American Border Wars by W. L. Stone

Three Rivers
Hudson~Mohawk~Schoharie
History From America's Most Famous Valleys
Life of Joseph Brant-Thayendanegea

Including the Indian Wars of the American Revolution

by William L. Stone. Volume II

Buffalo: Phinney & Co., 1851.

Chapter VII

Character of Joseph Bettys-His exploits-Capture and execution-Progress of the war-Gradual cessation of hostilities-Dwindling down to mere affairs of outposts and scouting parties-Commissioners appointed to negotiate a treaty of peace- Indian battles on the Kentucky frontier-Defeat of Colonel Boon--Destruction of the Shawanese towns-The Moravians on the Muskingum-Their removal to Sandnsky by the Wyandots-Return to secure their crops-Invasion of their towns by Colonel Williamson-Treachery of Williamson and his men to the Indians-Horrible massacre-Invasion of the Sandusky country by Crawford and Williamson-Defeat of their army-Colonel Crawford captured-Sentenced to die by torture-His interview with the sachem Wingemund-His execution- Close of the year-Doubts as to a treaty of peace-Colonel Willett's attempt to surprise Oswego-The news of peace-Sufferings of Tryon County-Return of its population-End of the wars of the Mohawk.

AMONG the minor, but yet not unimportant events of the border war at the north and west of Albany, was the capture, some time in the Winter of 1781-'82, of the celebrated loyalist marauder, Joseph Bettys, whose name has occurred in connexion with that of John Waltermeyer in the preceding chapter, Bettys, or " Joe Bettys" as he was commonly called, was a man of uncommon shrewdness and intelligence. Bold, athletic, and of untiring activity; revengeful and cruel in his disposition ; inflexible in his purposes ; his bosom cold as the marble to the impulses of humanity ; he ranged the border settlements like a chafed tiger snuffing every tainted breeze for blood, until his name had become as terrific to the borderers, as were those of Kidd and Pierre Le Grande upon the ocean in the preceding century. At the commencement of the war, Bettys was an inhabitant of Ballston. He early took the field in the cause of the republic, and a sergeant's warrant *was conferred upon him in Colonel Wynkoop's regiment. But he had a proud, independent spirit, that could ill brook the severity of military discipline ; and for some act of contumacy, he was reduced to the ranks. Still, knowing well his determined character and unflinching courage, and unwilling that his country should* lose his services, the same gentleman* who had obtained his first warrant, procured him another, and a transfer to the fleet under the command of General Arnold on Lake Champlain, in the Summer of 1776.
* The late Colonel Ball, of Ballston.

In the severe naval engagement fought on that lake between Arnold and Sir Guy Carleton, on the 11th of October of that year, Bettys exhibited great bravery, and was of signal service during the battle, which lasted four hours. He fought until every commissioned officer on board his vessel was either killed or wounded. Assuming the command then himself, he continued the fight with such reckless and desperate intrepidity, that General Waterbury, Arnold's second in command, perceiving that his vessel was about to sink, was obliged to order Bettys and the survivors of his crew on board his own vessel. Having thus observed his good conduct, General Waterbury stationed him by his side on the quarter-deck, and gave orders through him, until his own vessel in turn became entirely crippled-the crew mostly killed-the General himself wounded-and only two others, exclusive of Bettys, left in fighting condition-when his colors were struck to the enemy. General Waterbury afterward spoke in the most exalted terms of the high courage of Bettys, adding, that the shrewdness of his management showed that his conduct was not inferior to his courage.

While a prisoner in Canada, the arts of the enemy subverted his principles. He was seduced from the service of his country, and entered that of the enemy with the rank of ensign-proving himself an enemy equally subtle and formidable. From his intimate knowledge of the country and his artful address, he was frequently employed, sometimes as a messenger, at others as a spy, and at others, again, in the double capacity of both. During one of his missions of this nature, he was captured, tried, and condemned to the gallows. But the entreaties of his aged parents, and the solicitations of influential Whigs, induced General Washington, on a promise of reformation, to grant him a pardon. Yet if honor, generosity, and gratitude, had ever been qualities of his soul, they had taken their departure. Losing no time in rejoining the ranks of the enemy, he became alike reckless of character and the dictates of humanity; and instead of suitably requiting the kindness which had successfully interposed to save him from an ignominious death, he became the greatest scourge of his former friends and neighborhood. Ballston, in particular, had long reason to deplore the ill-judged lenity. He returned, and recruited soldiers for the King in the midst of the settlements ; he captured and carried off the most zealous and efficient Whigs, and subjected them to the severest sufferings; and those against whom he bore the strongest hate, lost their dwellings by fire or their lives by murder. No fatigue weakened his resolution-no distance was an obstacle to his purpose-and no danger appalled his courage. No one of the borderers felt secure. Sometimes in the darkness of the night he fell upon them by stealth; and at others, even at mid-day, he was seen prowling about, as if scorning disguise, and unconscious of danger. Indeed, he boldly proclaimed himself a desperado-carrying his life in his hand-equally careless of it as he said he should be of the lives of others were any again to attempt his arrest. His liberty, he declared, would only be yielded with his life; and whoever should attempt to take him, might rest assured that their heart's blood would in the same moment be drunk by the earth. His threats were well understood to be no unmeaning words ; and, what added to the apprehension of the people, was the well-known fact, that he had always at his beck, openly or in concealment, according to the nature of the purpose immediately in hand, a band of refugees partaking of his own desperate character.

His adventures while engaged in this species of warfare were many and hazardous. Nor did he always confine his operations to the border-settlements, since he at one time entered the precincts of Albany, and made a similar attempt to that of Waltermeyer to abduct General Schuyler from the mansion of the Patroon, where he was then lodged.*

It must not be supposed, however, that all hearts quailed before Joe Bettys. Far from it; and many were the ineffectual attempts made for his arrest before the measures undertaken for that purpose were again crowned with success. But in the course of the Winter now under consideration his wonted vigilance was at fault. A suspicious stranger having been observed in the neighborhood of Ballston, upon snow-shoes, and wellarmed, three men of that town, named Cory, Perkins, and Ful-
*This account of Joe Bettys has been written from a Fourth-of-July speech delivered by the late Colonel Ball some ten or twelve years ago. Among the prisoners made by Bettys and Waltermeyer from Ballston, in the Spring of 1781, were the following persons, viz: Samuel Nash, Joseph Chard, Uri Tracy, Ephraim Tracy, Samuel Patchin, Epenetus White, John Fulmer, and two men named Bontas, who were brothers. They were all taken to Canada, and roughly used.

mer, little doubting as to the identity of the man, immediately armed themselves and went in pursuit. He was traced by a circuitous track to the house of a well-known loyalist, which was fortunately approached with so much circumspection as to enable the scouts to reach the door unobserved. Breaking the barrier by a sudden effort; they sprang in upon the black and doubly-dyed traitor, and seized him before he had opportunity of resistance. He was seated at dinner when they entered, his pistols lying upon the table, and his rifle resting upon his arm. He made an attempt to discharge the latter ; but forgetting to remove the deer-skin cover of the lock, did not succeed. Powerful and muscular as he was, the three were an over-match for him, and he was immediately so securely pinioned as to render resistance useless and escape morally impossible.

