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Daniel Boone and the hunters of Kentucky / by W.H. Bogart. Bogart, W. H. (William Henry), 1810-1888. 400dpi TIFF G4 page images University of Kentucky, Electronic Information Access & Management Center Lexington, Kentucky 2002 b92-72-27213853 Electronic reproduction. 2002. (Beyond the shelf, serving historic Kentuckiana through virtual access (IMLS LG-03-02-0012-02) ; These pages may be freely searched and displayed. Permission must be received for subsequent distribution in print or electronically. Daniel Boone and the hunters of Kentucky / by W.H. Bogart. Bogart, W. H. (William Henry), 1810-1888. Miller, Orton & Mulligan, Auburn, [N.Y.] ; Buffalo : 1854. 390 p.,  leaves of plates : ill. ; 20 cm. Coleman Later edition entitled: The border boy. Microfilm. Atlanta, Ga. : SOLINET, 1993. 1 microfilm reel ; 35 mm. (SOLINET/ASERL Cooperative Microfilming Project (NEH PS-20317) ; SOL MN02820.06 KUK) Printing Master B92-72. IMLS This electronic text file was created by Optical Character Recognition (OCR). No corrections have been made to the OCR-ed text and no editing has been done to the content of the original document. Encoding has been done through an automated process using the recommendations for Level 1 of the TEI in Libraries Guidelines. Digital page images are linked to the text file. Boone, Daniel, 1734-1820. DANIEL BOONE, AND THE HUNTERS OF KENTUCKY. BY W. H. BOGART, Where rose the mountains, there to him were frends: The desert-forest-cavern - Were unto him companionahip.-Childe Harold. AUBURN AND BUFFALO: MILLER, ORTON MULLIGAN. 1854. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight hundred and fifty-four, by MILLER, ORTON MULLIGAN, In the Clerk's Off1ce of the District Court of the Northern District of New York. TMZOTP=D BY MILLZR, OBTON AND MULIGEAN, AUBURN. PREFACE. INTERWOVEN with the history of the entrr nee of the Great West into the family of civilized nations, is the career of Daniel Boone. It has been the object of the compiler of this volume to present the narrative of that carear in fidelity, and in such light as would rescue the memory of this great man from the common judgment passed upon him, of being only an Indian fighter and a bold hunter. To Daniel Boone, the Great Pioneer of the West-having ever a purpose and a destiny before him-this volume in- vites the reader. The compiler has been greatly aided by the admirable work of Mr. Peck-so accurate and impa rtial-preserved in the collection of American Biographies by Jared Sparks; by McClung's Sketches of Western Adventure; by the ex- cellent local Histories of Kentucky, collated with such indus- try and care by Mr. Lewis Collins; and by the admirable Address of Gov. Morehead, delivered at B onesborough. If the perusal of this volume shall elicit a deeper and a IV PREFACE. more diffused gratitude for the memory of the Man who, when he was master of a vast territory committed no op- pression, and when he was deprived of every acre uttered no murmur-who fought only to defend, and subdued only to yield up to his country-it will have accomplished the object of its compiler. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGIL Introduetion.-Ancestry of Daniel Boone the pioneer.-Home of his ancestors-Emigration of George Boone from England and settlement in Pennsylvania.-Birth of DanieL-Lineage. -School-boy days.-His love for forest life.-The boy hunter.-Removal of Squire Boone, the father of Daniel, to North Carolina .................................... 18 CHAPTER IL. New home in the old North State.-Marriage of Daniel Boone to Rebecca Bryan.-Boone, with his bride crosses the valley of the Yadkin, and builds his cabin.-Other settlers.-Boone shuns society.-Determined to remove west of the mountains.-De Soto-Indian tribes.-Prevail- ing ignorance of the country west of the mountains.- Character of Boone.-An incident of his old age.-The Colonial system.-Its results ......... ................. 27 CHAPTER 1IL John Finley's visit to Tennessee in 1767.-Dr. Walker's ex- pedition.-Boone's visit to the Holston River.-Boone and five others move west of the Cumberland Mountains.- PAGE Boone's wife.-Filson's life of Boone.-Boone and Stewart taken prisoners by the Indians.-Escape.-They find their companions gon, .-Boone and Stewart remain alone.-The narrative.-Indi .n treaties.-Fate of Finley.-Squire Boone arrives.-Death of Stewart.-Boone and his brother pass the winter alone in the woods.-Squire Boone returns to North Carolina 'or supplies ........................... 44 CHAPTER IV. Boone alone in th., wilderness.-Deprivation.-His own nar- rative.-His brother returns with supplies and horses- News from his family.-Extract from Governor Morehead's address.-The two brothers explore the country, and de- termine to locate upon the Kentucky River.-They return home.-Wonder of his neighbors at seeing Daniel.-They are deterred from emigrating by fear of the Indians.- Daniel and Squire Boone, with their families, remove to Kentucky ........................................... 70 CHAPTER V. The journey.-Five families and forty men join the Boones at Powell's Valley.-A party of the emigrants are attacked by Indians.-Boone's son and five others killed.-The com- pany turn back to the settlements on the Clinch River.- The Long Hunters.-Virginia grants land in Kentucky to the soldiers of -he French War.-They learn the charac- ter of the land fi-om Boone.-Lord Dunmore orders a sur- vey.-The expcC.tion.-Boone's reports confirmed.-Herds of buffalo.-Surveyors reach the present location of Har- rodsburg and Le uisville.-Lord Dunmore sends for Boone. -Rescue of the surveyors ............................ 87 VI 0O1NSi. CONTEDN. CHAPTER VI. P1AG. Boone and Stoner penetrate the wilderness eight hundred miles, to the Falls of the Ohio.-They find the party of James Harrod, and warn them of Indian hostilities.-Lord Dunmore assigns Boone to a military command.-Battle of Point Pleasant.-Boone returns to his family.-Fertility and beauty of the West.-Richard Henderson.-His project of a colony.-Boone is sent on a mission to the Indians by Lord Dunmore.-His success.-Boone employed to open a road from the Holston to the Kentucky River.-Hostility of the Indians.-Letter to Colonel Henderson ..... ..... 105 CHAPTER VII. Boone and his company build a fort.-He removes his fam- ily to it.-Other families remove to the fort.-Arrival of Henderson.-Boonesborough.-Transylvania Land Com- pany.-Other settlements.-The first Legislature.-Boone a Delegate.-John Floyd.-Henderson's address.-Boone as a Legislator.-Divine service.-Colonel Callaway's family arrives.-The Indians capture three girls.-The pursuit and the rescue.-The Indians attack other posts.-Indian mode of warfare.-The war with Great Britain.-Alarm of the settlers.-Return of many of them . .................... 122 CHAPTER VIII. The revolutionary war.-Harassed by the Indians.-General Clarke's journal.-Military force of the settlements.-Hen- derson's land titles.-The compromise.-The settlers' peti- tion to be taken under the protection of Virginia.-The In- dians attack Boonesborough fort and are repulsed.-Attack renewed by greater numbers.-The whites again success- ful.-Reinforcements ari'ive.-News arrives of Washing- ton's victory over Howe .....................- ......... 145 vn CONTENTS. CHAPTER IX. PAGLG General George R. Clarke.-Virginia grants powder to the Colony.-The British garrisons at Detroit, Vincennes and Kaskaskia.-General Clarke secures the aid of Boone.- Simon Kenton.-His captivity and cruel treatment by the Indians-His rescue.-The anticipated reunion of the sur- vivors.-The old age of Kenton.-An Indian attack.- Boone is wounded and narrowly escapes.-Boone's daring, and services to the emigrants.-Boone, with thirty men, plans an expedition to the Blue Licks .................. 160 CHAPTER X. The Blue Licks.-The expedition.-Boone's adventure with two Indians.-The Indians plan an attack.-Boone is taken prisoner while hunting.-His party surrender and are spared through his influence.-Boone is afterwards tried by a court-martial and honorably acquitted.-Boone and his companions are taken to Old Chillicothe.-Thence to Detroit.-Regard of the English for Boone.-The Indians refuse a large ransom.-They return to Old Chillicothe with Boone alone.-They adopt him into their tribe.- They set him to making salt, and permit him to hunt, .... 176 CHAPTER XL. Affairs at Boonesborough.-Boone's wife returns to North Carolina.-Boone returns from the Salt Licks to Chillico- the.-He finds the Indians preparing an expedition against Boonesborough.-Boone makes his escape, and arrives at the fort.-He hastily repairs the fort.-Boone's expedition to Paint Creek.-Defeat of the Indians.-Return of the party.-Arrival of a large body of Indians, led by Captain Du Quesne.-The garrison summoned to surrender ....... 195 CONTENTS. CHAPTER XII. PAGL. Boone obtains two days to consider the summons to surren- der.-He refuses to surrender.-Further negotiations out- side the fort.-Treachery of the Indians.-Squire Boone wounded.-Nine days' siege commences.-The Indians retreat.-Boone's great shot.-His daughter.-The siege and the defence.-Cause of Kenton's absence.-Boone is tried by a court-martial, and honorably acquitted ........ 214 CHAPTER XIII. Results of the war.-A retrospect.-Boone visits his family in North Carolina.-Emigration to the West increases.- Land office established.-Commissioners to settle soldiers' land claims.-Governor Shelby.-Great activity in the sur- veying of land.-Boone is robbed of a large sum of money. -Its effect on Boone.-The land law ................... 2832 CHAPTER XIV. Boone returns to Boonesborough with his family.-The Bri- tish and Indians contemplate a bold attack on Kentucky. -Anecdote of Randolph.-Governor Morehead's history of Boonesborough-Boone and his brother go to the Blue Licks.-His brother is shot by Indians.-Boone is pursued and escapes.-The cold winter of 1780.-Organization of counties.-Indian hostilities renewed.-The British Gov- ernment and the Indians.-The renegades Girty and Mc- Kee.-Constant alarms of the settlers.-The confederated Indians.-Boone again afflicted in the death of Bryant,.. 245 CHAPTER XV. The attack on Bryant's Station.-The retreat of the Indians. -Rally of the settlers.-The council.-The pursuit.-The x OONTF0 . PAGN. ambuscade.-Battle of the Blue Licks.-Terrible slaughter and retreat of the settlers-Another of Boone's sons slain. -Todd, Trigg, Harlan, and sixty-seven others slain.- Boone's account.-A thrilling incident.-Boone's report of the battle.-CoL Thomas Marshall and Girty's brother,.... 271 CHAPTER XVI. General Clarke.-His campaign against the Indians at Old Chillicothe.-Narrative of Boone's escape from four In- dians.-The paper currency.-Courts of law instituted.- Boone establishes himself on a farm.-The return of peace. -Increase of emigration.-The Indians-Their love for rum.-Their petition.-The Indians at the presecit day,... 293 CHAPTER XVII. Indian hostilities renewed.-The numerous Conventions rela- tive to the formation of a State.-John Marshall-Ken- tucky admitted into the Union as a State in 1791.-Boone's difficulties relative to the title to his lands.-He loses his farm.-Narrative of the escape of Downing and Yates from the Indians.-The brave Kentuckians.-Escape of Mr. Rowan and family.-Boone's visit to his birth-place.-His hardships in the loss of his lands, ...................... 812 CHAPTER XVIII. Boone's influence over the Indians.-Services in procuring an exchange of prisonern-He removes to Virginia.-Resumes hunting.-His habits.-His residence in Virginia-He con- templates removing to Upper Louisiana.-Gen. Wayne's victories over the Indians.-Boone looks to the West, .... 834 CONTEINT. CHAPTER XIX.r PAQl Boone emigrates with his family to Missouri.-The journey. -Spanish possession of the territory.-Injustice to Boone's social character.-Boone is welcomed to Missouri by the Lieutenant Governor.-Arrival at St. Louis of Laclede and Choteau.-Boone receives an appointment from the author- ities.-HIe is presented with a large tract of land by the Lieutenant Governor.-He neglects to go to New Orleans to get his grant confirmed ............................. 846 CHAPTER XX. The vicissitudes of Boone's life.-Sale of Louisiana to the United States.-Boone revisits Kentucky.-He pays off his creditors.-Returns home.-The solitary hunter.-Ex- posure to danger as a trapper.-His hunting excursion to the Osage River.-He is again deprived of his land by land commissioners.-His education.-His children . . ......... 959 CHAPTER XX1. Kentucky as a Commonwealth.-Boone's memorial to the Legislature and to Congress.-The just response of Ken- tucky.-Death of Mrs. Boone.-Boone's treatment at the hands of Congress.-General Lafayette's reception.-The contrast.-Thc old age of Boone.-His children.-Boone a hunter at eighty-two.-Anecdote.-flarding's portrait- Sickness of Boone.-His death-A retrospect, ..... ..... 871 CHAPTER XXI. Kentucky then and now.-Washington, Lafayette, Boone, and Harrison.-The Legislature of Kentucky cause the re- mains of Boone to be removed to Frankfort.-The public honors.-John J. Crittenden.-Conclusion . .............. 