OHIO STATEWIDE FILES - HISTORY: Chapter 21 (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 November 30, 1999 *************************************************************************** Chapter XXI. Hardships and Perils Mr. Breckenridge, in his recollections, gives a very graphic account of a visit to Gallipolis, in the year 1795, when he was a boy but nine years of age. The following extracts will give the reader some idea of the joys and griefs of the inexperience pioneers: 'Behold me once more in port, and domiciliated at the house, or the inn, of Monsieur, or rather Dr. Saugrain, a cheerful, sprightly little Frenchman, four feet six, English measure, and a chemist, natural philosopher and physician, both in the English and French significations of the word. "This singular village was settled by people from Paris and Lyons, chiefly artisans and artists, peculiarly unfitted to sit down in the wilderness and clear away forests. I have seen half a dozen at work in taking down a tree, some pulling ropes fastened to the branches, while others were cutting around it like beavers. Sometimes serious accidents would occur in consequence of their awkwardness. Their former employment had been only calculated to ad- minister to the luxury of highly polished and wealthy societies. "There were carvers and gilders to the king, coach makers, hairdressers and wig makers, who were entirely out of place in the wilds of Ohio. Their means by this time had been exhausted, and they were beginning to suffer for the wants, and even the necessaries of life. The country back from the river was still a wilderness, and the Gallipotians did not pretend to cultivate anything more than small garden spots, depending on their supply of provisions on the boats which now began to descend the river, but they had to pay in cash, and that had become scarce. "They still assembled at the ball room twice a week. It was evident, however, that they felt disappointment and were no longer happy. Their private misfortunes had reached their acme, in consequence of the discovery that they had no title to their lands, having been cruelly deceived by those from whom they had purchased. It is well known that Congress generously made them a grant of twenty thousand acres. From this, however, but few of them ever derived any advantage. "As the Ohio was now more frequented, the house was occasionally resorted to, and especially by persons looking out for land to purchase. The doctor had a small apartment which contained his chemical apparatus, and I used to sit by him, as often as I could, watching the curious operations of his blow-pipe and crucible. I loved the cheerful little man, and he became very fond of me in return. Many of my countrymen used to come and stare at his doings, which they were half inclined to think had too near a resemblance to the black art. The doctor's little phosphorice matches, igniting spontaneously when the glass tube was broken, and from which he derived some emolument, were thought, by some, to be rather beyond human power. His barometer and thermometer, with the scale neatly painted with the pen, and the frames richly carved, were objects of wonder, and probably some of them are yet extant in the West. But what most astonished some of our visitors was a large peach in a glass bottle, the neck of which would only admit a common cork. This was accomplished by tying a bottle to the limb of a tree, with the peach, when young, inserted into it. His swans, which swam around basins of water, amused me more than any wonders exhibited by the wonderful man. "The doctor was a great favorite with the Americans, as well for his vivacity and sweetness of temper, which nothing could sour, as on account of a circumstance which gave him high claim to the esteem of backwoodsmen. He had shown himself, notwithstanding his small stature and great good nature, a very hero in combat with the Indians. He had descending the Ohio in company with two French philosophers, who were believers in the primitive innocence and goodness of the children of the forest. They could not be persuaded that any danger was to be apprehended from the Indians. As they had no intentions to injure that people, they supposed that no harm could be meditated on their part. "Doctor Saugrain was not altogether so well convinced of their good inten- tions. Accordingly he kept his pistols loaded. Near the mouth of the Sandy, a canoe, with a party of warriors, approached the boat. The philosophers invited them on board by signs, when they came, rather too willingly. The first thing they did, on coming on board the boat, was to salute the two philosophers with the tomahawk. And they would have treated the doctor in the same way, but that he used his pistols with good effect; killed two of the savages, and then leaped into the water, diving like a dipper at the flash of the guns of the others, and succeeded in swimming to the shore, with several severe wounds, whose scars were conspicuous. "The doctor was married to an amiable young woman, but not possessing as much vivacity as himself. As Madam Saugrain had no maid, her brother, a boy of my age, and myself, were her principal helps in the kitchen. We brought water and wood, and washed