OHIO STATEWIDE FILES - HISTORY: Chapter 1 (Abbott, John S. C., 1875) *************************************************************************** OHGENWEB NOTICE: All distribution rights to this electronic data are reserved by the submitter. Reproduction or re-presentation of copyrighted material will require the permission of the copyright owner. The submitter has given permission to the USGenWeb Archives to store the file permanently for free access. *************************************************************************** File contributed for use in USGenWeb Archives by Kay L. Mason keziah63@yahoo.com July 28, 1999 *************************************************************************** CHAPTER ONE The Great Valley It was at midnight of the 11th of October, 1492, when Columbus, from the bows of his ship, discovered a light which revealed to him, and to Europe, a new world. The morning dawned serene and lovely, and the islands of the West Indies were opened before him in Eden-like luxuriance and beauty. It was not until four years after this, in 1496, that the Continent of North America was discovered, by an English navigator, Sebastian Cabot. Gradually a new understanding arose, among the European powers, that any portion of the new world, discovered and taken possession of by expeditions from any court in Europe, should be recognized as belonging to that kingdom. This rule was not difficult as application in reference to an island. But on the continent, stretching our through unknown limits of thousands of miles, it was not easy to decide the boundaries which were to be attached to a spot upon which a seaman's eye had rested. The Spaniards landed on the extreme southern part of the continent, which they called Florida, in consequence of the bloom (Father Mar- quette's picture) which they found spread around them in marvelous loveliness. But what were the limits of Florida, no one could pretend to tell. No one knew whether if was fifty miles of five thousand miles on the west, across to the Pacific Ocean. And there was no mountain, or river, or imaginary line, upon the north, definitely to bound their claim in that direction. The French, in 1525, took possession of the immense valley of the St. Lawrence, giving the river that name, as they entered it on that saint's day. They claimed the country to the Pacific on the west, how ever near of remote those waters might be, and to the Pole on the north. Sebastian Cabot, at the head of an English expedition, cruised along the coast from the region of Florida, to the vicinity fo the St. Law- rence, catching occasional glimpses of the land; and England claimed the whole region, by the right of discovery. It was all called Virginia, in honor of Elizabeth, the virgin Queen of England. Of course the north- ern and southern boundaries were entirely indefinite. The Dutch after- wards discovered the Delaware River and the Hudson, landed upon the shores of the latter stream, took possession of them in the name of Holland, planted their colonies there, and claimed the territory under the title of discovery and settlement. The French, having discovered the region called Canada, and having established flourishing colonies there, also discovered the mouth of the Mississippi, which, with its innumerable tributaries, meanders through the richest and the most magnificent valley on this globe. It seems hardly proper to call a realm a valley, when it extends over thousands of miles in length and breadth, covering an area, surpassing many of the kingdoms of Europe united, capable of supporting a popula- tion of hundreds of millions, and embracing majestic forests, and lux- uriant prairied, such as the sun nowhere else shines upon. The French Catholics had established a mission, for the instruction of the Indians, at a point which they called St. Mary's, near the outlet of Lake Superior. There was a very remarkable man at the head of this mission, by the name of James Marquetts. He was apparently an earnest Christian, an enthusiastic admirer of the beauties of nature, and in all respects, a man of true heroic mould. He resolved to ex- plore the Mississippi from its upper waters. He repaired to an Indian village on the Fox River, which flows into Green Bay. He had already selected his companions for the enterprise, which was apparently full of difficulty and peril. They consisted of a French gentleman, who would be his congenial companion, five hardy and experienced Canadian boatmen, and two Indians as guides through the wilderness which no white man, as yet, had ever penetrated. For this party of nine, with all their needful stores of guns, ammunition, cooking utensils, and blankets, setting out on an expedition, which must occupy, at the shortest, several weeks, they took two birch canoes. Their food they expected to find mainly in such game as they might shoot by the way. Marquette had such faith in the protection of God, and in the friendliness of the Indians, whom he might meet by the way, that he seems to have had no fears of any hostile encounters. It was a lovely summer morning, the 10th of June, 1673, when the party set out from Fox River. They carried the canoes upon their shoulders, over a portage of many miles through the wilderness, led by their Indian guides. It was an excursion of pleasure. The weather w was delightful, the scenery enchanting, ever opening new views of beauty. The loads they bore were not oppressive, and they were all in health and vigor, and at home n the varied emergencies of encampments. Having reached the Wisconsin River, they launched their canoes upon its placid waters. For nearly a month they were paddling down this beautiful stream, a distance of five hundred miles, before they entered the majestic flood of the Father of Waters. They seem to have found the voyage delightful in the extreme. There were fished in abundance in the river, and there was game of the greatest variety and in profusion on the banks. Their dining room was canopied by the over-arching skies, and their table was spread with every luxury of game which hungry pioneers could desire. At night they drew their boats ashore, and if the weather