Instead of retiring to rest after supping, the appalled captives observed their enemies busied in operations which boded nothing good. Two saplings were pruned clear of branches up to the very top, and all the brush cleared away for several rods around them. While this was doing, others were splitting pitch pine billets into small splinters about five inches in length, and as small as one's little finger, sharpening one end, and dipping the other in melted turpentine. At length, with countenances distorted by infernal fury, and with hideous yells, the two savages who had captured the hapless Maria and Christina, leaped into the midst of their circle, and dragged those ill-fated maidens, shrieking, from the embraces of their companions. These warriors had disagreed about whose property the girls should be, as they had jointly seized them; and to terminate the dispute, agreeably to the abominable usage of the savages, it was determined by the chiefs of the party, that the prisoners who gave rise to the contention, should be destroyed, and that their captors should be the principal agents in the execrable business. These furies, assisted by their comrades, stripped the forlorn girls, already convulsed with apprehensions, and tied each to a sapling, with their hands as high extended above their heads as possible; and then pitched them from their knees to their shoulders, with upwards of six hundred of the sharpened splinters above described, which, at every puncture, brought forth screams of distress, that echoed and re-echoed through the wilderness. And then to complete the infernal tragedy, the splinters, all standing erect on the bleeding victims, were every one set on fire, and exhibited a scene of monstrous misery beyond the power of speech to describe, or even imagination to conceive. It was not until near three hours had elapsed from the commencement of their torments, and that they had lost almost every resemblance of the human form, that these helpless virgins sunk down in the arms of their deliverer death. Sufferings of the Rev. John Corbly and family.— Related in a letter to the Rev. William Rogers, late pastor of the Baptist church in Philadelphia. MUDDY CREEK, PA. JULY 8, 1785. Dear Sir: The following is a just and true account of the tragical scene of my family's falling by the savages, which I related when at your house in Philadelphia, and which you requested me to forward in writing. On the second sabbath in May, in the year 1782, being my appointment at one of my meeting-houses, about a mile from my dwelling-house, I set out with my dear wife and five children for public worship. Not suspecting any danger, I walked behind 200 yards, with my Bible in my hand, meditating. As I was thus employed, all on a sudden I was greatly alarmed with the frightful shrieks of my dear family before me. I immediately ran with all the speed I could, vainly hunting a club as I ran, till I got within 40 yards of them. My poor wife seeing me, cried to me to make my escape, and an Indian at the same time ran up to shoot me. I had to strip, and by so doing outran him. My wife had a sucking child in her arms: this little infant they killed and scalped. They then struck my wife at sundry times, but not getting her down, the Indian, who aimed to shoot me, ran to her, shot her through the body, and scalped her. My little boy, an only son, about 6 years old, they sunk the hatchet into his brains, and thus dispatched him. A daughter, besides the infant, they also killed and scalped. My eldest daughter, who is yet alive, was hid in a tree about 20 yards from the place where the rest were killed, and saw the whole proceedings. Seeing the Indians all go off, as she thought, she got up and deliberately crept out from the hollow trunk; but one of them espying her, ran hastily up, knocked her down, and scalped her also her only surviving sister, on whose head they did not leave more than one inch round, either of flesh or skin, besides taking a piece out of her skull. She, and the before mentioned one, are still miraculously preserved, though, as you must think, I have had, and still have a great deal of trouble and expense with them, besides anxiety about them, insomuch that I am, as to worldly circumstances, almost ruined. I am yet in hopes of seeing them cured, as they still, blessed be God, retain their senses, notwithstanding the painful operations they have already and must yet pass through. At the time I ran round to see what was become of my family, and found my dear and affectionate wife, with five children, all scalped in less than ten minutes from the first outset, no one, my dear brother, can conceive how I felt. This, you may well suppose, was killing to me. I instantly fainted away, and was borne off by a friend, who by this time had found us out. When I recovered, oh the anguish of my soul! I cried, Would to God I had died for them! would to God I had died with them! O how dark and mysterious did this trying providence then appear to me! but "why should I grieve, when grieving I must bear ?" This, dear sir, is a faithful though short narrative of that fatal catastrophe, and my life amidst it all, for what purpose Jehovah only knows, redeemed from surrounding death. Oh, may I spend it to the praise and glory of his grace, who worketh all things after the counsel of his own will. The government of the world and of the church is in his hands. May it be taught the important lesson of acquiescing in all his dispensations. I conclude with wishing you every blessing, and subscribe myself, your affectionate, though afflicted friend, and unworthy brother in the gospel ministry, JOHN CORBLY. Remarkable encounter of a white man with two Indians. In a letter to a gentleman of Philadelphia, dated Westmoreland, April 26, 1779. DEAR SIR: I wrote you a note a few days ago, in which I promised you the particulars of an affair be |
