tice. With no lingering motion I repaired to the boat, was received on board, got off undiscovered, and saw the Indians no more! A very narrow and surprising escape from a violent death for they had determined to kill me if ever I attempted to leave them.

I arrived at Quebec May 1st. The honorable Col. Peter Schuyler, hearing of my coming there, kindly sent for me, and after inquiries about my welfare generously told me I should be supplied, and need not trouble myself for support. This public-spirited gentleman, who is indeed an honor to his country, did in like manner nobly relieve many other poor prisoners at Quebec. Here I had full liberty to walk where I pleased to view the city, which is well situated for strength, but far from being impregnable.

Here, I hope, it will not be judged improper to give a short hint of the French governor's conduct. Even in time of peace he gives the Indians great encouragement to murder and captivate the poor inhabitants on our frontiers.* An honest good man, named William Ross, was taken prisoner twice in time of peace. When he was first taken he learned a little of the French language, was afterwards redeemed, and got to his place of abode. Some years after, he, with two sons, was again taken, and brought to Quebec. The governor seeing the poor man was lame, and that one of his legs was smaller than the other, reproved the Indians for not killing him, asking them "what they brought a lame man there for who could do nothing but eat! You should have brought his scalp!" However, another of his countrymen, more merciful than his excellency, knowing the poor prisoner to be a quiet, hardworking man, redeemed him from the Indians, and two other Frenchmen bought his two sons. Here they had been slaves more than three years when I first arrived at Quebec. This account I had from Mr. Ross himself, who further added, that the governor gave the Indians presents to encourage them to proceed in that kind of work, which is a scandal to any civilized nation, and what many pagans would abhor. Here, also, I saw one Mr. Johnson, who was taken in a time of peace, with his wife and three small children. A fourth was born on the way, whom Mrs. Johnson named Captive.† All of these had been prisoners between three and four years. Several

*The author certainly discovers great care for veracity in the course of his narrative, but he may have erred here. We hope he has.-Ed.

† On Mrs. Johnson's return out of captivity she had published a very full and excellent account of it, which has gone through at least four editions since 1796. The last (Lowell, 1834) is quite imperfect.-Ed.

young men, and Mr. Johnson's wife's sister, were likewise taken with them, and made slaves.

Our cartel being ready, I obtained liberty to go to England in her. We set sail the 23d of July, 1757, in the morning, and discharged our pilot about four o'clock in the afternoon. After that we neither cast anchor nor lead till we got clear of the great river St. Lawrence; from which I conclude the navigation to be much safer than the French have reported. In 28 days we arrived at Plymouth, which occasioned great joy [to us], for we were ragged, lousy, sick, and in a manner starved; and many of the prisoners, (who were in all about three hundred,) were sick of the small-pox. Myself and son having each a blanket coat, (which we bought in Canada to keep us warm,) and now expecting relief, gave them to poor sick men, almost naked. We were not allowed to go on shore, but were removed to a king's ship, and sent to Portsmouth, where we were still confined on board near two weeks, and then removed to the Mermaid, to be sent to Boston. We now repented our well-meant though rash charity in giving our coats away, as we were not to get any more; all applications to the captain for any kind of covering being in vain. Our joy was turned into sorrow at the prospect of coming en a cold coast, in the beginning of winter, almost naked, which was not a little increased by a near view of our mother country; the soil and comforts of which we were not suffered to touch or taste.*

September the 6th we sailed for Boston, with a fleet in convoy, at which we arrived on the 7th of November, in the evening. It being dark, and we strangers and poor, it was difficult to get a lodging. I had no shoes, and but pieces of stockings, and the weather very cold. We were indeed directed to a tavern, but found cold entertainment there; the master of the house, seeing a ragged and lousy company, turned us out to wander in the dark. He was suspicious of us, and feared we came from Halifax, where the small-pox then was, and told us he was ordered not to receive such as came from thence. We soon met a young man who said he could find lodgings for us, but still detained us by asking many questions. I told him we were in no condition to answer them till we came to a more comfortable place, which

*Such barbarous treatment of poor prisoners, by a government like that of England, who had hazarded their lives in its cause, is almost incredible. Thus brutes might treat men, but men will not deal so with A miserable old cartel hulk may contain germs destined to shake the thrones of tyrants.-Ed.

men.

he quickly found, where we were used well; but as we were lousy, we could not expect beds.

The next morning we made application for clothing. Mr. Erving, son-in-law to the late General Shirley, gave us relief, not only in respect of apparel, but also three dollars per man, to bear our charges to Newport. When I put on fresh clothes I was seized with a cold fit, which was followed by a high fever, and in that condition obliged to travel on foot as far as Providence, in our way to Rhode Island. In this journey I was exceedingly distressed. Our comforts in this life are often embittered with miseries, which are doubtless great mercies when they are suitably improved. At Newport we met with Captain Gibbs, and agreed with him for our passage to New York, where we arrived, November 21st, and met with many friends, who expressed much satisfaction at our return, and treated us kindly, particularly Mr. Livingston and Mr. Wal

dron.