was pleasant, with the green sod for their bed, wrapped in blankets or furs, enjoyed that uninterrupted sleep, which is on of the richest of earth's enjoyments. The Psalmist understoof this when he said: "He giveth His beloved sleep." Should the weather chance to be tempestuous, with floods of rain and moaning winds, the storm was easily anticipated. Paddling rapidly along the stream, they would select some picturesque and sheltered nook, and, in a short time would rear a cabin impervious to wind and rain. Many hands make quick work. Like magic the cabin would rise be- neath the hatchets of these experienced pioneers of the wilderness. Thatched and lined with overlapping plates of bark, it would afford perfect protection against the violence of the storm. With the camp entirely open on the lee side, the floor carpeted with robes of fur, and a cheerful fire blazing in front, men, capable of enjoying such scenes, could luxuriate in the sublimity of almost any storm, which might shake the forest. No country inn, no palatial city hotel, could offer a more enjoyable retreat from the tempest. Neither did their seasons of rest pass in any weariness of monot- ony. Such men are not disturbed in their employments by any ordinary rain. There were fishes to be caught from the stream which flowed past their door. There was game to be taken, and it was to be found within a few rods of their camp fire. There were garments to be repaired; and not a little time was spent in feasting upon the deli- cate viands which they knew so well how to cook. When the clouds broke and passed away, and the sun came again came out in all its glory, they would joyfully resume their heroic voyage, almost re- gretting to leave a home where they had found so much happiness. On the 7th of July they entered the Mississippi River. It was here, a broad, rapid stream,-clear as crystal. Marquette writes that when he first caught sight of this wonderful river, flowing from the unknown into the unknown, he experienced emotions of joy which no language could express. It was easy to be borne down by the current of this majestic flood, but to paddle back, against the tide, would try the muscles even of the hardiest men. Still the voyagers pressed on. It was indeed a fairy scene which now spread before them. Here bold bluffs, hundreds of feet high, jutted out into the river. Here were crags, of stupendous size, and of every variety of form, often reminding one of Europe's most picturesque stream, where "The castled crage of Drachenfels Frown o'er the wide and winding Rhine." Again, the prairie would spread out its ocean-like expanse, em- bellished with groves, garlanded with flowers of gorgeous colors wav- ing in the summer breeze, checkered with sunshine and the shade of the passing clouds, with roving herds of the stately buffalo and the graceful antelope. And, again the gloomy forest would appear, exten- ding over countless leagues, where bears, wolves, and panthers found a congenial home. Having descended the river nearly two hundred miles, they came to an Indian trail leading back into the country, and so well trodden as to give evidence that a powerful tribe was near. It speaks well for the Indians-for the reputation which they then enjoyed-that Marquette, with his French companion, M. Joliet, far away in the wilderness, seven hundred miles from any point which a white man's foot had ever before trod, should not have hesitated alone to enter this trail to search out the habitations of this unknown tribe. They left all their companions with the canoes on the bank of the river. For six miles they followed the narrow track, when they came in sight of a large Indian village. It was on the open plain, so that the Indians saw them approaching when at quite a distance. They knew, of course, that two strangers, unarmed, could not be advancing with any hostile intent. Four of the patriarchs of the village immediately came forward bearing a pipe of peach, which was highly ornamented with brilliantly colored plumes. As these chiefs drew near, they saw to their surprise and delight that the strangers were pale faces. Though none of them had ever before seen a white man, the knowledge of his arrival had spread widely through all the tribes. The French had pursued such a course of justice and friendliness with the Indians that wherever they went they were hospitably received. One of these gentlemen of the barbarian school, as he led the guests into his cabin, spread out his hands to them invitingly and said: "How beautiful is the sun, Frenchmen, when it shines upon you as you come to visit us. Our whole village greets you with a welcome. You shall find a home in all our dwellings." The strangers were entertained with the utmost hospitality. As they were about to take their leave, a venerable chief approached Marquette, and suspending by a cord a richly decorated pipe about his neck, said: "This is the sacred calumet. It signifies that wherever you bear it you are messengers of peach. All our tribes will respect it, and will protect you from every harm." (Death of Marquette) We can not record this friendly reception without emotion. How beautiful is peace! How different would the history of this world have been but for man's inhumanity to man. On reaching their boats, the little band of voyagers resumed their journeying down the river. They floated by the mouths of the turbid, Missouri and the beautiful Ohio, carefully observing their positions, but making no attempt to ascend either of the streams. The Ohio was then, and for some years after, called the Wabash. Still they floated on, several hundred miles farther, until they reached the mouth of the Arkansas. Here again they found a large In- dian village, and they were received by the natives with the same hospitality which had marked their intercourse with the Indians during the whole of the route. They now reascended the majestic stream, and instead of continuing their upward course to the Wisconsin River, these bold explorers en- tered the Illinois River, and again reached Green Bay by way of Lake Michigan. They had been absent two months. During this time the devoted missionary had