384 xl This page in the original text is blank. LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. CHAPTER I. INTRODUCTION - ANCESTRY OF DANIEL BOONE, THE PIONEER -HOME OF HIS ANCESTORS -EMIGRATION OF GEORGE BOONE FROM ENGLAND, AND SET- TLEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA - BIRTH OF DANIEL - LINEAGE - SCHOOL-BOY DAYS - HIS LOVE FOR FOREST LIFE - THE BOY-HUNTER - REMOVAL OF SQUIRE BOONE, THE FATHER OF DANIEL, TO NORTH CAROLINA. IF it be fame, that in the progress of a great empire, one name above all others shall be associated with its deliverance from the dominion of the savage - with the first step of enterprise-with the grasp of civilization upon the domain before it -then this in- heritance is that of the subject of this memoir- DAsNnL BooNiE. It was his to lead a nation to its place of power, and the memories of that nation can- not find more grateful use, than in the treasuring to- gether of the incidents of his career. He knew no tame or commonplace existence, but lived on, in a series of wild and vivid experiences. His life is in the annals of the forest chivalry that only America has placed before the observation of mankind,- and in all the stirring records of the bold and daring- LIFE OF DANIEL ItONE. the determined and the adventurous, the first place is his by the consent of the historian. It is ever to those who seek to illustrate the career of such men, a thought of regret, that themselves were careless of their own biography - not dreaming, while they performed great deeds, that to the world that was to come after them, every incident would be, in all its detail, of value. They were more solicitous to make the present a distinct and determined reality, than to take care of the future - and thus they deem- ed the deed done in its own doing, and cared not who heard, or admired, or recorded. Especially is this true of men of the Border. They took the powder horn and left the ink horn at home - and like all men of true courage, they cared not to be the historians of their own exploits. It is such charac- teristics of the western rover -above all of Daniel Boone -that imposes upon their annalist the most difficult, as it must be the most discriminating of du- ties, in weaving a narrative of facts and not of fancies. The home of his immediate ancestor was in one of the fairest and pleasantest of the gentle garden-lands of England. Devonshire, in its richness of cultiva- tion, its crowded population, its immediate contiguity to the comforts and advantages of an old society - in its peaceful exemption from the sound or alarm of war - was in singular contrast to the scenes to which the emigration from Bradninch, near Exeter, of George 14 SEMLEMENT IN PENNSYLVANIA. Boone was to introduce his descendants. It was a school, of all others, least adapted to furnish material for the formation of character of the adventurous borderer; and when the gentle slopes and rich pas- tures and quiet and cultured farms and fields of Dev- onshire sent to America this group of emigrants, the keenest prophet of future destiny could not have imagined a change more extraordinary than was to be wrought in the future of this family. Arriving in this country, he selected as his home, that part of Pennsylvania which is now the county of Berks, and became a large landholder. The honors of the possession of a great area of territory, which in his own country he could not acquire, the circum- stances of the new land to which he had come, made it easy, and he availed himself of the position, by pur- chasing a large estate in the locality where he bad settled, and in the neighboring States of Maryland and Virginia. He had need of all these possessions, for he brought with him from Devonshire a family of nine sons and ten daughters. There was a touch of the character of his famous grandson about him, in considering England too crowded for the comfort of such a family as that which clustered about him. In that day, 1717, the colonies of Pennsylvania and Maryland and Virginia were a field with space and verge enough for all those who sought to give their children a capacious home. 18 LIFE OF DANIL BOONE. One of the children of George Boone bore the very American name of "Squire," so often affixed in the progress of judicial honor, but seldom, even in the fanciful variety of our nomenclature, finding its way to the baptismal font. He settled in Bucks county in the same State, and married Sarah Morgan. Like his father, he raised a very large family; and it is curious to observe that it was not till he had, in Israel and Jonathan, and Samuel and Daniel, and George and Edward, drawn extensively upon the scriptural and fanciful designations of mankind, that he invest- ed his seventh and last son with his own quaint title of Squire. He became a resident of Bucks county. The vi- cinity of the Delaware was attractive to the emigrant, who had that richest country " all before him where to choose." It had been selected by Penn as one of the great avenues to the ocean, on which enterprise must be successful. The observation of each hour in this day shows how true was the sagacity of those fathers of the country, who distinctly felt that the homes they secured would soon be surrounded by busy men. Daniel Boone was born 11th February, 1735, while his father resided near Bristol, on the right bank of the Delaware, about twenty miles from Philadelphia -inheriting from his parents that, in comparison with which all other inheritances are faint and feeble in worth - a constitution insuring longevity, a frame 16 fitted for the long career of toil and exertion and des- perate adventure, and sad suffering which awaited it. And that this physical good was a characteristic of this remarkable family, it is a record of value to ob- serve that while Boone's father attained the age of sev- enty-six years, the united ages of his six brothers and sisters amounted to the great aggregate of five hundred and sixteen years. Three years the junior of George Washington, his destiny, in the formation of a country for the future development of free institutions, had kindred features. When he was at the age of three, his father re- moved to Reading, in Berks county. It is difficult to realize that the important and flourishing city, the centre of one of the richest and most thickly settled counties of the great Commonwealth, was at a period which is yet imperfectly passing into history, a frontier border settlement, where the watchfulness and vigil- ance of the inhabitants were keenly exercised in guarding their homes against the attacks of the ma- rauding Indian. It was a revelation to the boy Boone, of the future of his life. The conversations of his childhood were the strategy of the savage -and the development of his mind was formed into the pattern in which its boldest pursuit was moulded. It is doubt- less literally true, that the Indian and his incidents were the household words his tongue earliest formed. Concerning his lineage, whether he was of descent 17 LINEAGE. LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. from the Boones who were of the Society of Friends. an ingenious and able genealogical controversy has been had; and the arguments on either side have been so clear, so fortified with array of name and date, that it has been most difficult to decide. It is very singular that of one almost contemporaneous with the seniors of this generation, so much doubt should ex- ist. It arises from the complete seclusion and obscu- rity in which his earlier years, from youth to manhood, were passed, and from the cause that he was utterly unconscious, except at last, of the value of his own biography. One of the most elaborate reviews of this question has been made by John F. Watson, of Philadelphia, whose contributions to the historical annals of Pennsylvania and New-York have been very valuable. A note from him is subjoined. It At a meeting of the Historical Society of Pennsylvania, held at Philadelphia on the 6th instant, Mr. Thomas Biddle, Jr., the Sec- retary, read a letter in relation to the Boone family. Tie stated that a number of early records of that family recently came into Lis hands, one of which gives an account of the Boone family. It states they left a town eight miles from Exeter, England, in 1717. It names Squire Boone as a son of the immigrant, and father of Daniel. The letter of Mr. Biddle further states, that it is an entire mistake that the family originally belonged to the Society of Friends; that the papers prove they were Episcopalians; that he (Mr. B.) learned verbally from his half-sister, Miss Boone, who died in 1846, aged '5, that George Boone, on his arrival in 1717, purchased and settled in what was then Berks county, and laid out a town, naming it Exeter. Ile also purchased land in different places, some as far south as North Carolina, and that he purchased and laid out Georgetown, is may well be, judging from the tone of calmness and placidity which were so marked in the character of Boone, that he, by association or education, bad known the peaceful associations of the domestic life of the Friends. He may have found these traits of the ut- most service. Indeed, though this is anticipating, it will most impress the close student of the simple an- nals of the great man, that in the midst of a border life of commingling in and exposure to scenes of pred- atory warfare, he seemed to have possessed no desire whatever to stir up strife or provoke a contest. The subjoined extract throws light on it: " The first of the family of the Boone's were Friends, en- rolled and recorded in the record of the monthly meetings at Gwynne meeting,- then called North Wales, in Mont- gomery Co., Penn., to wit, 1717, 31st of 10th mo., George Boone, senior, (the grandfather of Col. Daniel Boone) pro- duced a certificate of his good life and conversation, from the monthly meeting in Great Britain, ' which was read and well received.' He was born in 1666. George 2d, son of the above George, had one son and four daughters, born and re- corded from 1714 to '22. 'Squire Boone,' on the 23d of 7th mo. 1720, (was soil of the 1st George Boone,) was uni- ted in marriage to Sarah Morgan, and the records of the D. C. Mr. Biddle, looking over the papers one day, remarked that "these Boones all appeared to have been Episcopalians." "Oh, yes," replied Miss Boone, "they were all High Church people," adding that "most of them became Quakers out of compliment to Penn and his successors." 19 LINEAGE. LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. meeting show, that they had the following children, to wit: Sarah, born 1724, Israel in 1726, Samuel in 1728, Jonathan in 1730, Elizabeth in 1732, Daniel, the 22d of 8th mo., 1734. Mary, born in 1736, George in 1739, and Edward in 1740. These last alone are taken from the records of monthly meetings at Exeter in Berks Co., about 9 miles south from Reading, Penn. The above Daniel, is the Col. Daniel. James Boone was a distinguished mathematician, about the year 1770, as some of his professional papers still show. He wrote some family pedigree, which is now with that last son in Missouri. Richard, a large iron master, (and his brother Samuel) now live near Reading, and their sister Sally lives in Exeter. Ruppe's History of Berks and Leb- anon, says several families of Friends settled in this town- ship, (Oley) as early as 1713 or 1715, and that George Boone, a native of England, took out a warrant of 400 acres of land in 1718 in this township, (meaning Oley.) The re- cords of Friends concerning Boone, stop with the year 1748, as being about that time pretty much out of meeting. In 1747, Israel Boone, eldest son of Squire Boone, was dis- owned for marrying out of meeting, and on 26th of 3d mo., 1748, Squire Boone himself is disowned for countenancing such marriage. About this time he must have emigrated with his family to Holomant Ford, on the Yadkin River, North Carolina; because the North Carolinian history of Boone Co., talks of Daniel as coming there a child, but I infer rather a lad of 13 or 14 years. The name ' Squire' is in all plices given in place of baptismal name, and I saw nothing to indicate him as in the magistracy." The evidence from the compositions of the Forest Statesman, when he had occasion to resort to the SCHOOL-BOY DAYS. written language, in which to communicate his ideas to his fellow-men, is that his education, in the techni- cal and school sense of the term, was very simple and incomplete. Grammar and orthography were not his household deities. He expressed his meaning, taking his road to it over every obstacle of spelling or sentence that chanced in his way. The school was just such an one as the frontier settlements would be likely to possess. Logs were the material most avail- able for dwelling, fort, or school, and the order of ar- chitecture was severe in its simplicity. It was but one of the seven lamps of architecture that blazed in the forest. The right-angle was to the settler pos- sessed of the beauty which Hogarth ascribed to the curve, for it had simplicity, convenience and strength. The school-house at which Daniel Boone was an at- tendant was of the square form - the windows, a mere hole cut in the logs to admit the light - a chimney, huge in utter disproportion, on one side, and the art of the rude mason evinced only in the alternate lay- ers of log and clay. No luxury of cushions, or pa- tent seats, or easy-angled desks, favored the children of that time. Their minds were taught in the midst of privation; and to submit to the roughness and in- convenience of life was the discipline which prepared those who attended them to go out and " make the rough places smooth." All that education set before its guests, were the great dishes of the feast of learn- 21 22LIFE (iOF DANIEL BOONE. ing -but the artist had no skill in their preparation. The school was to be passed through as an ordeal, ra- ther than lingered in as a privilege. To read was taught, but it was more as the mechan- ical utterance of the words - to write, but with char- acters whose size, more than grace, was consulted- to cypher, the problems as simple as for which a ru- ral trade could furnish the example. But they who graduated at such chairs, went thence to write with glittering axe and sword their names and history and purposes in forests-to read the emotions and pas- sions and will of crafty and dangerous foes, or the true destinies of an advancing country-to use their arithmetic in estimating the resources of arms, the chances of battle, the results of harvest. The schol- ar and the merchant were always behind them, wait- ing the time of safe adventure. But among the brief library of that school, their text books were few indeed. There was one in which, in all probability, as it was part of the routine of study, Boone was taught, whose lessons came to him in the mighty solitudes of his after years. A lonely man - a companion of the stately trees - away from home and the vices of the race, the heavens above him seemed nearer than to us,' who are forever at- tracted by the crowd around us; and the promptings of admiration, of veneration, and of simple faith, may have come up to his memory from the teachings 22 SCHOOL-BOY DAYS. of the simple lessons of the school-house, with cheer- ing and consoling power. Boone's " schooling" was soon over. The times left astute scholarship to the far-off cities of the Old World. The frontier men had other and bolder pursuits. Around the school-house was the material for learn- ing to an illimitable extent. The woods opened their recesses to the hunter, in which he could acquire all the mysteries of forest craft; and Boone found in these scenes pursuits most congenial. Pennsylvania, in the policy pursued by its founder, had not fought its