the dishes. I used to go in the morning about two miles for a little milk, sometimes on the frozen ground, bare-footed. I tried a pair of sabots, or wooden shoes, but was unable to make any use of them, although they had been made by the carver to the king. In the Spring and Summer a good deal of my time was passed in the garden, weeding the beds. Towards the latter part of Summer, the inhabitants suffered was truly wretched. The swamp in the rear, now exposed by the clearing between it and the river, became the cause of a frightful epidemic, from which few escaped and many became its victims. I had recovered from the ague, and was among the few exempted from the disease. But our family as well as the rest, suffered much from absolute hunger, a most painful sensation, as I had before experience. "To show the extremity of our distress, on one occasion the brother of Madam Saugrain and myself, pushed a light canoe to an island above town, where we pulled some corn, took it to mill, and, excepting some of the raw grains, had nothing to eat from the day before, until we carried home the flour and made some bread; but we had neither milk nor meat. I had learned to be thankful when I had sufficiency of wholesome food, however plain, and was blessed with health. "I had been nearly a year at Gallipolis when Captain Smith, of the United States Army, came along, in advance of the barge of General Wilkinson. According to the request of my father, he took me into his custody, for the purpose of bringing me once more to my native place. He remained two or three days, waiting for the general, and in the meantime procured me hat, shoes and clothes, befitting a gentleman's son, and then took me on board his boat. Shortly after the general overtook us, I was transferred on board his barge as a playmate for his son Biddle, a boy of my own age. The general's lady, and several ladies and gentlemen, were on board his boat, which was fitted up in a style of convenience, and even magnificence, scarcely surpassed even by the present steamboats. It was propelled against the stream by twenty-five or thirty men, sometime by the pole, the cordelle, and often by the oar. Ther was also a band of musicians on board, and the whole had the appearance of a party of pleasure. "My senses were overpowered. It seemed an elysium. The splendor of the furniture, the elegance of the dresses, and then the luxuries of the table, to a half-starved creature like me, produced an effect which can scarcely be described. Every repast was a royal banquet' and such delicacies were placed before me as I had never seen before, and in sufficient abundant to satiate my insatiable appetite. The general's countenance was continually lighted up with smiles, and he seemed "faire le bonheur" of all around him. It seemed his business to make every one happy. His countenance and manners were such as I have ever seen; and now that I can form a more just estimate of them, were such as better fitted him for a court than a republic. His lady was truly an estimable person, of the mildest and softest manners. She gave her son and myself a reproof one day, a reproof which I never forgot. She saw us catching minnows with pin-hooks, made us desist, and then explained to us the cruelty of taking away life wantonly from the humblest thing in creation." It is not generally supposed that the Scioto company intended to defraud the emigrants. The company included many men of established integrity of character. It was formed solely as a land speculation. The richest of the western lands could be purchased of Congress for sixty-six cents an acres. Payment could be made in continental paper, which could then be purchased in almost any quantities at so enormous a discount that the actual cost per acre would not be more than eight or ten cents. The terms offered to the emigrants by the company were, that they would take them to their lands, paying the expense of transportation, supply them with food, and at the end of three years give them a deed of fifty acres of land and a cow. For this the emigrant was bound to work for the company for the three years, draining marshes, clearing the forest, and raising crops for the rapidity increasing market, or to pay down a certain sum. If the labor of the emigrant was worth fifty cents per day in addition to his food, his cabin and his other incidental expenses, the company would receive about one hundred dollars an acre. This certainly afforded scope for a very brilliant speculation. But the chickens were indeed counted unhatched. The adoption of the Federal Constitution, and the successful establishment of the government under Washington, greatly raised the price of governmental securities. The Scioto company failed to make the expected purchase. All its affairs were thrown into confusion by bad management. Colonel Rufus Putnam contracted to build the block-houses and cabins; but the company failed of payment, and he lost a large sum of money. In the meantime, Joel Barlow in France, had engaged his five hundred emigrants. They had already embarked and were on their way. The result was misery and ruin. We have given some extracts from the "recollections" of Mr. Breckinridge of his visit to the French