lost no opportunity of proclaiming to the Indians the Christian's God, and the way of salvation through faith in an atoning Savior. Even then Marquette had no adequate conception of the true grandeur of that valley he had entered, extending from the Allegheny ridges to the Rocky Mountains. Still, when the tidings of his wonderful discov- eries reached Quebec, the exciting intelligence was received with the ringing of bells, with salvos of artillary, and most prominent and important of all, by nearly the whole population, led by the clergy and other dignitaries of the place, going in procession to the cath- edral, where the Te Deum was sung, and high mass was celebrated. Soon after this Marquette died. For several years the great river flowed through its vast solitude unexplored and unvisited. Five years after this, in 1678, another French gentleman by the name of LaSalle, attempted the exploration of the Mississippi. He was as enthusiastic, courageous and enterprising as his predecessor. It is said that the King of France had offered him the monopoly of the fur trade in all the new regions which he might explore, and had also furnished means to fit out an expedition to explore the Mississippi to its mouth. LaSalle, with a brave Italian officer by the name of Tonti, sailed from Rochelle, in France, on the 14th of June, 1678. He was furnished with a ship well armed and supplied. Upon his arrival in Canada, he built a vessel upon Lake Erie, called the Griffin, which was the first craft, larger than a birch bark canoe, which had ever been launched upon those waters. With a crew of forty men he sailed to Mackinaw, where he purchased of the Indians a very rich cargo of furs. He spent his all in the purchase, but the furs were so valuable that the sale would make him immensely rich. The vessel was lost and LaSalle was ruined. By the way of Lake Michigan and the Illinois River, LaSalle reached the Mississippi. It shows how little this continent was then known, that LaSalle should have sent a boat up the stream, hoping to discov- er in that direction a passage to China. This party, led by the mission- ary Father Hennepin, reached the Falls of St. Anthony, where it is said that the Sioux Indians detained them for three months, though they treated their captives kindly. We are not informed of the nature of this friendly captivity, though the travelers were soon released and returned to Canada LaSalle remained upon the Illinois River, anguish striken in view of his lass of fortune. He foresaw the immense importance of the wide and unexplored realms he had entered, and he had already formed the plan of attaching them indissolubly to France, by a line of military posts extending from the lakes to the mouth of the Mississippi. With this object in view he commenced building a fort on the Illnois River just above the present site of Peoria. He gave his fortress the single name of "Crevecoeur," or the Broken-hearted. His resources becoming exhausted, this enterprising man, with but three companions, in midwinter, traversed the wilderness on foot a distance of fifteen hundred miles, to Fort Frontnac, in Canada, to ob- tain supplies for those he had left behind. He returned with men and materials for building a strong boat, for navigating he knew not what unknown streams, hundreds of leagues in extent. In this barge, early in the year 1682, LaSalle and his companions floated down the whole length of the Mississippi to its mouth. This was the first descent of the river. LaSalle forgot his griefs in the grandeur of his achievement. He had a mind fully capable of appreciating the resources of the majestic valley he had thus far ex- plored. With a heart throbbing with exultation he unfurled the banners of France on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, and in honor of the French King, gave the whole region he had explored the euphonious name of Louisiana. Elated with his discovery, he hastened them back to Quebec. It was a long and toilsome voyage against the stream. From Quebec he sailed to France, where he organized a colony of two hundred and eighty per- sons, to commence a settlement on the Lower Mississippi. The colonists sailed for that destination, by having no charts to guide them, could not find the mouth of the river; they passed by it and landed in Texas. Here, on the Bay of St. Bernard, LaSalle erected a fort and took possession of the country in the name of his king. This colony came to a sad end. We have no knowledge of the details. We simply know that, being threatened with famine, LaSalle formed the desparate resolve of traversing the wilderness of more than two thou- sand miles on feet, to Canada, for aid. His men mutinied on the way and killed him. The colonists left behind were soon after all massacred by the Indians, excepting a few children, who were taken captive. Not long after this another expedition was fitted out in France, for the mouth of the Mississippi, under the leadership of M. D'Iberville. He entered the river, with his vessels, and ascended it several hun- dred miles. At different points permanent establishmens were made. And, now, the French government, with ever-increasing vigor, pushed forward its enterprise of establishing military posts at all the points of stragtegic importance in the wide-spreading realm. They had several forts on the lakes, and quite strong military posts on the Illinois River, the Maumee, the Ohio-then called the Wabash-and the Mississippi. Especial attention was then directed to the valley of the Ohio, that vast region, drained by the "Beautiful River" and its many tributaries, and which is now divided off into several of the most much solicitude upon what that government called the encroachments of the French. Both kingdoms claimed the territory. The French founded their title upon the fact that they had discovered the great valley, had been the first to explore it, and had taken possession of it by the recognized laws of nations, any power, whose subjects first discovered a river, were entitled to jurisdiction over all the country drained by the waters of that river. On the other hand, the English Government maintained