two men, but took no prisoners. Col. Wilkinson arriving opposite a Kickapoo village on the bank of the Wabash, found several canoes full of Indians, which he forthwith emptied; whether by killing or otherwise, has not been reported. The next morning five hundred men were to be placed under the command of Col. Wilkinson, to move on to Kethepecannank, at the mouth of Eel river, eighteen miles distant.However, owing to the fatigue of the preceding day, only three hundred and fifty men could be mustered for the service. Nevertheless, they marched on rapidly, assailed the town and conquered it. In twelve hours the party returned to the camp, with a few prisoners, and these principally women. The warriors had fled at the approach of Wilkinson's force. The few Indian prisoners were delivered to the charge of the regular troops at Fort Washington, where they were kept until the peace made by Gen. Putnam with the Wabash tribes in 1793. Having destroyed a few villages, the army returned to Kentucky.

Col. Wilkinson having rendered himself conspicuous by his activity, his attention and address, in the late expedition, and conciliated public opinion, he determined to establish his military fame, by a movement of his own. He, therefore, soon after the return of the army under Gen. Scott, caused it to be announced that he wanted five hundred volunteer horsemen, to accompany him, on an expedition against the Indians northwest of the Ohio. It was also proclaimed that Col. John Hardin and Col. James McDowell, both very popular men, would act as Majors. In a very short time, the competent number of mounted riflemen, with their Captains and subordinate officers, were collected and proceeded at once from the neighborhood of Fort Washington, into the Indian country. This was in the month of August. The Indian village L'Anguille, at the mouth of the Tippecanoe, on the Wabash, was the devoted town, against which he matched-which received the blow and was destroyed. In the hurry and confusion of the charge, six warriors, two squaws and a child were killed; thirty-four prisoners taken, and an unfortunate captive released from captivity. This was done with the loss of two men killed and one wounded.(1) Having scoured the country; destroyed a few villages and corn fields of the enemy, he returned without having succeeded in bringing the Indians into a engagement. The detachment returned proud of their success. This expedition, however, produced no important results, except to show the facility with which troops may be moved by an active officer. The Indians still continued their dep,

redations.

The frontier settlers, especially those wholly unprotected, were left exposed to fall a helpless prey to the merciless savages, who exercised the most cruel tortures upon a large number of their victims. The heavy disasters that befel Harmar's army, seemed to inspire the Indians with the hope, of ultimately extirpating the infant settlements on the Ohio. Victory seemed to have perched upon their blood-stained banner, under which they rallied to spread destruction over the unprotected portions of Kentucky and Virginia.(1)

In order to exhibit to the reader the sufferings, hardships and cruelty, which were endured by those who fell into the hands of the Indians, the following narrative is introduced of Jackson Johonnet, who attended Gen. Harmar in his expedition. This is but a specimen of the many instances of suffering endured by the unhappy victims of Indian barbarity.

"Jackson Johonnet, was born at Falmouth, in Connecticut, in May, 1774. His father was a farmer, and managed, upon a very small and by no means fertile farm, to bring up a large family with credit and decency. Jackson, the eldest son, at the age of sixteen, became desirous of engaging in some business upon his own account, and as his father could well spare his labor upon the farm, he took leave of his family in the spring of 1790, and embarked on board of a coasting Schooner for Boston. Having arrived in this large city, and for the first time in his life finding himself without friends, money, or employment of any kind, he began to entertain some uncomfortable apprehensions of want. After wandering through the streets for several days, with a very disconsolate air, he was at length accosted by a dexterous recruiting officer, who seeing him to be a perfect green horn, determined to enlist him if he could.

Accosting him with great frankness, he soon became acquainted with his real condition; and after preliminary observations upon the gaiety, recklessness, and happiness of a soldier's life, he proposed that he should enlist in his company, and march out to the west, assuring him that if he was active and diligent, he would make an immense fortune in one year. Johonnet at first shrunk from the idea of "enlisting," but his imagination became gradually heated at the glowing description of the fertility of the western country, and the facility with which land could be acquired to any extent by a successful soldier. He finally promised him a sergeant's commission on the spot, and held out to him the * See Border Warfare, p. 295. Marshall's History, Vol. 1, pp. 375-6.

prospect of a lieutenancy in case of good behavior. Johonnet at length yielded to the eloquence of the officer, and in a few days found himself on the road to Pittsburgh, and highly charmed with his martial appearance, when arrayed in the uniform of his corps.

Embarking on board of a flat boat at Pittsburgh, he descended the Ohio as far as Fort Washington, when he found his regiment preparing to accompany Harmar. A few days after his arrival, the march commenced. Here he, for the first time, awoke from the pleasant dream in which he had indulged. He had thought that war was a succession of battles and triumphs, leading naturally to wealth and glory! Splendid uniforms, gay music, waving plumes, and showy parades, had floated in splendid confusion before his fancy, until the march commenced.He now found that war was made up of dreadful fatigue, constant exposure to all weather, hard words, and harder blows from his superiors, and the whole crowned by the constant gnawings of hunger, without the means of satisfying it.