dominion inch by inch, from the savage; but his doctrines had not- quite as successfully reached the frontier, as they had been prevalent at the seat of government. The Indian was regarded, even by the most sensible and best judging of the settlers, as an incumbrance-as of a class of men who occupied -land, the value of which they did not realize, and of which they made most imperfect use. But those who looked thus upon them were the few. The many con- sidered the Indian as a foe - as treacherous - never to be trusted, and ready to destroy whenever oppor- tunity offered; and thus a fitting subject for the prowess and might of the white man. The woods were common ground to each. As the Indian either could not or would not acquire the habit of the set- tler, the latter applied himself to acquire the cun- ning and the strategy of the forest men. The settler 23 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. watched the movements of the savages, to learn the means by which such accurate knowledge of pathway and retreat, and fastness and cave and glen - of the most minute habits of the wild beast - of all that pertained to forest life, was obtained; -and in this school, Daniel Boone sprung at once to superior schol- arship. The rifle was, in his hand, unerring as the bow of Robin Hood. He learned lessons of the snow and the leaves and the moss, and to detect, with quick eye, the tread of foot -to rival the sagacity of the hound, or what was as intense in its accuracy-the cunning of the Indian warrior. It has been professed by some who have written of the bold Boone, to invest his childhood and school days with incidents of strange interest. It would be gratifying to be able, with a regard to that without which a biography is but a fable, so to do. But Boone's heroic character was made by circumstances. The strong workings of after life developed the man. The training for that life began in the rough expe- riences of the border. Above all, the life of the wood- mnan taught the boy self-reliance. It gave him to know what a treasure he held in his own energies, and showed him that when he had a work to do, him- self was, of all others, the best craftsman. A better school, a more varied learning, would have been in- consistent with the pioneer destiny that was in store for him. He was to see the State, while as yet it had 24 THE BOY-HUNTEIR. but the physical material of its greatness, and he had to do with the realities of life, unaffected and uncol- ored by such impulses as law and civilization were to bring. The mighty hunter has been the founder of a great city. The power of using to the best advantage all that is around us, can be brouight into use, not alone for the things of every-day life, but for the pro- duction of the strong features of the incidents of ex- istence. Boone was soon a hunter. The stories of his prow- ess in this department of action are many. It is re- lated of him, that he soon deserted the farm-house of his father, and established for himself a cabin in the woods, decorated with the spoils of the chase -that he faced fearlessly the fiercer wild beasts that prowled around -and that men stepped back to contemplate, with more than ordinary wonder, the daring of a boy, who had so soon in life won a name among his peo- ple, by acts of skill and courage. The school of the forest found him a proficient, and he had attained a reputation fitting him for leadership, when he was called to that characteristic American experience- the seeking out a new home. Squire Boone had determined upon removing from Pennsylvania. It is probable that he was influenced to his destination, by reports of the region of moun- tain land in North Carolina, which reached him while on a visit to his relatives in Maryland. His large B LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. family would find, in a State still more sparsely set- tled than Pennsylvania, greater facilities for acquiring the means of support; nor is it likely that the teach- ings and example of the adventurer, who was one of his own sons, was without effect. The country around Reading had become familiar to young Boone, and he, in all probability, gladly seconded the proposal to seek a larger sphere of action. From his friends in Maryland, he might obtain the information of the pleasanter climate and richer land of the Old North State. Boone had now arrived at the age when reflection often comes to give new value to the vigor and joyous character of the boy. Eighteen is one of the eras in life. He had been already inured to hunger and toil, and was of all his father's good company of boys, likely to be the most useful. The pilgrimage of the family must have been one of vivid interest. Traversing Maryland and Virginia, the scenes which opened to the mind of young Boone gave him deep thought of what was open to the bold and adventurous. He realized in every stage of the journey, what value his knowledge of the woodman's life was to him, and how strong it made him in ser- vice to his father; but it never presented itself, even to his fancy, with what avidity a great nation would, in after years, read the most minute details of this progress, if it could be gathered up with accuracy. 26 CHAPTER II. NEW HOME IN THE OLD NORTH STATE -MARRIAGE OF DANIEL BOONE TO REBECCA BRYAN - BOONE, WITH HI1 BRIDE, CROSSES THE VALLEY OF TnX YADKIN, AND BUILDS HIS CABIN - OTHER SETTLERS- BOONE SHUNS SO- CIETY - DETERMINES TO REMOVE WEST OF THE MOUNTAINS - DE SOTO - INDIAN TRIBES - PREVAILING IGNORANCE OF THE COUNTRY WEST OF THE MOUNTAINS - CHARACOER OF BOONE - AN INCceNT OF HIS OLD AGE - THE COLONIAL SYSTEM - ITS RESULTS. As his first home had been on the head-waters of the Schuylkill, his new residence was found near the South Yadkin, a river which, taking its rise among the mountains that form the western country of North Carolina, runs in a south-east direction, cutting the State, and thence through South Carolina, finds its way to the ocean, a little to the northward of the mouth of the Santee. He became a citizen of North Carolina about the year 1753. This was a period in the history of our country when a character was forming whose influ- ences were to affect the welfare of the forthcom- ing Republic with a power which, in its force, we can never estimate rightly. With Braddock, Washington was learning the art of war, and acqui- ring that great military knowledge which intelligent LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. historians now concede belong to him, in a degree fit- ting his greatness. Had it been Boone's lot to have been by his side in that campaign, with the rifle so unerring in its aim, familiar with the battle rather than with the chase, upon a mind so resolute, what might not such an event have graven ! But it was his to be the master in another strife, and to accomplish for his country results following, in their fullness of suc- cess, most properly upon the victories won and peace established, to which Washington gave his strength. The journey which Washington, acting under the orders of Lord Dunmore, the Governor of Virginia, was at this time pursuing-passing as it did through a wild and weary land - a wilderness, and one where danger threaded each footstep - was coincident with that which the family of Boone made. Both marked the noon of the century, by the keen and scrutinizing observation of a bold mind, upon the characteristics and incidents of a new country. The emigrant fam- ily, bound to the mountain land of North Carolina, and the gallant young Virginian, were serving the yet unknown Republic, and the results of their mem- orable journeys are with us. In this home of his father, Boone grew to man- hood, and pursuing the life which belonged to bold men - for he could pursue no other. He was yet a private citizen, filling no place which brought his name into record or archive. The far-off stir of the 28 MARRIAGE OF BOONE. conflict of England and France, died away before it reached that mountain land. It was not yet the time for the pulses of the Old North State to be aroused. When, in after years, that time came, history tells with what patriotic strength the Carolinian avouched his love for freedom by daring deeds. Boone had the pursuit of farmer and hunter to combine. In all probability, he had his chief acquaintance with wood craft, and while he pursued the labor of the agricul- turist, found in the wild chase of the mountain a pur- suit to which his heart beat in quick response. The country around his father's house found other occu- pants, and among them was the family of Mr. Bryan -even to this day an honored name in Carolina. With all his disposition to rove about, Boone found that his affections had susceptibility kindred to those of other men, and in a daughter of his father's neigh- bor- Rebecca Bryan-he won a bride, and hence- forth is to be considered as separating his history from that of his father. There is a very clever romance told about an ad- venture of the wooing of Boone, in which he came most unluckily near to a very sudden termination of his fair Rebecca's existence, by mistaking her bright eyes for those of a deer. The error was fortunately discovered in time, probably, to allow him to assure her that she was a dear- the orthography making all the difference in the world. Unfortunately, the inci- LTFE OF DANIEL bOONE. dent never occurred -nor was it likely to occur. A good hunter, such as Boone, would make no such er- ror. Rebecca, in those days, would have been far more likely to have deemed her lover very absurd, to have thus been deceived, and to have doubted his skill. In tracing out Boone's history, such romances are to be thrown aside at every step. It has been of ma- ny of the years of his life, that the biographer seems to have taken the course of Scott. On one occasion, G. P. R. James, on a visit to Abbotsford, was by the depth of snow detained for a number of days. In all that period, Sir Waiter's powers of anecdote and reminiscence seemed inexhaustible. Mr. James could not at last restrain his amazement, and asked the nov- elist where he possibly could find all the incidents he was relating. " Oh," said Scott, archly, " my mem- ory is pretty good, and when that fails me in a story, why, then Ijust mak' one." The life of Boone, till he left his home, has needed the imagination rather than the archive. And yet, peaceful and regular as the farmer-hunter passed his days, all this time was occupied in the formation of character, in acquiring the patient energy which, having calculated the cost, builds its edifice throughout. He was in the pursuits of life for himself and the being that had left her home to share life with him. It would be an inter- esting study in the philosophy of action, to investi- 30 HIS ROME ON THE YADKIN. gate the probability of the plans formed by him, while he was a farmer on the Yadkin -for in the progress of the movement which the rule so excellent in the formation of a country prescribed, that towards a separate home, he traversed the Yadkin valley, at a locality still more remote from the seaboard and near- er the mountain-thus indicating, in renewed in- stance, his attachment for the wild and forest side of nature. Here he placed his cabin. Its fire-light shone in welcome to the rare stranger who found that river side. This rude home was his, to whom a na- tion was to rear marble memorial. It was a true home for him. In its solitudes he could find the voice of the wood speaking to him in the language of the seasons, of which he had been so long a success- ful scholar. He was not to remain always thus solitary. The same causes which sent him from his childhood's home, urged many other young men to the new land and fresh air - to the game and the hunt - and the population around him soon increased. The lands along the Yadkin attracted the notice of other set- tlers, and young Boone found the smoke of his cabin fire no longer the only one that floated into the air of the valley. His fields were bounded and meas- ured and determined, and the inconveniences of civ- ilization and of society presented themselves. These accessions of companionship, however congenial to 31 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. the greatest part of mankind, who rather rush to- gether than keep aloof from each other, did not suit Boone. All his subsequent history shows that he had no attachment for the perpetual society of humanity. He had left his father because there was not room and verge enough for him where Squire Boone gathered each day his numerous family, and he could not fail to discover that men each day the more disputed his sole tenancy of the valley. Most men would have seen each neighbor with satisfaction, and watched the progress of the "settlement" towards that period when it should enjoy the full measure of learning and law that the thronged population brings, with delight. The heart of man, answering each to the other, is to the great material of which mankind are made up, a comfort and a solace. The bolder spirit of Boone was destined for other uses. He had in him the desire to wield the power of governing, though his mind might not have itself framed such purpose or plan; -but there is power in loneliness, for the man is then no- bler than all else -around him. Boone was soon con- scious that his time on the Yadkin was to be limited. The circumstances defining that limitation soon man- ifested themselves. The fields for adventure lay within his reach. The mountains were to be crossed, and a new and unex- plored country was all before the hunter where to choose. Of all this country, the wildest stories were 32 TIHE WILDERNESS WEST. related. It was invested with every beauty, every danger, every incident that could amuse the imagina- tion or quicken action. It was easy to do this, be- cause nothing whatever was known of it. There rose the mountain, high and difficult in itself, a barrier to every other progress than such as might belong to the boldest enterprise. The population of the seaboard region were content for a long series of years to be- lieve all that an utter ignorance created, of the wild peril of the wilderness. The only traveler there was the Indian, and in his reputation was sufficient cer- tificate for the timid to rest at the distance. Of no- ble rivers and tremendous forests, the Indian gave a brief mention -enough only to be the theme of the story of the winter for the settler on the frontier. The Indian invited