that, in taking possession of any portion of the sea coast, and establishing a settlement there, the power, thus in possession, was entitled, not only to the land actually occupied, but to all the contiguous conti- nent, from the Atlantic to the Pacific. There seemed to be no com- promise possible in claims so decidedly conflicting. The French demanded the land, as they had discovered the rivers which drained it. The English demanded the territory, as they has discovered the coast which fronted it. Both parties admitted that the Indians had certain rights of occupancy which were to be respected. It was very obvious that ere long these two majestic kingdoms would engage in a great conflict of arms, for the possession of the grand valley. The French had greatly the advantage over the English in consequence of the situation of the valley in reference to their possessions on the St. Lawrence. The valley of the Ohio was easily accessible to them, by the great lakes and the many navigable rivers flowing from the north to the south. Thus they enjoyed the inestimatable advantage of water communication, for the transportation of troops and stores, to almost any portion of the valley. The vivacious, flexible French were also much more popular with the Indians than the grave, sturdy, unbending English. The valley of the Ohio was separated from the English settlements, on the Atlantic coast, by the rugged and almost impassable ridges of the Allegheny Mountains. It required a journey of several hundred miles, through unknown defiles, and without roads, save the paths of the buffaloes and the trails of the Indians, before the Atlantic settler could catch sight of the tranquil waters of the Ohio. Daniel Boone was one of the first white men who attempted to enter the great valley over the ridges of the Alleghenies. From the door of his solitary cabin on the Yadkin, in North Carolina, he could see, far away in the west, the majestic peaks of the mountains, some of them rising six thousand feet into the clouds. This drear and rugged wall, from fifty to two hundred miles in breadth, and at an average distance of nearly one hundred and fifty miles from the ocean, runs nearly parallel with the coast for hundreds of leagues. But few white men had ever climbed any of those crags to gaze upon the dim regions beyond. The wildest stories were told, around the cabin fires, of those un- explored realms-of the plume and painted Indians, of the verdant, blooming, park-like prairies, and of the majestic, almost boundless forests, clear of underbrush and all filled with game-of the rivers, sparkling with fished, and the nuts, and berries, and grapes, growing in richest profusion. Daniel Boone, endowed by nature with a passionate love of the sol- itude and sublimity of the wilderness, listened to the recital of these marvels with a throbbing heart. As he mused the fire burned. A small company of six hearty pioneers was organized to cross the mountains and explore the world beyond. Not even a pack-horse could tread those defiles or climb those cliffs. With their rifles the adventurers would procure food, and with theie hatchets rear such shelters as they might need. Hardly as were these pioneers, and accustomed as they were to life in the wilderness, they found their path so rugged and intricate that it took them a full month to effect the passage of the mountains. Where Daniel Boone and his companions crossed these successive ridges, the distance, in a direct line, was nearly three hundred miles. They made it perhaps twice that distance by the circuitous route which they found it necessary to take, threading these innumerable defiles. In the valleys, buffaloes were found in great abundance, and very tame, as they were so far removed from the usual route of the Indian hunters. In June they reached the summit of the most westernly ridge, and gazed, almost entranced with delight, upon the Eden-like beauty of the scene which was spread out before them. Distance lent enchantment to the forests, softening down all teh asperities with the radiance of the setting sun. An artist has seized upon this incident and has trans- ferred it to canvas in one of the most attractive pictures, entitled "Daniel Boone's First View of Kentucky." Rapidly descending the western declivity of the mountains, they came to a smooth, flower-bespangled prairie, upon the banks of a stream now called the Red River. It was a lovely spot. The water was of crystal clearness. There was a beautiful grove skirting the stream, with shade from the sun and shelter from the wind, and ample material for their hut and for fires. Game, in great variety, was also abundant. Lured by the attractions which the spot presented, they reared their cabin and passed the whole summer there, in apparently luxurious indolence. Daniel Boone's only record of these months is: "In this forest, the habitation of beasts of every kind natural to America, we practiced hunting with great success, until the 2nd day of December following." Through all this period no Indians were seen, and no traces of them were visible. Their hut was built of logs, with a wide opening in fromt, which faced the south, the interstices between the logs being filled with clay. The climate was mild, the men all good natured and congenial. The summer and autumn seemed to have passed away very de- lightfully. One day Boone, with one of his companions, John Stewart, set out on a hunting expedition to a little greater distance from the camp than usual. They were following along one of those streets as they were called, which the buffalo had marked out and trampled down in single file for ages. Suddenly a large band of Indians, in ambush, sprang out upon them from the thick cane brakes which lined the path. Escape was impossible, and resistance could be of no avail. The savages plundered them of all they had, but inflicted upon them no personal injuries. They were thieves only, not enemies; for thus far, these remote Indians had received no injuries from the white men to exasperate them. Boone acted the part of a true philosopher, and, by the course he pursued, soon won the confidence and even the affec- tion