Apparently resigning himself to his fate, Bettys now requested permission to smoke, which was readily granted. While taking the tobacco from his box, and making the usual preparations, he was observed by Gory adroitly to cast something into the fire. It was instantly snatched from thence with a handful of coals, and proved to be a small leaden box, about the eighth of an inch in thickness, and containing a paper in cipher, which the captors could not read ; but it was subsequently ascertained to be a despatch addressed to the British commander in New York. It also contained an order for thirty guineas, provided the despatch should be safely delivered. Bettys pleaded hard for permission to burn the paper, and offered a hundred guineas for the privilege. But they refused his gold, and all his proffered bribes for the means of escape, with the most unyielding firmness. He then exclaimed-" I am a dead man !" It was even so. He was taken to Albany, where he was tried, convicted, and executed as a spy and traitor.

If the conduct of the three captors of Major Andre was patriotic, that of the three captors of Joe Bettys was both patriotic and brave. Andre was a gentleman, and without the means of defence ; Bettys was formidably armed, and known to be a desperado. The capture of Andre was by accident; that of Bettys, by enterprise and design. The taking of the former was without danger; that of the latter a feat of imminent peril. Andre was a more important man, by rank and station, than Bettys ; but not more dangerous. Both tempted their captors by gold, and both were foiled.* The captors of Andre were richly rewarded, and the achievement has been emblazoned in history, and commemorated by monumental granite. The captors of Bettys have, until now, never been known to history; and their only visible reward was the rifle and pistols of their terrible captive. With such partial hand are the honors and rewards of this world bestowed!

As already remarked, the substantial fighting of the war was ended by the surrender of Cornwallis. It is true, there were affairs of outposts occurring afterward, and some partial fighting took place at the south early in the season of 1782, between General Wayne and sundry small British posts, after General Greene Lad detached the former into Georgia. The most serious of these affairs was a smart brush with a party of Creek Indians, near Savannah, on which occasion the British garrison sallied out to their assistance, but were repulsed. For the most part, however, the year 1782 was rather a period of armed neutrality than of active war. The news of the catastrophe at Yorktown at once and materially strengthened the opposition to the farther prosecution of the contest in the House of Commons, by which a resolution was soon afterward passed; declaring " That the House would consider as enemies to his Majesty and the country, all who should advise or attempt the farther prosecution of offensive war on the Continent of North America." Sir Henry Clinton was superseded in the chief command by Sir Guy Carleton, who was specially instructed to use his endeavors to effect an accommodation with America. Commissioners for the negotiation of a treaty of peace were soon afterward appointed, viz. John Adams, Benjamin Franklin, John Jay, and Henry Laurens on the part of the United States, and Mr. Fitzherbert and Mr. Oswald on that of Great Britain. On the 30th of November these commissioners had agreed on provisional articles of peace, as the basis of a treaty by which the Independence of the United States was acknowledged in its fullest extent.

As the surrender of Earl Cornwallis was the last important military event between the main armies, so was the disastrous expedition of Majors Ross and Butler the last attempt of any magnitude upon the Valley of the Mohawk. True, indeed, that beautiful region of country had been so utterly laid waste, that
* Colonel Ball.

there was little more of evil to be accomplished. But the chastisement of Major Ross, equally severe and unexpected, had discouraged the enemy from making any farther attempt in that quarter. Not, however, that the Indians were entirely quiet. On the contrary, they hung around the borders of the settlements in small parties, sometimes causing serious alarms, and at others- great trouble and fatigue, and likewise inflicting considerable injury. On one occasion a party of thirty-five Indians crossed over from Oswegatchie to Palatine. Falling in with a scouting party, consisting of Jacob Timmerman and five others, the Indians fired upon them. Timmerman was wounded, and with one of his comrades taken prisoner. Two of the party were killed, and the other two succeeded in making their escape. The prisoners were taken to Oswegatchie, and thence down to Montreal, where they were confined until the peace. In consequence of exposures of this description, a vigilant watchfulness was necessary at all points; and Colonel Willett, who retained the command, was exactly the officer for the station. He had frequent occasion to despatch considerable bodies of troops against the straggling parties of Indians and Tories; but their lightness of foot, and dexterity in threading the mazes of the forests, generally, if not always, enabled them to escape. So that no important event transpired in that section of country during the year.

But while there was so little active warfare on the frontiers of New-York during the Summer of 1782, the Indians of the remoter west were more active along the Kentucky frontier than in the preceding year. In May they ravished, killed, and scalped a woman and her two daughters near Ashton's station.* The Indians perpetrating this outrage were pursued by Captain Ashton, at the head of a band of twenty-five men. Being overtaken, a battle ensued, in which the Indians were victorious. The Captain was killed, together with eight of his men, and four others were mortally wounded. In the month of August another Kentucky settlement, called Hoy's Station, was visited by the Indians, by whom two lads were carried into captivity. This
* Adventures of Colonel Daniel Boon. There is strong reason to doubt whether the Indians abused the persons of the women. If true, it was the only instance of the kind that is believed to have occurred during the war. It is a proud characteristic of the Indians, that they never violate the chastity of their female prisoners.

band was also pursued by Captain Holder, with a party of seventeen men, who, coming up with the Indians, were likewise defeated with a loss of seven killed and two wounded.

