University of Virginia Library

CHAPTER III.

COLONEL WILLIAM CRAWFORD.

The fate of this unfortunate officer has excited, and will
continue to excite, so long as the history of the west shall be
read, the most painful interest and the liveliest sympathy.
We do not propose at this time to give a lengthy sketch of
his life and services, but simply to notice a few points in his
personal history.

Col. Crawford was a native of Berkeley county, Virginia.
He was born in 1732—a year memorable as giving birth to
Washington and Marion. He early gave promise of much
talent and energy of character. At the age of twenty-six,
he raised a company, and joined Washington's regiment in
the expedition of Gen. Forbes against Fort DuQuesne. His
fine military bearing at that time attracted the attention and
commanded the esteem of Washington. On the breaking out
of the Revolution, by his own indomitable energy, he enrolled
a regiment, and received, in consideration of his great personal
effort, a colonel's commission in the Colonial army.

His first visit to the west was in 1767, and two years after,
he removed his family. The place selected for his home was
on the Youghiogheny river, where the town of Connellsville,
Fayette county, Pennsylvania, now stands. His house
was one of the first in the valley of the Youghiogheny, and
it was always open to those who thought proper to give him a
call. His hospitality, generosity, and uniform kindness were
subjects of general remark. Of those who early shared the
hospitalities of his roof, was Washington. We find by his
journal of a tour to the west in 1770, frequent reference to
Col. Crawford, who proved one of his most devoted friends.

He seems to have enjoyed himself finely, and passed the time
most pleasantly. A sister of the gallant colonel commanded
not a little of the distinguished guest's attention, and were we
disposed, now that Time has flung his many colored veil over
all, could call upon Fancy with her pallette and brush, and
paint a scene in that western cabin, but our limits forbid.

During this visit of Washington, he remained several days,
and then, accompanied by Col. Crawford, proceeded to Fort
Pitt, thence in company with others to the Great Kanawha,
and after a pretty thorough exploration, returned to the Youghiogheny.
Most of the lands belonging to Washington in
the west were located by Col. Crawford. We have frequently
heard the old surveyors along the Ohio say that they often
met with his "corners." Some of the earliest surveys within
the present limits of Brooke, Ohio, and Marshall counties,
Virginia, were made by Colonel C.[10] We sincerely regret the
scarcity of material for a suitable memoir of this meritorious,
but most unfortunate officer. His papers and records were
never preserved; his family became scattered; "most of his
contemporaries have followed him to the land of spirits, and
very little else than a few brief stories remain to tell of his
virtues and his fame." Passing over many of his years of
usefulness to the west, we come to the fearful catastrophe.
Colonel Crawford had frequently led expeditions against the
Indians, but on the occasion of which we are about to speak,
he, at first, absolutely declined to go. It seemed as though
he had a presentiment of the fate which was to befall him. At
length, however, he yielded to the importunities of his friends,
and accompanied the men to the place of rendezvous. It is even
asserted that after his selection as commander, he was reluctant

to accept. Having noticed elsewhere the progress of the
army, and its disastrous defeat, it now alone remains to finish
the sad story by giving the particulars of the terrible death
of its commanding officer. As these have been most faithtully
narrated by Dr. Knight, the fellow-prisoner of Colonel
Crawford, and an eye-witness to the whole terrible scene, we
will follow his account. A retreat having been determined
on, the whole army moved off in the silence of the night,
hoping thereby to avoid pursuit. But the ever vigilant
enemy noticed the movement, and instantly pursuit was
given.

"We had not got a quarter of a mile from the field of action,
when I heard Col. Crawford calling for his son John, his son-in-law
Major Harrison, Major Rose and William Crawford,
his nephews, upon which I came up and told him I believed
they were before us. He asked, `Is that the doctor?' I told
him it was. He then replied, that they were not in front, and
begged of me not to leave him; I promised him I would not.

"We then waited, and continued calling for these men
till the troops had passed us. The colonel told me his horse
had almost given out, that he could not keep up with the
troops, and wished some of his best friends to remain with
him: he then exclaimed against the militia for riding off in
such an irregular manner, and leaving some of the wounded
behind, contrary to his orders. Presently there came two
men riding after us, one of them an old man, the other a lad.
We inquired if they had seen any of the above persons, and
they answered they had not.

"By this time there was a very hot firing before us, and, as
we judged, near where our main body must have been. Our
course was then nearly south-west, but changing it, we went
north about two miles, the two men remaining in company
with us. Judging ourselves to be now out of the enemy's
lines, we took a due east course, taking care to keep at the
distance of fifteen or twenty yards apart, and directing ourselves
by the north star.

"About day-break Col. Crawford's and the young man's

horses gave out, and they left them. We pursued our journey
eastward, and about two o'clock fell in with Capt. Biggs,
who had carried Lieut. Ashly from the field of action, who had
been dangerously wounded. We then went on about the
space of an hour, when a heavy rain coming up, we concluded
it was best to encamp, as we were encumbered with the
wounded officer. We then barked four or five trees, made
an encampment and a fire, and remained there all night.
Next morning we again prosecuted our journey, and having
gone about three miles found a deer which had been recently
killed. The meat was sliced from the bones and bundled up
in the skin with a tomahawk lying by it. We carried all with
us, and in advancing about one mile further, espied the smoke
of a fire. We then gave the wounded officer into the charge
of the young man, desiring him to stay behind, whilst the
colonel, the captain and myself, walked up as cautiously as we
could toward the fire. When we came to it, we concluded,
from several circumstances, some of our people had encamped
there the preceding night. We then went about roasting the
venison, and when just about to march, observed one of our
men coming upon our tracks. He seemed at first very shy,
but having called to him he came up and told us he was the
person who had killed the deer, but upon hearing us come up,
was afraid of Indians, hid in a thicket, and made off. Upon
this we gave him some bread and roasted venison, proceeded
together on our journey, and about two o'clock came upon the
paths by which we had gone out. Capt. Biggs and myself
did not think it safe to keep the road, but the colonel said the
Indians would not follow the troops farther than the plains,
which we were then considerably past. As the wounded
officer rode Capt. Biggs' horse, I lent the captain mine; the
colonel and myself went about one hundred yards in front,
the captain and the wounded officer in the centre, and the
two young men behind. After we had travelled about one
mile and a half, several Indians started up within fifteen or
twenty steps of the colonel and I. As we at first discovered
only three, I immediately got behind a large black oak, made
ready my piece and raised it up to take sight, when the
colonel called to me twice not to fire; upon that one of the
Indians ran up to the colonel and took him by the hand. The
colonel then told me to put down my gun, which I did. At that
instant one of them came up to me, whom I had formerly
seen very often, calling me doctor, and took me by the hand.
They were Delaware Indians of the Wingenim tribe. Capt.
Biggs fired amongst them, but did no execution. They then
told us, to call these people and make them come there, else
they would go and kill them, which the colonel did, but they
four got off and escaped for that time. The colonel and I
were then taken to the Indian camp, which was about half a
mile from the place where we were captured. On Sunday
evening, five Delawares, who had posted themselves at some
distance further on the road, brought back to the camp, where
we lay, Capt. Biggs and Lieut. Ashly's scalps, with an Indian
scalp which Capt. Biggs had taken in the field of action: they
also brought in Biggs' horse and mine; they told us the two
other men got away from them.

"Monday morning, the tenth of June, we were paraded to
march to Sandusky, about thirty-three miles distant; they
had eleven prisoners of us and four scalps, the Indians being
seventeen in number.

"Colonel Crawford was very desirous to see a certain Simon
Girty, who lived among the Indians, and was on this account
permitted to go to town the same night, with two warriors
to guard him, having orders at the same time to pass by the
place where the colonel had turned out his horse, that they
might, if possible, find him. The rest of us were taken as
far as the old town, which was within eight miles of the new.

"Tuesday Morning, the eleventh, Colonel Crawford was
brought out to us on purpose to be marched in with the
other prisoners. I asked the colonel if he had seen Mr.
Girty? He told me he had, and that Girty had promised
to do everything in his power for him, but that the Indians

were very much enraged against the prisoners, particularly
Captain Pipe, one of the chiefs; he likewise told me that
Girty had informed him that his son-in-law, Colonel Harrison,
and his nephew, William Crawford, were made prisoners by
the Shawanese, but had been pardoned. This Captain Pipe
had come from the towns about an hour before Colonel
Crawford, and had painted all the prisoners' faces black.

