car'-da-na-duk, Ga'-swa-dak, Gau'-dak, Te-ca'-so-a-a, Gweh'-ta-a-ne-te- car'-nun-do-deh, Da-o'-sa-no-geh, Stafford, Batavia, Oakfield, Alabama, Caryville, Pine Hill, Attica, Alexander, Wyoming, Pembroke, Le Roy, Darien, Silver Lake, Silver Lake Outlets, Ga-na'-yat, G. Caneadea Creek, Ga-o'-ya-dc-o, G. Warsaw, Chi'-nose-heh-geh, Tonawanda Village, Ta'-na-wun-da, Gardow, Gii-da'-o, Pine lying up. The Bed Village. Place without a Name. Te-car'-ese-ta-ne-ont, Place with a Sign-post. O-a'-geh, [dil'-ne-o, On the Boad. Te-car'-no-wun-na- Many Rapids. Place of Turkeys. Signification lost. O-so'-ont-geh, Ga-na'-yat, T. Same as Caneadea. On the Side of the Valley. Swift Water. Bank in Front. Genesee River, Wiskoy Creek, Black Creek, Angelica, Caneadea, Caneadea Creek, Gii-o'-ya-de-o, G Nunda, Wiskoy, O-wa-is-ki, Caneadea, ALLEGHANY COUNTY. Gen-nis'-he-yo, G. The Beautiful Valley. O-wa-is'-ki, G. Under the Banks. Ja-go'-yo-geh r G. Hearing Place. Gii-ne-o'-weh-ga-yat, Head of the Stream. Gii-o'-ya-de-o, Where the Heavens lean against the Earth. Where the Heavens rest upon the Earth. Hilly. Under the Banks. Under the Banks. Where the Heavens lean against the Earth. Nun -da '-o, O-wa-is'-ki, O-wa-is'-ki, Gii-o'-ya-de-o, APPENDIX. LIVINGSTON < OUN1 v. UI. ■esua Out! Hemlock Lai, lock Outlet, Mount Morris, Dansville, Die, Lima, Avon, Caledonia, M - • iw, Squawkie Hill, Sito of Moscow, Little Beard's Town, Big Tree Village, Tuscarora Village, Ganowauges, of Dansville, Livonia, Site of Mount Morris, tVE. -sos, T. <;. . -ii, r. O-iieh -i. ■ -H, So-no'-jo-wau-ga, Ga-nus'-ga-go, De-o'-de-sote, -o, no'-waa-a De-o'-na-gii-no, ■ ■h'-da-oi.- Da-yo'-it-ga-o, Ga-neh'-dii-on-tweh, De-o-nun'-du-_ Cu-un-do -wa-na, O-hii'-gi, G;i-no'-wau-ge3, Ga-nus'-ga-go, De-o'-d.- So-no -jo-wau-ga, iTiipN Among the Milkweed. II II Burned. •nee of a :.«-ca OUd ) The spring. ■ ' . ■ l *. •'. [ed. Where Hemlock was gpill- Where the I from the Hills. Where Eemloek was spilled. Where the Hill is near. A Big Tree. Crowding the Bank. Fetid Wati Among the Milkweed. The Spring. Big K MONROE COUNTY. it Bay, Salmon I'r.rk, Creek, Dooeoye Greek, Roch< - I i ille, • u-<*n-r, Cananda:. Victor, Gi«nun - l (Ja-nun -da-ok, Nun -u tii. . mil. In tin- l>as>\v Greet Hill. Settlement Vi:: raddenly ■prang up. Iu the P»a»>\vood Couuti v. Great Hill. FATES, STEUBEN, AND CHEMUNG COUNTIES. Crooked 1 0-gO -\;t Promontory pi into the Lei u Outlet, O-go'-vii-ga, G. " M Conhocton River, Gii-ha'-to, n the W;r Hath, Do-na'«ti-gwen-da, Opening in tn Opening. Pain* Te-cer ■naeo-to-o-ah, a Lhnira, Skwe -do-\s.i, it Plain. GrWE-U -GWEH-O-NO -<;a. 01 tiik TBBBITOBT OP Tin: < LYUGA8. PARTLY CAY1 GA AND PARTI V i Point, [the Canoga, 1 Gwe-a 'gweh, T. I ' WtD -dote', l do -geh, Cavugu Bridge, War At tl. At tin- Heed of th.' Lake. i i nt Dawn. Oil Floating on tin. '« A Long Bridge. 