no visitor, except by the promise of life worn out by an imprisonment among tribes, who bore no pleasant promise of much kindness in their ferocity. Beyond the mountain was the indefi- nite world for the future. Some of the frontier men knew that its discovery and exploration and subjuga- tion would assuredly come, but the difficulty and danger seemed more abundant than the good to be realized, even by success. They waited with impa- tience the movement that should lead the way -and the day for that movement approached steadily and surely. When De Soto was called to finish his wonderful B 3 33 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. career-when that great man, alter traversing with a zeal that was illustrious by all its qualities, the lands of the south, came to his death, it is of record that lest this sad event should prostrate the completion of his great plans of enterprise, " his body was wrapped in a man- tle, and in the stillness of midnight, was silently sunk in the middle of the stream. The discoverer of the Mississippi slept beneath its waters. He crossed the continent in search of gold, and found nothing so re- markable as his burial place." The Mississippi was his monument. And he was but one of a band of noble-hearted men who, with resistless energy, gave pathways to the wilderness, and passed through all the fearful ad- ventures of savage life, with a courage which was more than that of the warrior, who in the excitements of fierce battle forgets danger. Marquette and La Salle have left their traces on the history of the land, and will never be forgotten. We approach the period when Boone's life really began--that life which is forming a page of useful- ness in his country's annals- a fame which will bear to be heralded when others, more notorious, and far less wortby, wvill be silenced. In the developments of the age, the mountain ridge was to cease to be a barrier, and the long em- pire of the savage over the rich West came to its last years,-and if their old wise-men had possessedl but 34 TIHE WILDERNESS WEST. a tithe of the skill they boasted, there would have been signs of blood and disaster in their prophetic sky. Even at this hour, there are portions of our conti- nent, the state of public knowledge in respect to which will allow us to realize fully what was the shadowy information, the conjecture, not the result, which the Carolinians possessed of the West, as that comprehensive term was in use at that time. What do we know of the far-off and cold lands that form that empire, so vast in mere territory-British Amer- ica! The hunter and the fur trader give the statistics of trails and scattered lodges, but of its topography, the map and the history are content to give the most vague and general statements. Beyond the mountain, all was of the same uncertain pattern. Indeed, it was a bold and daring deed to reach that mountain, even on its eastern side. The hunters, of whom unquestionably Boone was one, and probably the boldest and the most acute in his pursuit, ven- tured each season deeper into the forest. The step of the white man was following fast on that of the In- dian, and it left no uncertain tread. Along the Clinch River and the Holston River, hunting parties pursued their way; and as they went, the mysteries of forest life grew more familiar. Boone learned, even better than before, that neither roof nor house nor bed were the necessaries of life. The forest could be made to 35 LIFE OF DANTEL BOONE. give all these. The forest found food also; and these great points ascertained, the conviction of safety set- tled in the mind, the courage and the resolution were there also, and their practical workings made them- selves every day more and more manifest. In the way of all far exploration, however, a great difficulty presented itself, in effect much more formi- dable than was the peril of the forest, or the barrier of the mountain. The frontier men knew what it was to dread the predatory warfare of the Indian. The homes of the mountain land of North Carolina, now the abode of peaceful and industrious farmers, quiet and unmoved, and far remote from the perils of savage life, were not always thus. The inhabitants along the Yadkin, and scattered up to the region of the Holston and Clinch, were compelled to exercise due caution against the incursions of the Cherokee. The paths of the forest they could tread successfully, where the white man could only find an uncertain journeying. To them the woods were the home of a lifetime, and they used their knowledge to the pur- poses of warfare for a series of years. The people of those days have long since found their graves, but if the traditions of Ashe, and Wilkes, and Yancey, and Surrey, and Caldwell, and Haywood were thoroughly brought to light, it might be found that the eventful era which just preceded the opening of the West to the wanderings of the settlers, was thronged with all 36 EXTRACT FROM JUDGE MARSHALL. the inoidents of Indian foray and Indian border war: This disturbed condition of the country kept back en- terprise. It was one thing to go out with the expec- tation of meeting one's worst foe in the wild beast, and quite another to risk the encounter with the sav- age, whose every passion was excited by the fact which even his immature mind received, that the men who had made a home for themselves in this wild part of the Carolinas, would not always regard the mountain as an insurmountable barrier. The language of John Marshall has faithfully de- lineated the impression cherished by the people of the frontier, in respect to the country that lay beyond. To them it was a perpetual desire to go in and possess it, but they were deterred by their want of any know- ledge of what it really was. The change to us, who view that country in these days, when not a century has elapsed, is wonderful. It is the contrast between a wilderness and an empire. Traversed by all possi- ble modes of conveyance -the wild beast a specta- cle and a show-the comforts and luxuries of civili- zation on all sides -it is hard to credit the annals of obscurity, of caution, of doubt and difficulty that are before us, in the histories of the period when Boone was preparing to become the first successful and per- severing occupant of the new country. Judge Mar- shall says: f 31 "The country beyond the Cumberland mountain, still (in 1767) appeared to the dusky view of the generality of the people of Virginia, almost as obscure and doubtful, as Amer- iea itself to the people of Europe, before the voyage of Co- lumbus. A country there was -of this none could doubt, who thought at all; but whether land or water, mountain or .plain, fertility or barrenness, preponderated -whether in- habited by men or beasts, or both, or neither, they knew not. If inhabited by men, they were supposed to be In- dians,- for such had always infested the frontiers. And this had been a powerful reason for not exploring the region west of- the great mountain, which concealed Kentucky from their sight." In the movements of men, it is very rarely that even those actions which, by their consequences, and the magnitude to which, when once begun, they grow, are the result of a design " to do some great thing " - but arising from some cause connected with the personal relation, either in the desire to render the condition in life more agreeable, or to give strength or pleasure to the social tie, their beginning,being in the ordinary routine of affair, is forgotten. It may be doubted whether, if the opinions gener- ally received of Daniel Boone were true, he would have been the pioneer of Kentucky. Until his his- tory was closely investigated, he was classed with the wild huntsman-the Indian fighter-the man of border foray - a link between the savage and the set- 38 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. INCIDENT OF BOONE'S OLD AGE. tier. His real character was not this. Mild and simple-hearted - steady, not impulsive in courage bold and determined, but always rather inclined to defend than attack -he stood immeasurably above that wretched class of men, who are so often the pre- liminaries of civilization. Boone deliberately chose the peace of solitude, rather than to mingle in the wild wranglings and disputings of the society around him. This is the key tohis movement in quitting the Yadkin and his home thereon. He had his distinc- tive character. It was plain and simple -not so, alone when the depths of a forest home made such regimen but a necessity, but when he was surrounded by kind and ministering friends, the same habit con- tinued. He had the great habit of simplicity within him -a quality of mind which seems most easy to maintain, and yet in its purity is among the most ex- traordinary and difficult. This concentration, within a small limit of his de- sires, remained to old age - and it is but illustrating his life on the borders of Carolina, to allude to the incident which an eminent artist narrates, that when he visited the great pioneer, the very year of his death, when the decrepitude of old age was upon him, the veteran, swinging in his cot, toasted on his ram- rod a slice of venison - his long life not teaching him to forego the simplicity of his earlier habit. He found in the forest and in the chase, scenes and ad- 39 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. ventures that talked with him, in a language unsul- lied by the wretchedness of duplicity, and fraud, and petty scheming, or successful cunning, that soon made their appearance in the region about him; and he could not reconcile himself to the manner in which human law determined the variances. There seemed to be too much of form, and not enough of the dis- tinct and plain equities of a just judgment, about it all. Boone was a reformer, just so far as to discover errors in the framework of society around him; but he was disposed rather to avoid than to correct them. Those who perpetrated the wrong, were not inclined to regard him as the man who was to remodel their ways, and he sought no authority. The adventures of the forest would at once give field to his energies, and take him away from scenes which he felt to be adverse to his own simple-hearted desire to do kindly to his fellow men. There were circumstances in the situation of that part of North Carolina in which Boone resided, which led to his departure for that life of adventure which has made his name memorable, and which is now a precious chapter in the history of the country. The increasing wealth of the Scotch settlers, ac- quired by their unerring sagacity, soon made its markk, and the desire to outrival each other in the luxuries of life was everywhere prevalent. The peaceful quiet of domestic life was invaded by the foe within, in the 40 GRIEVANCE OF THE COLONISTS. guise of a passion for the same ornament and dis- play which were to be found in the older society of the seaboard. The mark was set upon those who either declined to follow the path of advancing for- tune, or were unable to do it - and this could not but make its impression upon society; nor could it fail of remark from Boone. If he could scarcely bear the artificial restraints of custom and rule in ordinary times, to a man of the severe simplicity, which was so eminently the case with him, the fight of fashion was too sinfull. It made him uneasy in his river- side home, and he looked impatiently beyond the hills for a refuge. There were circumstances in the government which rendered this more unendurable. The parent country sent out to the important and responsible position of governor of the colony, those whose sympathies and associations at once linked in with those who affected a tendency towards aristocratic living, and this only made the separation of the two classes more evident. But the grievance was destined to reach the people in a more direct manner. The officers of the courts soon found a way in which to raise their fortunes, by following the increase in the cost of living by an augmentation of their fees and perquisites. Perhaps no better device could have been originated to arouse the great mass of the people. To authorize the collection of all sums over forty 41 L,2 J. oF 1AN1]., iioitiNiC. shillings in a court of recordl, was to open widely the path to a most extensiVe litigation, anld the plrol)ab)le results soon followed. It was a harvest for the law- yer andfthie clerk,-the sheriff, the speculator, arid the tax gatherer followed with ready and unrelenting footsteps. At first the people doubted whether their wrongs could last for any other period than as a brief and ral)idly passing trouble. But the gloom increased. Theo people petitioned to their rulers, but the sympa- thy of these was all with those who were far more ready to seek occasion still deeper to oppress the peo- ple, thian to lighten their calamity. The petitioners and the petitions were alike treated with scorn. The colonial system was realizing the climax of its errors. The government was too far removed from the people, and the open rebellion which followed was a significant type of the more extended grasp of power by the people themselves, which was witnessed in all parts of the colonies but few years afterwards. Taxation is a power, which, even in its wise exercise, is regarded as an oppressive necessity; but when the avails go directly to the benefit of all, the greater good of the result heals all the trouble. But in Carolina, the taxes emanated from a class of men who were in- imical by position and circumstance to those who were compelled to pay, and to whom the payment was so much subtracted from the necessities of life. 42 ItMiUCM OF THlE XLO.IAL SYSTEM 43 Indeed, to make a climax, the very collectingv sher- ifi augmented the taxes, and collecting, rather what they chose than what the law exacted, plundered the people and made gain of their necessity. CHAPTER III. J' N FINLEY'S VISIT TO TENNESSE rx 17 67 - DR. WALKER'S EXPEDITION - BOONE'S VISIT TO THE IHOLSTON RIVER-BOONE AND FIVE OTHERS MOVE WEST OF THE CUMBERLAND MOUNTAINS - BOONE'S WIFE - FILSON'S LIFE OF BOONE -BOONE AND STEWART TAKEN PRISONERS BY THE INDIANS - ESCAPE- THEY FIND THEIR COMPANIONS GONE -BOONE AND STEWART REMAIN ALONE - THE NARRATIVE - INDIAN TREATIES - FATE OF FINLEY - SQUIRE BOONE ARRIVES - DEATH OF STEWART - BOONE AND ISI BROTHER PASS THE WINTER ALONE IN TEE WOODS -SQUIRE BOONE RE- TURNS TO NORTH CAROLINA FOR SUPPLIES Is 1767, John Findlay, or Finley, formed one of a party