On the tenth day of their march, having been promoted to the rank of sergeant, he was detached upon an exploring expedition, at the head of ten regular soldiers. Being all equally ignorant of Indian warfare, they were quickly decoyed into an ambuscade, and made prisoners by a party of Kickapoo Indians. Having been bound and secured in the usual manner, they were driven before their captors like a herd of bullocks, and with scarcely a morsel of food, were forced to make the most exhausting marches in the direction of the Kickapoo village. On the second, day, George Aikins, one of his companions, a native of Ireland, was unable to endure his sufferings any longer, and sunk under his pack in the middle of the path. They instantly scalped him as he lay, and stripped him naked, pricked him with their knives in the most sensitive parts of the body, until they had aroused him to a consciousness of his situation, when they tortured him to death in their usual

manner.

The march then recommenced, and the wretched prisoners, faint and famished as they were, were so shocked at the fate of their companion, that they bore up for eight days under all their sufferings. On the ninth, however, they reached a small village, where crowds of both sexes came out to meet them, with shrieks and yells, which filled thera with terror. There they were compelled, as usual, to run the gauntlet; and as they were much worn down by hunger and fatigue, four of the party: Durgee, Forsyth, Deloy and Benton, all of New England, were unable to reach the council house, but fainted in the midst of the

course. The boys and squaws instantly fell upon them, and put them to death by torture.

At this place the remainder were kept in close confinement, and upon very scanty diet for several days, in the course of which the news of Harmar's defeat arrived. Piles of scalps, together with canteens, sashes, military hats, and a variety of other articles, were brought into the village; and several white women and children were taken through the town, on their way to the villages farther west. At the same time, four more of his companions were led off to the western villages, and never heard of afterwards. Himself and a corporal, named Sackville, were now the only survivors. They remained in close confinement two weeks longer. Their rations were barely sufficient to sustain life, and upon the receipt of any unpleasant intelligence, they were taken out, whipped severely, and compelled to run the gauntlet.

At length, on the fourteenth night of their confinement, they determined to make an effort to escape. Sackville had concealed a sharp pen-knife in a secret pocket, which the Indians had been unable to discover. They were guarded by four warriors and one old bag of seventy, whose temper was as crooked as her person. The prisoners having been securely bound, the warriors lay down during the rest of the night. Their guns stood in the corner of the hut, and their tomahawks, as usual, were attached to their sides.

Their hopes of escape were founded upon the probability of eluding the vigilance of the hag, cutting their cords, and either avoiding or destroying their guard. The snoring of the warriors quickly announced them asleep, and the old squaw hung in a drowsy attitude over the fire. Sackville cautiously cut his own cords, and after a few minutes delay, succeeded in performing the same office for Johonnet.

But their work was scarcely yet begun. It was absolutely necessary that the old squaw should fall asleep, or be silenced in some other way! before they could either leave the hut, or attack the sleeping warriors. They waited impatiently for half an hour, but perceiving that although occasionally dozing, she would rouse herself at short intervals, and regard them suspiciously, they exchanged looks of intelligence, (being afraid even to whisper) and prepared for the decisive effort. Johonnet suddenly sprung up as silently as possible, and grasping the old woman by the throat, drew her head back with violence, when Sackville, who had watched his movements attentively, instantly cut her throat from ear A short gurgling moan was the only sound which escaped her

to ear.

The sleepers were not awakened, although they appeared somewhat disturbed at the noise, and the two adventurers, seizing each a rifle, struck at the same moment with such fury as to disable two of their enemies. The other two instantly sprang to their feet, but before they could draw their tomahawks or give the alarm, they were prostrated by the blows of the white men, who attacked them at the moment that they had gained their feet. Their enemies, although stunned, were not yet dead. They drew their tomahawks from their sides, therefore, and striking each Indian repeatedly upon the head, completed the work by piercing the heart of each with his own scalping-knife. Selecting two rifles from the corner, together with their usual appendages, and taking such provisions as the hut afforded, they left the village as rapidly as possible, and 'fervently invoking the protection of Heaven, committed themselves to the wilderness.

Neither of them were good woodsmen, nor were either of them expert hunters. They attempted a south-eastern course, however, as nearly as they could ascertain it, but were much embarrassed by the frequent recurrence of impassable bogs, which compelled them to change their course, and greatly retarded their progress. Knowing that the pursuit would be keen and persevering, they resorted to every method of baffling their enemies. They waded down many streams, and occasionally surmounted rocky precipices, which, under other circumstances, nothing could have induced them to attempt. Their sufferings from hunger were excessive, as they were so indifferently skilled in hunting, as to be unable to kill a sufficient quantity of game, although the woods abounded with deer, beaver and buffalo.

On the fourth day, about ten o'clock A. M., they came to a fine spring, where they halted and determined to prepare their breakfast. Before kindling a fire, however, Sackville, either upon some vague suspicion of the proximity of an enemy, or from some other cause, thought proper to ascend an adjoining hillock, and reconnoitre the ground around the spring. No measure was ever more providential. Johonnet presently beheld him returning cautiously and silently to the spring, and being satisfied from his manner that danger was at hand, he held his rifle in readiness for action at a moment's warning. Sackville presently rejoined him, with a countenance in which anxiety and resolution were strikingly blended. Johonnet eagerly enquired the cause of his alarm. His companion, in a low voice, replied that they were within one hundred yards of four Indian warriors, who were reposing upon the bank of the little rivulet, on the other side of the hillock. That they were