OHIO STATEWIDE FILES - HISTORY: Chapter 35 (Abbott, John S. C., 1875)
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			Chapter XXXV.
	    War and Its Woes. Peace and Its Issues.

   General Proctor, with his British troops, made all possible haste back to
his fort at Malden. The siege had roused all the military energies of the 
State of Ohio, and troops, from all quarters, were hurrying to the Sandusky.
But when they arrived there, there was no foe to be found. Sufficient 
preparations had not yet been made to attempt the recovery of Detroit. General
Harrison was therefort under the necessity of dismissing most of the soldiers,
as there was nothing for them to do, and they were only consuming the provisions.
In the meantime both parties were making vigorous preparations for a naval
battle which would decide who should have command of the lake with all its
shores. Ship carpenters were busily employed at Erie, in Pennsylvania, and 
at some other ports, in building vessels of war. In a few months nine vessels
were ready for service, carrying, in all, fifty-four guns, and manned by about
six hundred sailors and marines. The fleet, in preparation for the great
conflict, anchored just off the mouth of Sandusky Bay. Thence Commodore Perry, 
who was in command of the squadron, sailed to Put-in-Bay, a harbor on one of
the islands of the lake, about thirty miles from Malden, where the British
squadron was riding at anchor. It consisted of six vessels under Commodore
Barclay, carrying sixty-four guns, manned by a crew of about eight hundred.
About sunrise of the 10th of September the British fleet was discerned, under
full sail, in the distant western horizon. Commodore Perry immediately got
under way, and forming in line of battle, bore up upon the enemy. He hoisted
his flag with the motto "Don't Give Up the Ship." It was greeted with repeated
cheers by the crews.
   The lightness of the wind occasioned the hostile squadron to approach each 
other but slowly, and prolonged for two hours the solemn interest of suspense
and anxiety which precedes a battle. The order and regularity of naval discipline
heightened the dreadful quiet of the moment. No noise, no bustle, prevailed
to distract the mind, except at intervals the shrill piping of the boatswain's
whistle, or a murmuring whisper among the men who stood around their guns 
with lighted matches, narrowly watching the movements of the foe, and sometimes
stealing a glance at the countenances of their commanders. In this manner the
hostile fleets gradually neared each other in awful silence. At fifteen minutes
after eleven, a bugle was sounded on board the enemy's headmost ship, the
Detroit, loud cheers burst from all their crew, and a tremendous fire was 
opened upon Commodore Perry's flagship, the Lawrence, from the British long
guns, which, from the shortness of the guns of the Lawrence, she was obliged
to sustain for forty minutes without firing a single shot (Perkins' Late War).
   Their shot pierced the sides of the Lawrence, striking down the men, and
killing the wounded in the berth deck and steerage, where they had been 
carried to be dressed. It seemed to be the plan of the British commander first
to destroy the Lawrence. All his largest vessels gathered around her, and 
opened upon the doomed ship with a terrible fire. Every brace and bowline was
soon cut away. The wind was so light and in such a direction that the other
vessels could not come to aid. For two hours the ship sustained this awful
bombardment, while but two or three of her guns could be brought to bear upon
her antagonists. The most perfect discipline was maintained as the men passed
through this fearful ordeal. As fast as the men were wounded at the guns they
were taken below, and others promptly stepped into their places. The dead
were left where they fell until the close of the action. The Lawrence was 
reduced to a perfect wreck. Her decks were covered with blood, and the mangled
bodies of the slain were scattered all around. Nearly every gun was dismounted.
All the crew, except three or four, had been either killed or wounded. The 
last gun capable of service was worked by the commodore and his officers.
   It was now two o'clock in the afternoon. Captain Elliott, in command of
the Niagara, succeeded by the aid of the light breeze in bringing his ship
into close action.
   "The commodore immediately determined to shift his flag on board that ship.
Giving his own in charge of Lieutenant Yarnell, he hauled down his union jack,
and taking it under his arm, ordered a boat to put him on board the Niagara.
Broadsides were leveled at his boat, and a shower of musketry from three of 
the enemy's ships. He arrived safe, and hoisted his union jack with its
animating motto on board the Niagara.