306 APPENDIX. ENGLISH NAME. Montezuma, How-land's Island, Waterloo, Seneca River, Clyde River, Auburn, Otter Lake, Muskrat Creek, Owasco Outlet, Owasco Lake, North Sterling Creek, Sodus Bay Creek, Site of Canoga, Site of Union Springs, Above Lockwoods Cove, Site of Ithaca, INDIAN' NAME. Te-car'-jik-ka'-do, Ga-weh'-no-wii-na, Skoi'-yase, Swa'-geh, G. Ga-na'-gweh, G. Was '-co, Squii-yen'-na, T. Squa-yen'-na, G. De-a-go'-ga-ya, G. D was' -co, T. Dats-ka'-ke, G. [G. Te-ga-hone'-sa-o'-ta, Ga-no'-geh, Ge-wa'-ga, Ga-ya'-gji-an'-ha, Ne-o'- dak-he '-at, SIGNIFICATION. Place of Salt. Great Island. Place of Whortleberries. Flowing Out. (Some doubt about the Signification.) River at a Village suddenly sprung up. Floating Bridge. A great way up. " " [ed. Place where Men were kill- Lake at the Floating Bridge. Hard Talking. A Child in a Baby Frame. Oil on the Water. Promontory running out. Inclined downward. At the End of the Lake. O-NUN'-DA-GA-O-NO'-GA, OR THE TERRITORY OF THE OXOXDAGAS. ONONDAGA DIALECT. Susquehanna River, Ga-wa-no-wa'-na- neh, G. Great Island River. Where the Valley widens. Owego, Ah-wa'-ga, Owego Creek, Ah-wa'-ga, G. " Cortland, O-nan'-no-gi-is'-ka, Shagbark Hickory. Homer, Te-wis'-ta-no-ont-sa'- ne-a-ha, Place of the Silver Smith. Owasco Inlet, Ka'-na-ka'-ge, G. Black Water. Tionghinoga River, O-nan'-no-gi-is'-ka, G. Shagbark Hickory. ONONDAGA COUNTY. Tully Lake, Te-ka'-ne-a-da'-he, T. A Lake on a Hill. Tully, Te-ka'-ne-a-da'-he, " " Apulia, O-nun'-o-gese, Long Hickory. APPENDIX. Wl ESGL1M liHI. Bkaa tfc '. - L>ka, OlJ5- . r. I Pompey Hill, : Hill, Onondaga Hollow, '.lua, N ■ I .' Joni I Fort >n, . i Outlet, Liver; k, , Q. H;i-lian -l't, - . •. T. . -quit, Tun-da-' I :. W.i- M [ter. 1 1 tioll A I . . :,}). Thrown Out. 1 ouncil ft Place of Salt. Pine i Top ha: am. ... '• • W . [rise*, leuly do. IitrblftlT lug. A 1! 308 APPENDIX. ENGLISH XA>re. IXDIAX XA1TE. SIGXIFICATIOX. Onondaga Castle, Ka-na-tii-go'-wii, Signification lost. Four Miles East of Castle, Tu-e-a-das'-so, Hemlock Knot in the Water. Site of Onondaga Hollow, Gis-twe-ah'-na, A Little Man. Three Miles South of Onondaga Castle, Xan-ta-sa'-sis, Going partly round a Hill. OSWEGO AND JEFFERSON COUNTIES. Oswego, Swa'-geh, Flowing out. New Haven Creek, Ka-dis-ko'-na, G. Long Marsh. Little Salmon Creek, Ga-nun-ta-sko'-na, G. Large Bark. Grindstone Creek, He-ah-ha'-whe, G, Apples in Crotch of Tree. Ga-hen-wa'-ga, G. A Creek. Gii-hen-wa'-ga, " Te-ka'-da-o-ga'-he, G. Sloping Banks. De-a'-wone-da-ga- han'-da, Signification lost. GiL-hu'-a-go-je-twa- Fort at the Mouth of Great da-a'-lote, Biver. Big Salmon Creek, Pulaski, Sandy Creek, Grand Island, Sackets Harbor, O-NA'-YOTE-KA-O-XO'-GA, OR ONEIDA TERRITORY OXELDA DIALECT. St. Lawrence Biver, Black Lake, Oswegatchie River, Ogdensburgh, Black River, Watertown, Beaver River, Deer Creek, Moose River, Otter Creek, Indian River, Gii-na-wa'-ga, G. Che'-gwa-ga, T. O'-swa-gatch, G. O'-swa-gatch, Ka-hu-ah'-go, G. Kii-hu-ah'-go, Xe-ha-sa'-ne, G. Ga-ne'-ga-to'-do, G. Te-ka ' -hun-di-an'- do, G. Da-ween-net, G. > O-je' -quack, G. The Rapid River. In the Hip. Signification lost. (i u Great or Wide River. " [ber. Crossing on a Stick of Tim- Corn Pounder. Clearing an Opening. The Otter. Nut River. APPENDIX. 