"As he was painting me, he told me I should go to the
Shawanese towns and see my friends. When the colonel
arrived he painted him black also, told him he was glad to
see him, and that he would have him shaved when he came
to see his friends at the Wyandot town. When we marched,
the colonel and I were kept between Pipe and Wyngenim,
the two Delaware chiefs, the other nine prisoners were sent
forward with a party of Indians. As we went along we
saw four of the prisoners lying by the path tomahawked
and scalped, some of them were at the distance of half a
mile from each other. When we arrived within half a mile
of the place where the colonel was executed, we overtook
the five prisoners that remained alive; the Indians had
caused them to sit down on the ground, as they did, also
the colonel and myself, at some distance from them; I was
there given in charge to an Indian fellow to be taken to the
Shawanese towns.

"In the place where we were now made to sit down, there
was a number of squaws and boys, who fell on the five
prisoners and tomahawked them. There was a certain John
McKinley amonst the prisoners, formerly an officer in the
13th Virginia Regiment, whose head an old squaw cut off,
and the Indians kicked it about upon the ground. The young
Indian fellows came often where the colonel and I were, and
dashed the scalps in our faces. We were then conducted along
toward the place where the colonel was afterwards executed.
When we came within half a mile of it, Simon Girty met us,
with several Indians on horseback; he spoke to the colonel,

but as I was about one hundred and fifty yards behind, could
not hear what passed between them.

"Almost every Indian we met struck us either with sticks
or their fists. Girty waited till I was brought up, and then
asked, Was that the doctor? I answered him Yes, and went
towards him, reaching out my hand, but he bid me begone,
and called me a damned rascal; upon which the fellow who
had me in charge, pulled me along. Girty rode up after me
and told me I was to go to the Shawanese towns.

"When we came to the fire, the colonel was stripped
naked, ordered to sit down by the fire, and then they beat
him with sticks and their fists. Presently after, I was treated
in the same manner. They then tied a rope to the foot of a
post about fifteen feet high, bound the colonel's hands behind
his back, and fastened the rope to the ligature between his
wrists. The rope was long enough either for him to sit down
or to walk round the post once or twice and return the same
way. The colonel then called to Girty, and asked if they
intended to burn him? Girty answered, Yes. The colonel
said he would take it all patiently. Upon this, Captain
Pipe, a Delaware chief, made a speech to the Indians,
consisting of about thirty or forty men, and sixty or seventy
squaws and boys.

"When the speech was finished, they all yelled a hideous
and hearty assent to what had been said. The Indian men
then took up their guns and shot powder into the colonel's
body, from his feet as far up as his neck. I think not less
than seventy loads were discharged upon his naked body.
They then crowded about him, and to the best of my observation,
cut off his ears: when the throng had dispersed a
little, I saw the blood running from both sides of his head in
consequence thereof.

"The fire was about six or seven yards from the post to
which the colonel was tied; it was made of small hickory
poles, burnt quite through in the middle, each end of the

poles remaining about six feet in length. Three or four
Indians, by turns, would take up, individually, one of these
burning pieces of wood and apply it to his naked body,
already burned black with the powder. These tormentors
presented themselves on every side of him, so that which
ever way he ran round the post they met him with the
burning fagots and poles. Some of the squaws took broad
boards, upon which they would put a quantity of burning
coals and hot embers and throw them on him, so that in
a short time he had nothing but coals of fire and hot ashes
to walk upon.

"In the midst of these extreme tortures he called to Simon
Girty, and begged of him to shoot him: but Girty making
no answer, he called to him again. Girty then, by way of
derision, told the colonel he had no gun, at the same time
turning about to an Indian who was behind him, laughed
heartily, and by all his gestures seemed delighted at the
horrid scene.

"Girty then came up to me and bade me prepare for death.
He said, however, I was not to die at that place, but to be
burnt at the Shawanese towns. He swore by G—d I need
not expect to escape death, but should suffer it in all its
extremities.

"Colonel Crawford at this period of his suffering, besought
the Almighty to have mercy on his soul, spoke very low,
and bore his torments with the most manly fortitude. He
continued in all the extremities of pain for an hour and three
quarters or two hours longer, as near as I can judge, when
at last being almost spent, he lay down on his belly; they
then scalped him and repeatedly threw the scalp in my face,
telling me `That was my great captain's.' An old squaw
(whose appearance every way answered the ideas people
entertain of the devil) got a board, took a parcel of coals
and ashes and laid them on his back and head after he had
been scalped; he then raised himself upon his feet and began
to walk round the post; they next put a burning stick to

him as usual, but he seemed more insensible of pain than
before."

Colonel Crawford was about fifty years of age, when he
suffered at the stake. His son-in-law and nephew[11] were
executed ahout the same time; John escaped. What became
of the other members of his family cannot satisfactorily be
ascertained. A daughter was raised by Colonel Shepherd, of
Wheeling creek, and married a Mr. Thornburg. At her marriage,
Col. S. gave her one hundred acres of land, lying near
the present town of Triadelphia.

The death of Col. Crawford cast a gloom over the whole
west, and cannot be contemplated, at this late day, without
an involuntary shudder.

CAPTAIN SAMUEL BRADY.

Of the many brave spirits who started into existence at
the first drum-tap of the Revolution, but few have become
better known, or more respected in the west, than the gallant
Brady, captain of the spies.

At a very early age, this devoted partizan gave indications
of future usefulness; exhibiting in all his movements a spirit
and a purpose to do and dare, which marked him as a man
of no ordinary character, and proved him fit for almost any
emergency.

Brady was emphatically the Marion of the west. Like the
Chevalier Bayard, he was "without fear and without reproach."
A bolder or braver man never drew a sword or
fired a rifle; and these marked elements of his nature rendered
him the terror of the Indian warrior, whether on the
scout or in the wigwam, for he felt himself alike insecure from
the noiseless vengeance of the "leader of the spies." No man
stood higher in the esteem of the hardy settlers, and no name

could inspire more of confidence and of safety, than that of
Samuel Brady. During the whole of the fierce, protracted,
and sanguinary war which ravaged the frontier settlements
of Virginia and Pennsylvania, from 1785 to 1794, no man
could so quiet the trembling and fear-stricken settlers as
Captain Brady. His presence, backed by the band of devoted
followers who always stepped in his footprints, was felt
as security everywhere. The fond mother, who in after years
related to her children the many thrilling incidents of frontier
life which she witnessed and passed through, never failed, as
she thanked her Heavenly Father for having protected her
little innocents from the scalping-knife and tomahawk, to
express her heartfelt gratitude to him who had been the instrumentality
of saving her all from savage barbarity.

Devoted as this man was to the interests of the west, and
sacrificing as he did, almost everything but life, it is a burning
shame that his memory should have been so long neglected,
and that some public recognition of his services has
not been made. It is a reflection upon our gratitude and
patriotism, that while whole galleries are to be found of men
whose services in behalf of their country were not to be compared
with those of Brady, live upon canvas and in marble,
not one single bust or portrait of the gallant leader of the
spies is anywhere to be found. And what is still worse, his
remains lie in an humble burial ground without even a stone,
bearing the most simple inscription to mark the spot from the
undistinguished mass around.

Samuel Brady was born at Shippensburgh, Pennsylvania,
in 1756.[12] His father, John Brady, was made a captain in the
Colonial army, for his services in the old French and Indian
wars. The family, at an early day, moved to the Susquehanna.
On the breaking out of the Revolution, Samuel
joined a volunteer company, and marched to Boston. The

patriotic fervor of the youth, prompted the commander to
offer young Brady a commission; but his father objected,
thinking he was too young, saying, "First let him learn the
duties of a soldier, and then he will better know how to act
as an officer."

"In 1776, Samuel Brady was appointed a first lieutenant.[13]
He continued with the army, and was in all the principal
engagements until after the battle of Monmouth, when he
was promoted to a captaincy, and ordered to the west under
Colonel Brodhead. On their march, he had leave to visit his
friends in Northumberland county. His father, in 1776,
had accepted a captaincy in the 12th Pennsylvania regiment,
been badly wounded at the battle of Brandywine, and was
then at home. Whilst there, he heard of his brother's death,
who had been murdered by the Indians on the 9th of August,
1778. He remained at home until 1779, and then rejoined
his regiment at Pittsburgh. During the same year, his father
was murdered by the Indians; and then it was that our hero
swore vengeance against the whole race. Terribly, too, did
he keep that vow."