   "Captain Elliott, by direction of the commodore, immediately put off in a
boat to bring up the schooners, which had been kept back by the lightness of
the wind. At this moment the flag of the Lawrence was hauled down. She had 
sustained the principal force of the enemy's fire for two hours, and was 
rendered incapable of defense. Any further show of resistance would have been
a useless sacrifice of the relics of her native brave and mangled crew. The
enemy were also so crippled that they were unable to take possession of her,
and circumstances soon enabled her crew again to hoist her flag.
   "Commodore Perry now gave the signal to all the vessels for close action.
The small vessels, under the direction of Captain Elliot, got out their 
sweeps and made all sail. Finding the Niagara but little injured, the commander
determined upon the bold and desparate expedient of breaking the enemy's line.
He accordingly bore up and passed the head of the two ships and brig, giving
them a raking fire from his starboard guns, and also a raking fire upon a
large schooner and sloop from his larboard quarter at half pistol-shot. Having
gotten the whole squadron into action, he luffed, and laid his ship along
side the British Commodore. The small vessels having now got up within good
grape and canister distance, on the other quarter, enclosed their enemy most
destructive fire of both quarters of the British until every ship struck her
colors (Perkins' Late War).
   This desparate engagement lasted for three hours. The victory obtained by
Commodore Perry was complete. The loss on board of the American ships, in
killed and wounded, was one hundred and twenty-four. Of these twenty-seven
were killed outright. The British lost over two hundred in killed and wounded, 
and all the remainder of the crew, being more than six hundred in number, 
were made prisoners. Every British vessel fell into the hands of the victor.
Commodore Perry immediately sent a dispatch to General Harrison, who had
returned to Fort Meigs, saying, "We have met the enemy and they are ours."
   "The slain of the crews of both squadrons were consigned to burial in the
depths of the still waters of the lake. The next day the funeral obsequies of
the American and British officers who had fallen were performed at an opening
on the margin of the bay, in an appropriate and affecting manner. The crews
of both fleets united in the ceremony. The stillness of the weather, the
procession of boats, the music, the slow and regular motion of the oars, 
striking in exact time with notes of the solemn dirge, the mournful waving of
the flags, the sound of the minute-guns from all the ships, and the wild and
solitary aspect of the place gave to these funeral rites a most impressive
influence, and formed an affecting contrast with the terrible struggle of the
preceding day. Then the people of the two squadrons were engaged in the deadly
strife of arms. Now they were associated as brothers to pay the last tribute
of respect to the slain of both nations."
   The importance of this victory was incalculable. It was fought near the
western extremity of Lake Erie, and in waters within the boundaries of the 
State of Ohio. The fate of the British Commodore, Barclay, was melancholy
indeed. He had lost one arm at Trafalgar. And now, in addition to the terrible
and humiliating defeat he had encountered, he lost the other. This was a doom
far more dreadful than death. Commodore Perry, in his official dispatch, spoke
in the highest terms of respect and commiseration for his wounded antagonist,
and begged leave to grant him an immediate parole.
   The roar of the cannonade was distinctly heard at Malden. An allied force
of British and Indians, amounting to five thousand five hundred men, was at 
that fort anxiously awaiting the result. The defeat of the British squadron
would render it necessary for them immediately to vacate their works. General
Proctor tried, for a time, to conceal the disaster from the Indians. But the
eagle eye of Tecumseh immediately detected the indications of a retreat.
Demanding an interview with General Proctor, for whom he had but little respect,
he thus addressed him:
   "In the war before this, with the Americans, you gave the hatchet to the 
Indians when our old chiefs were alive. They are now dead. In that war the 
British were thrown flat upon their backs by the Americans. You took them by
the hand and made peace without consulting us. We fear you will do so again.
When this war was declared our British father gave us the tomahawk and told 
us that he wanted our assistance, and that he would certainly get back for 
us our lands, which the Americans had taken from us.
   "You told us to bring our families here, and promised to take care of them,
and that while our men went out to fight the Americans our women and children
should want for nothing. Your fleet has gone out; we know that they have
fought; we have heard the great guns. But we know now what has happened to the 
chief with one arm. Your ships have gone one way, and we are much surprised
to see our father tying up everything and preparing to run in the other
direction. You always told us to remain here, and declared that you would 
never take your foot from British ground. Now we see that you are drawing back,
without waiting to get sight of the enemy. We must compare our father to a 
fat dog, who, when frightened, drops his tail between his legs and runs away.
