OHIO STATEWIDE FILES - HISTORY: Chapter 22 (Abbott, John S. C., 1875)
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			Chapter XXII.
		       Modern Chivalry.

   As we have mentioned, the majority of the early pioneers in the settlement
of Ohio were very noble men, intellectually, morally and religiously. They
were generally men who revered the religion of Jesus Christ; who recognized
God as our common father, and all men as brothers. In heart and life they 
wished to adopt the fundamental rule of Christianity in their intercourse
with their fellow men, Do unto others as ye would that they should do unto
you. They would have had no difficulty with the Indians but for the worthless,
vagabond white men, who roamed the country as regardless of right as fiends
from pandemonium would have been, and whom no laws could restrain.
   Among these good men who aided in laying the foundations of the State of
Ohio, James Mitchell Varnum deserves honorable mention. He was the one of 
those in whom all the elements of manhood seemed to be thoroughly developed.
He had a kind heart, a mind highly cultivated, a devout Christian spirit, 
and physical energies which it would seem nothing could tire. Mr. Varnum was
born in Dracut, Massachusetts, in 1749, and graduated at Brown University, 
at the age of twenty, with the first honors of his class. He was distinguished
alike for his mathematical abilities, his classical attainments, and his 
extraordinary gymnastic skill. He was a very active and efficient officer in
the Revolutionary War, was very highly regarded by Washington, and attained
the rank of brigadier general. At the close of the war he resumed the practice
of law at East Greenwich, and attained great celebrity for his remarkable
oratorical powers. In the year 1786 he was elected to Congress, where he
more than sustained the reputation he had already gained as a man of uncommone
talents and brilliant eloquence.
   Much of the old English aristocratic feeling at that time pervaded the
colonies. There were generally a marked distinction between the dress of the
so-called gentlemen and the commoner. General Varnum always appeared elegantly
dressed. The following is a description of his person and attire as seen on
the floor of Congress:
   "General Varnum appeared with a brick-colored coat, trimmed with gold
lace; buckskin small clothes, with gold lace bands; silk stockings and boots;
a high, delicate and white forehead, eyes prominent and of a dark hue, his 
complexion father florid; somewhat corpulent, well proportioned, and finely
formed for strength and agility; large eyebrows; nose straight and rather
broad; teeth perfectly white; a profuse head of head, short on the forehead, 
turned up some, and deeply powdered and clubbed. When he took off his cocked
hat he would lightly brush his hair forward, and with a fascinating smile
take his seat."
   It will be remembered that the Ohio Land Company originated with the 
disbanded officers of the revolutionary army. They had but little chance of
obtaining any pay for their services unless they took it in land. General
Varnum was appointed one of the directors of this company. When General
Arthur St. Clair entered upon his office as Governor of the Northwestern
Territory, General Varnum, Samuel H. Parsons and John Cleaves Symmes were
appointed Judges of the Supreme Court. General Varnum immediately repaired
to Marietta, where he arrived in June of 1788. In the fourth of July celebration
at Fort Harmar, to which we have before alluded, General Varnum delivered
the oration. It is said to have been a production of unusual eloquence, and
was published by order of the directors of the Land Company.
   Soon after the arrival of General Varnum at Marietta, his health began to
fail, and alarming symptoms of consumption made their appearance. Though he
rapidly grew more feeble, he devoted himself with much energy to the fulfillment
of all his duties. His fine taste led him to exert himself to preserve those
ancient remains at Marietta of a departed race, who must have inhabited the
valley in ages long gone by. Ere long it became evident that his life was
drawing to a close. From his dying bed he wrote to his absent wife the
following letter. It has often been published as a fine specimen of elegant
composition. It is worthy of record here, as illustrative of the character
of the man and of the power of Christian faith to sustain one in the dread
hour of departure from earth:
   
   "My dearest and most estimable friend:
  
   "I now address you from my sick chamber, and perhaps it will be the last
letter that you will receive from me. My lungs are so far affected that it
is impossible for me to recover but by exchange of air and a warm climate. I
expect to leave this place on Sunday or Monday next for the Falls of the Ohio.
If I feel myself mended by the tour, I shall go no further; but if not, and
my strength should continue, I expect to proceed to New Orleans, and from 
thence, by the West Indies, to Rhode Island. My physicians, most of them, 
think the chances of recovery in my favor. However, I am not either elevated
or depressed by the force of opinion, but shall meet my fate with humility
and fortitude.