On the 15th of August, the post at Briant's station, five miles from Lexington, was invested by a far more considerable party of the enemy, numbering five hundred Indians and Canadians, After killing all the cattle in the neighborhood, they assaulted the post on the third day, but were repulsed with a loss of about eighty killed and numbers wounded,-how many, was not known. They were pursued on their retreat by Colonels Todd, Trigg, and Boon, and Major Harland, at the head of one hundred and seventy-six men, well armed and provided. The Indians drew the pursuers into an unfavorable position on the 19th, when a severe battle ensued, in which the Kentuckians were beaten with the loss of seventy-six men; among whom were Colonels Todd and Trigg, Major Harland, and a son of Colonel Boon. The battle lasted only fifteen minutes. The retreat from the field was yet more disastrous than the battle itself. It was fought on the banks of the main fork of the Licking river, at the great bend, forty-three miles from Lexington. The Kentuckians were pursued across the river, some on horseback and others on foot. Some were killed in the river, and others while ascending the cliffs beyond. The arrival of the fugitives at Lexington with the melancholy tidings, occasioned a scene of weeping and deep lamentation, since a large portion of the male population had fallen. Being reinforced a few days afterward, Colonel Boon returned to bury the dead, which he represents as an affair of a most painful description. So mangled and disfigured were the bodies, that their identity could not be ascertained. The Colonel was afterward informed that when the Indians discovered their own loss to have been four more than that of the Kentuckians, four of the seven prisoners they had taken were handed over to their young men to be put to death by torture.

On hearing of this disastrous affair, General dark, who was at the Falls of the Ohio, directed a pursuit of the Indians to their own towns of Old and New Chilicothe, Peccaway, and Wills Town. Colonel Boon seems to have led this expedition, although the fact is not expressly stated in his narrative. Failing in an attempt to fall upon the Indians by surprise, the Colonel took possession of their deserted towns, which were burnt with fire. Seven prisoners and fifteen scalps were taken by the Kentuckians, whose own loss was but four men ; two of whom were killed by accident, not by Indians. With these incidents closed the Indian war of the Revolution on the Kentucky border.

But there yet remains a tale of murderous character to be recorded, which, in its black and inexcusable atrocity, transcends any and every Indian massacre which marked that protracted and unnatural contest. It is a tale of blood, too, in which the white men-not the Indians-are to be branded as the savages. On the banks of the Muskingum resided several communities of Indians, who had embraced the peaceable tenets of the Moravians. They were of the Delaware nation, and had removed to the Muskingum from Friedenshutten on the Big Beaver, and from Wyalusing and Sheshequon on the Susquehanna, in the year 1772. Notwithstanding, the annoyance experienced by them in consequence of the Cresap war, in 1774, their settle ments, which were named Schoenbrunn, Salem, and Gnadenhuetten, rose rapidly in importance, and in a short time numbered upward of four hundred people. Among their converts was the celebrated Delaware chief Glickhickan, famous alike for his bravery on the war-path, his wisdom in council, and his eloquence in debate. Their location, being a kind of half-way station between the white settlements and the hostile Indians of the lakes, was unpleasant after the war of the Revolution came on, and subjected them to difficulties alternately arising from the suspicions of both or all of the belligerent parties, against whose evil intentions toward them they were occasionally admonished. Still, their labors, their schools, and their religious exercises were conducted and practised as usual.

Their spiritual guides, at the period now under discussion, were, Michael Jung, David Zeisberger, and John Heckewelder, known in later times as the Indian Historian. These people looked upon war with abhorrence; maintaining that " the " Great Being did not make men to destroy men, but to love and " assist each other." They had endeavored to dissuade some of their own race from taking any part in the contest, and had likewise given occasional information to the white settlements when threatened with Indian invasions.

The hostile Indians frequently hovered around their settle-
VOL. II. 15

ments, and sometimes threatened their destruction, under the pretext that their neutrality was equivocal, and that they were Secretly in alliance with the Americans, to whom they were in the practice of giving timely notice of the hostile advances of the Indians in the service of the King.* In 1777 they were visited by the noted Huron chief, Half King, at the head of two hundred of his warriors, on his way to attack some of the frontier settlements of Virginia. Half King at first menaced the Moravian non-combatants; but Glickhickan appeased his ire by a timely supply of refreshments, and diverted him from his purpose by an opportune speech, declaring their religious sentiments and praising their missionaries.

The British authorities at Detroit were by no means friendly to these Moravian towns; early in the year 1781 they applied to the Great Council of the Six Nations, assembled at Niagara, to remove them out of the country. A message was accordingly sent by the Iroquois to the Ottawas and Chippewas to this effect: " We herewith make you a present of the Christian Indians to make soup of," a figurative Indian expression equivalent to saying-" We deliver these people to you to be killed." But, neither the Ottawas nor Chippewas would receive the message, which was returned with the laconic reply-" We have no cause for doing this." The same message was next sent to the Wyandots, but they at that time were equally indisposed to make war upon their in offensive brethren.+ But in the Autumn of the same year, under the influence of M'Kee and Elliott, who had now become captains in the ranks of the crown connected with the Indian service at Detroit, and by reason of the more immediate persuasions of Simon Girty, the bloodthirsty refugee associate of M'Kee and Elliott, who was living among the Wyandots, over whom he had acquired great influence, the poor Moravians, with their pious and self-denying ministers, were forcibly removed, or rather compelled, by the hostile Indians, at the instigation of those men, to remove to Sandusky. The leaders of the Wyandots compelling this emigration, were Girty, Half King, and the celebrated Captain Pipe, The sachem-convert, Glickhickan, was also carried to Sandusky; and a young female relation of his, by her courage and gene-
* Doddridge.
+ Heckewelder.

rosity, had well-nigh cost him his life. Apprehending that evil would befall her friends, she stole a fine horse belonging to Captain Pipe, and rode to Pittsburgh, to give the alarm in regard to the captive missionaries and their congregations. In revenge for this courageous action, Glickhickan was seized by a party of the Wyandot, or Huron warriors, who raised the death-song, and would have put him to death but for the interference of the Half King in his favor. Glickhickan was subsequently examined by his captors, and his innocence of all participation in the mission of the heroic squaw fully made to appear.

It was at a great sacrifice of property and comfort that these Indians were torn thus from their homes. They had more than two hundred heads of black cattle, and upward of four hundred swine, of which they were deprived, together with large stores of corn, and three hundred acres more just ripening for the harvest. They arrived at Sandusky on the 11th of October-a distance of one hundred and twenty-five miles from their homes. They were treated with great harshness on their march, especially by Girty, who, in the course of the Winter subsequent to their removal, caused their missionaries to be arrested by order of the commandant at Detroit, to which place they were transferred*

While the meek and pious missionaries, amid the tears and other manifestations of grief of their people, were preparing for the journey to Detroit, intelligence of a most painful character was received. Being pressed by hunger at Sandusky, a considerable number of the Moravian Indians, with some of their families, had been allowed to return to their former habitations on the Muskingum, to secure their corn, and such other provisions as they could find, and forward the same from time-to time to their suffering brethren. Unhappily, while this peaceable party were thus engaged at Salem and Gnadenhuetten, the weather being favorable for the operations of scalping parties, a few hostile Indians of Sandusky had made a descent upon the Pennsylvania frontier, and murdered the family of Mr. William
* These good men, after many trials and vexations, were ultimately released, and Half King charged all the blame upon Girty, whose iniquity in the premises the Indian prince indignantly exposed and denounced. The British Government also censured the conduct of its officers in regard to the proceedings, especially the harsh treatment of the missionaries.