   "The Americans have not yet defeated us by land. We are not sure that they
have by water. We therefore wish to remain here and fight our enemy, should
they make their appearance. If they defeat us we will then retreat.
   "At the battle of the Rapids, in the last war, the Americans certainly
defeated us. And when we fled to the British fort the gates were shut against
us. We were afraid that it might be so again; but instead of that we see our 
British friends preparing themselves to flee from their garrison. You have
the arms and ammunition which our British father sent for his red children.
If you intend to go away give them to us, and then you may go and welcome.
Our lives are in the hands of the Great Spirit. We are determined to defend
our lands, and if it be His will we wish to be buried beneath them."
   On the 28th September, only eighteen days after Perry's victory, General
Harrison landed a force of nearly three thousand men at but a short distance
from Malden, and marched upon the works. But he founded them deserted. The
fortress and all the storehouses were in ashes. The next day General Harrison
with his troops re-crossed the river and took possession of Detroit. There 
was no force there to resist him. The vast peninsula of Michigan was thus
again restored to the United States.
   General Proctor, with his disheartened Indian allies, was on the rapid
retreat towards the heart of Canada. There was a considerable river, called
the Thames, flowing from the east through a wild and entirely unbroken 
wilderness and emptying into Lake St. Clair. Proctor was slowly and laboriously
retreating along this pathless valley, encountering inumerable obstacles.
General Harrison, having speedily consolidated his conquest at Detroit, on
the 2d of October crossed the river to the Canadian shore, and commenced the
vigorous pursuit of the foe. He had an admirable army of a little over three
thousand men, including a regiment of mounted infantry under Colonel Johnson.
Accustomed to Indian warfare, he moved rapidly, but with the greates caution.
   On the 5th of the month his army overtook the retreating foe. General
Proctor had posted himself very strongly, with the River Thames protecting
one flank, and an almost impassible marsh the other. The Indians occupied a 
very dense forest just beyond the swamp. The battle-field was about eighty
miles northeast from the mouth of the Thames. In General Harrison's official
account of the battle he writes:
   "I determined to break the British line at once, by a charge of the mounted
infantry. I placed myself at the head of the front line of infantry to direct
the movements of the cavalry and to give the necessary support. The army had
moved on in this order but a short distance, when the mounted men received
the fire of the British line, and were ordered to charge. The horses in
front of the column recoiled from the fire. Our column, at length getting 
into motion, broke through the enemy with irresistable force. In one minute
the contest in from was over. The British officers, seeing no hopes of reducing
their disordered ranks to order, and our mounted men wheeling upon them and
pouring in a destructive fire, immediately surrendered. It is certain that 
three only of our troops were wounded in this charge. In one minute the contest
in front was over."
   General Harrison marched from Detroit with thirty-five hundred men. He left
on the way, or held in reserve, one thousand. Thus he brought into the battle
about twenty-five hundred. General Proctor had one thousand British regulars,
and twenty-five hundred Indians, under Tecumseh. Proctor, seeing his British
troops utterly routed, succeeded in effecting his escape with two hundred
dragoons. General Harrison then turned all his force upon the Indians. The
savages fought very persistantly for a time from behind the trees. But at
length, having lost their leader with a large number of their bravest warriors,
they fled precipitately with yells into the thick woods, where no mounted
foe could follow them. The defeat of the British army was entire. Proctor
lost, of his regular troops, sixty-nine in killed and wounded. Six hundred
of his soldiers and officers were taken prisoners. The Indians left one 
hundred and fifty dead on the field of battle. Among the slain was their
renowned chieftain, Tecumseh. The artillery which was taken from the British
with Burgoyne at Saratoga, and which General Hull had surrendered at Detroit,
was all captured.