of hunters, who determined to enlarge the usual bounds of their foray upon the wild game, and daring more than those who had gone before him, he found himself upon the waters of the Kentucky River. The Indians roamed the land undisturbed, and ignorant of the tremendous power that existed in the pale-faced neighborhood over the mountain, disdained to harass these hunters, the first who had made themselves known to them. They traversed a portion of Tennes- see. Its valleys in all the wealth of vegetation, and its scenery of bold type -its mountain forests, and above all -for these were practical men, who rather looked upon what was to be acquired than at the beautiful -there was a variety and a sufficiency of game. Forest and cane-brake were explored, and FINLEY'S VISIT TO TENNESSEE. there was a glowing consciousness that a rare land had been discovered, and that they had been the first to enjoy it. It is easy to imagine, in some degree, the delight which he and his party experienced in once getting be- yond the bounds of their former chase. Evidently, from the history of Finley, and of all those who, like him, "extended the area of civilization," to them, whatever other pursuit was in their village, or from home, forced upon them, that in which they reveled was the open and free life of the hunter - a pursuit where they feared no enemy whose craft and cunning was superior to the roving animal, whose strength and en- durance gave him almost equality in the contests of the forests. In relation to the visit of Finley, Gov- ernor Morehead, in his admirable address at Boones- borough, (May 25, 1840,) uses the following language, which would not be characteristic of himself, were it not eloquent and graceful: " Of Finley and his comrades, and of the course and ex- tent of their journey, little is now known. That they were of the pure blood, and endowed with the genuine qualities of the pioneers, is manifestly undeniable. That they passed over the Cumberland, and through the intermediate country to the Kentucky River, and penetrated the beautiful valley of the Elkhorn, there are no sufficient reasons to doubt. It is enough, however, to embalm their memory in our hearts, and to connect their names with the imperishable memorials of our early history, that they were the first adventurers that 4_ LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. plunged into the dark and enchanted wilderness of Kentucky, -that of all their cotemporaries they saw her first, -and saw her in the pride of her virgin beauty - at the dawn of summer - in the fullness of her vegetation - her soil in- stinct with fertility, covered with the most luxuriant ver- dure -the air perfumed with the fragrance of flowers, and her tall forests looming in all their primeval magnificence. How long Finley lived, or where he died, the silence of' his- tory does not enable us to know. That his remains are now mingled with the soil that he discovered, there is some rea- son to hope, for he conducted Boone to Kentucky in 1769- and there the curtain drops upon him forever." So early as 1750, according to some accounts, though by others fixed in 1747, and 1748, Dr. Walker, with a party, had attempted an exploration beyond the mountain. He crossed from Powell's Valley over to Cumberland, and traversed with rapidity alang the north-eastern portion of Kentucky; but his task seemed to be ended with the country which borders on the Sandy River, now one of the frontier lines of Kentucky and Virginia. This expedition seems, by all historians, to have been considered as a failure. It must have been so, for its results were so trifling, leaving no monument in history, and valuable only, it may be, in fixing the fact in the intercourse of the people, that the mountain barrier could be overcome. Had he possessed the vigor of the famous men who had directed their zeal to the southwest, his name would have been of record, as that of him who had 46 FINLEY'8 ACCOUNT ON HIS RETURN. been worthy of companionship with De Soto and La Salle and Marquette. Those who contend that Dr. Walker made his visit in 1747, say that he visited the eastern and south-eastern portions of Kentucky. The truth is scarcely worth the labor of excavation from the mass of conjecture, since he does not seem to have looked upon what was around him as worthy of the record, which he certainly ought to have given it. This is but one of the many instances, which, to the reader of history, become so painfully apparent, that those who are by circumstances placed in the position of all others best to give to the world the true causes of a nation's formation, either are incapable of the duty, or neglectful, or careless of it. When they and their knowledge are forever past away, posterity be- comes painfully cognizant of the great loss their ab- sence has occasioned. Finley returned, and with those who are familiar with the free intercourse of rural life, and how much the oral relation is preferred to the graver narrative, it will not-be considered strange that the stories which he spread, of what he had seen, at once awakened the keen attention of his neighbors and friends to a glorious new country, where the intricacies of the cunning of the law were unknown -where fashion had no other rules than such as comfort declared it was a luxury to have -in that day when the hard grasp of oppression in various forms was on so many. They 47 48LIFEOPF DANIEL BOONE. talked loud and long of the beauty and the fertility of the country-that the sport of the hunter was the unvarying prelude to his full success-that forest and field and river waited but to be possessed. Daniel Boone was soon eagerly a listener. It touched the great key note of his character, and the hour and the Man had come. He had before this ranged far beyond his habitation. The valleys on the head waters of the Holston, in the south-western part of Virginia, became familiar to him, and in 1764 he had entered within the present limits of Kentucky, being with a party of hunters on the Rock Castle, a branch of the Cumberland River. He looked around in an examination of the country -not so much for his own purposes, as to fulfil a duty imposed on him by a company of land speculators, who probably se- lected him as a determined and quiet man, who would fearlessly discover and with integrity relate the truth, concerning the acquisitions they had designed to make - and this incident illustrates his character and his- tory. The record of their speculation had passed away, but their agent soon made himself memorable. It is remarkable and significant that, notwithstand- ing all the glowing narrations of Finley, and of those who had accompanied him, a number of months elapsed before a party could be made up, to take up the exploration thus begun. The people to whom these hunters gave their wild histories, were cool and 48 BOONE AND 1115 FVE COMI'ANIONS. reflecting. It was one thing to hear of a land whose resources and treasures were so abundant, and quite another affair to risk life and liberty in its acquisition. The power of the Indian was well known by these border men. They knew that while Finley and his party, perhaps from the very novelty of the enter- prise, had been allowed to go through and to re- turn unmolested, it was the more probable that the news that the pale-face had come across the moun- tain would be spread all over the tribes, and there were those, it was well known, among the Indians, who would not allow a second invasion without some severer scrutiny. To none of those who gathered around Finley, were all his facts more interesting than to Boone. He had his deep discontents, and chafed in the toils to which society, as then constitu- ted, guided him. But he had with him a wife, who had, for him, severed herself fromn her father's home, and exchanged the quiet of William Penn's colony for the wilder frontier life of the Yadkin. There were considerations impelling him on all sides, and, as he was chosen the master-man of the forming expedition, it is quite likely that his delay was that of the wise observer of all the perils before him. At last six men were organized -Daniel Boone, John Finley, John Stewart, Joseph Holden, James Monay, William Cool, - and these commenced the great movement, in the result of which the wide, and wealthy, and 49 C 4 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. prosperous commonwealth of Kentucky so much re- joices. Boone found, in the good judgment and excellent conduct of his worthy wife, a comfort in his proposed separation from home. The fiction, that when he was a lover of his Rebecca, he nearly mistook the brilliancy of her eye for that of a wild animal, found its eluci- dation in the better fact, that in the light of that eye, he could see that which would guide his home kindly and well, while he pushed the strong arm of enter- prise into the fastnesses of the forest. He had reared a family, and his sons had sufficient age to begin to assist their father. It is of the things most to be regretted, by all who examine the record of events with a view to the por- traiture of history, that so few of the great actors in the stirring events of life, prepare their own relation of the scenes themselves have moulded or witnessed. Under all the prejudices, and, notwithstanding the gen- eral self-laudation and the special pleading with which such statements would be written, they would yet be invaluable, for we should often arrive at the precision of facts, and know the story of the life as it really wan John Filson, who claimed to have been an early witness of the settlement of Kentucky, wrote, ostensi- bly from Boone's dictation, a life of the great Pioneer, but its style of language is so ornate and ambitious, as greatly to lessen its value. Evidently, Filson re- 50 FILSON'S LIFE OF BOONE. ceived the leading facts from Boone, and, disdaining the simple words of the Pioneer, preferred the use of a diction far beyond good taste or probability. Jun- lay, the editor of the book, calls it, curiously, " a nar- rative, written in a -style of the utmost gimplicity, by a man who was one of the hunters who first penetra- ted into the bosom of that delectable region." Strange enough, with this narrative, in all its over- wrought diction, the old Hunter was greatly pleased, and it gratified him to have it read before him. It has a prefatory page, which begins with the annodunce- ment that, " Curiosity is natural to the soul of man, and interesting objects have a powerful influence on our affections "-a platitude which does not follow very vigorously, after the statement in the title that the work is a narrative of " The Adventures of Colonel Daniel Boone, formerly a hunter-containing a nar- rative of the Wars of Kentucky." And yet, with all its large sounding sentences, it is pleasant to trace through this autobiography, when the calmness of maturer age had given the judgm-nent firmness -what the man really intended. It cannot be doubted that he felt it, when he said - "Here, where the hand of violence shed the blood of the in- nocent -where the horrid yells of savages, and the groans of the distressed, sounded in our ears -we now hear the praises and adorations of our Creator; where wretched wigwams stood, the miserable abode I5 I LIFE OF DANIEL DOONE. of savages, we behold the foundations of cities laid, that in all probability will equal the glory of the great- est upon earth, -and we view Kentucky, situated on the fertile banks of the great Ohio, rising from obscu- rity to shine with splendor." The prophet is here. The voice of Boone in this utterance was a truthful one-and memorable was it, that he who had been once the only white man within the whole extent of the rich and far-spread land, should have lived to see the great State, in all its advancing power and prosperity. The narrative is here best continued in the words of Boone, as given by Filson. The details which he but sketches, can be gathered up more interestingly when we have just listened to his own story. " It was on the first of May, in the year 1769, that I re- signed my domestic happiness for a time, and left my family and peaceable habitation on the Yadkin River, in North Car- olina, to wander through the wilderness of America, in quest of the country of Kentucky, in company with John Finley, John Stewart, Joseph Holden, James Monay, and William Cool. We proceeded successfully, and after a long and fa- tiguing journey through a mountainous wilderness, in a west- ward direction, on the seventh day of June following, we found ourselves on Red River, where John Finley had foz- merly been trading with the Indians, and, from the top of an eminence, saw with pleasure the beautiful level of Kentucky. Here let me observe that, for some time, we had experienced the most uncomfortable weather, as a prelibation of our fu- ture sufferings. At this place we encamped, and made a TILE FORESTS OF KENTUCKY. shelter to defend us from the inclement season, and began to hunt, and reconnoiter the country. We found everywhere abundance of wild beasts of all sorts, through this vast for- est. The buffalo were more frequent than I have seen cattle in the settlements, browsing on the leaves of the cane, or cropping the herbage on those extensive plains, fearless, be- cause ignorant of the violence of man. Sometimes we saw hundreds in a drove; and the numbers about the salt springs were amazing. In this forest -the habitation of beasts of every kind natural to America - we practiced hunting with great success until the 22d day of December following. This day John Stewart and I had a pleasing ramble; but fortune changed the scene in the close of it. We had passed through a great forest, on which stood myriads of trees, some gay with blossoms, others rich with fruits. Nature was here a series of wonders and a fund of'delight. Here she displayed her ingenuity and industry in a variety of flowers and fruits, beautifully colored, elegantly shaped'and charmingly flavored; and we were diverted with innumerable animals present- ing themselves perpetually to our view. In the decline of the day, near Kentucky River, as we ascended the brow of a small hill, a number of Indians rushed out of a thick cane- brake upon us, and made us prisoners. The time of our sor- row was now arrived, and the scene filly opened. The In- dians plundered us of what we had, and kept us in confinement seven days, treating us with common savage usage. " During this time we discovered