In 1781, the Indians became very troublesome in the settlements
above Pittsburgh. Washington, as we have elsewhere
noticed, knew very well that the only guaranty of
safety was to strike the enemy at home. With this view, he
directed Colonel Brodhead to send some suitable person to
their towns, who could ascertain their strength, resources,
etc. Colonel Brodhead's keen military eye saw in Brady the
very man for the service, and giving him the necessary instructions,
the gallant soldier started on his perilous mission,
accompanied by John Williamson and one of the Wetzels.
These men were so completely disguised as Indians, that it
would almost have defied the skill and cunning of a genuine
chief to detect the deception. After a hurried march, they

reached the Indian town at Upper Sandusky, shortly after
dark. Brady posted his men, then entered the town, and
after a thorough reconnoitre rejoined his companions, and
commenced a rapid retreat. His keen eye had caught a lurking
suspicion in some of those whom he met, and it was deemed
important to get beyond their reach as rapidly as possible.
With scarcely a moment's intermission, the three travelled all
night, and stopping a few minutes in the morning, discovered
the Indians were in pursuit. Increasing their movements,
and adopting the precaution of travelling upon logs and
avoiding direct routes, the trio were soon beyond immediate
danger. The remainder of that day, all of that night, and
part of the third day, passed without any cause of apprehension.
Fatigued and hungry, (their sole diet since leaving
home having been parched corn and jerked venison) the party
concluded to take a rest. Williamson stood guard while the
others slept. Brady, at all times a great snorer, on this occasion
gave vent to sounds, that, in the language of Williamson,
"were enough to alarm all the Indians between here and
Sandusky." Thinking a change of position might stop the
nasal artillery, Williamson turned Brady, and then resumed
his seat by the fire. Scarcely had he seated himself, when he
detected the stealthy tread of a savage. Looking attentively
in the direction of the sound, he saw an Indian cautiously
approach, and waiting until he came nearly up, the guard took
steady aim and fired. One convulsive spring, a heavy fall,
and deep groan, were all that could be seen or heard. His
companions sprang to their feet and moved rapidly off, to
avoid an attack; but this was the only Indian, and the
three travelled on without further attempt at molestation.
According to the account furnished by one of the family, of
which we shall have occasion frequently to avail ourselves
during this notice,—

"The map furnished by General Brodhead was found to
be defective. The distance was represented to be much less
than it really was. The provisions and ammunition of the

men were exhausted by the time they had reached the Big
Beaver, on their return. Brady shot an otter, but could not
eat it. The last load was in his rifle. They arrived at an
old encampment, and found plenty of strawberries, which they
stopped to appease their hunger with. Having discovered a
deer-track, Brady followed it, telling the men he would perhaps
get a shot at it. He had gone but a few rods when he
saw the deer standing broadside to him. He raised his rifle
and attempted to fire, but it flashed in the pan. He sat down,
picked the touch-hole, and then started on. After going a
short distance the path made a bend, and he saw before him
a large Indian on horseback, with a child before and its
mother behind, and a number of warriors marching in the
rear. His first impulse was to shoot the Indian on horseback,
but as he raised the rifle he observed the child's head to roll
with the motion of the horse. It was fast asleep, and tied to the
Indian. He stepped behind the root of a tree, and waited
until he could shoot the Indian, without danger to the child
or its mother.

"When he considered the chance certain, he fired, and the
Indian, child, and mother, all fell from the horse. Brady
called to his men, with a voice that made the forest ring, to
surround the Indians, and give them a general fire. He
sprung to the fallen Indian's powder horn, but could not pull
it off. Being dressed like an Indian, the woman thought he
was one, and said `Why did you shoot your brother?' He
caught up the child, saying, `Jenny Stoop, I am Captain
Brady; follow me, and I will secure you and your child.'
He caught her hand in his, carrying the child under the other
arm, and dashed into the brush. Many guns were fired at
him, but no ball touched, and the Indians, dreading an ambuscade,
were glad to make off. The next day he arrived at Fort
M'Intosh, with the woman and her child. His men had got
there before him. They had heard his war-whoop, and knew
they were Indians he had encountered, but having no ammunition,
had taken to their heels and run off."

"The incursions of the Indians had become so frequent,
and their outrages so alarming, that it was thought advisable
to retaliate upon them the injuries of war, and carry into the
country occupied by them, the same system with which they
had visited the settlements. For this purpose an adequate
force was provided, under the immediate command of General
Brodhead, the command of the advance guard of which was
confided to Captain Brady.

"The troops proceeded up the Alleghany river, and had
arrived near the mouth of Redbank creek, now known by the
name of Brady's Bend, without encountering an enemy.
Brady and his Rangers were some distance in front of the
main body, as their duty required, when they suddenly discovered
a war party of Indians approaching them. Relying
on the strength of the main body, and its ability to force the
Indians to retreat, and anticipating, as Napoleon did in the
battle with the Mamelukes, that when driven back they would
return by the same route they had advanced on, Brady permitted
them to proceed without hindrance, and hastened to
seize a narrow pass, higher up the river; where the rocks,
nearly perpendicular, approached the river, and a few determined
men might successfully combat superior numbers."

In a short time the Indians encountered the main body
under Brodhead, and were driven back. In full and swift
retreat they pressed on to gain the pass between the rocks
and the river, but it was occupied by Brady and his Rangers,
who failed not to pour into their flying columns a most destructive
fire. Many were killed on the bank, and many more in
the stream. Cornplanter, afterwards the distinguished chief of
the Senecas, but then a young man, saved himself by swimming.
The celebrated war-chief of this tribe, Bald-Eagle,
was of the number slain on this occasion.

"The army moved onward, and after destroying all the
Indians' corn, and ravaging the Kenjua flats, returned to
Pittsburgh.

"Shortly after Captain Brady's return from Sandusky, he

was observed one evening by a man of the name of Phouts,
sitting in a solitary part of the fort, apparently absorbed in
thought. Phouts approached him, pained to the bottom of
his honest heart to perceive that the countenance of Brady
bore traces of care and melancholy. He accosted him, however,
in the best English he had, and soothingly said, `Gabtain,
was ails you?' Brady looked at him a short time without
speaking; then resuming his usual equanimity, replied, `I
have been thinking about the red skins, and it is my opinion
there are some above us on the river. I have a mind to pay
them a vist. Now, if I get permission from the general to do
so, will you go along?' Phouts was a stout thick Dutchman of
uncommon strength and activity. He was also well acquainted
with the woods. When Brady had ceased speaking, Phouts
raised himself on tiptoe, and bringing his heels hard down on
the ground, by way of emphasis, his eyes full of fire, said,
`By dunder und lightnin, I would rader go mit you, Gabtain,
as to any of te finest weddins in tis guntry.' Brady told him
to keep quiet, and say nothing about it, as no man in the fort
must know any thing of the expedition but General Brodhead.
Bidding Phouts call at his tent in an hour, he then went
to the general's quarters, whom he found reading. After the
usual topics were discussed, Brady proposed for consideration,
his project of ascending the Alleghany, with but one man
in company; stating his reasons for apprehending a descent
from that quarter by the Indians. The general gave his
consent, at parting took him by the hand in a friendly manner,
advising him how to proceed, and charging him particularly
to be careful of his own life, and that of the men or man
whom he might select to accompany him. So affectionate were
the general's admonitions, and so great the emotion he displayed,
that Brady left him with tears in his eyes, and repaired
to his tent, where he found Phouts deep in conversation with
one of his pet Indians.

"He told Phouts of his success with the general, and that,
as it was early in the light of the moon, they must get ready
and be off betimes.

"They immediately set about cleaning their guns, preparing
their ammunition, and having secured a small quantity of
salt, lay down together, and slept soundly until about two
hours before daybreak. Brady awoke first, and stirring
Phouts, each took down the `deadly rifle,' and whilst all but
the sentinels were wrapped in sleep, they left the little
fort, and in a short time found themselves deep buried in the
forest. That day they marched through woods never traversed
by either of them before; following the general course of the
river they reached a small creek[14] that put in from the Pittsburgh
side; it was near night when they got there, and having
no provision, they concluded to remain there all night.