   The question is often asked, "Who killed Tecumseh?" The following narrative, 
given by Mr. Caleb Atwater, would seem to settle their question:
   "In this action Tecumseh was killed, which circumstance has given rise to
almost innumberable fictions. The writer's opportunity for knowing the truth
is equal to that of any person now living. He was personally very well acquainted
with that celebrated warrior. He accompanied Tecumseh, Elsquataway, Fourlegs
and Caraymaumee on their tour among the Six Nations in New York in 1809,
and acted as their interpreter among those Indians. In 1829, at Prairie Du
Chien, the two latter Indians, both then civil chiefs of the Winnebagos, were
with the writer, who was then acting as Commissioner of Indian Affairs in the
United States service.
   "From the statement of these constant companions of Tecumseh during nearly
twenty years of his life, we proceed to state that Tecumseh lay with his 
warriors at the commencement of the battle, in a forest of thick underbrush
on the left of the American army. These Indians were at no period of the battle
out of the thick underbrush. No officer was seen between them and the American
army. Tecumseh fell at the very first fire of the Kentucky dragoons, pierced
by thirty bullets, and was carried four of five miles into the thick woods, 
and was there buried by the warriors who told the story of his fate.
   "This account was repeated to me three several times, word for word, and
neither of the relators even knew the fictions to which Tecumseh's death had
given rise. Some of these fictions originated in the mischievous design of
ridiculing the person who is said to have killed this savage, and who, by-the-by,
killed no one, that day at least, either red or white. General Harrison, 
who planned this well-fought and successful battle, has never been applauded
for what he so richly merited, while an individual, a subordinate, who merely
did his duty, as every other officer and soldier did, has been applauded to 
the very echo for killing an Indian! If that had been true, he deserved no
more credit than any one common soldier in the engagement.
   "A few Mohawks, and some other Indian chiefs and warriors belonging to
the Canadians Indians about Lake Ontario, were mixed with the British regulars
in the front line of the enemy. Some of these savages were killed in the 
action, and the remainder of these Indians on horseback fled with Proctor. The
Indian found dead belonged to these Indians, and not to the Winnebagos or
Shawanese, who, in this battle, lay in ambush beyond a morass on the left of
the American army."
   The annihilation of the British fleet on Lake Erie, the re-conquest of
Detroit, and the utter overthrow and dispersion of the British army at the
battle of the Thames, brought peace to the northwestern frontier. The 
population of Ohio was now three hundred thousand. At the conclusion of Wayne's
war, eighteen years before, in numbered but five thousand. The battle of the 
Thames was fought on the 5th of October, 1813.
   President Madison, in his message to Congress of November 4, 1812, speaking
of this employment of the savages by the British, writes:
   "The enemy has not scrupled to call to his aid the ruthless ferocity of 
the savages, armed with instruments of carnage and torture, which are known
to spare neither age nor sex. In this outrage against the laws of honorable
war, and against the feelings sacred to humanity, the British commanders 
cannot resort to the plea of retaliation, for it is committed in the face of
our example. They cannot mitigate it by calling it self-defense against men
in arms, for it embraces the most shocking butcheries of defenseless families.
Nor can it be pretended that they are not answerable for the atrocities
perpetrated, for the savages are employed with a knowledge, and even with
menaces, that their fury cannot be controlled. Such is the spectacle which
the deputed authorities of a nation boasting its religion and morality have
not refrained from presenting to an enlightened age."
   Peace was made with Great Britain at Ghent, on the 24th of December, 1814.
The Indians, after the fall of Tecumseh, renounced all hope of arresting the
advances of the white men. Tribe after tribe renounced its hunting-grounds, 
and receiving in exchange rich annuities from the United States, retired
beyond the Mississippi.
   Previous to the year 1812 there was no permanent state capital in Ohio.
In the year 1816 the state government was established at Columbus. The 
sessions of the Legislature were held at Chilicothe until 1810, and then at
Zanesville. In 1812 the high bank of the Scioto River, just opposite Franklinton, 
was selected by a committee of the Legislature as a site for the future capital.
The region was then an unbroken wilderness. In December, 1816, the state
authorities met there for the first time in legislative session. The location
was very beautiful, and was on the same parallel of latitude with Philadelphia, 
from which it was distant four hundred and fifty miles. It was also on the
same longitude with Detroit, being one hundred and seventy miles south of
that city.
   The proprietors of the land entered into a contract with the state. The
town, covered with primeval forest, was carefully surveyed and laid out, and
on the 18th of June, 1812, the first sale of lots by public auction was held.