no uneasiness, or desire to escape, which made them less suspicious of us; but in the dead of night, as we lay in a thick cane-brake by a large fire, when sleep had locked up their senses, my situation not dis- posing me for rest, I touched my companion, and gently awoke him. We improved this favorable opportunity, and departed, leaving them to take their rest, and speedily di- 4LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. rected our course towards our old camp, but found it plun- dered, and the company dispersed and gone home. About this time my brother, Squire Boone, with another adventurer, who came to explore the country shortly after us, was wan- dering through the forest, determined to find me if possible, and accidentally found our camp. Notwithstanding the un- fortunate circumstances of our company, and our dangerous situation, as surrounded with hostile savages, our meeting so fortunately in the wilderness made us reciprocally sensible of the utmost satisfaction. Soon after this my companion in captivity, John Stewart, was killed by the savages, and the man that came with my brother returned home by him- self. We were then in a dangerous, helpless situation, ex- posed daily to perils and death amongst the savages and wild beasts -not a white man in the country but ourselves. Thus situated, many hundred miles from our families, in the howling wilderness, I believe few would have equally enjoyed the happiness we experienced. We continued not in a state of indolence, but hunted every day, and prepared a little cottage to defend us from the winter storms. We remained there undisturbed during the winter. " On the first day of May, 1770, my brother returned home to the settlement by himself, for a new recruit of hor- ses and ammunition, leaving me by myself, without bread, salt or sugar, without company of my fellow-creatures, or even a horse or dog." Thus it was that in 1769 Daniel Boone began the great work which may so truthfully be called, in the close language of this day, his mission. A memora- ble year all over civilization, was 1769. It produced more of the distinguished among mankind - of those 54 BOONE AND H3IS PARTY. who wrote their name in famous deed -than almost any other one year of ages. It was but fitting its annals that it should include the movement which led to the formation of a great State -so eminent for its men, who have by voice and pen made history illus- trious. Some of the great ones of that year devasta- ted the earth; and if they produced ultimate reforms, they were purchased at a vast price. Boone gave to enterprise the means of furnishing a home for millions, where the arts of pearce can illustrate the true destiny of mankind. " From the top of an eminence we saw with pleasure the beautiful level of Kentucky." Such is the simple sentence, fortunately preserved by his amanuensis in language like that in which the hunter spoke it, in which Boone relates his view of the great country himself was to develop. These six hunters, on the 7th of June, a month and seven days after Boone left his home on the Yadkin, were found, as the scene is delineated by the interest- ing narrative of Mr. Peck, whose zealous regard for accuracy gives him high place among biographers,- " Winding their way up the steep side of a rugged mnoun- tain, in the wilderness of Kentucky. Their dress was of the description usually worn at that period by all forest rangers. The outside garment was a hunting shirt, or loose, open frock, made of dressed deer skins. Leggins or drawers, of the same material, covered the lower extremities, to which was appended a pair of moccasins for the feet. The cape or 55 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. collar of the hunting shirt, and the seams of the leggins were adorned with fringes. The under garments were of coarse cotton. A leathern belt encircled the body; on the right side was suspended the tomahawk, to be used as a hatchet; on the left side was the hunting-knife, powder-horn, bullet- pouch, and other appendages indispensable for a hunter. Each person bore his trusty rifle; and as the party slowly made their toilsome way amid the shrubs, and over the logs and loose rocks, that accident had thrown into the obscure trail which they were following, each man kept a sharp look- out, as though danger or a lurking enemy was near. Their garments were soiled and rent, the unavoidable result of long traveling, and exposure to the heavy rains that had fall- en; for the weather had been stormy and most uncomforta- ble, and they had traversed a mountainous wilderness for several miles. " Towards the time of the setting sun, the party had reached the summit of the mountain range, up which they had toiled for some three or four hours, and which had bounded their prospect to the west during the day. Here new and inde- scribable scenery opened to their view. Before them, for an immense distance, as if spread out on a map, lay the rich and beautiful vales, watered by the Kentucky River; for they had now reached one of its northern branches. The country immediately before them, to use a western phrase, was ' rolling,' and in places abruptly hilly; but far in the vista was seen a beautiful expanse of level country, over which the buffalo, deer, and other forest animals, roamed unmo- lested; while they fed on the luxuriant herbage of the forest. The countenances of the party lighted up with pleasure, con- gratulations were exchanged, the romantic tales of Finley were confirmed by ocular demonstration, and orders were given to encamp for the night in a neighboring ravine. In 56 BOONE'S ENCAMPMENT ON RED RIVER. a deep gorge of the mountain, a large tree had fallen, sur- rounded with a dense thicket, and hidden from observation by the abrupt and precipitous hills. This tree lay in a con- venient position for the back of their camp. Logs were placed on the right and left, leaving the front open, where fire might be kindled against another log; and for shelter from the rains and heavy dews, bark was peeled from the linden tree." The extract we have given from the narration of Boone is too general. It embraces a time in which many incidents of great interest occurred, and which could not be omitted with fidelity to the history. From the position which they had taken, which was on the Red River - a name which, in the poverty of invention, so peculiar to pioneers, was bestowed on many streams, from some real or fancied hue of its waters - they vent at their hunting and observation of the country. This river is one of the principal branches of the Kentucky. It is thought that this locality is in the territory now known as Morgan County -receiving its name, by a pleasant coinci- dence, from the celebrated partisan officer, who, with his three rifle companies, led the forlorn hope under Arnold at Quebec, and to whom Virginia presented, for his gallantry at the head of his riflemen when at the victorious battle of Saratoga, an horse, pistols, and a sword. The buffalo thronged the region, as it now does the plains of the far west. C 57 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. A long time elapsed; -the party hunted success- fully. It was an easy task to bring the skill and ex- pedients of the white man against the beast of the for- est, which had not yet learned to avoid them; and Boone and his party found cause to congratulate Fin- ley, that the stories with which he had made the dwellings on the Yadkin to thrill, were true - were even below the truth. Governor Morehead well re- marks, that to none of the pioneers has so little justice been done as to Finley, and suggests that Kentucky should at least perpetuate his remembrance by naming a county after him. It would be but just, in that great State, to write upon its soil the name of him who was her first eulogist. These six hunters knew the Indian, his character and his traits. As yet, he had not made his appear- ance, but this was not considered by them as render- ing it certain that he would not come. In all proba- bility, their watch for the red man was unremitting. In the district between the Guyandot and the Ken- tucky Rivers, an Indian village existed. Boone and his party were not trespassers on them -a circum- stance, the recollection of which is necessary to the vindication of his career. The treaty at Lochaber, in South Carolina, October 5, 1770, extinguished the Indian claim; and although this is a little subsequent to the date of Boone's expe- dition, yet as the Shawanoes had been subjugated by 58 INDIAN TREATIES. the Iroquois, and these had ceded all their claim in 1768 to the King of Great Britain, the Indian title was not of the very best. At Fort Stanwix, the treaty between the powerful Iroquois and the powerful Kin, was consummated. This interesting locality, now the flourishing village of Rome, in Oneida County, New York, had many incidents of the peaceful and the warlike in savage life, in its history. Both Iroquois and king were, at the date of this treaty, powerful; - and although the storm that was to ruin both was already gathering, it was not yet directly visible. The Indian and the sovereign did not dream how futile was their partition of the great territory. The Hunter who was teaching himself the compass of the woods, and by the arts of the chase, preparing to open the march for a nation to the seat of empire, was to exert an influ- ence, in comparison to which the deliberations of the treaty at Stanwix were valueless. Strange are the results which time develops. At Fort Stanwix, fifty years after the treaty, began the great work which has given to the Great West a value which Finley and Boone would have been startled to have heard computed. The hunt and the exploration Went on, and still the Indian came not, and this prolonged absence of a foe they dreaded must have operated on the mind of the party, for they divided. If they had not been lulled into insecurity by their complete exemption from the 59 LIFE 01 I)ANIEL BO()ONE. visit of the savage, they would have remained to- gether, so that their united strength would have been, in good measurc, a defence. Stewart and Boone formed one party, and as by the twigs pulled off cau- tiously on ail Indian march, prisoners have left trace of their route, so from all the minor incidents of Boone's career, some judgment may be formed of his policy. On the 22d December, they were nigh the Kentucky River, probably by the guidance and ad- vice of Boone, to know the career and capacity of this main stream. The quoted story of Boone has already detailed his first captivity by the Indians. The defenseless party of two was easily taken, and made prisoners, as the united six would not have been. It was evident by the mode of their capture, that Boone and Stewart were not on their guard. When the Indian is looked for, a thick cane brake is not passed without a prelim- inary and careful reconnoiter. Boone had good opportunity now to show of what he was made. He was a prisoner, in the hands of those to whom mercy was only a capricious visitor, and it required a cultivation of sagacity and bravery in his conduct, which it is rare to find united. He seems at once to have conducted himself so that they regarded him as an acquisition to their tribe, and as such to be adopted among them. He had that ines- timable and rare quality, complete patience - and so BOONE ESCAPES FROM THIE INDIAIS. could, by neither showing fear or a desire to escape, interest even the cunning Indian. It was the first of his bold and successful strategies, and his life was to know many of them. The Indian felt it to be a bitter and deep offence, that a captive treated with kindness should escape, or attempt it. To fail, therefore, was to be subjected to the horrors of Indian barbarity; and although the sea-board colonies would have regarded the death of their citizen as a thing to be avenged, the avenger re- stores not to life. After seven days of captivity, in which Boone and Stewart had won the confidence of the Indian, they all laid down for their customary sleep. The plans that Boone had formed, it was now the time to execute. It is very e-sy for us to talk and write about it, but to feel one's life depending on the sleep of a group of fierce men, whose passions roused knew no mitigation, is a point in experience which requires a heart of iron. Stewart was actually asleep, for he seems to have been dependent on Boone. The latter, rising cautiously from his feigned sleep, and looking intently around him, gently awaked Stewart, and in a brief word the direction to go was given. The sleep of the Indian was sound. When he had no wakefulness of war or hunt, he had no thoug-ht, and the body had full power to sleep. Boone and Stewart succeeded in getting their guns, so as to have a chance for at least one desperate fight, if their 61 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. captors aroused. These men had not learned wood craft in vain. Their step was as light as the fall of a feather. From amidst these sleeping savages, they took to the woods. Once there, every moment was a gain, and while every pulsation must have thrilled with ex- citement, they made the best of the obscurity and the night, and made no halt till they believed themselves secure. What a security that was ! Hundreds of miles away from home and the power of the white man, with the savage in revengeful pursuit, they sought the party from which they had separated, with a vivid realization that an enemy worse than that of wild beasts needed their energies. They found their old camp; but the four compan- ions were not at it. Expecting to meet them, and to find refuge in their strength, this was a cruel disap- pointment. Not only were their friends gone, but the camp had been despoiled, and thus the traces of an enemy were all around them. Here the story of John Finley, who first uttered the praises of Ken- tucky, ends; and as to what was his fate, or that of Holden, Monay and Cool, the records have no entry. It would seem unlikely that all these men should have been killed by the Indians, for in the subsequent in- tercourse with the savages which Boone maintained, sometimes peaceful and confidential, it does not seem to have been either the boast or narrative of any of them, of having destroyed his companions. If they 62 BOONE AND STEWART ALONE. returned to Carolina, as the result in other cases- shows, on the return of peace, and the acquisition of the West, they would have applied for