"Next morning they started early and travelled all day; in
the evening the espied a number of crows hovering over the
tops of the trees, near the bank of the river. Brady told
Phouts that there were Indians in the neighborhood, or else
the men who were expected from Susquehanna at Pittsburgh
were there encamped, or had been some time before.

"Phouts was anxious to go down and see, but Brady forbade
him; telling him at the same time, `We must secrete
ourselves till after night, when fires will be made by them,
whoever they may be.' Accordingly, they hid themselves
among fallen timber, and remained so till about ten o'clock
at night. But even then they could still see no fire. Brady
concluded there must be a hill or thick woods between him
and where the crows were seen, and decided on leaving his
hiding place to ascertain the fact; Phouts accompanied him.
They walked with the utmost caution down towards the river
bank, and had gone about two hundred yards, when they
observed the twinkling of a fire, at some distance on their right.
They at first thought the river made a very short bend,
but on proceeding further discovered that it was a fork or
branch of the river, probably the Kiskeminetas. Brady
desired Phouts to stay where he was, intending to go himself

to the fire, and see who was there; but Phouts refused, saying,
`No, by George, I vill see too.' They approached the fire
together, but with the utmost caution; supposing it to be an
Indian encampment, much too large to be attacked by them.

"Resolved to ascertain the number of the enemy, Captain
Brady and his brave comrade went close up to the fire, and
discovered an old Indian sitting beside a tree near the fire,
either mending or making a pair of moccasins.

"Phouts, who never thought of danger, was for shooting
the Indian immediately; but Brady prevented him. After
examining carefully around the camp, he was of opinion that
the number by which it was made had been large, but that
they were principally absent. He determined on knowing
more in the morning; and forcing Phouts away, retired a
short distance to await the approach of day. As soon as it
appeared they returned to the camp, but saw nothing, except
the old Indian, a dog, and a horse.

"Brady wished to see the country around the camp, and
understand its features better; for this purpose he kept at
some distance from it, and examined about, till he got on the
river above it. Here he found a large trail of Indians, who
had gone up the Alleghany; to his judgment it appeared to
have been made one or two days before. Upon seeing this
he concluded to go back to the camp, and take the old Indian
prisoner.

"Supposing the old savage to have arms about him, and
not wishing to run the risk of the alarm the report of a rifle
might create, if Indians were in the neighborhood, Brady
determined to seize the old fellow single handed, without doing
him further `scath,' and carry him off to Pittsburgh. With
this view, both crept toward the camp again, very cautiously.
When they came so near as to perceive him, the Indian was
was lying on his back, with his head towards them.

"Brady ordered Phouts to remain where he was, and not
to fire, unless the dog should attempt to assist his master. In
that case he was to shoot the dog, but by no means to hurt

the Indian. The plan being arranged, Brady dropped his
rifle, and, tomahawk in hand, silently crept towards the old
man, until within a few feet, then raising himself up, he made
a spring like a panther, and with a yell that awakened the
echoes round, seized the Indian, hard and fast by the throat.
The old man struggled a little at first, but Brady's was the
gripe of a lion; holding his tomahawk over the head of his
prisoner, he bade him surrender, as he valued his life. The
dog behaved very civilly; he merely growled a little. Phouts
came up, and they tied their prisoner. On examining the
camp they found nothing of value, except some powder and
lead, which they threw into the river. When the Indian
learned that he was to be taken to Pittsburgh, and would be
kindly treated, he showed them a canoe, which they stepped
into with their prisoner and his dog, and were soon afloat on
the Alleghany.

"They paddled swiftly along for the purpose of reaching
the mouth of the run on which they had encamped coming up;
for Brady had left his wiping rod there. It was late when
they got to the creek's mouth. They landed, made a fire, and
all laid down.

"As soon as daylight appeared, the captain started to where
they left some jerk hanging on the evening before, leaving
Phouts in charge of the prisoner and his canoe. He had not
left the camp long, till the Indian complained to Phouts that
the cords upon his wrist hurt him. He had probably discovered
that in Phout's composition there was a much larger
proportion of kindness than of fear. The Dutchman at once
took off the cords, and the Indian was, or pretended to be,
very grateful.

"Phouts was busied with something else in a minute, and
had left his gun standing by a tree. The moment the Indian
saw that the eye of the other was not upon him, he sprung to
the tree, seized the gun, and the first Phouts knew was that
it was cocked, and at his breast. The trigger was pulled, but
the bullet whistled harmless past him, taking with it a part of

his shot-pouch belt. One stroke of the Dutchman's tomahawk
settled the Indian forever, and nearly severed the head from
his body.

"Brady heard the report of the rifle, and the yell of Phouts;
and supposing all was not right, ran instantly to the spot,
where he found the latter sitting on the body of the Indian,
examining the rent in his shot-pouch belt. `In the name of
Heaven,' said Brady, `what have you done!' `Yust look,
Gabtan,' said the fearless Dutchman, `vat dis d—d black
b—h vas apout;' holding up to view the hole in his belt.
He then related what has been stated with respect to his
untying the Indian, and the attempt of the latter to kill him.
They then took off the scalp of the Indian, got their canoe,
took in the Indian's dog, and returned to Pittsburgh, the fourth
day after their departure."

Beaver valley was the scene of many of Captain Brady's
stirring adventures. We have recently visited some of the
interesting localities celebrated as Brady's theatre of action,
and heard from many of the older citizens their accounts of his
thrilling exploits. They speak in unbounded terms of admiration
of his daring and success; his many hair-breadth escapes
by "field and flood;" and always concluded by declaring that
he was a greater man than Daniel Boon or Lewis Wetzel, either
of whom, in the eyes of the old pioneers, were the very
embodiment of dare-devilism.

The following, illustrating one of Brady's adventures in the
region referred to, we give from a published source. In one
of his trapping and hunting excursions, he was surprised and
taken prisoner by a party of Indians who had closely watched
his movements.

"To have shot or tomahawked him would have been but a
small gratification to that of satiating their revenge by burning
him at a slow fire, in presence of all the Indians of their
village. He was therefore taken alive to their encampment,
on the west bank of the Beaver river, about a mile and a half
from its mouth. After the usual exultations and rejoicings

at the capture of a noted enemy, and causing him to run the
gauntlet, a fire was prepared, near which Brady was placed,
after being stripped, and with his arms unbound. Previous to
tying him to the stake, a large circle was formed around of
Indian men, women, and children, dancing and yelling, and
uttering all manner of threats and abuses that their small
knowledge of the English language could afford. The prisoner
looked on these preparations for death, and on his
savage foe with a firm countenance, and a steady eye, meeting
all their threats with truly savage fortitude. In the midst
of their dancing and rejoicing, a squaw of one of their chiefs
came near him with a child in her arms. Quick as thought
and with intuitive prescience, he snatched it from her and
threw it into the midst of the flames. Horror stricken at the
sudden outrage, the Indians simultaneously rushed to rescue
the infant from the fire. In the midst of this confusion, Brady
darted from the circle, overturning all that came in his way,
and rushed into the adjacent thicket, with the Indians yelling
at his heels. He ascended the steep side of a hill amidst a
shower of bullets, and darting down the opposite declivity,
secreted himself in the deep ravines and laurel thickets that
abound for several miles to the west. His knowledge of the
country and wonderful activity, enabled him to elude his
enemies, and reach the settlements in safety."