of these wild men. He assumed perfect contentment with his lot, appearing unconscious that he was a captive. He cultivated friendly relations with them; showed them, to their inexpressible astonishment, the marvelous powers of the death-dealing rifle, which instrument they had never seen before. They were amazed when they saw the invisible rifle bullet strike down the game even at twice the distance their arrows would reach. They admired the courage of Boone, and soon re- laxed their vigilance over their captives, whom they were daily lead- ing farther and farther from their camp. Boone was thoroughly acquainted with the Indian character. He knew that any attempt to escape, if unsuccessful, would but bury the tomahawk in his brain. Thus seven days and nights passed away. This band of Indian hunters had their home far away in the North, beyond the flood of a majestic river, which they called the Wabash; which the French called, when they discovered it, La Belle Riviere, or the Beautiful River; and which we now call the Ohio. The vast plains, now known as Kentucky constituted then a sort of neutral hunting ground for many surrounding tribes. The Indians who had captured Boone came from the vicinity of the present town of Chillicothe, on the Scioto River. Rapidly they were retracing their footsteps homeward with their two white captives. Each night they built their fires, cooked what they had taken, spent a few hours in jokes and laughter, and boastful stories, and then, having appointed one of their number as a guard, threw themselves on the ground around the fires and slept soundly until morning. Ordinar- ily they paid no more attention to the weather than did the buffaloes around them. Daniel Boone was a man of superior mind. John Stewart, his fellow captive, conscious of this, was ever ready to follow his counsel. They both feigned entire contentment and friendliness, and sson so far dispelled all suspicion of any desire to escape, that they were treated as adopted members of the tribe. On the seventh night after the capture, the Indians, aided by Boone's death-dealing rigle, had been unusually successful in the chase. In many respects the savages were, in charcter, like overgrown children. Elated with abundance they had a sumptuous feast, and sang and danced till midnight, causing the wide solitudes of the forest to resound with their jollity. The night was very dark. The Indians slept soundly. Even the guard had fallen asleep, leaning against the trunk of a tree; his bow and arrow had fallen from his hand; the fire, un- replenished, burned feebly; they were in the midst of a boundless forest, as free from underbrush as a nobleman's park. The autumnal fires, annually kindled by the Indians, swept through the heavy growth of timber consuming the leaves and dried herbage, and all tender sprouts, but left the sturdy trees unharmed. The favorable moment for escape had come. And yet the attempt was full of peril. The savages, like dogs, slept very lightly. The slight- est unaccustomed sound caused them to spring to their feet, with their weapons ready for use. Their friendship was very precarious. The es- caping captives, if detected, were sure to be followed. John Stewart was soundly asleep. Daniel Boone was feigning slumber. Fortunately they had been allowed to retain their rifles, which had proven so valuable in supplying the Indians with game. Cautiously Boone awoke his companion, and motioned him to follow. With moccasined feet, they softly trod, conscious that the rustling of a leaf, or the breaking of a twig would cause them instant death. After a few moments of intense solicitude, moving with a step as soft and stealthy as that of the panther, they found themselves, with throbbing hearts, at a distance of several rods from the smouldering fires. The darkness of midnight enveloped them; the gloom of the forest surrounded them. Even an Indian's piercing eye, could no longer discern their movements. Daniel Boone was in nearly all respects the superior of his savage captors. He was their equal in strength and endurance. He was equally with them accustomed to forest life and all its emergencies; and he enjoyed the inestimable advantage which the culture of civilization gives, over merely savage instincts. Dark as was the night, and dense as was the growth of the forest, the camp from which he was removed by the distance of a seven day's journey. The Indians not having taken him at the camp, had no conception of its locality. They, therefore, when they awoke in the morning, would have no clue to the direction of his flight. The fugitives were also very careful not to leave behind them any trace of their footsteps. Though it chanced that the weather was very mild in that region, fortunately for them, these December nights were very long. Hour after hour they pressed their flight, till the dawn of the morning, and through the hours of another day, apparently as tireless as if their sinews were of wrought iron. Then, at length, as the sun was going down, feeling, in some measure, secure from pursuit, they ventured to shoot some game, kindle a small fire, just sufficient to cook their supper, and then extinguishing its embers, they threw themselves upon the sod to enjoy that sweet sleep which weariness brings to the healthy man. At length, they reached their camp, and to their disappointment and alarm, found it plundered and deserted. They were quite unable to decide whether some Indian band had discovered it and carried of its occupants with all their effects, or whether their companions, alarmed by the loss of Boone and Stewart, and seeing indications that the savages were around them, had broken up their encampment and fled. In either case the men must have perished in the wilderness, for no ti- dings were ever heard of them. Their fate is to be added to the thousand of tragedies, ever occurring upon the sea and upon the land, which no pen has recorded, and which the revelations of the judgement day can alone unfold. Boone and Stewart were thus left along in the wilderness. One would have supposed that these disasters would have led them to retrace their steps homeward. They were at