On that day war was declared with Great Britain. The city grew very rapidly,
emigrants flowing in from all quarters. A curious incident occurred in Columbus
in the year 1822, which is worthy of record. The Columbus Gazette of August 29 
contains the following notice:
   "Grand Squirrel Hunt. The squirrels are becoming so numerous in the county
as to threaten serious injury, if not destruction, to the hopes of the farmer
during the ensuing fall. Much good might be done by a general turn out of all
citizens whose convenience will permit, the two or three days, in order to 
prevent the alarming ravages of these mischievous neighbors. It is therefore
respectfully submitted to the different townships, each to meet and choose
two or three of their citizens in a hunting caucus at the house of Christian
Heyl, on Saturday, the 31st instant, at two o'clock P. M. Should the time
above stated prove to be too short for the townships to hold meetings as 
above recommended, the following persons are respectfully nominated and invited
to attend the meeting at Columbus."
   Thirty-four persons were then nominated from the several townships. A
subsequence paper says, "The hunt was conducted agreeably to the instructions
in our last paper. On counting the scalps it appeared that nineteen thousand
six hundred and sixty scalps were produced. It is impossible to say what
number in all were killed, as a great many of the hunters did not come in."
   Continuous efforts were now made to extinguish the Indian titles to all 
their lands within the state. During the year 1817 Honorable Lewis Cass and 
Honorable Duncan Walker met a large delegation of the Indian chiefs at the 
foot of the Maumee Rapids, and succeeded in purchasing an immense expanse of
territory. The Wyandots reserved twelve miles square in Wyandot County, on 
the Upper Sandusky, and there were also two other very small reservations.
   The Wyandots were considered the bravest of all the Indian tribes. Several
of their chiefs were men, not only of highly moral, but of religious character.
In the early occupation of Canada by the French, Catholics, with a spirit of
devotion and self-sacrifice which has never been surpassed, established a
mission there. The first Protestant who preached to them was John Stewart, a
mulatto, of the Methodist Church. Rev. James B. Finley, one of the best of
men, formed a church here and organized a school. One of the Wyandot chiefs, 
Between-the-Logs, became quite a celebrated preacher.
   Another of these Christian chiefs, Sum-mun-de-wat, was brutally murdered
by some miscreant white men. He had been out, accompanied by his family, on 
a hunting expedition in the wilderness of what is now Hancock County. He had
returned to his lodge with a good supply of food, and was sitting with his
wife and children at his fire when three white men entered. The hospitable
Indian treated them with the utmost kindness. His wife immediately cooked a
supper for them. Sum-mun-de-wat, after they had finished their supper, 
according to his custom, kneeled with his wife and children in family prayer.
He then provided his guests with a comfortable couch of skins for sleep.
   In the night these wretches rose and murdered the chief and his wife, 
and plundered the lodge of all its valuable. They were so bold and unblushing
in this crime that they were easily arrested. They were, however, allowed to
escape, and were never punished. In speaking of this case, Colonel Johnston
says, that in a period of fifty-three years, since he first went to the 
West, he never knew of but one instance in which a white man was tried, 
convicted, and executed for the murder of an Indian. Such were the outrages
which were often stung the Indians to madness. This one exception was brought
about by the efficient action of Colonel Johnston himself, aided by the
promptness of the Hon. John C. Calhoun, who was then Secretary of War. He 
took an interest in bringing the offender to justice, which was very unusual
on the part of the officers of our government.
   Rev. Mr. Finley, in his interesting History of the Wyandot Mission, often
alluded to this Christian chieftain. The following anecdotes which he relates
will be read with interest:
   "Sum-mun-de-wat amused me after he came home by relating a circumstance
which occurred one cold evening just before sundown. 'I met,' said he, 'on 
a small path not far from my camp a man who asked me if I could talk English.
I said, 'Little.' He ask me, 'How far is it to a house?' I answer, 'I don't
know, maybe ten miles, maybe eight miles.' 'Is there a path leading to it?'
'No; by-and-by dis go out (pointing to the path they were on), then all wood.
You go home with me, sleep, me go show you to-morrow.'
   "'Then he came to my camp; so take horse, tie, give him some corn and brush,
then my wife give him some supper. He ask me where I come. I say 'Sandusky.'