colony, in the year 1795, just after the arrival of the emigrants. Twelve years after this in the year 1807, he revisited Gallipolis, and gives the following interesting account of the changes which those few intervening years had introduced: "As we passed Point Pleasant and the island below it, Gallipolis, which I looked for with anxious feelings, hove in sight. I thought of the French inhabitants; I thought of my friend Saugrain, and I recalled, in the liveliest colors, the incidents of that portion of my life which was passed here. A year is a long time at that period. Every day is crowded with new, and great, and striking events. When the boat landed, I ran up the bank and looked around. But alas, how changed! The Americans had taken the town in hand, and no trace of antiquity, that is of twelve years ago, remained. I hastened to the spot where I expected to find the abode, the little log-house tavern, and laboratory, of the doctor. But they had vanished like the palace of Aladdin. After some inquiry, I found a little Frenchman who, like the old woman of Goldsmith's Village, was the sad historian of the deserted plain; that is, deserted by one race to be peopled by another. "He led me to where a few logs might be seen, as the only remains of the once-happy tenement which had sheltered me; but all around it was a common; the town had taken a different direction. My heart sickened; the picture which my imagination had drawn - the scenes which my memory had loved to cherish - were blotted out and obliterated. A volume of reminiscences seemed to be annihilated in an instant. I took a hasty glance at the new town, as I returned to the boat. I saw brick houses, painted frames, fanciful enclosures, ornamental trees! Even the pond, which had carried off a third of the French population by its malaria, had disappeared, and a pretty green had usurped its place, with a neat brick court house in the midst of it. This was too much; I hastened my pace, and with sorrow once more pushed into the stream." Thought the grinding of corn by a hand-mill was a great improvement upon pounding it in a rude mortar, still the process was slow and laborious. Very many settlers had no mill, but were compelled to rely upon what was called the "hominy mortar." It is said that the first mill carried by water-power was built upon a boat or float on the Little Miami River. The boat was firmly anchored in the middle of the stream, or tied to some tree on the bank. The great mill-wheel was slowly turned by the force of the current. It was an inefficient concern, yet so far superior to anything before it enjoyed, that settlers often came to it from quite a distance. Soon a larger boat of the same general character, was built upon the Ohio. But with the rapid increase of population which peace secured, these conveniences were increased and multiplied. Grist mills began to rise in various parts of the vast territory, where rushing streams afforded a good waterpower. It was not uncommon for the pioneer to take two or three pack-horses, load them with sacks of corn, and set out on a journey of twenty or thirty miles to have the grist ground. As his route often led through a pathless forest, where there was not even an Indian trail to guide his stops, it was necessary for him to take with him a gun and ammunition, an ax, a pocketcompass, a blanket and bells. At times it was necessary to cut a path through the dense woods, or to bridge some small stream. If night overtook him on his way, he must procure fuel for his fire, and game for his supper. With powder he could soon kindle his fire, and, experienced in all the emergencies of a backwoodsman's life, he could speedily rear for himself a shelter against wind or rain. The bright flame of his fire would also drive off the approach of wild animals. Having removed the loads from the horses, the bells were attached to their necks, and they were driven forth to find such pasturage as the forest afforded. The pioneer would often doubtless shot some game by the way, and he knew well where to find and how to cut the most delicious morsels. With his blanket or his buffalo-robe spread across the ground, and his feet towards the fire, the weary traveler, in the solitudes of the forest, with the wind wailing his lullaby in the branches of the trees, richly enjoyed the blessing of sleep. With the dawning of day he sprang from his couch, and eagerly listened for the bells, which would guide him to the spot where his horses were brousing. They were too weary and hungry to stray far. He could generally find a spot for his encampment where there was a sufficiency of forage. Having collected and loaded his animals, and partaken of his breakfast, he was again upon his way. After the peace of Greenville, the emigrant could take these journeys without fear of being murdered and scalped by the Indians. The hardships to be encountered by the settler are in themselves very severe. If we add to them the horrors of Indian warfare, it would seem that they must be unendurable. After this long journey the emigrants often had to wait one or two days before his turn for the grinding would come. One of these backwoodsmen, a noble man, whose name deserves to the perpetuated, Jacob