Wallace, consisting of his wife and five or six children. A man named John Carpenter was taken prisoner at the same time.

Enraged at these outrages, a band of between one and two hundred men, from the settlements of the Monongahela, turned out in quest of the marauders, thirsting for vengeance, under the command of Colonel David Williamson. Each man provided himself with arms, ammunition, and provisions, and the greater number were mounted. They bent their course directly for the settlements of Salem and Gnadenhuetten, arriving within a mile of the latter place at the close of the second day's march. Colonel Gibson, commanding at Pittsburgh, having heard of Williamson's expedition, despatched messengers to apprise the Indians of the circumstance, but they arrived too late.

It was on the morning of the 7th of March that Williamson and his gang reached the settlement of Gnadenhuetten, the very day on which the Indians, having accomplished their labors, were bundling up their luggage for retracing their steps to Sandusky. Some of their number, however, were yet in the fields gathering corn, as were many others in the town of Salem, at no great distance thence. The party of Williamson divided themselves into three detachments, so disposed as to approach the settlements from as many different points at once. The Indians had indeed been apprised of Williamson's approach by four Delaware Indians on the day before ; but, conscious of their own innocence, and least of all anticipating harm from the Americans, they continued in their pacific occupations without suspicion of danger.

When within a short distance of the settlement, though yet in the woods, the advance guard of one of Williamson's divisions met a young Indian half-blood, named Joseph Shabosh, whom they murdered in the most cruel and wanton manner. The youth was catching horses, when he was shot at and wounded so badly that he could not escape. He then informed them who he was; stated that his father was awhile man and a Christian; and begged for his life. But they regarded not his entreaties. His arm had been broken by the first shot. He was killed by a second, tomahawked and scalped, and cut into pieces with the hatchets of his murderers. Another Indian youth, a brother-in-law of young Shabosh, who was engaged in binding corn, about one hundred and fifty yards from the town, saw the white men approaching. Knowing some of them, however, and supposing them to be friends, he addressed them as such. But he was soon undeceived. He saw them shoot one of his Indian brethren who was crossing the river in a canoe, and immediately ran away m affright. Unfortunately, in his panic he ran from the village instead of toward it, so that no alarm was given until the Americans had quite proceeded into the heart of the town.

Many of the Indians were scattered over the fields at work, and were hailed by Williamson's men representing themselves as " friends and brothers, who had come purposely from Fort Pitt to relieve them from the distress brought upon them by the enemy, on account of their being friends to the American people." The Indians, not doubting their sincerity, gave credence to their professions, and walking up to them, thanked them for their kindness. Their treacherous visitors next persuaded them to cease work and go into the village; as it was their purpose to take them to Fort Pitt, in order to their greater security from the Wyandots, where they would be abundantly supplied with all they might want. Delighted with such an unexpected friendly visitation, the Indians mingled with the strangers with the utmost cordiality, walking and conversing with them like old acquaintances. They delivered up their arms, and began with all alacrity to prepare food for their refreshment. Meantime a messenger was despatched to Salem, " to inform the breth" ren and sisters there, of what had taken place at Gnadenhuetten ; " the messenger giving it as his opinion that perhaps God had ordained it so, that they should not perish upon the barrens of Sandusky, and that those people were sent to relieve them."

Pleased with the communication, and yet unwilling to act precipitatcly, the party at Salem deputed two of their number to confer with their brethren and the white men at Gnadenhuetten. Communications were interchanged, which were mutually satisfactory. The dissembling of Williamson and his men was so complete as to win the entire confidence of the simple-minded people; and at the solicitation of the party at Gnadenhuetten, those at Salem came over and joined their insidious visitors for the purpose of removing to the white settlements, where, as they were farther assured, all their wants would be supplied by the Moravian brethren at Bethlehem. A party of Williamson's men were detached to Salem to assist in bringing all the Indians and their effects to Gnadenhuetten; and, still farther to win upon the easy confidence of their victims, this precious collection of assassins made zealous professions of piety, and discoursed to the Indians, and among each other, upon religious subjects. On leaving Salem, the white men applied the torch to the houses and church of the village, under the pretext of depriving the hostile Indians of their benefit.

Having, like their brethren at Gnadenhuetten, delivered up all their arms, their axes, hatchets, and working-tools, under the stipulation that they were all to be returned to them at Pittsburgh, the party from Salem set out with light hearts to enjoy the white man's kind protection. But on approaching the other village, their apprehensions were awakened, by marks in the sand, as though an Indian had recently been weltering there in his blood. They, nevertheless, proceeded to the village to join their brethren; but on their arrival thither a sad change came over their waking dream of happiness. Instead of being treated as Christian friends and brothers, they were at once roughly designated as warriors and prisoners; and already, previous to their arrival, had their brethren, sisters, and children at Gnadenhuetten, been seized and confined for the purpose of being put to death. The party from Salem were now completely within the toils of their enemies. They could neither fight nor fly. Besides that their religious creed forbad them to do the one, they had no weapons of defence, and they were surrounded by armed men, who would not suffer them to escape.

As a pretext for this usage, Williamson and his men now charged them with having stolen their horses, and all their working tools and furniture-charges not only untrue, but known to be so by their accusers. A more humble, devout, and exemplary community of Christians, probably, was not at that day to be found in the new world. Under the untiring instructions of their missionaries, they had been taught the dress and practices of civilized life. They were tillers of the soil, and had become so well acquainted with the usages of society, and were so well furnished with the necessaries and some of the luxuries of life, that they could set a comfortable table and a cup of coffee before a stranger. All the animals and articles charged upon them as having been stolen, were their own private property, honestly acquired. But their protestations of innocence, and their entreaties, alike were vain. Their betrayers, were bent upon shedding their blood.