He say, 'You know Finley?' 'Yes,' I say. 'He is my brother, my father.' Then 
he say, 'He is MY brother.' Then I feel something in my heart burn. I say,
'You preacher?' He say, 'Yes;' and I shook hands and say, 'My brother!' Then
we try talk. Then I say, 'You sing and pray.' So he did. Then he say to me, 
'Sing and pray.' So I did; and I so much cry I can't pray. No go sleep; I
can't, I wake, my heart full. All night I pray and praise God, for He send me
preacher to sleep in my camp. Next morning soon come, and he want to go. Then
I show him through the woods, until we come to big road. Then he took me by
hand and say, 'Farewell, brother; by-and-by we meet up in Heaven.' Then me
cry, and my brother cry. We part; I go hunt. All day I cry, and no see deer
jump up and run away. Then I go and pray by some log. My heart so full of joy
that I cannot hunt.' Sometimes I sing. Then I stop and clap my hands and 
look up to God, my Heavenly Father. Then the love come so fast in my heart I
can hardly stand. So I went home, and said, 'This is my happiest day.'"
   Rev. Mr. Finley relates another anecdote of one of these Wyandot chiefs, 
who, subsequently to the event here recorded, became a Christian. He was one
of the most brave and sagacious of their warriors, and was selected by the
tribe to kill Adam Poe, who resided in a lonely hut near the mouth of the
Yellow Stone River. We have previously described the desparate conflict in 
which Poe and his party killed five out of six of an Indian band.
   "The Wyandots chose chief Rohn-yen-ness as a proper person to kill him, 
and then make his escape. He went to Poe's house, and was met with great
friendship. Poe not having any suspicion of his design, the best in the house
was furnished him. When the time to retire to sleep came, he made a pallet
on the floor for his Indian guest to sleep. He and his wife went to bed in
the same room. Rohn-yen-ness said that they both soon feel asleep. There
being no person about the house but some children, this afforded him a fair
opportunity to execute his purpose; but the kindness they had both shown him
worked in his mind. He asked himself how he could get up and kill even an
enemy that had taken him in and treated him so well, so much like a brother.
   "The more he thought about it the worse he felt. But still, on the other
hand, he was sent by his nation to avenge the death of two of its most valiant
warriors; and their spirits would not be appeased until the blood of Poe was
shed. There he said he lay, in this conflict of mind, until about midnight.
The duty he owed to his nation and the spirits of his departed friends aroused
him. He seized his knife and tomahawk and crept to the bedside of his sleeping
host. Again the kindness which he had received from Poe stared him in the 
face; and he said, 'It is mean - it is unworthy the character of an Indian
warrior to kill even an enemy who has so kindly treated him.' He went back
to his pallet and slept until morning.
   "His kind friend loaded him with blessings, and told him that they were
once enemies, but that now they had buried the hatchet and were brothers, and
that he hoped they would always be so. Rohn-yen-ness, overwhelmed with a
sense of generous treatment he had received from his once powerful enemy, 
but now his kind friend, left him to join his party. He said that the more he
reflected on what he had done, and the course he pursued, the more he was
convinced that he had done right. This once revengeful savage warrior was
overcome by the kindness of an evening, and all his plans frustrated. This
man became one of the most pious and devoted of the Indian converts. Although
a chief, he was as humble as a child. He used to his steady influence against
the traders and their fire-water."
   In the treaty which Messrs. Cass and Walker made with the Indians at the
Maumee Rapids, in 1819, the Delawares retained a tract of three miles square
on the south side of the Wyandot tract. The Senecas also reserved forty
thousand acres on the east side of Sandusky River, mainly in Seneca County.
But in the year 1829 the Delawares ceded their reservation to the United 
States; and the Senecas theirs in 1831. In the year 1842 the Wyandots surrendered
their territory also. And thus every foot of the soil of Ohio passed from
the red men, who had so long roved its savage wilderness, into the hands of
the white man, who was destined to make the wilderness bud and bloom as the
rose.
   Mr. Brish relates the following incident as illustrative of the superstition
of the Seneca Indians, and of the composure with which their warriors would
meet. The tribe had diminished to about four hundred souls.