   "I cannot, however, but indulge the hope that I shall again embrace my 
lovely friend in this world, and that we may glide smoothly down the tide of
time for a few years, and enjoy together the more substantial happiness and
satisfaction, as we have already the desirable pleasures of life. It is now
almost nineteen years since Heaven connected us by the tenderest and most
sacred of ties; and it is the same length of time that our friendship hath
been increased by every rational and endearing motive. It is now stronger
than death, and I am firmly persuaded will follow us into an existance of
never-ending felicity.
   "But, my lovely friend, the gloomy moment will arrive when we must part.
And should it arrive during our present separation, my last, and only reluctant
thought, will be employed about my dearest Martha. Life, my dearest friend, 
is but a bubble. It soon bursts, and is remitted to eternity. When we look
back to the earliest recollections of youthful hours, it seems but the last
period of our rest, and we appear to emerge from a night of slumbers, to 
look forward to real existance. When we look forward, time appears as indeterminate
as eternity, and we have no idea of its termination but by the period of our
dissolution.
   "What particular relation it bears to a future state, our general motions
of religion cannot point out: we feel something constantly active within us, 
that is evidently beyond the reach of mortality; but whether it is a part of
ourselves, or an emanation from the pure source of existance, or re-absorbed
when death shall have finished his work, human wisdom cannot determine. Whether
the demolition of the body introduces only a change in the manner of our
being, or leaves it to progress infinitely, alternately elevavted and depressed, 
according to the propriety of our conduct; or whether we return to the common
mass of unthinking matter, philosophy hesitates to decide.
   "I know, therefore, but one source from whence can be derived complete
consolation in a dying hour; and that is, the divine system contained in the
Gospel of Jesus Christ. There life and immortality are brought to light. There
we are taught that our existance is to be eternal; and, secure in an interest
in the atoning merits of a bleeding Saviour, that we shall be inconceivably
happy. A firm and unshaken faith in this doctrine must raise us above the
doubts and fears that hang upon every other system, and enable us to view
with a calm serenity the approach of the king of terrors, and to hold him as
a kind and indulgent friend, speeding his shafts only to carry us the sooner
to our everlasting home.
   "But should there be a more extensive religion beyond the veil, and without
the reach of mortal observation, the Christian religion is by no means shaken
thereby, as it is not opposed to any principle that admits the perfect 
benevolence of the Deity. My only doubt is, whether the punishment threatened
in the New Testament, is annexed to a state of unbelief which may be removed
hereafter, and so a restoration take place, or whether the state of mind at
death irretrievably fixes its doom forever.
   "I hope and pray that the Divine Spirit will give me such assurance of an
acceptance with God, through the merits and sufferings of his Son, as to
brighten the way to immediate happiness. Dry up your tears, my charming mourner, 
not to suffer this letter to give you too much disquietude. Consider the
facts, at present, as in theory; but the sentiments such as will apply 
whenever the change may come.
   "I know that humanity must and will be indulged in its keenest griefs, but
there is no advantage in too deeply anticipating our inevitably sorrows. If
I did not persuade myself that you would conduct yourself with becoming 
prudence and fortitude, upon this occasion, my own unhappiness would be greatly
increased, and perhaps my disorder too; but I have so much confidence in your 
discretion as to unbosom my inmost soul.
   "You must not expect to hear from me again, until the coming Spring, as 
the river will soon be shut up with ice, and there will be no communication
from below, and if in a situation for the purpose, I will return as soon as
is practicable. Give my sincerest love to all those whom you hold dear. I 
hope to see them again, and love them more than ever.
   "Adieu, my dearest friend, and while I fervently devote, in one undivided
prayer, our immortal souls to the care, forgiveness, mercy, and all-prevailing
grace of Heaven, in time and through eternity, I must bid you a long, long
farewell,
				"James M. Varnum."

   Such were the thoughts and utterances of a dweller in a log cabin, on the
forest-covered banks of the Muskingum three-fourths of a century ago. There 
were many such men, in that band of pioneers of whom Ohio may justly feel 
proud. The disease of General Varnum made such rapid progress, that he was
unable to leave Marietta. He died on the 8th of January, 1789, and was buried
with all the marks of respect and affection which his noble character had
elicited. His wife, Martha Childe, was a highly educated and accomplished
woman, from one of the distinguished families of Rhode Island. She survived
her husband forty-eight years.
   In searching the annals of those ancient days we, now and then, catch a 
very vivid glimpst of the physical hardships which the settlers were called
to endure. William Dana, from Worchester, Massachusetts, was captain of an
artillery company in the Revolution. His means were limited, and he found it
difficult to support a growing family from a New England farm. Accounts which
he received from military associates who had emigrated to the Ohio, led him
to follow them.