Still, the officers were unwilling to take upon themselves the exclusive responsibility of putting them to death, and the solemn farce of a council was held upon the subject. By this tribunal it was determined that the question of life or death should be derided by a vote of the whole detachment. The men were thereupon paraded, and Williamson put the question, " whether the Moravian Indians should be taken prisoners to Pittsburgh, or put to death ?" requesting all in favor of saving their lives to advance in front of the line. Only sixteen or eighteen of the whole number were by this process found to be inclined to mercy, and the poor trembling prisoners were immediately admonished that they must prepare to die.

Some, indeed, there were among the blood-thirsty gang eager to commence the work of death instanter ; but as the victims united in begging a short delay for their devotions, the request was granted. " Then, asking pardon for whatever offence they had given or grief they had occasioned to each other, the Indians kneeled down, offering prayers to God their Saviour-and kissing one another under a flood of tears, fully resigned " to his will, they sang praises unto Him, in the joyful hope " that they would soon be relieved from all pains, and join their " Redeemer in everlasting bliss. During the time of their devo" tions, the murderers were consulting on the manner in which " they would put them to death." Some were for setting fire to the houses, and dispatching them as by an auto da fe ; others were for killing them outright, and bearing their scalps as trophies back to their homes; while those who had opposed the execution yet protested against " the deep damnation of their taking off," and withdrew. Impatient of delay, the blood-thirsty wretches interrupted the last hymn they could sing in this world, and demanded if they were not ready for death. They were answered in the affirmative-the victims adding : " That " they had commended their immortal souls to God, who had " given them the assurance in their hearts that he would receive " their souls." Then seizing a mallet from a cooper's shop, one of the ruffians commenced the work of murder by knocking the Indians on the head. Having killed fourteen successively in this manner, he desisted, and handing the weapon over to another, remarked-" Go on in the same way: I think I have done pretty well!" Those who had opposed the murder stood at a distance, wringing their hands, and calling God to witness that "they were innocent of the lives of these harmless Christian Indians."

The first victim in the other slaughter-house-for such both in which the Indians were confined became-was an aged Indian woman named Judith, a widow, of great piety. In a few minutes the work of death was completed. Ninety Indians, Christians and unarmed-unoffending in every respect-were murdered in cold blood. Among them were old men and matrons, young men and maidens, and infants at their mothers' breasts. Sixty-two of the number were grown persons, one third of whom were women, and the remaining thirty-four were children. Five of the slain were assistant teachers, two of whom had been exemplary members of the pious Brainard's congregation in New Jersey. The convert chief, Isaac Glickhickan, was also among the slain. Only two of the captives escaped this shocking massacre. They were both young. One of them eluded the murderers by creeping unobserved into a cellar, from whence he stole into the woods ; and the other, having been knocked down and scalped, feigned death, and escaped after the murderers left the place. This they did not do, however, until they supposed all were dead. On completing the work, they retired for a short distance to recruit their strength ; but, as though resolved that not a living soul should have the remotest chance of escape, they returned to take another look at the dead; and observing a youth, scalped and bloody, supporting himself with his hands upon the floor in order to rise, the monsters dispatched him with their hatchets! As night drew on, they set fire to the buildings, and thereupon departed for their own homes, singing and yelling with demoniac joy at the victory they had achieved. According to the accounts of the American newspapers of that day; this massacre was a very commendable transaction; it was represented that the attack of Williamson was made upon a body of warriors, who had been collecting a large quantity of provisions on the Muskingum, for supplying their own warriors and other hostile savages. It was stated, as the cause of their destruction having been so complete, that they were surprised and attacked in their cabins at night; and it was exultingly added, that " about eighty horses fell into the hands of the victors, which they loaded with the plunder, the greatest part furs and skins-and returned to the Ohio without the loss of a man !"*

If through the whole extent of the voluminous records of savage wars in America, a deed of darker treachery, or of deeper atrocity, than this massacre of the Moravian Indians, is to be found, it has thus far escaped the research of the author of the present work. The uncivilized and unchristianized savages themselves were amazed at the enormity of the bloody deed. But the construction they put upon the transaction, as a providential occurrence, was curious and striking. They said they had envied the condition of their relations, the believing In dians, and could not bear to look upon their happy and peaceful lives in contrast with their own lives of privation and war. Hence they had endeavored to take them from their own tranquil homes, and draw them back into heathenism, that they might be reduced again to a level with themselves. But the Great Spirit would not suffer it to be so, and had taken them to himself.+

After this massacre, the Indians at Sandusky-not only those who were Christians, but the Wyandots, and others who were hostile, watched the movements of the whites along the Ohio with ceaseless vigilance. Two months having expired after the destruction of the Moravians, another expedition was organized to go against the Wyandots and other Indian tribes in the Sandusky country. The number of men volunteering for the campaign, was four hundred and eighty. They were mustered at the old Mingo towns on the western bank of the Ohio. An election was held for the office of Commander-in-chief of the expedition-Colonels Williamson and William Crawford being the candidates. The choice devolved upon the latter, who was an unwilling candidate, and accepted the post with re-
* Pennsylvania Gazette, April 17, 1783. The author will add, in this place, that the preceding account of this unparalleled case of wholesale murder has been chiefly prepared from the accurate and laborious Heckewelder, together with extracts from Doddridge's Notes on the Indian Wars, and Loskiol, as quoted in Drake's Book of the Indians.
+ Heckewelder-Nar. Moravian Missions.

luctance. The same men who had murdered the Moravians, composed the present army in part, and the march was commenced with a determination that not the life of an Indian, friend or foe, should be spared. The expedition had been organized with great secrecy, as it was supposed ; and as the men were mounted, the intention was by a rapid march to fall upon the Wyandot towns by surprise. Arriving, however, at the Moravian towns where the murders had been committed, three Indians were discovered by Crawford, who fled at a pace too rapid to be overtaken. The pursuit of them was disorderly; and from the conduct of his men on that occasion, their commander lost confidence in them, and from that moment entertained a presentiment of defeat. So far from the advance of Crawford being a secret, it ultimately appeared that the Indians had been narrowly watching his progress at every step. They saw the gathering at the Mingo towns, and counted their numbers. They had also been apprised of the resolve that "no quarter was in any instance to be given."* It was to be expected, then, that at some point they would be prepared for Crawford's reception.