   About the year 1825 three of the prominent chiefs went on an excursion to
seek a new home and fresh hunting-grounds for their people. Their names were
Coonstick, Steel and Cracked Hoof. They returned after an absence of nearly
three years. Coonstick and Steel were brothers. They left behind them an
older brother, Comstock, who was chief of the tribe, and a younger brother, 
John.
   The two brothers who went West finding, on their return, the their elder
brother, Comstock, was dead, and that their younger brother was chief in
his stead, charged John with having caused the death of Comstock by witchcraft.
He denied the charge most earnestly.
   "I loved my brother Comstock," said he, "more than I loved the green earth
I stand upon. I would give up myself, limb by limb, piecemeal by piecemeal; 
I would shed my blood, drop by drop, to restore him to life."
   But his protestations of innocence and love for his brother were all
unavailing. His brothers told him that he must die, and that it was their 
duty to be his executioners. John calmly replied:
   "I am willing to die. I ask only that you will allow me to live until
to-morrow morning, that I may see the sun rise once more. I will sleep to-night
in the porch of Hard Hickory's lodge, which fronts the east. There you will
find me at sunrise."
   They acceded to this request. Coonstick and Steel, awaiting the morning
when they were to kill their brother, passed the night in a lodge near by.
In the morning they proceeded to the hut of Hard Hickory, who himself told
this story to Mr. Bliss. He said that just as the sun was rising he heard
the approaching footsteps of the brothers, and opened the door to peep out.
There he saw John asleep, wrapped in his blanket. His brothers awoke him. He 
rose and took from his head a large handkerchief which was wound around it.
His hair, which was very long, fell upon his shoulders. The doomed chief 
looked calmly around for the last time upon the landscape and upon the rising
sun, taking evidently a farewell view, and then said to his brothers that he
was ready to die.
   The brothers had brought with them another Indian warrior by the name of
Shane. Coonstick with Shane took John by the arm, and led him along towards
the place of his execution. Steel followed behind, with his gleaming tomahawk
in his hand. They had advanced about ten steps from the porch when Steel 
struck his brother a heavy blow with his tomahawk upon the back of his head.
He fell to the ground as the blood gushed from the dreadful wound. Supposing
him to be killed, they dragged him beneath a tree near by. There, perceiving
signs of life, Steel drew his knife and cut his brother's throat from ear to
ear. The next day the corpse was buried with the customary Indian ceremonies.
   This horrible scene occurred in Seneca County, Ohio, in the year 1828.
Steel was arrested and tried in Sandusky County, and was acquitted. When the
tribe removed far away beyond the Mississippi, the two brothers carefully
leveled the ground around the grave, so that no vestige of the burial might
remain.
   The first steamboat which descended the Ohio River was called the New
Orleans. It was a vessel of about four hundred tons burden, and was built
at Pittsburgh in 1811. The success which had attended steam navigation on
the Hudson led to a careful examination of the western rivers, to ascertain
their adaptation to be navigated by stream. The result as that this first 
boat was built, which was designed to ply between Natchez and New Orleans.
   In October, 1811, the boat commenced its adventurous voyage down the whole
length of the Ohio and the Mississippi. As the object was merely to convey
the boat to her station, no freight or passengers were taken. The distance
from Pittsburgh to the mouth of the Ohio is nine hundred and fifty-nine miles.
From the mouth of the Ohio to New Orleans there is another thousand miles of
water to be traversed. As wood was burned, and there were no wood-yards on 
the way, many delays were unavoidable. The only persons on board the boat 
were Mr. Rosevelt, of New York, his young wife and family, Mr. Baker, the 
engineer, Andrew Jack, the pilot, six hands and a few domestics. Mr. Rosevelt
was the agent of Chancellor Livingston and Mr. Fulton, who, it would seem, 
had caused the boat to be built.
   The novel appearance of the boat, and the fearful rapidity with which it
seemed to rush through the waters, upon which only flat-bottomed boats had
thus far appeared floating upon the current, excited the amazement of all 
who dwelt upon the banks of the lonely stream. The boat entered Louisville
in the middle of a bright moonlight night. The strange noise created by the
stream rushing through the valves, as the boat rounded to at the landing, 
created a great alarm in the settlement. The citizens generally rose out of 
their beds, and come out in the streets to ascertain the cause of the strange
disturbance.