   Leaving behind him at Amherst, New Hampshire, his wife and younger children, 
until he could make preparation to receive them, he took with him his two 
older boys, and reached Marietta the last of June, 1789. It was too late to
plant corn. He however built a small log cabin, and with his boys, commenced
making bricks, the first which were made in the territory. These were in
great demand for chimneys, and thus he supplied his immediate wants.
   The next year he brought out his family, and joined the little colony of
Belpre, which was situated on very beautiful meadowland, just about the
head of what has since been called Blennerhassett's Island. The first labor
of these pioneers was to clear the land of the gigantic growth of forest trees
which encumbered it. This left but little time to build a comfortable cabin, 
and the family were lodged in a mere shed, so small that all could not be
accommodated in it at night. The two oldest boys slept in a covered shed.
   Such were the humble beginnings of real prosperity. The climate was 
delightful. The land was fertile. Crops were abundant, and with the rapidity
increasing emigration, brought good prices. We soon find Captain Dana in a 
well-built and well-furninshed frame house, surrounded with fertile fields
and a thrifty forest. Eight sons and three daughters in health and happiness
surrounded his amply-provided table.
   Colonel Battelle was another of these marked men whose virtues stll live
in the institutions which they established and maintained. He was born in
Dedham, Massachusetts; the son of Christian parents, and was educated at
Cambridge University, designing to enter the ministry. The Revolutionary
struggle called him to the field of battle, where he attained the rank of
colonel. At the close of the war he became partner in a book-store with 
Isaiah Thomas, of Worchester, and married Anna Durant, daughter of a rich 
merchant of Boston.
   On the formation of the Ohio Company, he became an associate, and was 
appointed one of their agents. It took him six weeks to effect the passage
of the rugged defiles of the Allegheny mountains. He reached Marietta the
latter part of May, 1788, and spent the Summer in erecting a comfortable
dwelling for his family, who remained in Boston. The latter part of October, 
he recrossed the mountains to meet his wife and children at Baltimore, and
conduct them in their long and toilsome journey over the Alleghenies. Mrs.
Battelle, who had been nurtured amid all the luxuries of one of the most
opulent families in Boston, found the journey excessively fatiguing. Having
reached the Allegheny River, they abandoned their wagons, and, with several
other families from New England, embarked in a large flatboat, to float down
to Marietta. They reached their destination in December. The Winter passed
very pleasantly away. There were then many gentlemen and ladies of high worth
and culture occupying the log cabins at the mouth of the Muskingum. Governor
St. Clair was there, with Judges Varnum, Parsons and Symmes. Many of the
officers who garrisoned the Forts Harmar and Campus Martius, were men of
science and refinement. The weather chanced to be unusually mild and salubrious.
The Indians were all friendly, and the remarkable assemblage of chieftains
and warriors from many tribes added much to the novel attractions of the
place. Game was abundant, and there was no peril in pursuing it at any distance
from the forts. The river was unincumbered with ice, and boats with provisions
and all needful articles were continually floating down from Pittsburgh. Such
are the blessings of peace.
   It was during this Winter that the plan was formed for establishing a new
settlement, at Belpre or Beautiful Prairie. On the first of May, Colonel
Battelle, with two of his sons, and another very distinguished emigrant, 
Griffin Greene, embarked at Marietta in a large canoe, with tools and provisions, 
to commence operations there. Others very soon joined them. Two strong block-
houses were built, sufficiently capacious to accomodate them all. Not long
after this, before any families had moved to the place, a party of officers
from Fort Harmar, with quite a number of ladies from Marietta, took a very
splendid barge, propelled by twelve rowers, and descended the river to pay
their friends a visit. These were the first white females who had ever set
foot on the soil of Belpre. They had a very merry time, nothing occurring to
mar their enjoyment.
   As the party set out on its return to the barge, Colonel Battelle, with a 
few of his friends, followed in a light birch canoe. While on the way, a huge
bear was seen swimming across the river. Rapidly plying their paddles in the 
canoe, they soon overtook him. He was a very formidable animal, with teeth
and claws which warned all to keep at a distance. One blow from his paws
might have overturned the boat, or rent open its side. It would seem that
there was no rifle in the canoe. It was necessary to approach the creature
with extreme caution. Colonel Battelle seized him by the tail, and by raising
his haunches, threw his head under water. The half-suffocated animal was 
soon dispatched with an ax. He weighed over three hundred pounds, and his
savory flesh afforded several very dainty feasts to the captors.
   The colony of Belpre rapidly increased, and the celebrated fort called
"Farmer's Castle," was built. The block-house, which Colonel Battelle had
built for his family, occupied the northeast corner of the fort. A lower room
of the building was fitted up for divine worship, and these religiously-
disposed men had services there every Sabbath. The colonel's son, Ebenezer, 
a lad of fourteen years, who was drummer to the garrison, every Sabbath
marched through the little settlement, summoning the inhabitants to the church.