the distance of five hundred miles from their cabins on the banks of the Yadkin. It is difficult to imagine what motives could have induced them to prolong their stay. But they do not seem to have thought of a movement homeward. Apprehensive that the Indians had discovered their camp, and might pay it another visit, they did not venture to reinhabit it. They, however selected another spot at a distance, so concealed by nature that it could not be found unless carefully sought for, where they reared another hut. Here they remained for a month. Notwithstanding the greatest care in husbanding their resources, their powder and lead were rapidly disappearing, and the question of a supply began to force itself painfully upon them. It is often said that fact is stranger is fiction. A well-authen- ticated incident now occurred which seems almost incredible. Boone and Stewart were in a little, carefully-concealed hut, in the depths of a pathless, unexplored wilderness of mountains, rivers, lakes and forests, five hundred miles beyond the remotest frontiers of civiliza- tion. One sunny morning in January they were sittling at the door of their camp, when, not a little to their alarm, they discovered two men in the distance. They supposed, of course, that they were Indians, probably followed by a numerous band. Captivity with its unknown fate seemed imminent. They endeavored to conceal themselves, and as the men drew nearer, saw, to their surprise, that they were white men. One proved to be Daniel Boone's brother, who had the singular Christian name of Squire. The other was a North Carolinian, supply of powder and lead, an inestimable treasure, which no labor could create and no money could purchase in the wilderness. How they were enabled to find the wanderers it is difficult to imagine. There were now four to occupy the hut; the two Boones, Stewart, and the companion of Squire Boone, whose name is not given. As the weeks glided away, and there were no signs of Indians, the men became emboldened, and gradually extended the range of their hunting grounds. Again one day Boone and Stewart were in pursuit of game, at quite a distance from the camp, when they found themselves almost surrounded by Indians. These savages had probably heard of the white men, and of the wonderful power of their rifles, for instead of rushing upon them for their capture, they let fly upon them, from ambush, a shower of arrows. Stewart was almost instantly killed. Boone was wounded, and with the agility of a deer disappeared in the forest. The savages, probably dreading the bullet, did not venture to pursue him. IF they made any attempt to discover his camp, they were unsuccessful. They were a band of wandering hunters who, moving over the boundless plains, had accidently come across the pioneers. Not long after this the Carolinian, who seems to have been rather an attendent of Squire Boone, and a man of not much character, wan- dered in the woods and was lost. It is supposed he perished of hunger. A skeleton subsequently found, picked clean by the wolved, indicated his fate. The two brothers Boone were now the sole occupants of the camp. Boone says their life was far from an idle one; that they had sufficient employment to occupied their time. They had game to hunt, bring in and dress; their hut to guard against the violence of storms; their fire to kindle, replenish and watch, and to keep themselved provided with a sufficient supply of fuel; deer-skins to tan softly, and to fashion into clothing and moccasins; and, more than all, they had to keep up an unremitting guard against the Indians. The Spring came early, and beautiful with bud, leaf, and flower. And now occurs another of those incidents which seems utterly in- explicable. Their powder and lead were nearly expended. A supply was essential to any further continuance in the wilderness. But the ques- tion arises, "Why should either of them have wished to remain any longer in those perilous solitudes?" There was nothing apparent to be accomplished by it, unless it were the gratification of the love of adventure, in exploring beautiful realms which the light of civiliza- tion had never yet penetrated. Whatever may have been the motive which influenced these extra-ordinary men, the fact remains certain. Squire Boone set out alone, on foot, with no earthly protection but his rifle, to traverse a pathless wilderness five hundred miles in extent, exposed to ferocious beasts, such as panthers, bears, and wolves, and to wandering bands of Indians still more to be dreaded. Having gained his home, he was to load himself with powder and bullets, and retrace his steps to the lonely camp of his brother. It was a journey which, with the utmost diligence, would require at least three months for its accomplishment. In the meantime Daniel was to be left alone in his solitary hut. On the first day of May, 1770, Squire Boone set out on his arduous journey, and Daniel, as he expressed himself, was left "one by myself, without bread, salt, or sugar; without company of any fellow creatures, or even a horse or a dog." It is said that he spent his time in a cave, which, tapestried and carpeted with skins, he had rendered comfortable and cheerful. It was situated on the waters of the Shawanee, in Mercer County, Kentucky. Chapter II. Conflicting Claims of France and England After the lapse of three months, early in August, Squire Boone re- turned, and found his brother safe and alone in his solitude. But Daniel Boone declares, that during the absence of Squire, he had not experienced one hour of loneliness. The charms of the wilderness to him were such, that in the brightness of the sunniest day, and in the gloom of the darkest night, he was alike serene and happy. He was never over-excited by joy, or depressed by sadness; even the perpetual howling of the wolves, in the forest, afforded him a kind of pensive pleasure. Squire Boone succeeded in bringing with him, over the mountains, two pack-horses. They were an invaluable, but perilous acquisition to the pioneers. They brought an ample supply of the necessaries for camp life. But the sagacious Indians could, without difficulty, follow