November the 26th, 1757, I arrived at Philadelphia, to the great joy of all my friends, and particularly of my poor afflicted wife and family, who thought they should never see me again, till we met beyond the grave. Being returned, sick and weak in body, and empty-handed, not having any thing for my family's and my own support, several humane and generous persons, of different denominations, in this city, without any application of mine, have freely given seasonable relief. For which may God grant them blessings in this world, and in the world to come everlasting life, for Christ's sake!

But to hasten to the conclusion, suffer me with humility and sorrow to observe that our enemies seem to make a better use of a bad religion than we do of a good one. They rise up long before day in winter and go through the snow in the coldest seasons to perform their devotions in the churches. When these are over they return, to be ready for their work as soon as daylight appears. The Indians are as zealous in religion as the French. They oblige their children to pray morning and evening, particularly at Canasadauga.

Our case appears to me indeed gloomy, notwithstanding our enemies are inconsiderable in numbers, compared with us; yet they are united as one man, while we may justly be compared to a house divided against itself, and therefore cannot stand long in our present situation. May Almighty God graciously incline us to look to him for deliverance, to repent of our sins, reform our lives, and unite in the vigorous and manly use of all proper means to this end. ΑΜΕΝ.

OF THE DESTRUCTION OF THE SETTLEMENT OF GREENBRIER, VIRGINIA, TOGETHER WITH THE CAPTURE AND SURPRISING CONDUCT OF MRS. CLENDENIN, WHO WAS AMONG THOSE WHO ESCAPED THE TOMAHAWK OF THE INDIANS AT THAT MASSACRE..

[Whether the following narrative was ever in print, except as it stands in Mr. Martin's Gazetteer of Virginia, I have never learned. It would seem from the following note accompanying it in that work, "that it was extracted from memoirs of Indian wars on the western frontiers of Vir ginia, communicated to the Philosophical Society of Virginia, by Charles A. Stuart, Esq., of Augusta Co."-Ed.]

AFTER peace was confirmed between England and France in the year 1761, the Indians commenced hostilities in 1763,* when all the inhabitants in Greenbrier were totally cut off by a party of Indians, headed by the chief warrior Cornstalk.t The principal settlements were on Muddy Creek. These Indians, in number about sixty, introduced themselves into the people's houses under the mask of friendship, where every civility was offered them by the people, providing them with

*Hostilities had not ceased between the whites and the Indians, as will be seen by a reference to the CHRONICLES OF THE INDIANS for this and the preceding years.-Ed.

†The life and barbarous death of this great chief are given at length in the BOOK OF THE INDIANS, V. 42, 44.-Ed.

victuals and other accommodations for their entertainment, when, on a sudden, they fall upon and kill the men, and make prisoners of the women and children. From thence they passed over into the Levels, where some families were collected at the house of Archibald Clendenin, where the Honorable Balard Smith now lives. There were between fifty and one hundred persons, men, women and children. There the Indians were entertained, as at Muddy Creek, in the most hospitable manner. Mr. Clendenin had just arrived from a hunt, with three fat elks, upon which they were feasted in a bountiful manner.

In the mean time an old woman, with a sore leg, was showing her distress to an Indian, and inquiring if he could administer to her any relief. He said he thought he could, and drawing his tomahawk, instantly killed her, and all the men, almost, that were in the house. One, named Conrad Yolkom, only escaped. He, being at some distance from the house, was alarmed by the cries and shrieks of the women and children, fled with all his might to Jackson's river, and alarmed the people there. They however were loath to believe his tale until they saw the Indians approaching. All fled before them; and they pursued on to Carr's Creek, in Rockbridge county, where many families were killed and taken by them. At Clendenin's a scene of much cruelty was performed, not only by the Indians, but some such as the terrors of their approach influenced thereto. In this I refer to an act committed by a negro woman, who in escaping from the Indians killed her own child, whose cries she had reason to fear would lead to her capture!

Mrs. Clendenin did not fail to abuse the Indians with her tongue, with the most reproachful epithets she could command, although the tomahawk was brandishing at the same moment overhead; but instead of bringing it down upon her, the less effectual means of silencing her clamors was resorted to, namely, lashing her in the face and eyes with the bleeding scalp of her dead husband!

The provisions were all taken over to Muddy Creek, and a party of Indians retained them there till the return of the others from Carr's Creek, when the whole were marched off together. On the day they started from the foot of Kenney's Knob, going over the mountain, Mrs. Clendenin gave her infant child to another female prisoner, to carry, to relieve her for a few paces, and in a few moments after, a favorable opportunity offering for escape, she improved it with such alacrity into a dense thicket which they were at the time passing, that not an Indian saw her or could tell which way she went. The opportunity was rendered more favorable by the