From one of Brady's old soldiers—one of the noble spies,
who has not yet answered to the roll-call of death—one who
served with him three years, during the most trying and
eventful period of his life, we have gathered the facts of the
following incident. On one of their scouting expeditions into
the Indian country, the spies, consisting at that time of sixteen
men, encamped for the night at a place called "Big
Shell Camp." Toward morning, one of the guard heard the
report of a gun, and immediately communicating the fact to
his commander, a change of position was ordered. Leading
his men to an elevated point, the Indian camp was discovered
almost beneath them. Cautiously advancing in direction of

the camp, six Indians were discovered standing around the
fire, while several others lay upon the ground apparently
asleep. Brady ordered his men to wrap themselves in their
blankets, and lie down while he kept watch. Two hours thus
passed without anything materially occurring. As day began
to appear, Brady roused his men, and posted them side
by side, himself at the end of the line. When all were in
readiness, the commander was to touch with his elbow the
man who stood next to him, and the communication was to
pass successively to the farthest end. The orders then were,
the moment the last man was touched, he should fire, which
was to be the signal for a general discharge. With the first
faint ray of light, rose six Indians and stood around the fire.
With breathless expectation, the whites waited for the remainder
to rise, but failing, and apprehending a discovery, the
captain moved his elbow, and the next instant the wild wood
rang with the shrill report of the rifles of the spies. Five of
the six Indians fell dead, but the sixth, screened by a tree,
escaped. The camp being large, it was deemed unsafe to
attack it further, and a retreat was immediately ordered.

Soon after the above occurrence, in returning from a similar
expedition, and when about two miles from the mouth of
Yellow creek, at a place admirably adapted for an ambuscade,
a solitary Indian stepped forward and fired upon the advancing
company. Instantly, on firing, he retreated toward a deep
ravine, into which the savage hoped to lead his pursuers.
But Brady detected the trick, and in a voice of thunder
ordered his men to tree. No sooner had this been done, than
the concealed foe rushed forth in great numbers, and opened
upon the whites a perfect storm of leaden hail. The brave
spies returned the fire with spirit and effect; but as they were
likely to be overpowered by superior numbers, a retreat was
ordered to the top of the hill, and thence continued until out
of danger.

The whites lost one man in this engagement, and two

wounded. The Indian loss is supposed to have been about
twenty in killed and wounded.

In concluding this imperfect sketch of one who performed
no ordinary part in the settlement of the west, we regret that
our means and time have not allowed us to prepare a more
full and general biography.

Captain Brady married a daughter of Captain Van Swearengen,
of Ohio county, who bore him two children, John and
Van S., both of whom are still living. Captain Brady possessed
all the elements of a brave and successful soldier. Like
Marion, "he consulted with his men respectfully, heard them
patiently, weighed their suggestions, and silently approached
his own conclusions. They knew his determination only by
his actions." Brady had but few superiors as a woodman:
he would strike out into the heart of the wilderness, and with
no guide but the sun by day, and the stars by night, or in
their absence, then by such natural marks as the bark and
tops of trees, he would move on steadily, in a direct line
toward the point of his destination. He always avoided
beaten paths and the borders of streams; and never was
known to leave his track behind him. In this manner he
eluded pursuit, and defied detection. He was often vainly
hunted by his own men, and was more likely to find them
than they him.

Such was Brady, the leader of the spies.

GENERAL ANDREW LEWIS.

We greatly regret our inability to give in the present edition,
a comprehensive biography of this distinguished man.
We were promised through a member of the family, material
necessary to prepare the sketch proposed, but having been
disappointed, it will be impossible to do more now than present
a brief notice of the family, written by a gentleman of

the Valley, whose position and relationship enables him to
state many interesting facts of family history which otherwise
might have escaped attention.

"John Lewis was a native and citizen of Ireland, descended
from a family of Huguenots, who took refuge in that
kingdom from the persecutions that followed the assassination
of Henry IV. of France. His rank was that of an esquire,
and he inherited a handsome estate, which he increased by
industry and frugality, until he became the lessee of a contiguous
property, of considerable value. He married Margaret
Lynn, daughter of the laird of Loch Lynn, who was
a descendant of the chieftains of a once powerful clan in the
Scottish Highlands. By this marriage he had four sons,
three of them, Thomas, Andrew, and William, born in Ireland,
and Charles, the child of his old age, born a few months
after their settlement in their mountain home.

"For many years after the settlement at Fort Lewis,[15] great
amity and goodwill existed between the neighboring Indians
and the white settlers, whose numbers increased until they
became quite a formidable colony. It was then that the
jealousy of their red neighbors became aroused, and a war
broke out, which, for cool though desperate courage and
activity on the part of the whites, and ferocity, cunning and
barbarity on the part of the Indians, was never equalled in
any age or country. John Lewis was, by this time, well
stricken in years, but his four sons, who were grown up, well
qualified to fill his place, and to act the part of the leader to
the gallant little band, who so nobly battled for the protection
of their homes and families. It is not my purpose to go
into the details of a warfare, during which scarcely a settlement
was exempt from monthly attacks of the savages, and
during which Charles Lewis, the youngest son of John, is
said never to have spent one month at a time out of active

and arduous service. Charles was the hero of many a gallant
exploit, which is still treasured in the memories of the descendants
of the border riflemen, and there are few families
among the Alleghanies where the name and deeds of Charles
Lewis are not familiar as household words. On one occasion
he was captured by the Indians while on a hunting excursion,
and after travelling over two hundred miles barefooted, his
arms pinioned behind, and goaded by the knives of his remorseless
captors, he effected his escape. While travelling
along the bank of a precipice some twenty feet in height, he
suddenly, by a strong muscular exertion, burst the cords
which bound him, and plunged down the steep into the bed of
a mountain torrent. His persecutors hesitated not to follow.
In a race of several hundred yards, Lewis had gained some
few yards upon his pursuers, when, upon leaping a fallen
tree which lay across his course, his strength suddenly failed
and he fell prostrate among the weeds which had grown up
in great luxuriance around the body of the tree. Three of
the Indians sprung over the tree within a few feet of where
their prey lay concealed; but with a feeling of the most
devout thankfulness to a kind and superintending Providence,
he saw them one by one disappear in the dark recesses of the
forest. He now bethought himself of rising from his uneasy
bed, when lo! a new enemy appeared, in the shape of an
enormous rattlesnake, who had thrown himself into the deadly
coil so near his face that his fangs were within a few inches
of his nose; and his enormous rattle, as it waved to and fro,
once rested upon his ear. A single contraction of the eyelid—a
convulsive shudder—the relaxation of a single muscle,
and the deadly beast would have sprung upon him. In this
situation he lay for several minutes, when the reptile, probably
snpposing him to be dead, crawled over his body and moved
slowly away. `I had eaten nothing,' said Lewis to his companions,
after his return, `for many days; I had no fire-arms,
and I ran the risk of dying with hunger, ere I could reach
the settlement; but rather would I have died, than made a
meal of the generous beast.' During this war, an attack was
made upon the settlement of Fort Lewis, at a time when the
whole force of the settlement was out on active duty. So
great was the surprise, that many of the women and children
were captured in sight of the fort, though far the greater
part escaped, and concealed themselves in the woods. The
fort was occupied by John Lewis, then very old and infirm,
his wife, and two young women, who were so much alarmed
that they scarce moved from their seats upon the ground floor
of the fort. John Lewis, however, opened a port-hole, where
he stationed himself, firing at the savages, while Margaret
reloaded the guns. In this manner he sustained a siege of
six hours, during which he killed upwards of a score of
savages, when he was relieved by the appearance of his
party.

"Thomas Lewis, the eldest son, labored under a defect of
vision, which disabled him as a marksman, and he was, therefore,
less efficient during the Indian wars than his brothers.
He was, however, a man of learning and sound judgment,
and represented the county of Augusta many years in the
House of Burgesses; was a member of the convention which
ratified the constitution of the United States, and formed the
constitution of Virginia, and afterwards sat for the county
of Rockingham in the House of Delegates of Virginia. In
1765, he was in the House of Burgesses, and voted for
Patrick Henry's celebrated resolutions. Thomas Lewis had
four sons actively participating in the war of the Revolution;
the youngest of whom, Thomas, who is now living, bore an
ensign's commission when but fourteen years of age.

"Andrew, the second son of John Lewis and Margaret
Lynn, is the General Lewis who commanded at the battle of
Point Pleasant.

"Charles Lewis, the youngest of the sons of John Lewis,
fell at the head of his regiment, when leading on the attack
at Point Pleasant. Charles was esteemed the most skilful of
all the leaders of the border warfare, and was as much beloved

for his noble and amiable qualities as he was admired
for his military talents.