land or gift from the government. Deprived of their provision and ammunition, it is quite likely that, in the midst of the beautiful land his tongue had so lauded, John Finley perished of exposure and hunger. If they lived and returned, they merged into the monotony of every-day life, and failed to establish even a tra- ditionary reputation. The saddest fate is the most probable. Boone and Stewart were now compelled to a close organization, and a careful conduct. They were com- pelled to go on with the chase for their subsistence, but they looked to their guns, also, for defence; and while the food must be secured, the powder must be economized. The education of the woods was one of inestimable value to these hunters of Kentucky. The sad reflections of this comparative solitude were soon most gratefully enlivened. Boone, in the month of January, found the fears which himself and Stewart entertained of two men whom they saw ap- proaching, turned into delight, as a nearer view showed that one of them was his own brother. There was a noble brotherhood about this. Squire Boone (the tenth child and the youngest save one of that numerous family,) had found one Carolinian willing 63 LIVE OF DANIEL BOONE. to brave the perilous mountain journey, and to search after his brother. On came these adventurers, not less brave and bold than the party of the six hun- ters, tracking their wilderness way as best they could, having no friend of whom a question could be safely asked, or by whom a direction could be given; and yet, led on by bravery and affection, he and his com- panion persevered; and if the perils of their enter- prise could be repaid, they were by the luxury of the moment, when he grasped the hand of his living brother. Of Boone's family, Squire had all to relate, and the history of the wife and children left behind was earnestly given and heard, as such tidings would be heard by a man who loved his home. Squire Boone and his companion (whose name should have been preserved,) had started to find his brother alive, if possible. It is evident that the people of the set- tlements considered the expedition as a desperate one, -and that it was most probable that Boone and his party were the prey of the savage or the wild beast. When Boone saw his brother approaching, his address of caution was-" lHolloa ! strangers, who are you " The welcome answer was -" White men and friends." It was a brief but a very significant dialogue. It is difficult to imagine a visit more grateful. It is almost as difficult to imagine how Squire found his brother, snce the wilderness is not supplied with a guide book; 64 ARRIVAL OF BOONE'S BROTH-R. and yet, wherever the white man had been, lie left his mark, and these Squire had successfully watched, even to a discovery of the last night's camp. There were now four together, the two Boones, Stewart, and the friend of Squire. The severe expe- riences of the recent captivity, it would seem, should have taught the continuation of the same caution which had been exercised by Daniel and Stewart. But the success of Squire in proceeding unharmed through the country, probably emboldened them, and led to the imprudence which soon had such fatal issue. These four men separated, and as Boone and Stewart were on a hunt, which they had extended far beyond their camp -(and far beyond, in an hunter's language, means no trifling distance - the Indians suddenly came upon them, and poor Stewart, who had shared in the former escape, found his fate in being shot down and scalped - the first blood of the white man staining the soil, which was afterwards so often designated as the Dark and Bloody Ground. It is grievous to think of the fate of the daring hunter, dying thus by savage hand, while engaged in such good service to his fellow men. Boone escaped, spared by a good Providence, as destined for a long life of usefulness. How he escaped, he had not narrated, but it is probable, by the vigor of his movement, trained from boyhood to rapid step and long-enduring exertion. The story of sorrow was n(t. all told. The 5 6 5 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. disseverance of the four worked other fatal results. The wretched Carolinian wandered into the wood, and was lost. As a skeleton was found long afterwards in that region, his fate was supposed to be evidenced by it. Thus two bold and daring men led the long and mournful army of the multitude, who were to lay the foundation of Kentucky in the blood of its founders. The two brothers were now, indeed, all the world to each other. The man who dared to penetrate the wilderness when it was a -eries of known and unknown dangers, and the man who accomplished the bold project of a successful search after a brother, through equal peril, were fit company for each other. It is a beautiful picture of fraternal affection, and the name of Squire Boone deserve: everlasting remembrance. le seems to have been o: the same noble cast with his elder brother, and I heir struggles for each other would have been imm ortalized in enduring eulogy, if they had been of the ancient days. Boone's recital of their companionship is very brief, but it indicates union and concentrat on of purpose. These men had a fear- ful trial; but there was a mitigation of it in their companionship. It was lessening the care, and, though it did n at diminish the privation, it seemed to make it more endurable. They built a cabin, and rude enough it must have been, for they had no other material -scarcely more than has the eagle for its go ALONE IN THE WOODS. evrie - the latter having the most advantage of be- ing able to place hers where no foe could molest. Boone quietly sums up their condition - "a danger- ouls, helpless situation, exposed daily to perils and death, among savages and wild beasts." And yet, in all these sorrows, and with all this hazard, he deems their happiness to have been surpassed by but few. He measured the real wants of nature, and while in itself the remark was common-place enough, in those circumstances it had a noble meaning. He says he often observed to his brother - " You see now how little nature requires to be satisfied." This was adorn- ing necessity, and it further illustrates the calm and quiet character of this great man. His was not a mere theory of content,-he kept that light of the heart burning, when to the mass of mankind it would have been forever extinguished. There was no indolence about them. This Boone expressly disclaims; to hunt -to guard their cottage against the storm - to provide the moccasin - to kin- dle the watch-fire -to prepare such clothing as the skin of the deer could furnish -above all, to keep an unremitting guard against the Indian, gave them occupation enough. Men do not surrender them- selves to listlessness when there is a perpetual alarm, and danger and ennui cannot exist together. And the good Providence of Heaven watched over them. During all the winter they were not disturb- 67 LI-FE OF DANIEL BOONE. ed-not seeing any Indians. This seems strange, for in an existence like that of the Indian, wandering everywhere, it was very remarkable that the cabin of the hunters remained undisturbed. It has been said that the intercourse of two individ- uals becomes burthensome to each other, if left with- out any other association -that conversation and idea become exhausted - and that they who can exist together, instructive and entertaining, having no aid from others, must have the varied resources of educa- tion, and that in a time of limited duration, even these will fail. These men were not educated - probably possessing only the simplest rudiments. Indeed, Boone's correspondence evidences this. They had their themes in sensible objects around them. A long winter of solitude was the test of their adap- tation to each other, and it seems to have been safely met. It was a true brotherhood-where the tie of kindred grew stronger every hour. When the spring came, it was time for another movement. The spring came early, and the awaking to its foliage seemed like the passing from the night to the day. The game had reduced their powder and lead, and without these there was no existence for the white man. Again Daniel Boone rises with the emergency. It was necessary that the settlement which they had made should be continued and pro- tected, and it was the duty, in the progress of events, C)8 SQUIIRE BOONE RETURNS HOME. that one of them should remain to that task. He made the selection and chose himself. He had the courage to remain alone; and while he unquestion- ably felt the keenest desire to see his own family, he felt that he had a noble purpose to serve, and was prepared for it. On May 1, 1770, Squire departed for the settlements on the Yadkin. What a journey for a man was that,-five hundred miles, and utterly alone! If the elder brother showed strength of character in remaining, not less the younger in daring this march. When the parting word was given, it must have been more like a farewell to each other forever, than the separation for a brief period. There were dangers on that road which needed no exagge- ration. To pass five hundred miles without a compan- ion to encourage, cheer, or defend, was a keen trial to the realities of courage; but Squire had this bless- ed hope before him, that each day's journey brought him nearer to his home - that the five hundred miles were passing away each day under his deter- mined and quick step, and that the ordeal was be- coming less terrible each day. He pushed boldly forward -and the elder brother remained alone. 69 CHAPTER IV. BOONE ALONE I.N THE WILDERNESS - DEPRIVATION-IHlS OWN NARRATrVX - HIS BROTHER RETURNS WITH SUPPLIES AND HORSES - NEWS FROM His FAMILY -EXTRACT FROM GOV. MOREHEAD S ADDRESS -TIE TWO BROTHERS EXPLORE THE COUNTRY AND DETERMINE TO LOCATE UPON THE KENTUCKY RLIVER - THEY RETURN ROME - WONDER OF HIS NEIGHBORS AT SEEING DANIEL - THEY ARE DETERRED FROM EMIGRATING BY FEAR OF THE INDIANS -DANIEL AND SQUIRE BOONE, WITH THEIR FAMILIES, REMOVE TO KEN- TUCKY. DANIEL BOONE was now alone, the only being in all that vast country of his race and kind. His nar- rative states it simply, and therefore most interest, ingly - for occasionally the old man's language seems to have escaped the transformation of his pompous amanuensis -" One by myself- without bread, salt or sugar - without company of any fellow creatures, or even a horse or dog." Collins, in his Historical Sketches of Kentucky, says that Boone spent the winter of 1769-70 in a cave on the waters of Shawa- nee, in Mercer county, and that a tree, marked with his name, is yet standing at the mouth of the cave. If it be so, may the " woodman spare that tree." This is a crisis in the history of this man, and the fact is greatly characteristic of him. It indicates BOONE'S BELIEF IN DESTIN how much the man intended, when he told Filson that he was " an instrument ordciinc 7, to settle the wilderness." With this conviction before him, all sacrifice was to be made. Hle believed that he had within him the destiny of guiding the settler to a new home -of extending to the enterprising and adven- turous a wider sphere; and acting oft this, he felt that what would have been a wild and dangerous path to other men, was that which he would follow wherever it presented itself in this d ity. Too sim- ple hearted to cherish the strange belief in his " star," as the greater and the lesser Napoleon have in our times, he yet concentrated in himself a resolution which was better and more enduring than all fancied stellar influences. The first great step had been taken when he dared the wilderness at the head of his fated six. The mysterious providences of Heaven had re- duced these to himself, and even those who had sought and found him, had now left him. He was alone, as few other men have ever been. Then it was that the great empire - thronged, prosperous, powerful, which has followed - existed but in One Man. The reader will recollect that Boone entered on this solitary life with a full knowledge of its perils. He was, if recaptured, a doomed captive, for he had slighted, as the Indian thought, his kindness. Of the seven white men whom he had seen since he left the Yadkin, one had been openly murdered by the sava- 7I LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. ges, and all the probabilities were that the same fate, or death by starvation or the wild beast, had befallen the other five. Hle was sure of the existence only of his brother; and even to him, had just been allotted the dangers of a terrible journey through the wilder- ness -a wilderness extending the half of a thousand miles. This courage to be alone took the fancy of the great poet of our age. and Byron wove into his superb verse, his eulogy on the Hunter. Yet Boone never appears to have yielded to what is too often the companion of solitude - moreseness. " Se'ie,re, not sullen, was his solitude." At this period Boone was in the best days of his life. His age was thirty-six, and he had given, by exercise and vigorous employment, a strength to his frame which fitted him for his peculiar duty. He is described by various writers as being five feet ten inches in height, robust, clean limbed, and athletic, fitted by his habit and temperament, and by his phy- sique, for endurance -a bright eye, and a calm de- termination in Lis manner. Alone in his cabin - the coming Kentuc ,y his hunting ground, not a man like him within hur dreds of miles -he gently tells us, in his narrative., that he " passed a few days uncom- fortably," -and he assigns as his chief reason, that le felt miuch anxiety for his beloved. wife and family, 72 DEPRIVATION. and for what would be their sorrows. They were sur. rounded by the guards and kindness of society. He had no semblance of either, and yet the man looked calmly on the forest around him, and only mourned when he remembered the circle of his home. There is something of marked interest in the speci- fication which he gives, as the summary of his con- dition, that he was without " bread, or salt, or sugar." Cavalier, trader and pilgrim, as they successively stood upon the shores of James River, the Hudson, and at Plymouth, believing themselves shut out from man- kind, turned to no such deprivation of the very pri- mary necessities of life; and yet not necessities, for his strong frame endured their want. This was no sudden deprivation. He knew that during all the absence of his brother, which must necessarily be very long, even