The colonel himself often officiated as chaplain. He frequently preached from
the fullness of his own heart. Sometimes he read a sermon of some standard
divine. Thus the Sabbath was honored, and the community ennobled. But as
Satan entered Eden, so war came, eventually, to mar all this happiness.
   Major Nathan Goodale was born in Brookfield, Massachusetts. In July, 1788, 
he arrived at the mouth of the Muskingum, with his family and several others
from Massachusetts. It is worthy of notice, as illustrative of the foresight
of the man, that when he left his native state in one of the strong, canvas-
covered Ohio wagons, so well known in those days, instead of taking a team 
of horses or of oxen, as all others did, he selected three of the best cows
and one of the finest bulls, and trained them to work together in a team.
With these he drew his wagon, with his family and household goods, the whole
distance across the mountains, to Wheeling. Here he took a boat, and with
cattle, wagon and family, floated down the Ohio. The journey was accomplished
with as much ease, and in as short a time, as could have benn the case with
the best oxen. He had also the advantage of a supply of milk for family while
on the road. The stock from this breed has been widely spread. The cattle 
are held in high estimation, for their graceful forms, gentle dispositions, 
and great abundance of milk.
   Major Goodale united with the Belpre colony. He was esteemed as one of the
most valuable members of the community. When the war with the Indians broke
out in 1791, he was one of the most active in planning and erecting Farmer's
Castle, and was unanimously elected commandant of the garrison. Notwithstanding
the war which mainly raged far away on the banks of the Maumee, and the Miamis, 
the colony at Belpre so increased that in the Winter of 1793 more families
were assembled there than could be conveniently congregated within the walls
of the fort in case of an assault. It was therefore decided to build two
additionaly stockades; one a mile and a half below Farmers' Castle, on Major
Goodale's farm, and another a little distance above, on Colonel Stone's land, 
nearly opposite the little Kanawha.
   Major Goodale removed his family to his new garrison. It was not known that
there were any hostile Indians around, and there was no special occasion for
watchfulness. But he had been but one week in his new home, when, on the 
morning of the first day of March, 1793, he went out to work, clearing his
farm. A hired laborer, an Irishman by the name of John McGee, accompanied
him. They were at work but about forty rods from the house. While John was
grubbing up the bushes and small trees, Major Goodale with a yoke of oxen was
at a little distance, hauling timber for rails. Suddenly he seemed to vanish, 
nobody knew how or where. No gun was heard, no savage yell was uttered, no 
Indians were seen, no marks of a struggle could be found. Major Goodale had
disappeared; that was all that was known. No clue whatever could be found.
The first intimation that was had of the disaster was by some one in the 
garrison observing that the oxen were standing idle in the field, with no
one near them. An hour passed and still there they stood. This excited surprise
and some little alarm. John was still quietly at work, unconscious that 
anything unusual had happened.
   A search was instituted. In the woods, at some little distance from the
clearing, there was a light layer of snow which the sun had not yet melted.
Here at length was found the imprint of several moccasined feet. This indicated
that Indians had been there. But no blood could be seen on the ground, and
therefore they inferred that Major Goodale had been very strangely captured, 
but not killed. A small body of armed men followed the trail for a short 
distance, but soon lost it. The next day a larger party set out, but returned
in discouragement, having learned nothing. Terrible was the distress of Mrs.
Goodale and the children. The imagination brooded over the probable fate of
the lost man. A deep gloom was thrown over the whole community; for Major
Goodale had won the affection and confidence of them all. For six years not
the slightest information could be obtained respecting his fate. It seemed
as if an awful mystery hung over his destiny, which would never be revealed.
   At the treaty of Greenville, when all the captives held by the Indians
were given up, no intelligence whatever could be obtained respecting Major
Goodale. At length, in the year 1799, Colonel Forest, who was an intimate
friend of the Goodale family, was in Detroit, where he fell in with three
Indians. They related to him the particulars of their capture of Major Goodale
in the Spring of 1793. They said that a party of eight were out on the war-
path, watching the settlements for an opportunity to make some attack. They
had concealed themselves behind a small ridge in the vicinity of Belpre, 
when they heard a man calling to his oxen.
   Cautiously they crept along when his back was turned to them, until they
reached a point near which they knew he must soon come, and where he would
be out of sight of the man who was working with him. When Major Goodale arrived
at that spot, which was just in the edge of the wood, they rushed upon him, 
seized him, and with the uplifted tomahawk, threatened him with instant death
should he make the slightest noise. They bound his hands firmly behind him
and commenced a rapid retreat. It was their intention to take him to Detroit, 
where they expected to obtain a large sum for his ransom.