"William, the third son, was an active participator in the
border wars, and was an officer of the revolutionary army,
in which one of his sons was killed, and another maimed for
life. When the British force under Tarleton drove the legislature
from Charlottesville to Staunton, the stillness of the
Sabbath eve was broken in the latter town by the beat of the
drum, and volunteers were called to prevent the passage
of the British through the mountains at Rockfish Gap. The
elder sons of William Lewis, who then resided at the old fort,
were absent with the northern army. Three sons, however,
were at home, whose ages were seventeen, fifteen and thirteen
years. Wm. Lewis was confined to his room by sickness, but
his wife, with the firmness of a Roman matron, called them
to her, and bade them fly to the defence of their native land.
`Go my children,' said she, `I spare not my youngest, the
comfort of my declining years. I devote you all to my
country. Keep back the foot of the invader from the soil of
Augusta, or see my face no more.' When this incident was
related to Washington, shortly after its occurrence, he enthusiastically
exclaimed, `Leave me but a banner to plant
upon the mountains of Augusta, and I will rally around me
the men who will lift our bleeding country from the dust, and
set her free.'

"I have frequently heard, when a boy, an anecdote related
by an old settler, somewhat to this effect:—The white, or
wild clover, is of indigenous growth, and abounded on the
banks of the rivers, etc. The red was introduced by John
Lewis, and it was currently reported by their prophets, and
believed by the Indians generally, that the blood of the red
men slain by the Lewises and their followers, had dyed the
trefoil to its sanguine hue. The Indians, however, always
did the whites the justice to say, that the Red man was the
aggressor in their first quarrel, and that the white men of

Western Virginia had always evinced a disposition to treat
their red brethren with moderation and justice."

Andrew Lewis, with four of his brothers, were in the expedition
of Braddock, and exhibited marked courage and
caution. Samuel commanded the company, and acquitted
himself with great ability. Andrew Lewis was twice wounded
at the siege of Fort Necessity. After the amnesty, and
as the Virginians were marching off, an Irishman became
displeased with an Indian, and "cursing the copper-headed
scoundrel," elevated his gun to fire. At that moment, Major
Lewis, who, crippled, was passing along, raised his staff and
knocked up the muzzle of the Irishman's rifle, thus doubtless
preventing a general massacre.

Major Lewis was made prisoner at Grant's defeat, and his
bearing on that occasion (elsewhere noticed) on discovering the
treachery of Grant, was a true characteristic of the man.

Washington, at an early day, formed an exalted opinion of
General Lewis's ability as a military commander. On the
breaking out of the Revolution, he recommended him to Congress
"as one of the major-generals of the American army—
a recommendation which was slighted, in order to make room
for General Stephens. It is also said, that when Washington
was commissioned as commander-in-chief, he expressed a
wish that the appointment had been given to General Lewis.
Upon this slight in the appointment of Stephens, Washington
wrote General Lewis a letter, which is published in his correspondence,
expressive of his regret at the course pursued
by Congress, and promising that he should be promoted to the
first vacancy. At his solicitation, Lewis accepted the commision
of brigadier-general, and was soon after ordered to
the command of a detachment of the army stationed near
Williamsburg. He commanded the Virginia troops when
Lord Dunmore was driven from Gwynn's Island, in 1776, and
announced his orders for attacking the enemy by putting a
match to the first gun, an eighteen-pounder, himself.

"General Lewis resigned his command in 1780, to return
home, being seized ill with a fever. He died on his way, in
Bedford county, about forty miles from his own house, on the
Roanoke, lamented by all acquainted with his meritorious
services and superior qualities.

" `General Lewis,' says Stuart, in his Historical Memoir,
`was upwards of six feet high, of uncommon strength and
agility, and his form of the most exact symmetry. He had
a stern and invincible countenance, and was of a reserved
and distant deportment, which rendered his presence more
awful than engaging. He was a commissioner with Dr.
Thomas Walker, to hold a treaty, on behalf of the colony of
Virginia, with the six nations of Indians, together with the
commissioners from Pennsylvania, New York, and other
eastern provinces, held at Fort Stanwix, in the province of
New York, in the year 1768. It was then remarked by the
governor of New York, that "the earth seemed to tremble
under him as he walked along." His independent spirit despised
sycophantic means of gaining popularity, which never
rendered more than his merits extorted.' "

GENERAL DANIEL BRODHEAD.

GENERAL DANIEL BRODHEAD.

It has with much truth been said, "that the history of
the Revolution, is not written, and cannot be, till the biographies
of the men who made the Revolution are complete."
This is eminently true of the great struggle in the west.
The conflict here was with the tomahawk and scalping knife,
united to the arm of scientific warfare. It was one in which
the remorseless savage stole upon the infant settlements in the
stillness of the night, and dealt death in all the horrid forms
of his peculiar and revolting warfare. It was a war terrible
indeed to man, but more terrible still to gentle woman, and
most terrible to helpless infancy.

To defend the country against the ravages of such war,

required men of iron nerve and determined will. To lead on
these men to victory and success, demanded others of no ordinary
character. But there were men fitted to the task;
men able, ready, and willing to lead and to strike. It
was to the energy of this defence; the skill, bravery, and
consummate judgment of these able officers, and experienced
frontier soldiers, that the west was saved from the diabolical
system of subjugation, meditated by the British ministry.

One of the men most prominent in this defence, and one
who contributed greatly towards breaking down the power
of the savage, and humbling the dominion of Britain, was
Daniel Brodhead, the subject of this memoir.

Prefacing our sketch with a brief notice of Gen. Brodhead's
immediate ancestry, we will proceed to notice such of the
more important features of his history, as will be most interesting,
and come more directly within the range of our work.

Daniel Brodhead, the great-grandfather of the subject of
this notice, was born in Yorkshire, England. He was a
Captain in the service of Charles II., and by that monarch
ordered to America with the expedition under Col. Richard
Incolls. On the surrender of New Amsterdam, by Stuyversant,
he was sent to Albany, and was one of the witnesses to
the treaty with the Indians in 1664. He died in 1670, leaving
three sons, Daniel, Charles, and Richard. The last of these
was the father of Daniel Brodhead, the subject of our notice.

Daniel, or Gen. Brodhead, as we will now call him, married
Elizabeth Depue, daughter of Samuel Depue, one of the
earliest settlers in the neighborhood of Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania.
He had one son and a daughter by this marriage,
and their descendants are scattered throughout the State,
embracing some of the most extensive and respectable families
in the commonwealth.

Gen. Brodhead a second time married, the last wife being
the widow of Gen. Mifflin.

General Brodhead was a man of acknowledged ability and
great energy of character. He early gave indications of

much promise, and foreshadowed the career of honor and usefulness,
which he afterwards run. Scarcely had the news
of the battle of Lexington ceased agitating the people, ere
Captain Brodhead mustered a company, and marched to the
defence of the seaboard. He joined Sullivan, and at the
battle of Long Island, his brave "Pennsylvania Riflemen"
literally cut their way through the ranks of the enemy.

In the fall of 1777, information having been given that the
Indians meditated a united attack upon the settlements along
the upper Susquehanna, vigorous efforts were made to resist
them. In the spring of 1778, Fort Muncy was evacuated,
as well as Antis' and Horn's forts above, the inhabitants taking
refuge at Sunbury. The savages destroyed Fort Muncy, but
did not penetrate near Sunbury, their attention having been
directed to the memorable descent upon Wyoming. Shortly
after this Col. Brodhead[16] was ordered to Pittsburgh to relieve
General McIntosh, in command of the western division of the
army. His appointment was communicated in a very complimentary
letter, which is herewith in part given:

He again wrote to him, under date of 22d same month, that
an incursion into the country of the Six-nations was in preparation,
and that in connection therewith, it might be advisable
to have a force ascend the Alleghany to Kittaning, thence to
Venango, and having fortified both points, to strike the Mingoes
and Munceys on French creek, and thus greatly to aid
General Sullivan in the decisive blow which he was to give by
his march up the Susquehanna.[19] He further directed Col.
Brodhead to notify the western Indians, that in the event of
any troubles on their part, the whole force of the United States
should be turned against them. On the 21st of April, however,
these orders were countermanded, and Col. B. directed
to prepare a rod for the savages north and west of the Ohio,
and especially to learn the best time for attacking Detroit.
Whether this last advise came too late or was withdrawn again,
we have no means of ascertaining. Brodhead proceeded, as
at first directed; marched up the Alleghany, destroyed the
Indians' crops, burned their towns, etc.[20]

The immediate effect of this prompt and energetic movement
on the part of the western commander was to bring the
Delawares, Wyandotts, Shawanese, &c., to a treaty of peace
at Fort Pitt in the month of September, to which reference
has already been made.