Faust, had a sick wife whom he tenderly loved. There was nothing in the course fare of the cabin which her delicate appetite could relish. He purchased a bushel of wheat, took it upon his shoulders and traveled seventy miles, through the trails of the forest, to a mill at what is now Zanesville. Here he had his wheat ground and bolted and carried back to the sick bed of his wife food which she could enjoy. The pioneers, as well as the Indians, relied mainly upon the furs, which they obtained by trapping or in the chase, for means to purchase, by barter, the few necessaries which they could not raise on their own lands. There was an Indian trail, which the mocassined feet had trodden for unknown generations, leading across Ohio from the Valley of the Sandusky to the Tuscarawas. At the relations of peace continued and were strengthened, trading houses were established on many of these routes. It was not an uncommon sight to see a single hunter coming to one of the trading posts in the Spring, with twenty horses laden with his Winter's work. This consisted generally of furs, jerked venison and bear's oil. Their horses were loose, and either from training or instinct followed each other in single file. Their mode of conducting business was peculiar, and yet quite in harmony with the undemonstrative and taciturn character of the Indian. A group of Indians would walk into the merchant's store, and silently, perhaps, without any recognition of the merchant, each take one of the seats which were always in readiness for them. The merchant then presented a small quantity of tobacco to each one. They lighted their pipes and deliberately smoked, occasionally exchanging with each other a few words in a low tone of voice. In the meantime their eyes were glancing over the store, at the stock of goods exhibited for sale. At length one would rise, advance to the counter, and, taking the yard- stick, would point to some article and inquire "How much!" The established currency consisted of furs. A muskrat skin was equivalent to a quarter of a dollar; a raccoon skin, a third of a dollar; a doe skin, half a dollar; a buck skin, one dollar. Perhaps the article at which he pointed would be a brass kettle. The merchant would simply reply two dollars and a half. There was never one word of chaffering. The Indian never endeavored to cheapen the article - to beat down the price. If dissatisfied with the price, he would express no dissatisfaction, but would quietly turn to some other article. If satisfied, he would take from his pack two buck skins and a raccoon skin, or furs equivalent to that amount, and lay them upon the counter. Having made this purchase and paid for it, he would then turn to another article. He always paid for each thing before inquiring for anything else. When he was through, another, we know not by what law of precedent, took his turn. There was never any strife or bickering among them. They were very careful not to trade when intoxicated. They however generally reserved some of their skins with which to buy whisky, after all their other purchases were made. They would then, in the evening, meet around their camp fire and have a barbarian carouse until morning. Nearly all articles of dress were of domestic manufacture. Wolves so abounded that sheep could not be kept. Their depredations were so great, that very early in the settlement of the state a bounty was offered of from four to six dollars for their scalps. This rendered wolf-hunting, in some sections, very lucrative employment. Wool being thus unattainable, many of the garments were made of flax or hemp, homespun. The skins of deer, when nicely dressed, afforded very warm and comfortable clothing, and was much worn by the men. A woman in a cotton check was considered superbly dressed for her bridal. A yard of this material then cost one dollar, and five yards gave an ample pattern for bridal robes. Return Jonathan Meigs, subsequently Governor of Ohio, was one of the first settlers of Marietta. He was born at Middletown, Connecticut, in 1765. He graduated at Yale College, studied law, and was admitted to the bar in his native town. He took an active and very heroic part in the conflict of the Revolution. At the close of the war he was appointed one of the surveyors of the Ohio Company. In the year 1788 he landed at Marietta, and entered upon the duties of his office. He immediately entered upon a survey of the meanderings of the Ohio River, from the Muskingum down to the mouth of the Big Sandy. In this adventure he encountered many perils and hardships. Quite a well armed party accompanied him, and he returned to Marietta in safety, though another company connected with his had seven men shot by the Indians. Colonel Meigs' residence at Marietta was in the Campus Martius, he being part of the garrison which held that fortress. He had planted a small field of corn upon the west side of the river, not far from Fort Harmar. To reach this field he crossed the Muskingum River in a canoe, and then walked nearly a mile in a narrow path through the dense forest. One pleasant morning in June, Colonel Meigs went with a colored servant boy and a hired laborer, Joseph Symonds, to his corn-field. With imprudence, which seems to us