   When they reached the Valley of the Sandusky, their captive, exhausted by
the hurried journey and mental agitation, fell sick. He was so utterly 
prostrated that he could travel no farther. They left him at the house of the 
wife of an Indian trader, a Mrs. Whitaker, where he almost immediately died
of pleurisy. Mrs. Whitaker subsequently confirmed this statement. She said
that the Indians had left him at her house without inflicting any cruelty
upon their captive. They had merely adopted such measures as were necessary
to prevent his escape. Sad as was the fate of Major Goodale, it was a great
relief to his friends to learn that he had not perished beneath the horrors
of Indian torture. His memory was for many years affectionately cherished by
his associates, who have now all passed away, and their descendents still 
honor the many virtues which adorned his character.
   Dr. Jabez True was bornin Hampstead, New Hampshire, in the year 1762, where
his father, a highly educated man and a fine classical scholar, was pastor 
of the church. Jabez, having been thoroughly instructed by his father, entered
upon the study of medicine, and commenced practice in Gilmanton, New Hampshire.
Glowing descriptions had reached him, of the new earthly paradise to be found
on the banks of the Ohio. He accordingly joined a party of emigrants from
Newburyport, Massachusetts, and reached the mouth of the Muskingum early in
the Summer of 1788. The country then presented the aspect of quite an unbroken
wilderness. But few white men had as yet entered that region of hostile
savages. There was more employment for strong arms to fell the forest and build
log cabins than for medical practitioners.
   The next year several young men from Boston, came to Marietta. They had
heard much of the beauty and fertility of the Ohio Valley, and determined to
see for themselves. Putting up a log cabin, they commenced clearing the land.
But city young men are not often accustomed to swing the ax with sufficient
perserverance to be good woodsmen. It is not strange that these laborious
employments discouraged some of them, and when the wars with the Indians
threatened them with the scalping knife, they thought discretion the better
part of valor, and returned to Boston.
   Dr. True was of a more perservering nature. He had done to the West with
the deliberate intention of spending his life there, and from that purpose
he could not easily be turned. His intelligence, energy and upright character, 
soon won for him the confidence of the community, and he was appointed assistant
surgeon to the Ohio Company's troops. As there were several small stations
in the vicinity of Marietta, it was necessary that he should be occasionally
called from one post to another. These excursions, when hostile Indians were
prowling about, watching from ambuscades to fire upon every unwary traveler, 
were at times extremely hazardous. As all these stations at that time were
either upon the banks of the Muskingum or the Ohio, Dr. True generally made
his trips in a birch canoe, well armed himself, and accompanied by two well
armed soldiers.
   Early in the Spring of 1792, one of the settlers of Belpre, Mr. Stephen
Sherwood, went out one morning, soon after sunrise, to his field at a little
distance from the house, but upon the banks of the river. At the same time
his wife went to milk a cow which was standing about twenty yards from the
gate of the upper block-house. Mr. Sherwood having reached his field, stepped
into a thicket to cut an ax goad, intending to plow that day among the young
corn. As he was cutting his stick, ten Indians who were waiting in ambush
sprang upon him, overpowered him, and made him prisoner. Having bound him
firmly, two of them remained to watch their captive, while the other eight
stealthily crept down towards his cabin to capture his wife and plunder the
dwelling. As Mrs. Sherwood was absorbed in milking, the noise of the milk
falling into the pail preventing her from hearing the approach of moccasined
footsteps, two of the Indians crept up behind and seized her. She was a strong, 
muscular woman, fifty years of age, who had always resided on the frontiers.
She made such a frantic struggles to escape that the savages became alarmed, 
and reliquished their plan of taking her captive, struck her down with the
tomahawk,  and instantly commenced the operation of taking off her scalp. It
was the work of but a moment. Two men, Peter Anderson and Joel Dewey, had just
risen from their beds in the block-house, and were putting their rifles in 
order for a hunt. 
   Anderson's gun lay across his knee, and having taken off the lock, cleaned
and oiled it, he was about to replace it when he heard the screams of Mrs.
Sherwood, and rightly judged the cause.
   He clapped on the lock without fastening it with the screws, and sprang 
up the staircase to fire through a port-hole, should any savage be in sight.
He had taken deliberate aim at an Indian, and was just upon the point of
firing when the lock dropped from his gun.
   At this instant Joel Dewey, whose gun was in good condition, sprang to his
side, took deliberate aim at the savage who was scalping Mrs. Sherwood, and
shattered with his bullet the arm which was wielding the scalping knife, 
before the operation was accomplished. The Indians seeing the effect of this
shot, and knowing not how soon others might follow it, precipitately fled.