Crawford and Williamson had intended first to strike upon the Moravian town on the Sandusky; but on arriving at that place, they discovered that the Indians had seasonably withdrawn, so that the brave Williamson had no non-combatants to vanquish The town was, in fact, covered with tall grass, the Indians having removed to the Scioto some time before. Crawford and Williamson then directed their course for several towns of the hostile Indians-by whom they were unexpectedly drawn into an engagement upon an open prairie, the Indian warriors themselves being concealed by the shrubbery upon its margin. Night came on before the battle was terminated ; and the Indians, expecting a reinforcement from the Shawanese before morning, made their dispositions for surrounding the Americans at daylight. But when morning came, the white man was not there. The Americans, indeed, had not acquitted themselves like soldiers during the engagement of the preceding afternoon, and they availed themselves of the darkness to escape-greatly to the mortification of the Indians and their daring leader, Captain Pipe. They had encamped upon the prairie; and so silent
* Doddridge.

was their flight, that some of them, not aware of the retreat, were found by (lie Indians in the morning still sleeping: amid the tall prairie-grass, where they had laid themselves down. An active pursuit of the fugitives took place, and many straggling parties were overtaken and cut to pieces. Upward of a hundred were thus either killed outright or taken. Among the latter were Colonel William Crawford, his son, and Doctor M'Knight. The former of these gentlemen had rendered himself particularly offensive to the Indians by his successful campaigns against them, so that his capture was a triumph. It was still more unfortunate for him that he was taken which serving with such a commander as Williamson-against whom, for his cruel treachery at Gnadenhuetten, the savages were cherishing the bitterest feelings of revenge. Crawford, however, had not been engaged in that shameful affair, but being found among the same men who had murdered their friends and relations in March, the Indians could not draw the distinction. They had anxiously sought for Williamson, but on being informed that he was among the first to escape, they called out "revenge!" "revenge!" on whomsoever they had in their power.

Crawford would probably have made good his retreat but that he lingered behind in anxiety for his son, whom he supposed yet to be in the rear. After wandering two days in the woods with Dr. M'Knight, both were taken by a party of Delawares, and conducted to the Old Wyandot town. Here Captain Pipe, with his own hands, painted the prisoners black, a certain premonition of the doom that awaited them. From thence they were taken to the New Wyandot town, passing on the way the mangled remains of a number of their fellow-captives. At the new town, the place appointed for the execution of Crawford, they found the noted Simon Girty. It had been decided that Crawford should die by the most aggravated torture, to atone in some degree for the murders by Williamson and his men at Gnadenhuetten. After he was bound to the fatal post, The surviving Christian Indians were called upon to come forth and take vengeance on the prisoner; but they had withdrawn, and their savage relations stepped forward in their stead. Before the work of torture was commenced, Captain Pipe addressed the Indians at some length, and in the most earnest manner, at the close of which they all joined in & hideous yell, and prepared for the work in hand. The fire was kindled, when it occurred to poor Crawford, that among the sachems he had a particular friend, named Wingemund. " Where is my friend Wingemund?" he asked, "I wish to see him." It is true that this chief had been the warm friend of Colonel Crawford, by whom he had been entertained at his own house. Under these circumstances Crawford indulged a faint degree of hope, that if he could see the chief, his life might yet be saved. Wingemund was not far distant, having, in fact, retired from the place of execution, that he might not behold what he could not prevent. He was sent for, however, and an interesting and even affecting conversation ensued between himself and the prisoner. This conversation was commenced by Crawford, who asked the chief if he knew him. He replied that he believed he did, and asked-" Are you not Colonel Crawford ?" " I am," replied the Colonel; and the conversation was thus continued-the chief discovering much agitation and embarrassment, and ejaculating-" go '.-Yes!-Indeed !"

" Colonel Crawford. Do you not recollect the friendship that always existed between us, and that we were always glad to see each other ?

" Sachem. Yes, I remember all this; and that we have often drunk together, and that you have been kind to me.

" Col. C. Then I hope the same friendship still continues.

" Sachem. It would, of course, were you where you ought to be, and not here.

" Col. C. And why not here? I hope you would not desert a friend in time of need ; now is the time for you to exert yourself in my behalf, as I should do for you were you in my place.

" Sachem. Colonel Crawford, you have placed yourself in a Situation which puts it out of my power, and that of others of your friends, to do any thing for you.

" Col. C. How so, Captain Wingemund ?

" Sachem. By joining yourself to that execrable man, Williamson, and his party. The man who, but the other day, murdered such a number of the Moravian Indians, knowing them to be friends; knowing that he ran no risk in murdering a people who would not fight, and whose only business was praying.

" Col. C. But, I assure you, Wingemund, that had I been with him at the time, this would not have happened. Not I alone, but all your friends, and all good men, reprobate acts of this kind.

" Sachem. That may be, yet these friends, these good men, did not prevent him from going' out again to kill the remainder of those inoffensive yet foolish Moravian Indians. I say foolish, because they believed the whites in preference to us. We had often told them that they would one day be so treated by those people who called themselves their friends. We told them there was no faith to be placed in what the white men said ; that their fair promises were only intended to allure, that they might the more easily kill us, as they have done many Indians before they killed those Moravians.

" Col. C. I am sorry to hear you speak thus. As to Williamson's going out again, when it was known that he was determined on it, I went out with him to prevent him from committing fresh murders.

" Sachem. This the Indians would not believe, were I to tell them so.

" Col. C. And why would they not believe it ?

" Sachem. Because it would have been out of your power to prevent his doing what he pleased.

" Col. C. Out of my power ? Have any Moravian Indians been killed or hurt since we came out ?

" Sachem. None. But you went first to their town; and finding it empty and deserted, you turned on the path toward us. If you had been in search of warriors only, you would not have gone thither. Our spies watched you closely. They saw you while you were embodying yourselves on the other side of the Ohio. They saw you cross that river; they saw where you encamped at night; they saw you turn off from the path to the deserted Moravian town; they knew you were going out of your way; your steps were constantly watched ; and you were suffered quietly to proceed until you reached the spot where you were attacked.

"Col. C. (With emotion.) What do they intend to do with me ?

" Sachem. I tell you with grief. As Williamson, with his whole cowardly host, ran off in the night at the whistling of our warriors' balls, being satisfied that now he had no Moravitais to deal with, but men who could fight, and with such he did toot wish to have any thing to do; I say, as he has escaped, and they have taken you, they will take revenge on you in his stead.

" Col. C. And is there no possibility of preventing this? Can you devise no way to get me off? You shall, my friend, be well rewarded, if you are instrumental in saving my life.