now to have amounted to unpardonable recklessness, neither the boy nor the hired man took their rifles. Flocks of wild turkeys were then extradorinarily abundant, and Colonel Meigs carried a small shot-gun, that he might bring home with him some of the game which he was sure to meet with by the way. A hundred turkeys in a flock were not uncommon, and these of extraordinary fatness. As they were returning at the close of the afternoon, just before they reached the river, Colonel Meigs not having chanced to have met any turkeys by the way, discharged his gun at a large snake which crossed his path. At the moment, two Indians, lying in ambush, and who had been watching the movements of the party, seeing that two were without guns, and that the one only gun they had was empty, sprang into the path but a few steps behind them, and firing shot Symonds through the shoulder. Symonds, who was a very powerful man, with his arm thus disabled, rushed down the banks, plunged into the Muskingum, and floating and swimming with the rapid current, was soon picked up by a canoe from Fort Harmar. The garrison had heard the two guns, and were on the watch, apprehensive of danger. The black boy endeavored to follow Symonds. One of the Indians pursued him, buried the tomahawk in his brain, and with a yell of savage delight, stripped off his scalp. Colonel Meigs rushed upon the savage who had discharged his rifle, and with his clubbed gun endeavored to beat him down. The Indian did the same. Each struck the other a staggering blow, but neither was disabled. Colonel Meigs was in the vigor of his early manhood, and a very swift runner. He dropped his gun, and with the utmost speed commenced his flight towards Fort Harmar. The powerful and athletic savage, with equal speed pursued. For sixty or eighty rods there was no perceptible advantage on either side; but every rod passed over was bringing Colonel Meigs nearer the protection of the fort. Colonel Meigs soon encountered a deep gulley traversing his path. Life and death hung trembling in the balance. With a prodigious effort he leaped the run. The savage could not accomplish the feat. Stopping upon the brink he uttered a loud yell of disappointment and rage, and hurled his tomahawk at his foe. The weapon missed its aim. The yell of the savage was heard at both Fort Harmar and Campus Martius, rousing both garrisons to arms. Colonel Meigs rushed in at the gates of Fort Harmar, which were open to receive him. The Indians, with the scalp of the boy as the trophy of their triumph, fled into the depths of the wilderness. Symonds, though very painfully wounded, eventually recovered. In the triumphant campaign of General Wayne to the Maumee country, Colonel Meigs took an active part. He was commissary of the clothing department, and after the treaty of Greenville, in 1795, distributed such clothing as had been promised to the Indians, as well as to our own troops. He was also appointed to see that all the prisoners held by the Indians were released, as stipulated in the articles of the treaty. He made very careful investigations to ascertain what captives had been taken by the savages, and what had been their fate. There was a poor widow residing at Marietta by the name of Kelly. Four years before this, their lonely cabin had been attacked by the Indians, who had killed her husband, carried away her little son Joseph as a captive, while she had almost miraculously escaped. From that dreadful hour the bereaved and widowed mother had never received any tidings whatever from her child. She knew not if he were living or dead. The sympathies of Colonel Meigs were strongly excited in behalf of this afflicted woman whom he knew so well. He made all possible inquiries for Joseph, but could learn nothing of him. As the Indians very seldom put boys to death, after taking them prisoners, Colonel Meigs as of the impression that the child was still living, held by some family who had become attached to him, and were reluctant to give him up. In the Autumn of 1795, the Indians had brought in and surrendered, as they said, all their captives. Still no Joseph Kelly was among them. Colonel Meigs, however, continued to inquire for him of every new Indian whom he met. At length two savages came to the settlement, who, upon being closely questioned, said that there were two white boys in an Indian family far away in the wilderness near the head-waters of the Auglaise River. Colonel Meigs immediately dispatched a white man, with one of these Indians as a guide, to ascertain the facts. Threading the trails of the forest for many leagues, they at length reached a cluster of a few Indian huts, surrounded by the solitudes of the forest. Here they found Joseph, and another boy by the name of Bill. Joseph was in the family of an old Indian warrior by the name of Mishalena. The old man had lost in the war with the white man, all of his sons, five in number. He had but one child, a daughter left. He had adopted Joseph, the child of his mortal enemies, as his own son. He was but six years of age when captured, and was now his forest home, and the Indian boys with whom he was associated, that he was very reluctant to leave them. He always testified that his adopted