   Anderson and Dewey, though there were eight Indians to be encountered, 
heroically rushed from the block-house, seized the prostrate and insensible
Mrs. Sherwood by the shoulders and feet, and brought her in at the gate. The
Indians turned and discharged a volley of bullets, which fortunately did not
strike either of them. The morning was foggy, the Indians were at quite a 
distance, and the movements of the pioneers were very rapid. Many of the 
bullets, however, pierced the logs on each side of the doorway.
   Mrs. Sherwood remained for some time without any signs of life, having
been thoroughly stunned by the dreadful blow. Her head was gashed in the most
frightful manner, and the blood had flowed all over her person. At length
there were more signs of returning sensibility. A young man took a birch
canoe, and with his rifle as his only protection, paddled up the stream to
Marietta, which place he reached before nightfall. Immediately Dr. True, ever
ready to listen to the call of the distressed, embarked with him, and rapidly
through the night they paddled down the stream, reaching the wounded woman
in the early dawn of the morning. Under the doctor's kind and skilled care
Mrs. Sherwood entirely recovered. Her husband soon after escaped from his
captivity, and they lived many years happily together. Dr. True was a sincere
Christian, a member of the Congregational Church in Marietta, and for many
years one of its honored deacons.
   In the year 1792, when the Indians were becoming very troublesome, and a
general war with the savages seemed inevitable, Captain William Hubbell, with
his family and two or three other families, nine of whom were men, were on 
the route across the mountains to find a new home somewhere on the banks of
the beautiful river. Having reached the Allegheny River in their wagons some
forty or fifty miles above Pittsburgh, they purchased one of the large flat-
bottomed boats then in vogue for that purpose, and commenced floating down
the stream. Rumors had reached them of many hostile acts of the Indians, and
they deemed it necessary to practice the utmost caution. Their whole party
numbered twenty, there being in addition to the nine men three women and 
eight children. It was the latter part of March - a lovely season in that
genial clime. The streams were swollen by the Spring floods, and swept along
the calm, majestic placidity to their final destination in the Gulf of Mexico.
The buds were bursting into leaf on the luxuriant hill-sides, and the flowers
were beginning to expand in great profusion. Hardly anything can be conceived
of as more delightful for one who had the soul to enjoy it, than such a 
voyage through the luxuriance, silence and sublimity of the primeval forest.
Water-fowl of varied plumage floated upon the unruffled surface of the stream;
turkeys, often in immense flocks, were soon in the groves, while buffalo, 
deer, and other game, were browsing in the distant glades.
   They passed by the little cluster of huts beneath the shelter of Fort Pitt, 
and entered the broad Ohio without encountering any alarm. They were careful
to keep in the middle of the stream, and never to land for wood or game except
at points where it was manifest that no Indians could lie in ambush. Thus
they floated on day after day, enjoying ease and abundance, and feasting their
eyes with the scenery opening around them. They made a short tarry at Fort
Harmar; another at Gallipolis, where they heard alarming reports of the
increasing hostility of the Indians, and of emigrant boats attacked and captured
by savages in fleets of birch canoes.
   Captain Hubbell, who had been appointed commander of the boat, made every
preparation in his power to repel an attack should one be made. All the guns
were put in perfect order, loaded and placed in the best position for immediate
service. The nine men were divided into three watches for the night. They were 
to be on vigilant look-out alternately two hours at a time.
   We have often had occasion to allude to the utter recklessness sometimes
practiced by the pioneers, which led to the most awful disasters which might
easily have been averted by the exercise of a little prudence. There were now
very distinct classes of emigrants crowding into the boundless fields of the
far West. The one class consisted of intelligent, industrious, Christian men
and women, such as laid the foundations of Marietta and Cincinnati, and all
the other thriving settlements in the Territory of the Northwest. Another
class consisted of fugitives from justice, brokendown gamblers - profane, 
lazy, and drunken.
   On the evening of the 23rd of March, Captain Hubbell overtook six boats
laden with passengers of the latter description. When he first came in sight
of these boats he was greatly rejoiced, thinking that by descending the river
in their company, they could easily repel any force which the savages could
bring against them. But he soon found to his great disappointment that he
had fallen in with a gang with whom he could have no sympathies. They were a
reckless set of desparadoes, upon whom no reliance could be placed in the hour
of danger. They were fiddling, dancing, drinking, swearing, having adopted 
no precautions to repel an attack. Captain Hubbell therefore wisely considered
it more hazardous to remain in such company than to be alone. He accordingly
ordered his men vigorously to ply their oars, and the midnight revelers were
soon left far behind.