It had long been apparent to Washington and the Board of
War, that the possession of Detroit and Niagara by the British,
enabled them to exert a controlling influence over most of the
Indian tribes occupying the north-west; and thus greatly to
annoy the frontier settlements of Pennsylvania and Virginia.

Col. Brodhead, soon after assuming the duties of commander
of the western division, clearly saw the absolute necessity of
striking an effective blow against these two strong-holds of
the British. In a letter to Washington, dated Fort Pitt,
January 23d, 1781, he writes thus: "The whole of my present
force very little exceeds three hundred men, and many
of them are unfit for such active service as is necessary here.
I hope your excellency will be pleased to enable me to take
Detroit the ensuing campaign; for until that and Niagara fall
into our hands, there will be no rest for the innocent inhabitants,
whatever sums may be expended on a defensive plan."

Previous to this, Washington, in a letter to Col. B., dated
April 21, 1779, in reply to his request to fit out such an expedition,
directed him to make the necessary preparations; but,
on the 4th of January following, wrote to countermand the
order, in consequence of the operations in South Carolina and
his inability to reinforce Fort Pitt, in case of disaster. Feb.
4th, 1780, he again declined a compliance with Colonel B.'s
renewed[21] and urgent solicitation, on the ground that his regular
troops would all be needed to co-operate with our French
allies. The want of provisions too, at that time, was greatly
felt, which Washington alluding to, adds, "You must therefore,
of necessity, confine yourself to partizan strokes, which
I wish to see encouraged. The State of Virginia is very
desirous of an expedition against Detroit, and would make
great exertions to carry it into execution. But while the
enemy are so formidable to the southward, and are making
such strides in that quarter, I fear it will require a greater
force of men and supplies to check them than we, since the
defeat near Cambden, shall be able shortly to draw together."

The desire of Col. B. to undertake the reduction of Detroit,
was thus regretfully declined by the commander-in-chief, and
the wishes of Virginia, and indeed the whole country, disappointed.

In the spring of 1781, Colonel Brodhead led an expedition
against the Indian towns on the Muskingum; a full account
of which having been elsewhere given in this volume, it will
be unnecessary to notice further now.

Near the mouth of Broken-straw creek, a tributary of the
Alleghany, stood the Indian town of Buckaloon. In 1781,
Colonel Brodhead attacked this strong-hold of the enemy, and
after a hard siege, finally routed the savages and burned the
town.

We regret our inability to notice in detail all his expeditions.
They were numerous and extensive enough to fill a volume.
No better officer could have been selected for the arduous post
of commander of the western-division of the army. It required
a man bold, cautious and sagacious, and Col. Brodhead
was the very embodiment of all these. He proved himself
admirably qualified for the most trying situations, and acquitted
himself with distinction, and to the entire satisfaction
of the commander-in-chief. In November, 1781, with the
consent of Washington, he relinquished the post into the hands
of Col. John Gibson, a gallant Virginian, who had done active
duties on the frontier.

Colonel Brodhead negotiated during his residence in the
west, two important treaties; the one was concluded July 22,
1779, with deputies of the Cherokee nation. In this treaty,
intimations were given out of a native representation in Congress,
and a new Indian confederacy with the Delawares as
the head.

Congress passed Colonel Brodhead a unanimous vote of
thanks for the highly satisfactory manner in which he had
discharged his duties on the western frontier.

General Brodhead received many marks of distinction from
the State of Pennsylvania. He was surveyor-general for many

years, and filled other places of honor and profit. He was a
large, robust man, kind, generous and amiable. He died at
Milford, Pa., November 15, 1809, at the age of seventy-three.
The portrait which accompanies this memoir is from a miniature
now in possession of his great-grandson, Henry Johnson,
Esq., a prominent member of the bar in northern Pennsylvania.

JESSE HUGHES.

One of the most active, daring and successful Indian hunters
in the mountain region of Virginia, was Jesse Hughes.
He has not inappropriately been styled the Wetzel of that
portion of the state, and, in many respects, certainly was
not undeserving of that distinctive appellation. Jesse Hughes
possessed in an eminent degree the rare constituents of
courage and energy. These qualities, so essential in those
days of savage warfare, gained for him the confidence of the
sturdy men by whom he was surrounded, and often induced
them to select him for the post of leader in their various
expeditions against the enemy. Many are the tales of adventure
which the people of West-Fork and Little Kanawha
relate of this notable personage. A few of these we have
collected and now give.

Hughes was a native of the region to which his operations
were chiefly confined. He was born on the head-waters of the
Monongahela, and grew to manhood amid the dangers and
privations which the people of that section of Virginia endured
during the long years of a border warfare. Early
learning that the rifle and tomahawk were his principal means
of maintenance and defence, he became an adept in their
use, and refused to acknowledge a superior anywhere. Passionately
devoted to the wood, he became invaluable to the
settlements as hunter and scout. A man of delicate frame,
but an iron constitution, he could endure more fatigue than

any of his associates, and thus was enabled to remain
abroad at all seasons without inconvenience or detriment.
Many were the threatened blows which his vigilance averted,
and numerous the lives of helpless settlers his strong arm
was reached forth to save. The recollection of his services
and devotion is still cherished with a lively feeling of admiration
by the people of the region with which his name is so
intimately associated.

The following incidents illustrative of his career, we derive
from sources entitled to every credit. The one which immediately
follows, is from an old and intimate friend of Hughes, (Mr.
Renick of Ohio,) to whom it was communicated by the hero
himself, and afterwards confirmed by Mr. Harness, who was
one of the expedition. The time of the incident was about
1790.

No Indian depredations had recently occurred in the vicinity
of Clarksburgh, and the inhabitants began to congratulate
themselves that difficulties were finally at an end.

"One night a man hearing the fence of a small lot, he had
a horse in, fall, jumped up and running out saw an Indian
spring on the horse and dash off. The whole settlement was
alarmed in an hour or two, a company of twenty-five or thirty
men were paraded, ready to start by daylight. They took a
circle outside of the settlement, and soon found the trail of
apparently eight or ten horses, and they supposed, about that
many Indians. The captain (chosen before Hughes joined the
company) called a halt, and held a council to determine in
what manner to pursue them. The captain and a majority of
the company were for following on their trail: Hughes was
opposed, and he said he could pilot them to the spot where
the Indians would cross the Ohio, by a nearer way than the
enemy could go, and if they reached there before the Indians,
could intercept them and be sure of success. But the commander
insisted on pursuing the trail. Hughes then tried
another argument: he pointed out the danger of trailing the
Indians: insisted that they would waylay their trail, in order

to know if they were pursued, and would choose a situation
where they could shoot two or three and set them at defiance;
and alarming the others, the Indians would out-travel them
and make their escape. The commander found that Hughes
was like to get a majority for his plan, in which event he (the
captain) would lose the honor of planning the expedition.
Hughes, by some, was considered too wild for the command,
and it was nothing but jealousy that kept him from it, for in
most of their Indian excursions, he got the honor of the
best plan, or did the best act that was performed. The commander
then broke up the council by calling aloud to the men
to follow him and let the cowards go home, and dashed off full
speed, the men all following. Hughes knew the captain's
remark was intended for him, and felt the insult in the highest
degree, but followed on with the rest. They had not gone
many miles until the trail ran down a ravine where the ridge
on one side was very steep, with a ledge of rock for a considerable
distance. On the top of this cliff two Indians lay
in ambush, and when the company got opposite they made a
noise of some kind, that caused the men to stop: that instant
two of the company were shot and mortally wounded. They
now found Hughes' prediction fully verified, for they had to
ride so far round before they could get up the cliff, that the
Indians with ease made their escape.

"They all now agreed that Hughes' plan was the best, and
urged him to pilot them to the river where the Indians would
cross. He agreed to do it; but was afraid it might be too
late, for the Indians knew they were pursued and would make
a desperate push. After leaving some of the company to take
care of the wounded men, they put off for the Ohio river, at
the nearest point, and got there on the next day shortly after
the Indians had crossed. The water was still muddy, and
the rafts that they crossed on were floatting down the opposite
shore. The men now were unanimous for returning home.
Hughes soon got satisfaction for the insult the captain had
given him: he said he wanted to find out who the cowards were;

that if any of them would go, he would cross the river and
scalp some of the Indians. They all refused. He then said
if one man would go with him, he would undertake it; but
none would consent. Hughes then said he would go and take
one of their scalps, or leave his own.