" Sachem. Had Williamson been taken with you, I and some friends, by making use of what you have told me, might, perhaps, have succeeded in saving you; but as the matter now stands, no man would dare to interfere in your behalf. The King of England himself, were he to come to this spot with all his wealth and treasure, could not effect this purpose. The blood of the innocent Moravians, more than half of them women and children, cruelly and wantonly murdered, calls aloud for revenge. The relatives of the slain, who are among us, cry out and stand ready for revenge. The Shawanese, our grand-children, have asked for your fellow-prisoner; on him they will take revenge. All the nations connected with us cry out, revenge ! revenge ! The Moravians, whom you went to destroy, having fled instead of avenging their brethren, the offence has become national, and the nation itself is bound to take revenge.

" Col. C. My fate is then fixed, and I must prepare to meet death in its worst form.

"Sachem. Yes, Colonel. I am sorry for it, but I cannot do any thing for you. Had you attended to the Indian principle, that good and evil cannot dwell together in the same heart, so a goodman ought not to go into evil company, you would not have been in this lamentable situation. You see now, when it is too late, after Williamson has deserted you, what a had man he must be. Nothing now remains for you but to meet your fate like a brave man. Farewell, Colonel Crawford! They are coming. I will retire to a solitary spot."*

On turning away from his friend, whom it was not in his power to assist, it is said the old Sachem was affected to tears, and could never afterward speak of the incident without deep emotion. The moment the chief had left the Colonel, a number of the executioners rushed upon him, and commenced the work of torture, which was in progress three hours before the
* Heckewelder's Indian Nations.

victim fell upon his face and expired with a groan. During the proceedings against him, he was continually and bitterly upbraided for the conduct of the white men at Gnadenhuetten. If not himself a participator in that atrocious affair, they reproached him for having now come against them with the worst kind of murderers-such as even Indians had not among them. " Indians," said they, " kill their enemies, but not their friends. When once they have stretched forth their hand, and given that endearing name, they do not kill. But how was it with, the believing Indians on the Muskingum ? You professed " friendship for them. You hailed and welcomed them as such. You protested they should receive no harm from you. And what did you afterward to them ? They neither ran from you, nor fired a single shot on your approach. And yet you called them warriors, knowing they were not such ! Did you ever hear warriors pray to God, and sing praises to him, as they did ? Could " not the shrieks and cries of the innocent little children excite you to pity, and to save their lives ? No ! you did not! Youwould have the Indians believe you are Christians, because " you have the Great Book among you, and yet you are murderers in your hearts! Never would the unbelieving Indians have done what you did, although the Great Spirit has not put his Book into their hands as into yours! The Great Spirit taught you to read all that he wanted you to do, and what he forbade that you should do. These Indians believed all that they were told was in that Book, and believing, strove to act accordingly. We knew you better than they did. We often warned them to beware of you and your pretended friendship; but they would not believe us. They believed nothing but good of you, and for this they paid with their lives."*

It was, indeed, most unhappy for Colonel Crawford, that he

" Heckewelder's Narrative of the Moravian Missions. " There was farther a Circumstance much against this unfortunate man, which enraged the Indians to a high degree. It was reported that the Indian spies sent to watch their movements, on examining a camp which Crawford and Williamson had left, west of the Ohio, had found on trees peeled for the purpose, the words, written with coal and other mineral substances-'No quarters to be given to an Indian, whether man,woman, or child.' When the Indians find inscriptions on trees or other substances, they are in the habit of making exact copies of them, which they preserve until they find some one to read or interpret them. Such was the fact in the present case, and the inscription was sufficient to enrage them."-Idem.

had been captured in such company; but never were reproaches more righteously heaped upon the heads of the guilty than on this occasion. Never -was the scorpion lash of satire more justly inflicted-could but the really guilty have been there to feel its withering rebuke. The son of Colonel Grawford, himself doomed to the same fate, was present with Dr. Knight, and obliged to behold the torture, and listen to the agonising ejaculations of his parent, without being able to render assistance or offer a word of consolation.* The sufferings of the son followed close upon those of the father ; but with Dr. Knight it was otherwise. He was reserved for sacrifice by the Shawanese, and while on his way thither contrived to escape, and, after twenty-one days of hardship and hunger in the wilderness, succeeded in gaining Fort M'lntosh.

The defeat of Colonel Boon at the Blue Licks in August, the massacre of the Moravian Indians, and the fate of Crawford and his expedition, are the last tales of blood connected with the American Revolution. It is true that in September following, a large body of Indians laid siege to the fort at "Wheeling, but the siege was raised without farther bloodshed than the death of one man in the fort and of three or four without. A barn was burnt at Rice's fort, which was also invested, but not seriously, and the Indians withdrew to their own wilds. Should the details of the last few pages be considered rather too ample for the general plan of the present work, it must be remembered that the awarding of justice to the Indian character also entered largely into its design. The transaction on the Muskingum forms one of the darkest pages in the records of civilized war; Unsurpassed, certainly, if not unparalleled, in the history, written or unwritten, of the whole aboriginal race. The victims were not only innocent and harmless, but, obedient to the precepts of their religion, offered no resistance to their hypocritical murderers, and poured out their blood like water-crimson libations in sacrifice to the white man's rapacity and hate. Nor can the Indians be censured for the fate of Crawford.

With the exception of the Indian details in the present chapter, the year 1782 passed away without furnishing any military
* Wither 's Chronicles, quoted by Drake in his Book of the Indians. Dr. Ramsay says it was Colonel Crawford's son-in-law who was present, and subsequently underwent the same fate.

operations of moment, under the immediate direction of the respective Commanders-ill-chief. Sir Guy Carleton had probably been restrained from offensive war by instructions conforming to the pacific vote of the House of Commons, cited in the early part of the present chapter; while the condition of the American army, had Washington been otherwise disposed, disabled him from making any attempt on the posts in possession of the British.* Generals Greene and Wayne had reconquered the south , and Sir Guy Carleton had directed the officers of his Majesty in the north to send out no more Indian expeditions and to recall those already on foot. Still, notwithstanding all these conciliatory indications, there remained a possibility that the conflict was not yet ended. A change of ministers in England might produce a change of policy. In view of this uncertainty, the Commander-in-chief relaxed none of his efforts during the year to -preserve the discipline of the army, and keep the country in an attitude of defence. In pursuance of this policy, in the month of January, 1783, news of the signing of a treaty of peace not having yet been received, the Commander-in-chief conceived the project of surprising and obtaining possession of the important fortress of Oswego. It was the occupation of this post which gave the British such ready facilities for intriguing with the Six Nations on the one hand, and for pouring their Motley battalions down upon the American settlements; and the Commander-in-chief judged wisely, that in the event of another campaign the possession of that fortress would be of the first consequence to the Americans, being then one of the most formidable military defences on the Continent.