   One of the boats of this disgraced fleet, commanded by Captain Greathouse, 
seemed to have adopted the same opinion with Captain Hubbell. He also left
the reckless carousers, and for several miles followed closely in company
with Captain Hubbell. But about midnight his crew became weary and fell 
asleep, and his boat was also left behind in the gloom.
   Early in the morning, Captain Hubbell saw far in the distance down the
river, a single birch canoe. It was unquestionably occupied by keen-eyed
savages, who were on the watch to give notice to a war party of the approach
of a boat.
   Though no force whatever was to be seen, Captain Hubbell made immediate
and vigorous preparations for battle. The force of the current would soon
sweep him down to the point where the canoe had been seen, and from which it
had disappeared. He ordered the boat to be kept well over on the left side 
of the river, so as to be out of gun-shot from the shore. Every man had his 
position, with his gun loaded, and a second one loaded by his side. The women
and children were directed, as soon as the action should commence, to lie
flat on the cabin-floor. Trunks and other baggage were piled up around them, 
to prevent their being struck by bullets, which might pierce the plank sides
of the boat. Scarcely were these preparations completed when a voice from 
the shore was heard, calling loudly, and in most piteous tones, to come to
the shore, and take on board a white man who had escaped from the Indians. 
No attention whatever was paid to these supplications, for such attempts of 
the wily Indians to decoy boats were now well known. When the savages perceived
that this strategem had failed, the wailing voice of entreaty was changed 
into the coarsest language of vituperation and insult.
   Quite a dense morning mist now covered the stream. But the plash of many 
distant paddles was heard, and soon three large Indian canoes, each filled
with about twenty-five warriors, came rapidly upon the boat through the fog.
Every man was in position. Captain Hubbell seemed as calm as though nothing
unusual were occurring.
   "Let not a gun," said he, "be fired till the savage is near enough for 
the flash to singe his eye-brows. Take deliberate aim, and be sure that
every bullet shall kill an Indian. Try not to fire simultaneously, but
endeavor to keep up such success in discharges that there shall be no interval
between them."
   Fearful were the odds of seventy-five savage warriors, well armed with
rifles, against nine white men. As soon as the canoes arrived within musket
shot, a general fire from one of them was given. The bullets fell upon and 
around the assailed like hailstones. One bullet struck Mr. Tucker upon the
hip, shattering the bone so that the limb hung only by the flesh. Another
passed through the side of Mr. Light. With military precision the canoes
were brought into action, by placing one at the boes, one at the stern, and
the third at the right side of the barge they were assailing. The valiant
little crew, now reduced to seven, kept up an incessant fire, every bullet
killing a warrior, and sometimes wounding two or three more, as they were
crowded closely together in their birch canoes. The Indians seemed to be
staggered by this tremendous and unexpected slaughter, every moment costing
them the lives of several warriors. Though they kept up a frenzied fire, they
were far less deliberated in their aim, and many of their bullets were thrown
away.
   Captain Hubbell, having shot an Indian threw down his gun and immediately
caught up another, which had fallen from the hands of a wounded man. He was
just raising it to his shoulder to throw another bullet into the heart of a
foe, when a ball struck the lock of his own gun and carried it away. Very
cooly he seized a brand of fire from the caboose and still taking unerring
aim applied it to the powder in the pan, and another fell dead in his blood.
   In the midst of such awful scenes, minutes are as hours. The Indians for 
a moment seemed to rally, and on both sides the firing was very vigorous.
Captain Hubbell rapidly reloaded his gun, and was for a third time taking aim, 
when a bullet passed through his right arm. Scarcely had he recovered from
the shock, when he saw the Indians from one of the canoes, endeavoring to
board the boat at the bows. Here the horses were placed. Some of the Indians
in the endeavor to clamber into the boat had actually clasped its side with
their hands. Captain Hubbell forgetting his wound, drew a pair of horse 
pistols in his belt, fired and the foremost Indian was shot dead, crimsoning
the water with his blood. Quick as thought the other pistol was discharged, 
and another warrior fell back in the canoe a corpse. The captain was now 
left unarmed; but it so chanced that there was a massive club lying by, which
had been brought on board for firewood. He seized it, and in the frenzied
strength which the occasion gave, rained down such a tempest of blows upon
the head and hands of the Indian, crushing some skulls, and breaking some 
bones, that with yells they gave way, and withdrew the canoe from their
terrible assailant.
   In the meantime, the deadly fire was continued. Every discharge of the 
musket was the death knell of the Indian. The savages had no protection
whatever, but the white men had so barricaded themselves, behind the gunwale
of the boat, and were so protected by the baggage, that but a small portion
of their bodies was exposed. The Indians having been terribly whipped, and 
uttering hideous yells of hatred and defiance, gave up the contest.