their trail, and the animals could not easily concealed. Still eight months passed away, and no Indians approached them. Mounting their horses, they explored the region, far and wide, unitl they became very thoroughly acquianted with the country, the flow of the rivers, the sweep of the mountains, and the fertile, treeless meadowns, or prairies, which were all prepared by nature, for the plow and the hoe. Thus they employed themselves during the lovely autumn, and the mild winter, seldom sleeping two nights in the same place. It seems as though a special providence must have protected them from encountering any of the Indian bands ever running over those hunting fields. Daniel Boone having become thoroughly conversant with this south- ern portion of the great valley, and appreciating its value to future generations, set out with his brother, in March, 1771, on his return home. The journey of a few weeks brought him to the Yadkin, where he found his wife and family in safety. The labors of his elder sons, with their rifles, and the cultivation of a few fertile acres, amply supplied the wants of the household. A company was soon formed, incited by the representations of Daniel Boone, to emigrate to those realms, beyond the mountains, of marvel- ous fertility and beauty. This is not the place to enter into the de- tails of this expedition intimately, as its fate was subsequently connected with the settlements in that northern portion of the great valley which is now called Ohio. These emigrants, after a series of wonderful adventures, established a settlement in the southern portion of the great valley, at a place now called Booneville, Kentucky. We must now retrace a little the path of time. While these scenes were transpiring south the of the Ohio River, the French were enjoy- ing the almost undisturbed possession of all the vast territory north of that majestic stream. They had established military posts, around which flourishing settlements were springing up, at Detroit, Peoria, Kaskaskia, and Vincennes. To render their title still more valid, the Governor of Canada had sent surveyors, with a guard of three hundred soldiers, to plant leaden plates, containing inscriptions of the claims of France, at the mouths of all the principle rivers flowing into the Ohio. Captain Celeron, who led the expedition, was also instructed should he meet with any English traders among the Indians, to warn them off, as trespassers on the territory of France. The English traders, in pursuit of furs, were, at this time, penetrating the country in various directions, and they had established quite an important trading house on the banks of the Great Miami River. And, in the meantime, the King of England had granted to several English companies the whole coast of North America, between the Spanish possessions in the south and French possessions in the north. The language of these grants declared, that their territory should extend "up into the land throuhgout, from sea to sea, west and northwest." In 1748, a company was formed in Virginia, entitled the "Ohio Land Company." The object was to survey the lands and establish English colonies beyond the Alleghenies. They sent an agent to explore the region, and to direct particular attention to that portion of it which is now included within the limits of Ohio. This agent, Christopher Gist, traveling through leagues of almost unbroken forest, crossed the Muskingum and Scioto Rivers, and was kindly received in a large village of Shawnee Indians, on the banks of the Ohio, a few miles below the mouth of the Sciota River. Here he witnessed a very singular spec- tacle, which is worth of record as illustrated of barbarian customs. It was announced that there was to be a great festival, of three days, continuance, first of fasting, then of feasting and dancing. At the close of the festival, all the married women were at liberty to choose their husbands anew. We are not informed whether the young girls were permitted at that time to select their companions, or what rights a man had to reject a woman whom he might not fancy. After an abundant feast and great merry-making, the women were all assembled in front of one of their largest wigwams, called the Council House. The men then, gaily plumed and decorated, danced before them, performing the intricate mazed of their barbarian cotillions, with loud shoutings and the clangor of their rude instruments. It was in the night. The whole wild-like spectacle was brilliantly illuminated by the blaze of their fires. The women eagerly watched their move- ments. When any man drew near whom any woman fancied, she seized a part of his garment until all the women had selected their partners, when the new marriages were all solemnized together. One's curiousity is somewhat excited to know what would be the fate of the man whom no woman fancied. And again, how would the difficulty be settled should half a dozen women, at the same moment, pounce upon some gay cavalier. An infirm dame of fifty years might, perchance, grasp the garment of some lithe young warrior of twenty. There is probably now some large town of wealth and culture near the spot where these curious barbaric betrothals and nuptuals took place, only a little more than one hundred years ago. What would probably be the result were the dance now some night renewed, were each woman to enjoy the privilege of remaining with her present husband, or selecting a new partner. If we may judge by the frequency of divorces, in these modern times, probably some remarkable changes would take place. Mr. Gist then continued his journey more than a hundred miles farther west, through an almost unbroken forest, to the Miami River. Here there was another numerous tribe of Indians, called the Miamis. It was not far from the mouth of this stream that the English had established their most important trading post. Retracing his steps to the Scioto, Mr. Gist took a birch canoe, and descended the river to the Falls of the Ohio. The French, hearing that the British traders had established them- selves on the Miami, sent a detachment of soldiers, with a pretty strong force of Ottawa and Chippewa