father, Mishalena, was one of the most kind and benevolent men he had ever met with. He was a man of noble aspect, and dignified demeanor, and he treated his adopted son with all the tenderness which a Christian father could had displayed. The old man in his prime had been one of the most noted hunters of the tribe. He was extremely popular, was still regarded as one of their most able counselors. Joseph says that his adopted mother, whose name was Patepsa, was of a less genial and affectionate temperament, though she always treated him kindly, and gave him plenty of food when she had it. Yet she never accepted him with the hearty good will and tenderness which the father manifested. Still she evidently loved him, perhaps, as strongly as it was in her nature to love any one. They had given Joseph a new name, that of Lala. He had been with them so long that he had forgotten his native language, and most of the incidents of his earlier life. The other boy, whose name was Bill, was captured when so young that he had entirely forgotten the family name. He had but a dim recollection of an awful midnight scene of conflagration and blood, when all were killed but himself. A warm-hearted Indian widow, who had no children, had adopted him, and apparently loved him with all the fondness with which any mother could love a child. She parted with him with tears of anguish, and the boy had no desire to leave so loving a mother. Mishalena and Patepsa accompanied their loved boy to Greenville. The father gave him at parting a beautiful bow and arrows, made with his own hands. Upon the arrival of the two boys at Fort Greenville, no ordinary observer could discern any difference between them and other Indian boys. Bronzed by exposure to the weather, speaking the language, wearing the dress, and having insensibly imbibed all the habits of the Indians, there was but little external evidence that the white man's blood flowed through their veins. As soon as they reached the fort, Colonel Meigs sent for a tailor and fitted them with warm woolen dresses. The blanket and leggins of the Indian were thrown aside. But a short time before this rescue of the boys, Colonel Meigs wrote to Mrs. Kelly that he could learn no tidings of her lost child, and that in all probability he was dead. Joseph's mother had described to Colonel Meigs the color of his hair, his eyes, and his general features. So accurately had she done this that, at the first glimpse of the two boys, he selected Joseph. On being questioned, he remembered the names of his brothers and sisters, and that his own name was Joseph Kelly. This satisfied the colonel that he had found the lost son of the sorrowing widow. She was a Christian mother, and, from the time of his capture, never had a day passed without his being remembered in her prayers. So anxious was he sympathetic, kind-hearted colonel to restore the boy to his mother, that he started in February to cross the pathless swamps and dense forests of Ohio for distant Marietta. A young, active and intelligent Indian guided the party, which consisted of six soldiers and eight horses. They made almost a bee-line through the wilderness, until they struck the Muskingum River at Big Rock, which was a noted Indian landmark about twenty-four miles above Marietta. While upon this journey an incident occurred which exhibits very strongly the sagacity of the Indian in traversing the forest. One day a severe storm came on. The smothering snow-flakes filled the air so that they could see but a few rods before them. They were in the midst of a vast swamp, covered with a very thick growth of beech trees. Most of the party became bewildered. Colonel Meigs took out his compass, and after carefully examining it, pointed to the east as the direction in which their course lay. But the Indian, whose name was Thom, shook his head and pointed to the southeast. The colonel, having more confidence in the accuracy of the compass than in the sagacity of the Indian, insisted on following the guidance of the needle. The Indian at length became irritated, and exclaimed in broken English, "What care I for compass," shouldered his musket and pursued his own course. They all followed the Indian and soon found that he was right, and the colonel and the compass wrong. The party reached Marietta early in March, and the mother had the unspeakable satisfaction of again clasping in her arms her long lost son, for whom she had so perserveringly and fervently prayed. It was through the unwearied efforts of Colonel Meigs that this was accomplished. A few years after this he was appointed by President Jefferson Indian Agent among the Cherokees. He resided in their country until his death in 1832. It has been truly written of him: "During a long life of activity and usefulness, no man ever sustained a character more irreproachable than Colonel Meigs. He was a pattern of excellence, as a patriot, philanthropist and Christian. In all the vicissitudes of fortune, the duties of religion were strictly observed, and its precepts striking exemplified. In the discharge of his duties among the Cherokees, he acquired their highest confidence. They loved and revered him as a father, denominating him for his integrity and uprightness, 'The