George Peck's WYOMING, 1858 - Pennsylvania - Chapter 18 Contributed for use in the USGenWeb Archives by Judy Banja jbanja@comcast.net USGENWEB ARCHIVES (tm) NOTICE All documents placed in the USGenWeb Archives remain the property of the contributors, who retain publication rights in accordance with US Copyright Laws and Regulations. In keeping with our policy of providing free information on the Internet, these documents may be used by anyone for their personal research. They may be used by non-commercial entities, when written permission is obtained from the contributor, so long as all notices and submitter information are included. These electronic pages may NOT be reproduced in any format for profit. Any other use, including copying files to other sites, requires permission from the contributors PRIOR to uploading to the other sites. The submitter has given permission to the USGenWeb Archives to store the file permanently for free access. http://www.usgwarchives.net/copyright.htm http://www.usgwarchives.net/pa/pafiles.htm ________________________________________________ HTML with illustrations: http://www.usgwarchives.net/pa/1pa/1picts/peckwyo/peck-wyo.htm WYOMING; ITS HISTORY, STIRRING INCIDENTS AND ROMANTIC ADVENTURES. By GEORGE PECK, D.D. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS. NEW YORK: HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE, 1858 THE FRATRICIDE. 371 XVIII. THE FRATRICIDE. THE story of a Tory shooting his brother on Monocasy Island on the day of the battle, which we have told from the historians, we believe has never been questioned. Such an astonishing instance of depravity would be past belief if it were not well authenticated; but, giving it due credit upon the credibility of the witnesses, we naturally desire to know something of the subsequent history of the perpetrator of so unnatural and barbarous a deed. We have obtained some reliable information upon this subject, which we will now proceed to give. The name of the brothers was Pencil. The Christian name of the patriot was Henry, and that of the Tory was John. When John Pencil deliberately shot his brother Henry, the Indians who witnessed the horrible crime seemed shocked, and shook their heads, muttering, "Too bad - too bad; kill his brother." John Pencil fled to Canada with the other refugees, and settled in a wilderness. He was twice chased by wolves, and each time rescued by the Indians. The savages, however, began to think there was something judicial in the matter, and concluded to leave him to the retributions of Providence. They said, "He too wicked - too wicked; Great Spirit angry; Indian no more help him." It was not long before another pack of the ferocious wild dogs scented the fratricide, and this time they were left to satisfy their thirst for his blood. The miserable wretch was killed and devoured, an end well becoming such a monster. 372 WYOMING. The death of John Pencil occurred not many years after the perpetration of the crime which has given him eminence among the greatest and vilest of sinners. It is not our object to moralize much upon the circumstances of the death of the fratricide. It is, however, not unworthy of notice, that, as the man's crime was stupendous, his death was marked by extraordinary circumstances, and such as indicate that "there is a God that judgeth in the earth." The fact of Pencil's death, under the circumstances above described, was communicated to Mrs. Alexander by a gentleman from Canada who professed to know the truth of what he related, and, so far as could be known at the time, was perfectly reliable. The following lines are by a literary friend: The morning sun rose bright and clear, The birds sang blithely on the bough; But many an eye held trembling tear, And many a one show'd troubled brow. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * And there was one, a tear was in her eye, As silently she gazed upon her Henry dear, Which spoke a language that all words defy - That jewel of the heart, a sympathetic tear. "Oh, Henry, go not out to-day," His good companion cried; "Can fiends snatch thee from me away?" She wept, and sobbed, and sighed. One moment in each other's arms entwined They stood, as one united strong; The next saw Henry tread the wild, Toward the muster, 'gainst the wrong. At what befell that gallant little band, Mem'ry would shrink in horror to relate; How some did fall by cruel savage hand, And some had torturing, lingering fate. THE FRATRICIDE'S FATE. [illustration] THE FRATRICIDE. 375 But Henry fled to Susquehanna's isle, And sought a covert in Monocasy; And thought himself secure from Indian wile - Equally safe from treacherous Tories' eye. But hark! he hears a crackle and a tread, And, looking up, his Tory brother spies; Then shrinking back instinctively with dread, He finds himself perceived, and upward hies. "Oh, it is you!" the haughty brother said; "You are a d-d rebel, and not fit for life!" Then raising up his gun, the fatal bullet sped, Making children orphans, a widow of his wife. John Pencil wander'd outcast and alone; The Indians shunn'd him - were themselves afraid - The awful deed soften'd their hearts of stone, They thought his company a curse was made. He tried to flee; Conscience always pursued, And found him ev'ry where - asleep, awake; His brother's blood was in his soul imbued, Himself a fiend, and it a burning lake. The hungry, ravenous wolves pursued him twice; As many times the Indian saved his life; They thought, "Great Spirit angry" at his vice, And would not save again: they came on thrice, And, seizing him, his limbs from limb they tore, And cracked his living bones with bloody jaw, And quench'd their thirst upon his spouting gore, And yet alive, his flesh they tear and gnaw. Some scatter'd bones, uncover'd in the wood, Now mark the spot where died the fratricide; Where he by living inches served for food, Because by him his brother Henry died. Oh, justice! Retribution, it is right That thou shouldst fix upon the soul thy doom, And on the body exercise thy might, And stigmatize the name beyond the tomb.