309 N I V. ENGLISH 3AMK. above Berirfn ■ - I took, West Canada < and Mohawk I Trenton 1 Utica, Wbitoetown C: Wbitoetown, k, my, Hill, Clinton, Id, Vernon, Vernon Center, Oneida C: na, Mile Creek, len, pot, New Hart: amden, IM'M.S N ui:. H I -a-I.i -hah-, T. i, I ; . d -no-ui-go'- T.'-al. -'."-:i -daijue, Date-wi -sont-l Non-d Che-g u Ole'-bisk, G. M Gli-nun-do'-gl Ka- : Ska -na -sunk, Skun-an-d" — a-lo -ha. Te-o-na -tale, -nun'-sok il. -ta-vuu -tw.i, De-o / iat, •>-a-lo -hal.-, Ho Bti-yan'.-ii . < I . ,ue, >n lust. A lh .i l on i P At the Forks. In tl. Qe. Around the Hill. Kith; ii Nettl I. Hills shrunk together. White Field. A long Swamp. Place of th.- Fox. ll H-'in!ock. Hood on a Pole. Pine For A Beecl big Lo:»t. Where the Cars go fast KJODi vr. Empty Vi D MADISON AND < IIKNAXGO COUNTIES. -tola, Lenox, Ska-waii -Li, alone. A Point made bv Hushes. 310 APPENDIX. ENGLISH NAME. Caneseraga Creek, Chittenango Creek, Chittenango, Cazenovia Lake, Cazenovia, Hamilton, Unadilla River, Chenango River, Sherbum, Norwich, Oxford, Biughampton, [Yil. Stockbridge Indian INDIAN NAME. Ka-na'-so-wa'-ga, G. Chu-de-naang', G. Ah-wa'-gee, T. Ah-wa'-gee, Da-ude' -no-sa-gwa- nose, De-u-na'-dil-lo, G. O-che-chang, G, Ga-na'-da-dele, Ga-na'-so-wa'-di, SIGNIFICATION. Several Strings of Beads with a String lying across. Where the Sun shines out. ii u Perch Lake. Round House. Place of Meeting. Bull Thistles. Steep Hill. Signification lost. So-de-ah'-lo-wa'-nake, Thick-necked Giant. O-che-nang', Bull Thistles. Ah-gote'-sa-ga-nage, Meaning lost. GA-NE-A'-GA-O-NO'-GA, OR MOHAWK TERRITORY MOHAWK DIALECT. West Canada Creek, Te-uge'-ga, G. Mohawk River, Herkimer, Little Falls, Port Plain, Canajoharie Creek, Canajoharie, Johnstown, Fonda, Fort Hunter, Schoharie Creek, Schoharie, G. u Tii-la-que'-ga, Twa-da-a-la-ha'-la, Ga-na-jo-hi'-e, G. ii Ko-la-ne'-ka, Ga-na-wii'-da, Te-on-da-lo'-ga, Sko-har'-le, G. At the Forks. Small Bushes. Fort on a Hill. Washing the Basin. Indian Superintendent. On the Rapids. [er Two Streams coming togeth Flood-wood. [G. East Canada Creek, Te-car'-hu-har-lo'-da, Visible over the Creek. Otsquago Creek, O-squa'-go, G. Under the Bridge. Amsterdam Creek, Ju-ta-la'-ga, G. Signification lost. Garoge Creek, Ga-ro'-ga, G. " aiti:si>ix. mi E my, : 1 plain, . Lake E ! . B i i ; Bl B Lirer, IM'JiV NAMI. 1 -neh-ta - -:irh-U -■: .t-i>o9e, I R'liar- •Bl - ae, 0. Ah-tjua-.- in the n ing«. 41 l-Wa -dell, G. Swill v. GOUHTHEfl BOUTH OF THE MOHAWK* ike, Otc-sa'-ga, T. loat. I iWB, " u Delaware i. Cobus Hill, New York, Long Islam], Ska-hun-do'-wa, G. In th .-!-• -ge, MfiBBJBg lost. i -no, M 1 1 . --.va-nase-geh, A Loog Island. (Oneida dial O-jik'-ha da-g U Water. Atlantic Ocean, Upper Mohawk Cas- tle, -ue'-ga-hii'-ga, Possessor of the Flint Middle Mohawk Cas- tfft, Gii-najo-hi -l', WtjhJDg the Basin. I diawk ■ [it. T< -ah-tou-ta-lo -ga, TwoS •jtuing togcth- CAHADA. K - . >us. Aim I JOHM -i' h Grand Ilrver, , 0. Flo 17, Dc-o-na -:a-dc -o, Where th uuaBar. 