Having determined to attempt its capture by surprise, the execution of the project was confided to Colonel Willett. "With the utmost secrecy therefore, as to destination, the troops of his command were suddenly assembled at Fort Herkimer on the eighth of February. Commencing their march immediately, on the night of the 9th they crossed the Oneida lake, and arrived at Oswego Falls, a few miles only from the fortress, by two o'clock P. M. on the following day. With the small force under his command, and without the means of prosecuting a siege, it was of course necessary to carry the works by escalade if at all,
* Marshall.
VOL. II 16

Halting, therefore, at the Falls, the necessary ladders were constructed and the march was resumed. At 10 o'clock in the evening they were within four miles of the fort. After which, having marched about two hours, and not coming in sight of the point of destination, an investigation of the cause was undertaken, when, to the astonishment and mortification of the Commander, and to the vexation of the whole corps, it was ascertained that, by diverging from the river, their guide, a young Oneida Indian, had lost his way. The situation was, indeed, awkward and perplexing. They had been at one time nearly within speaking distance of the works, and the shout of victory was almost raised in anticipation, when suddenly they discovered that they were lost in a deep forest, in the depth of winter, and amid mountains of snow. It was too late to prosecute the enterprise any farther that night. They could not remain in the vicinity of the fortress over the ensuing day without being discovered. And the instructions of the Commander in chief were peremptory, that if they failed in surprising the fort, the attempt would be unwarrantable. The only alternative, therefore, was to relinquish the enterprise, and reluctantly retrace their steps. It was a sad mistake of the poor Indian, but not an error of design. The march had been one of great severity and fatigue. The guide had led them into a swamp, and while they were standing still, after discovering themselves to be lost, so cold was the weather, that the feet of some of the men froze into the mire. The return march was even more painful still, because of the lameness of some and the varied sufferings of others. One man was frozen to death. But all happened well in the end, for on Colonel Willett's return to Fort Rensselaer, and thence to Albany, he arrived at the ancient Dutch capital just in season to hear the welcome news of peace proclaimed by the Town Clerk at the City Hall, and to mingle his rejoicings with those of the inhabitants. An agreement for the cessation of hostilities between the United States and Great Britain was signed by the respective commissioners of the two powers on the 20th of January, upon the basis of the articles stipulated in Paris on the 30th of the preceding November. And on the 24th of March, a letter was received from the Marquis de Lafayette, announcing a general peace. On the 11th of April Congress issued its proclamation, declaring the cessation of arms by sea and land.

In regard to the failure of Colonel Willett's last expedition, no possible censure was imputable to him. In reply to the Colonel's official account of the affair, General Washington wrote a characteristic letter, approving of his conduct, and consoling him for his disappointment. " Unfortunate as the circumstance is", said the Commander-in-chief, "I am happy in the persuasion that no imputation or reflection can justly reach your character ; and that you are enabled to derive much consolation from the animated zeal, fortitude, and activity of the officers and soldiers who accompanied you. The failure, it seems, must be attributed to some of those unaccountable events which are not within the control of human means, and which, though they often occur in military life, yet require, not only the fortitude of the soldier, but the calm reflection of the philosopher to bear. I cannot omit expressing to you the high sense I entertain of your persevering exertions and zeal on this expedition ; and beg you to accept my warm thanks on the occasion ; and that you will be pleased to communicate my gratitude to the officers and men who acted under your com" mand, for the share they had in that service."

Thus ends the history of the border wars of the American Revolution-the principal theatres of which were in the districts north and west of Albany. The vale of the Mohawk, including its intersecting valley of the Schoharie-kill, was among the most thickly populated and wealthy agricultural districts of the country at the commencement of the war. The productiveness of its soil, and the riches of its people, rendered it ever an inviting object of plunder to the enemy-especially to the savages; and the swarms of refugees who had fled from the country, and were sharing a precarious livelihood among the Indian wig-warns and in the wilds of Canada. Its geographical position, moreover, rendered it the most easily assailable of any well-peopled section of the whole Union ; while at the same time the larger armies of the enemy were employed elsewhere, and of course required the greatest portion of the physical strength of the country elsewhere to oppose them. The consequence of these, and other circumstances that might be enumerated, was, that no other section or district of country in the United States, of the like extent, suffered in any comparable degree as much from the war of the Revolution as did that of the Mohawk. It was the most frequently invaded and overrun: and that, too, by an enemy far more barbarous than the native barbarians of the forest. Month after month, for seven long years, were its towns and villages, its humbler settlements and isolated habitations, fallen upon by an untiring and relentless enemy, until, at the close of the contest, the appearance of the whole district was that of wide-spread, heart-sickening, and universal desolation. In no other section of the confederacy were so many campaigns performed, so many battles fought, so many dwellings burnt, or so many murders committed. And those who were left at the return of peace, were literally a people " scattered and peeled." It was the computation, two years before the close of the war, that one third of the population had gone over to the enemy, and that one third had been driven from the country, or slain in battle and by private assassination. And yet, among the inhabitants of the other remaining third, in June, 1783, it was stated, at a public meeting held at Fort Plain, that there were three hundred widows and two thousand orphan children. But with the news of peace the dispersed population began to return to the sites of their former homes.* Their houses were rebuilt, and their farms once more brought into cultivation; while different and not less enterprising occupants, deriving their titles from the state, took possession of the confiscated lands of those who had adhered to the cause of the crown. The spirit of industry and enterprise, so characteristic of the American people, was not long in imparting a new aspect to the scene; and Tryon County, exchanging her name for that of the patriot MONTGOMERY, soon smiled through her tears.

Other scenes and other wars will afford materials for the remaining chapters of the present volumes, as connected with the subsequent life and career of JOSEPH BRANT-THAYENDANEGEA.
* Along with the returning patriots, as Satan was wont in the olden time occasionally to present himself in better company, some of the Tories began to steal back into the country they had forsaken, and assisted to drench in tears of blood. But the Whig population would not endure their presence. The preceding narrative of events has shown that the Tryon County loyalists, who had taken arms in company with the Indians, were far more revengeful and bloody than were the Indians themselves. It is no marvel, therefore, that a feeling of peculiar bitterness against them existed in the bosoms of those who had suffered so keenly at their hands. These feelings were embodied and declared at two public meetings held in different Bectiona of Tryon County, in June, 1733; for which, see Appendix, No. V.