Indians, to destroy the settlement. The Miami warriors took the part of their friends, the English. There was a hard fight. The Miamis were overpowered; the blockhouse was demolished, and the traders were carried prisoners to Canada. Of course, the English were greatly enraged. But the French, with their many garrisons scattered through the wilderness, were far too strong, in the Great Valley, for the English to attempt to cope with them there. There was a small English trading post at a place called Logstown, on the north bank of the Ohio, seventeen miles below Pitts- burgh. Some English commissioners were sent there to meet the chiefs of several adjacent tribes. Here they obtained the ratification of a treaty, into which they had previously entered, for the cession to the English of a large tract of land in Ohio. They also made arrangements to construct a fort at the mouth of the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers, whose united floods form the upper waters of the Ohio. The Monongalia flows from the souty a distance of three hundred miles, furnishing more than two hundred miles of boat navigation. It is nearly four hundred yards in width at its mouth. The Allegheny comes down from the north a distance of nearly four hundred miles, also a- ffording boat navigation through regions three hundred miles in extent. It contributes its flood, equally abundant with that of the Mononga- hela, for the formation of the Ohio. This beautiful river flows a distance of nine hundred and fifty-nine miles, through as lovely a region as can be found on this globe, before it enters the Mississippi. Its waters flow two thousand five hundred miles before they are emptied into the Gulf of Mexico. The French kept a vigilant eye upon this movement. It was much easier, as we have said, for them to penetrate the great valley by the lakes and by the streams flowing down from the north, than for the English to enter the valley by clambering the rocky heights, and toiling through the rugged defiles of the Allegheny ridges. Secretly they organized a strong force at a place on Lake Erie, which they called "Presque Isle" or Almost an Island. With ample supplies of stores and munitions of war, they were soon in a condition to penetrate the Valley of the Ohio at any point. Between the mouths of the Monogahela and Allegheny Rivers there was a beautiful plain. In a strategic point of view, it was one ot the most favorable localities for the site of a fort, and also presented remarkable attractions for trading and indu- strial colony. The Governors of Pennsylvania and Virginia sent a commisioner across the mountains to descend the Ohio River until he should come to some military post, and there, in the name of the British Government, to warn the French that war would be the inevitable result of their continued encroachments. The envoy set out upon his journey, but soon became alarmed for his personal safety. The Indians were generally in sympathy with the French. If the French should see fit to take him a prisoner and sent him to Canada, or should they judge is expedient to secure his assassination by the Indians, either could be done without the slightest difficulty. Intimidated by these reflections he turned upon his steps, without fulfilling his instructions. In this emergency, a young man by the name of George Washington, nineteen years of age, came forward and offered his services as a messenger to the French garrisons. The heroism of this extraordinary young man had already attracted attention, and secured for him, in an unusual degree, the confidence of the community. The following sketch of the previous history of this remarkable man, who now entered upon his arduous embassy, will be read with interest. Two centuries ago, two brothers, young gentlemen of wealth and cul- ture, emigrated to America from England. One of these brothers, Law- rence Washington, was a lawyer, a graduate from Oxford University. The other, John, was an accomplished man of business. It was lovely summer weather when the ship which bore them passed through that majestic inland sea, Chesapeake Bay, and ascended the Potomac River. The pri- meval forest spread in all directions with its silence and solitude. Here and there were to be seen, in the sheltered coves, a little clus- ter of Indian wigwams, with naked children playing upon the beach, and birch canoes, paddled by plumed warriors, floating like bubbles on the wave. The two brothers purchased an extensive tract of land on the west- ern bank of the Potomac, about fifty miles above its mouth. John built a house, married Miss Pope, and after a few years of life's tragic drama died. His second son, Augustine, remained in the paternal home. He inherited the peaceful virtues of his father, and, like him, drank of life's mingled cup of joy and grief. His wife, Jane Butler, as lovely in character as she was beautiful in person, died leaving a broken-hearted husband and three little orphan children to weep over her grave. Their bereaved father eventually found another mother for his orphans. Mary Ball, who thus became Mary Washington, was a lady of rare merit. She was beautiful, intelligent, accomplished and a warm- hearted Christian. Augustine and Mary were married on the sixth of March, 1730. On the twenty-second of February they received to their arms their first-born child, to whom they gave the name of George. Little could they imagine that their babe was to render the name of George Washington one of the most illustrious in the annals of time. George was highly blessed in both of his parents. The precepts were enforced by the example of blameless lives. Blessed with competence, their home, replete with every comfort, was reared upon one of the most lovely spots on the banks of the Potomac. It was a spacious one- story cottage, with a deep veranda in front. A well-kept lawn spread in gentle descent to the pebbly shore. The river in front of the house was nearly ten miles broad, decorated with a few enchanted islands, while beyond the interminable forest spread, in all its grandeur, over hills and vales. In those days the smoke of Indian ... Continued in Chapter 2