   In consequence of the small depth of water upon the rapids, the boat was
detained at Louisville for three weeks. It improved the time in running
several trips between Louisville and Cincinnati. The last week in November
the waters rose, and the steamer resumed her voyage. We transcribe from the
Great West, with some slight abbreviation, an account of the fearful earthquakes
which were soon encountered.
   When the steamer arrived about five miles above the Yellow Banks, they 
moored the boat opposite the first vein of coal, and which had been purchased
in the interim of the government of Indiana. They found a large quantity
already quarried to their hand, and conveyed to the shore by the depredators,
who had not found means to remove it. With this they commenced loading their
boat. While thus employed they were accosted in great alarm by the people of
the neighborhood, who inquired if they had not heard strange noises on the
river and in the woods in the course of the day. The said that the shores of
the river shook, and that they had repeatedly felt the earth tremble beneath
their feet.
   Hitherto nothing extraordinary had been perceived on board the boat. The
following day they pursued their monotonous voyage in those vast solitudes.
The weather was observed to be oppressively hot; the air was misty, still
and dull. Though the sun was visible, like a glowing ball of copper, his
rays hardly shed more than a mournful twilight on the surface of the water.
Evening drew nigh, and with it some indications of what was passing around
them became evident. As they sat on deck, ever and anon they heard a rushing
sound and violent splash, and large portions of the shore tearing away from
the land and falling into the riveer. It was an awful day; so still that 
you could have heard a pin drop upon the deck. They spoke little, for every
one appeared thunderstruck.
   The second day after leaving the Yellow Banks, the sun, hanging over the
forest, presented the same dim ball of fire, and the air was thick, dull, 
and oppressive as before. The portentous signs of this terrible natural
convulsion continued and increased. The pilot, alarmed and confused, affirmed
that he was lost, as he found the channel everywhere altered. Where he had 
hitherto known deep water lay numberless trees with their roots upward. The
trees were seen waving and nodding on the bank without a wind; but the
adventurers had no choice but to continue their route. Toward evening they
found themselves at a loss for a place of shelter. They had usually brought
to under the shore; but everywhere they saw the high banks disappearing, 
overwhelming many a flat-boat and raft, from which their owners had landed
and escaped.
   A large island which had been in the mid-channel of the river, and which
the pilot knew very well, was sought for in vain. It had entirely disappeared.
Thus, in doubt and terror, they proceeded hour after hour until dark, when
they found a small island and moored themselves at its foot. Here they lay, 
keeping watch on deck during the long winter's night, listening to the sound
of the waters, which roared and gurgled horribly around them; and hearing, 
from time to time, the rushing earth slide from the shore, and the commotion
as the falling mass of earth and trees was swallowed up by the river.
   The lady of the party, who was in very delicate health, having a babe in
her arms, who was born as their boat lay off Louisville, was frequently
awakened from her restless slumber by the jar given to the furniture and
loose articles in the cabin, as severa times in the course of the night the
shock of the passing earthquake was communicated from the island to the bow
of the vessel. It was a long night. But the morning showed them that they 
were near the mouth of the Ohio. The shores and channel were now not recognizable.
Everything seemed changed.
   About noon of that day they reached the small town of New Madrid, on the
right bank of the Mississippi. Here they found the inhabitants in the greatest
distress and consternation. Part of the population had fled in terror to the
higher grounds, others begged to be taken on board, as the earth was opening
in fissures on every side, and their houses were hourly falling around them.
   Proceeding thence they found the Mississippi unusually swollen, turbid and
full of trees. After many days of great danger, though they felt and perceived
no more of the earthquakes, they reached their destination at Natchez, at the
clost of the first week in January, 1812, to the astonishment of all. The 
escape of the boat had been considered an impossibility.
   The Orleans continued to run between New Orleans and Natchez for a couple
of years. She was then wrecked near Baton Rouge, by striking on a snag. In 
the course of a few years several other steamers were built and launched on
the Western rivers. The confidence of the community in these boats was of
slow growth. But when, in the Spring of 1817, a boat of four hundred tons
made the voyage from Louisville to New Orleans and back in forty-five days, 
the universal voice declared that steamboats on the western waters were 
proved to be a success.