"The company now started home, and Hughes went up the
river three or four miles, keeping out of sight of it, for he
expected the Indians were watching them to see if they would
cross. He there made a raft, crossed the river, and encamped
for the night. The next day he found their trail, and pursued
it very cautiously, and about ten miles from the Ohio
found their camp. There was but one Indian in it, the rest
were out hunting. The Indian left to keep camp, in order to
pass away the time, got to playing the fiddle on some bones
that they had for the purpose. Hughes crept up and shot him,
took his scalp, and made the best of his way home."

The following characteristic anecdote goes far to illustrate
the great discernment and instantaneous arrangement of plans,
of this shrewd and skilful Virginia hunter.

It is a general belief that the Indian is exceedingly cunning;
unrivalled in the peculiar knowledge of the woods, and capable,
by the extraordinary imitative faculties which he possesses,
to deceive either man, beast, or fowl. This is true to a
certain extent; but still, with all his natural sagacity and
quick perception of a native woodman, the Indian warrior
falls short of the acquired knowledge of a well trained hunter,
as the following case serves to illustrate. Jesse Hughes was
more than a match at any time for the most wary savage in
the forest. In his ability to anticipate all their artifices, he
had but few equals, and fewer still, superiors. But, to the
incident.

"At a time of great danger from the incursions of the
Indians, when the citizens of the neighborhood were in a fort
at Clarksburgh, Hughes one morning, observed a lad very intently
fixing his gun. `Jim,' said he, `what are you doing
that for?' `I am going to shoot a turkey that I hear gobbling

on the hill-side,' said Jim. `I hear no turkey,' said
the other. `Listen,' said Jim: `there, didn't you hear it?
listen again.' `Well,' says Hughes, after hearing it repeated,
`I'll go and kill it.' `No you won't,' said the boy, `it is my
turkey; I heard it first.' `Well,' said Hughes, `but you know
I am the best shot. I'll go and kill it, and give you the
turkey!' The lad demurred but at length agreed. Hughes
went out of the fort on the side that was furthest from the
supposed turkey, and passing along the river, went up a ravine
and cautiously creeping through the bushes behind the spot,
came in whence the cries issued, and, as he expected, espied
a large Indian sitting on a chestnut stump, surrounded by
sprouts, gobbling, and watching if any one would come
from the fort to kill the turkey. Hughes shot him before the
Indian knew of his approach, took off the scalp, and went into
the fort, where Jim was waiting for his prize. `There now,'
says Jim, `you have let the turkey go. I would have killed
it if I had gone.' `No,' says Hughes, `I didn't let it go;'
and, taking out the scalp, threw it down. `There, take your
turkey, Jim, I don't want it.' The lad was overcome, and
nearly fainted, to think of the certain death he had escaped,
purely by the keen perception and good management of Jesse
Hughes."

Jesse Hughes, as we have already stated, was often of invaluable
service to the settlements along the upper Monongahela,
by advising them of the approach of Indians. On one
occasion, a considerable body of the common enemy attacked
a fort near Clarksburg, and but for the energy and fearlessness
of Hughes might have reduced the frail structure, and
massacred every one within it. This daring man boldly went
forth for succor, and succeeded in reaching a neighboring
station in safety. Immediately, a company of men left to
relieve the besieged; when the Indians, fearing the superior
numbers, retreated in haste.

Hughes' scouting expeditions were not always confined to

the extreme upper regions of the Monongahela. He often
visited the stations lower down, and spent much of his time
at Prickett's fort, also at the stockade where Morgantown
now stands, and many other settlements in the neighborhood.
He was a great favorite; and no scouting party could be complete,
unless Jesse Hughes had something to do with it. We
regret that our limits will not allow us to give more incidents
in his very eventful life.

OLD FORT AT MORGANTOWN.

A SKIRMISH.

This incident, which was inadvertantly omitted in its
proper place, is now given as not without interest to most
readers of our local history.

One of the earliest settlers below Grave creek was John
Baker. In 1775 he made an improvement on what is now
known as Cresap's bottom. During the Dunmore war, Baker,
with most of the settlers below Wheeling, resorted to the fort
erected at that point; but in 1781, the settlement having
become considerably strengthened by new additions, it was
determined to erect a place of defence in the neighborhood,
and accordingly, some additions were made to the house of
Baker, and the whole protected by a stout stockade. Into
this the settlers retreated on the renewal of hostilities in 1782.

Several years, however, passed without anything occurring
at "Baker's Station," as it was called, worthy of special
remark. At length, in 1791, an incident took place not
unworthy of notice. Indications of the enemy became manifest,
and strong apprehensions began to be entertained that
Indians were about. In order to satisfy themselves, five
experienced hunters were sent over the river to scout. These
were Isaac McKeon, John McDonald, John Bean,—Miller,
and a Dutchman, named Shopto. They crossed opposite the
station, and proceeded up to the mouth of Captina, (one mile,)
and were moving cautiously along, when a heavy fire was
opened upon them, killing Miller on the spot, and dangerously
wounding McDonald, who was made prisoner. The others ran
in the direction of the station, calling for help as they
approached; and so close upon them were the Indians, that
they shot McKeon after he had reached the beach opposite
the fort. Shopto and Bean escaped by swimming.

Of the men collected at the station was Lieutenant Abraham

Enochs, of the Ohio county militia, and he proposed at once
to head a company and go in pursuit. Eighteen men,
including all the efficient force of the station,[22] at once joined
the gallant officer, and at once left on their perilous duty.
Enochs led his men up the Virginia side to a point above the
mouth of the creek, and then crossing the river, proceeded
directly over the hill to the creek, instead of pursuing the
bottom.

As the whole party were descending to a small stream
which empties into the creek, about two miles above its mouth,
they were fired upon by a large body of Indians, and John
Baker (son of the proprietor of the station) severely wounded
in the right thigh. The men were thrown into great confusion
by this unexpected fire, and it was with the utmost
difficulty they could be rallied. But Enochs, who possessed
great intrepidity, as well as much tact as a commander,
restored something like order, and cried to his men to rout
the Indians from their covert. Leading them on with a shout
of defiance, and a cry of confident victory, the bold and gallant
officer, like Brunswick's fated chieftain,

He received at the first onset a rifle ball in his breast, and
fell dead on the spot.

The death of their leader, and a simultaneous outbreak of
a new body of Indians, so disconcerted the rest of the men,
that they gave but one fire, and then broke in a disordered
and general rout, amid the shouts and terrible war-whoops
of the savage. Every man retreated for himself, most of
them making their way to Grave creek.

Of those wounded, was George McColloch, who received a
rifle ball in his ancle. Ray Vennam one of the party, took
him on his shoulder and carried him some distance, but

McColloch, finding that they would be overtaken, entreated
the other to take care of himself. Vennam concealed McColloch
behind a log, and made his way to the fort. That night a
man's plaintive cry was heard from the opposite shore, and
on Vennam saying it was George McColloch, those in the fort
said no, it was an Indian. Vennam, however, was firm in his
opinion that it was his friend, and accordingly went over in a
canoe to get McColloch. He had made his way that far on
one foot.

On the following day a body of men from Grave creek,
with most of the fugitives from the battle, went over to the
scene of disaster. Baker, who had crawled under a rock,
was dead, and, together with Enochs, scalped. Their remains,
together with those who fell in the morning, were carried to
the fort and decently interred. They lie in the rude burial
place at the head of Cresap's bottom.

Of the men engaged in this affair, it is impossible to collect
any other names than those of Enochs, Baker, McColloch,
Hoffman, Bean, Sutherland, Dobbins, Vennam and McArthur.
The latter, Duncan McArthur, afterwards Governor of Ohio,
then a young man, had but recently gone to the station. He
thus early evinced much of that true courage and great energy
of mind and character which afterwards so distinguished him.

According to Mr. McIntyre, young McArthur cried out, as
they ascended the bank, to "surround them," but the Indians
having the advantage, spread themselves and would have prevented
this even had the whites kept together.