White Path.'" Joseph Kelly, after his return to his friends, gave a very affecting account of the ruin and devastation inflicted upon his Indian friends by the army of General Wayne. Their villages on the Auglaise and the Maumee were very comfortably built. Their cabins, though lowly, furnished warm and cheerful homes for their inmates. They were supplied with many convenient articles of furniture, some of which had been constructed at an immensity of labor. They had also, with their furs, purchased of the white traders many articles of inestimable value to them, such as kettles, hatchets, and garden tools. They had articles of clothing, very elaborately and labororiously made, and often richly ornamented with embroidery, beads and fringes. They had also provided themselves with comfortable beds, with bedding of blankets and furs. In these dwellings were to be found the sick, the aged, and the new born babies. Each little hut had its garden and its cornfield, which were carefully cultivated by the women. In these they raised quite a rich supply of corn, beans, melons, squashes, and other vegetables. They had also some fine orchards. They avenging army was commissioned to destroy everything. Fearfully it accomplished its work. The most awful devastation swept the whole land. It would seem that the terrified and flying Indians themselves, when caught sight of, men, women and children, were shot down as wolves would be shot by the hunter. This may have been deemed, under the circumstances, a necessary policy. But it was terribly cruel, though it must be admitted, that it proved effective. Major Jonathan Haskell, who was a prominent actor in these scenes, writes: "We have marched through the Indian settlements for about sixty miles. We have destroyed several thousand acres of corn, beans, and all kinds of vegetables, and burned their houses, with their furniture and tools. A detachment has gone to Fort Recovery for a supply of provisions for the troops, and when it returns we shall march up the Miami, sixty miles to where the St. Mary's unites with the St. Joseph's, and destroy all the corn in that country." It is said that even the British troops, in their inroads upon the white settlements during the Revolutionary War, were never guilty of atrocities more horrible than were inflicted by our armies upon these native inhabitants of the soil. Joseph Kelly, then a boy of twelve years, was residing with his aged adopted parents in a very pleasant Indian village, at the junction of the Auglaise and St. Mary's Rivers. All the warriors were gone; only the aged men, the women and children, remained. Joseph had found there a very happy home. One morning, just after sunrise, as he was playing with the little Indian boys and girls, whom he loved, as Indian runner came rushing into the village, and almost breathlessly announced that the Indians had been utterly defeated by General Wayne, and that a large party of white men, on horseback, was rapidly approaching, burning every house and shooting every Indian, old and young, male and female, whom they could overtake. Dreadful was the consternatino into which the little village was thrown. Not a moment was to be lost. In another instant, the dragoons might appear, applying the torch and shooting the helpless people. Terror-stricken, and with loud wailings, mothers with their babes, the aged men and the sick, rushed to the river, sprang into the birch canoes, and paddled up the stream, to find refuge in the remote fastnesses of the woods. They abandoned every thing. They had scarcely a blanket to wrap around them in the chill night. Scarcely had the canoes disappeared beyond the curvatures of the stream ere the clatter of the horses was heard, as the avengers entered the doomed village. Had a single canoe remained in sight, it would certainly be riddled by the bullets of the sharpshooters, and Joseph Kelly and Bill might have been slain by their own countrymen. The torch was applied to the village; every house was burned; every fruit-bearing tree was cut down; every garden and field was laid waste. The melons were just beginning to ripen, and rich squashed embellished the gardens. The vines were pulled up by the roots, and all such products of the soil were devoured by the horses or trampled under their feet. When the Indians again cautiously returned to their desolated homes, even their imobility was softened, and they wept bitterly over the ruin which had overtaken them, and the still greater ruin impending. The autumnal season would soon pass away. Cold Winter would soon be upon them. They had no houses, no sufficient clothing, no tools, no food. Starvation and misery stared them in the face. Their worst anticipations were more than realized. All suffered from cold and hunger; many perished in lingering wretchedness. Game was by no means sufficient to supply their wants. They were in the habit of laying up their winter's stores as regularly as the white people. Those who survived the Winter were barely kept alive by the few deer they could shoot, and fish they could catch. Alas for man! The most mournful of all themes is the history of the nations. War and woe have, since the fall, been the lot of humanity. How long, Lord! how long!