312 APPENDIX. ENGLISII NAMB. Queenstown, INDIAN NAME. Do-che'-hk-o', SIGNIFICATION. Where the Mountain dies in the River. Hamilton, De-o-na'-sii-de'-o, See above. Toronto, De'-on-do, Log floating upon the Water. Brock's Monument, Gus-ta'-ote, Chippeway, Jo-no' -dak, Signification lost. PENNSYLVANIA . Erie, Gus-ha'-wa-ga, On the Body. Cornplanter's Village, De-o-no'-sa-da-ga, Burned Houses. History of Indian Wars and Captivities. FROST AND DRAKE'S INDIAN WARS AND CAPTIVITIES OF Til E UNITE] > STATES: If I K Early Indian Wars of the Colonies and the Revolution, kin.; run. it's wak, THE PBSNCB and Indian (TABS, i hi: VOKEB ...N WAK, BLACK HAWK \V A K, BKM I N I I LI U mm with INDIAN CAPTIVITIES; mm n\ oroAitiTM wbo bati d awat dv no IM'IANS rSOM TI. SB .-KTTI.KMKNTS Off TBI OKI FROM Kl BABLfBBf PBUOB To THE MtffJUBf TIMK. BY J0II1I FROST AJTD SAMUEL 0. DRAKE. One Volume, 670 pp. 8vo., 200 Engravings. Price $2 50. ►♦-. Contents of " Indian Wai>."* Early Indian Wars in Florida — The Indian Wars of the Colonies of -..'.:>> — Early Indian Wan of Hew England — King Philip*! . • William's War — The Wan of the Five Nations — Indian Wars in - to the Revolution — Q War — 1. War — Ti. i and Indian War, from 1764 to 1759 — The i the Western Indians, from 1769 to 11 War — Indian Wars of the Revolution — 11m War with ti of ti bington'l Administration — The T tan War of 1819 and 1813— The Creek War— ffl irof lS16and 1817— Blank Hawk's War— Tii War — Indian Bottiliti • and New Mniffl — The MmaippL Contents of ''Indian Captivities." / — Marv Rowlandaon, Quintin 5 ■ ■ Wiu. llubLn.il — M:.- I. W. 15. 1 MILLER, 0RT0K k MULLIGAN, PubU I EXCITING ADVENTURES OF THE AUSTRALIAN CAPTIYE, OR, 15 YEARS ADVENTURE OF WM. JACKMAN. Including his Residence among the Cannibals of Nnyts Land, with Portaits and other Illustrations. Edited by Rev. I. Chamberlain. Muslin, 392 pp. 12mo. Price 81,25. ^ » » »»» Notices off the Press— Erieff Extracts. The glowing accounts from this new Ophir have been so -well authenticated that the statements in this volume will gain ready credence. — Rochester Democrat. This is a neat volume of some 400 pages, containing a new chapter in the history of adventure; the hero being the first civilized man who ever returned from a forced and lengthened residence among the anthropophagi of New Holland, and told the story of what be eaw and suffered. — Rural New Yorker. lie give? a most glowing account of the manners and customs of the barbarous people among which his lot was cast. — Republican. Advocate. If our readers will procure a copy of it, they will be able to ascertain the means em ph yi i toeffe.r-t his wonderful escape, and the many dangers to which he was exposed. — ihilario Whig. MILLER, 011TOX k MULLIGAN, Publishers, 25 Park Row New York, and lifj Genesee st, Auburn.