   But just at that moment the boat of Captain Greathouse hove in sight. The 
Indians with a simultaneous war whoop turned upon them. They had made no
preparation for the fight. In utter consternation, as they viewed the disparity
of numbers, and saw the impossibility of resistance, they surrendered without
striking a blow, undoubtedly thinking, that if taken captive without having
slain any of the warriors, they would be spared death by torture. They
consequently all fled into the cabin and the Indians making the shores echo
with their yells of triumph, with rapid paddles took the boat to land. They
immediately tomahawked and scalped the captain and a boy of fourteen.
   There were three or four women on board. The savages took these women, 
placed them in one of their large canoes, which they manned with picked
warriors, and again advanced to attack Captain Hubbell's boat. They thought
the white man would not venture to fire upon them, when they stood behind a 
barricade of their country women. A melancholy alternative now presented 
itself to these brave men. But Captain Hubbell very justly remarked, that
the law of self preservation made duty plain; and that it might not be a
calamity to the women, to be rescued by sudden death, from all the cruelties
of captivity among the savages.
   There were now but four men left on board Captain Hubbell's boat capable
of offering any serious resistance. The captain himself had received two
serious wounds. But they were all prepared for a renewal of the fight. Every
gun was loaded, so that the discharges could be more rapid, and the barricades
were repaired, so that the Indians could scarcely catch a glimpse of their
foes. The battle was short and bloody for the assailants. The bottom of the
canoe was soon covered with the bodies of the slain, and they could see no
evidence that they were making any impression on the assailed.
   With another yell of rage the savages retired, probably to wreak their
vengeance upon the captives whom they held. Just then the current swept the
boat near the Ohio shore. Again the hopes of the Indians were revived. Four
or five hundred were seen rushing down the banks shouting like so many fiends, 
as the boat was brought withing easy rifle shot. There were only two men in
the boat, Ray and Plasent, who remained unwounded. They were placed at the
oars. The current swept the boat within twenty yards of these howling savages.
All on board, except the two rowers, threw themselves flat on their faces, 
under the protection of the gunwale, and such other articles as they could
find. Bullets like hail stones struck the boat. The rowers were so carefully
barricaded that they were not hit; but during the short time while the boat
was thus exposed, nine bullets were shot into one oat and ten into the other.
It was about twenty minutes before the rowers succeeded in pushing the boat
beyond the reach of the enemy's fire.
   In the very midst of this appalling scene one of the wounded men, Mr.
Kilpatrick, saw a powerful Indian chieftain running so near, that he could 
not resist the temptation to seize his rifle and shoot him. Mr. Kilpatrick
was lying by the side of Captain Hubbell. The latter warned him of the
imprudence of exposing himself to so terrific a fire. But Kilpatrick, 
maddened by his wound, rose to shoot; instantly two bullets struck him; one
entered his mouth and passed out the back of his head, the other pierced his
heart. He dropped a dead man. His two daughters were near by to gaze upon 
the awful spectacle of their dead father bathed in blood, lying among the
dead horses; for nearly every horse was struck by the bullets, and their 
convulsive struggles added to the tumult and terror of the scene.
   The current again aided the rowers and the boat was borne rapidly down the
stream, near the Kentucky shore, beyond the reach of the enemy's balls. The
little band assembled to ascertain the damages which they had received, and
to repair them as far as possible. Under such circumstances it is not a little
remarkable that these men of indomitable pluck should, as one of their first
acts, have sent back three cheers of defiance upon their maddened and baffled
foes. Thus ended the awful conflict. Two men were killed outright, Kilpatrick
and Tucker. A third, Stoner, was mortally wounded. Four others had received
wounds more or less severe. Two only were uninjured. The women and children
had been so carefully protected that none of them had been touched by the 
bullets, except the son of the Mr. Plasket, a lad of ten or twelve years of
age. The brave little fellow, after the battle was over, came to the captain
and very coolly asked him to take a ball out of his head. It was even so. A
bullet had passed through the side of the boat, and had struck the boy on 
the head, with sufficient force to bury itself beneath the skin. It was 
speedily removed, and then the brave boy said, "This is not all;" and raising
his arm, showed where a ball had struck his elbow, splintering off a piece
of bone which hung only by the flesh. His mother exclaimed, "My son, why did
you not tell me of this?" The heroic child replied, "Because the captain 
directed us to be perfectly silent during the action, and I was afraid if I 
told you you would make a noise about it."
   The boat with its wounded, afflicted, exhausted, but yet unvanquished 
occupants, was borne on by the current, and reached its destination at
Maysville, Kentucky, then called Limestone, that night. It is said that this
was the last boat descending the Ohio that was attacked by the Indians.