with all their best hope, he would have none of the ordinary enjoyments of sense. Like the feigned Dervish, in the Corsair, "Salt seasons dainties, and, my food is still The simplest herb -the water from the rill" HIe confesses, for such is his form of expression, that he had occasion to use both philosophy and fortitude. Filson gave him here a large word for a simple mean- ing. Boone's philosophy, (if, indeed, before his aman- uensis mentioned it, he had ever heard of the word,) was of a sect which has few disciples. The number D 73 LIFE' OF DANIEL BOONE. of those who devote themselves to a great purpose, and concentration - resign the immediate for the fu- ture -is very small. Boone in his solitude was not, in his philosophy, like the Indian, who is a stoic be- cause his range of thought ceases, and to bear and to endure is all that he knows; -but he knew that pri- vation was, in his case, a necessity of condition, and that, borne manfully now, le saw the good end cominng - and that it was, unconsciously, a high order of phi- losophy. But lhe tells his own story well, and it is of deep interest: " I confess I never before was under greater necessity of exercising philosophy and fortitude. A-few days I passed uncomfortably. The idea of a beloved wife and family, and their anxiety upon the account of my absence, and exposed situation, made sensible impressions on my heart. A thou- sand dreadful apprehensions presented themselves to my view, and had undoubtedly disposed me to melancholy, if farther indulged. One day I undertook a tour through the country, and the diversity and beauties of nature I met with in this charming season, expelled every gloomy and vexatious thought. Just at the close of day the gentle gales retired, and left the place to the disposal of a profound calm. Not a breeze shook the most tremulous leaf I had gained the summit of a commanding ridge, and looking round with as- tonishing delight, beheld the ample plains, the beauteous tracts below. On the other hand, I surveyed the famous river Ohio, that rolled in silent dignity, marking the western boundary of Kentucky with inconceivable grandeur. At a vast distance I beheld the mountains lift their venerable brows, and penetrate the clouds. All things were still; I 74 IlIS OWN NARArTUVE. kindled a fire near a fountain of sweet water, and feasted (on the loin of a buck, which a few hours before I had killed. The sullen shades of night soon overspread the whole hem- isphere, and the earth seemed to gasp after the hovering moisture. " My roving excursion this day, had fatigued my body and diverted my imagination. I laid me down to sleep, and awoke not until the sun had chased away the night. I con- tinued this tour, and in a few days, explored a considerable part of the country, each day equally pleased as the first. I returned to my old camp, which was not disturbed in my absence. I did not confine my lodging to it, but often re- posed in thick cane-brakes, to avoid the savages, who I believe often visited my camp, but fortunately for me, in my absence. In this situation I was constantly exposed to danger and death. How unhappy such a situation for a man tormented with fear, which is vain if no danger comes, apd if it does, only augments the pain. It was my happiness to be desti- tute of this afflicting passion, with which I had the greatest reason to be affected." A great soldier monarch once asked what fear was - a question which, however made memorable by the plaudits of the Court, was in all probability safely asked, amid warriors and armament and strong de- fence. Boone quietly says he was destitute of it, and it is certainly an amusing illustration that he immedi- ately after describes the wolves as " diverting his noc- turnal hours with their perpetual howlings." If the bravery of Boone were not an established and undis- puted fact, that declaration would seem boastful; but 76 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. he had sounded the depth of forest life, and had con- sidered the weight of all it had to offer. The unbro- ken wilderness character of the country is illustrated by his remark, that the " various species of animals in the vast forest were continually in view." These creatures could have seen but little of man, or they would have learned the indications of his habitation and avoided it. He declares he was happy amidst danger; that he had plenty in the midst of want, and that he could not be melancholy. There is reason here to suppose that Filson, rather than Boone, framed this remark. Boone had too much strong sense to have any other feeling than patience amidst the scenes of his solitude, and when Filson goes on to cause him to declare his loneliness " an uninterrupted scene of sylvan pleasures "- the very straining after effect in the choice of a word utterly unlike the language of the woodsman. Constant exposure to danger and death - a habitation which he states had been dis- covered by the savages - the necessity of such strat- agem as the resort at night to the cane-brake rather than to take the risk of being found in his cabin - all these have no " sylvan pleasure " in them. And yet, he felt secure enough to brave the perils of an exploring tour, and saw more of the land he was main- taining for the white man. He saw the Ohio, and unquestionably, from the results of his tour, strength- ened his determination to brave all perils to establish 7P RETURN OF HES BROTHER. the home of his fellow citizens in a land of such de- light. For three months he was alone. It was an ordeal through which few men could have passed. To many it would have been the means of weakening the mind, but in Boone it only seems to have renewed his ener- gies. It was remarked of him, that when in his great- est vigor he was distinguished for his taciturnity- dwelling in his own internal converse. It was a part of his wilderness education. In the three months that no response awaited his word, he learned how much the thought could speak. The summer sun was in its fierceness, when this long solitude was broken. That noble hearted brother returned - a return, as was his journey, more like the creation of the romancer, than a veritable history. He had fully and faithfully kept his promise. Not only had he once found his brother, but, to benefit him and the great cause of mankind, he had ventured thus, the third time, to track his way over the many and the weary miles. The engagement he made to bring fresh supplies of whatever was most necessary, he also remembered, and this first transportation train - this pair of horses laden with provision - the heralds of that mighty caravan from East to West which, within the life-time of Boone's children, is, in all the rapidity of car and coach, sail and steam, pouring the wealth of the sea-board to the interior, only to be LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. reladen with its treasures in return - this pioneer carrier brought to the cabin of Boone what was more precious than a burthen of gold dust would have been. Best of all, it brought news that Rebecca still kept undiminished courage; that health was theirs; and that the energetic wife and mother had been enabled to keep the household comfortably. It cannot be but that there were hours of rapid converse between these brothers. The Hunter had saved, not lost, his words; and of home, of Carolina -of the thrilling tidings of the movements at Boston -of the more than mur- muring at Britain's rule-that cabin heard long discourse. They now had horses, to them invaluable, and, as they well knew, would be considered by the Indians as a great prize. They could not conceal them. The horse would make himself manifest, the moment his instinct taught him a human being was near; and the stratagems and sagtcities by which the hunters could, at night or day, avoid and outwit the Indian, they could not teach their animals. From the sure indications that their cabin had been visited by the savage, they reasoned well that in the chase after occasional herds of the buffalo, they and their horses would be very likely to grace a wigwam. Governor Morehead dwells upon the boldness of Squire Boone, in returning after his brother, and thinks that it was confidence in his destiny, 78 THEY EXPLORE THE COUNTRY. " Which not all the skill of Daniel Boone, accomplished as he was in the arts of Indian warfare, could justify. Mira- cles were not wrought in the eighteenth century, to assure mankind of a Divine agency in human affairs; and who could have supposed that any other doom but that of exter- mination, awaited the bold usurper of the Indian hunting ground - wandering, from preference of a hunter's life, com- panionless, in a distant and savage wilderness -depending upon his rifle for food -upon the beasts of the forest for rai- ment - and for personal safety, upon the subtlety with which he avoided danger, and the valor and dexterity with which, when present, he repelled it - above all, marked and hunted as a victim by artful and fiend-like foes, instigated to ven- geance by a keen sense of wrong inflicted by the invasion of a favorite domain, from which they had not yet been driven by the power of the white man Yet Daniel Boone had to act his part in the future conquest of Kentucky; and from the period of his brother's return, until the ensuing spring, the self-exiled hunters continued to explore the country, giv- -ing names in their progress to the different rivers, and in March, 1771, retraced their steps to North Carolina, with a determination to bring their families, as soon as practicable, to the wilderness." They explored the country between Cumberland and Greene rivers, finding there those strange re- sults of a soil in which the limestone is in abun- dance and cavernous -the sink-holes, as they are de- sig-nated -depressions which have been wrought by the water. Returning to the Kentucky River in March, 1771, they determined that that should be the place of their fixed settlement. The exemption of 79 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. these men from assault by the Indians, during all this long period of eight months, in which, armed and on horseback, they seem to have roamed just where they chose, is most wonderful. It has something about it which seems like a special interposition beyond the ordinary guardianship over the progress of man. On the safety of these men rested the hope of a nation. Their defeat, their captivity, their death, would have chilled the vigor of enterprise. A very distinguished authority declares, that without Boone, the settle- ments could not have been upheld, and the conquest of Kentucky would have been reserved for the emi- grants of the nineteenth century. At last the time arrived at which Boone, believing that he was completely conversant with the country, that he knew of its value, and of the means to possess it, and the perils which awaited the possessor, deter- mined to return home. He had not forgotten it; never lost sight of it; never ceased to think of it, as the place which his exertions were to benefit. It waS not the least of the motives to impel him, how- ever, that he could assist, in his journey, his gallant brother who had dared so much for him; though as Squire had accomplished the journey three timles, it is quite probable lie proved of great use to his brother. Boone says that in returning home, it was his deter- mination to bring his family to Kentucky, which he esteemed a second Paradise, even at the risk of life 80 BSOONE ARRIVES 110ME. and fortune. Undoubtedly he acted on determination. It had been of the plans formed during the long soli- tude of the winter, that she and they who had limited possession on the Yadkin, should possess the broad acres, the glades, the rich land that lay out to the sun, ready to be taken and held by the strong arm. He sums up the incidents of his journey in a very brief sentence. All he says of it, is, " I returned safe to my old habitation, and found my family in happy circumstances." That wilderness tour-five hundred miles-the two brothers skilled horsemen,-noted hunters - all this deserved detailed record. But it was sufficient for Boone to act. He left his fame to take care of itself. Undoubtedly they felt fearless, for their rifles and their horses gave them a power which the Indian dreaded. Home they came, and if ever traveler was welcomed, it was the long absent Hunter. It was the embodiment of the fable, so often con- ceived and told, of the reappearance of the lost one. To the frontier men of the Yadkin, the coming of Boone among them was a new era. It opened their range of thought. He had discovered and returned with the evidences of his acquisition. The road to the land of which poor Finley had spoken, was de- fined, for Squire had traversed it four several times in little more than one year. The mountain had ceased to be a barrier. The stories of impenetrable D 6 81 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. fastness and invincible forest were obsolete. Their own neighbors had lived unmolested for almost two years, in the midst of the rich country, in comparison to which their mountain land was but a poor abode. Boone doubtless preserved his quiet and silent charac- ter, but if he ever yielded, it must have been when the population of the Yadkin border rushed to see the man whose career had been so eventful, even in this portion of it, as to make his presence among them a wonder. Such journeys have all their vivid interest when first taken. It is around the man who has begun the great enterprises of life, that the keen- est curiosity centers. Boone returned to his home, not like Rip Van Winkle, from a slumber, but like Columbus, from a discovery. To none could that home visit have been as precious, as to the wife who had so long waited and watched for him. She felt the reward of her toil and the recompense of her anxieties. Nor are these words lightly written. She survived to a good old age, and a faithful narrator speaks of her nature as generous and heroic; and to such a heart, how delightful must have been the day which brought back to her her bold, and brave, and admirable protector. The determination formed amid the counselings together at the cabin in the wilderness, was not easily reduced to direct action, when it was subjected to the deliberations of home. It was not a trifle to prepare 82 PREPARATIONS FOR RETURNING. the minds of a woman and her children to go where none of her sex, that were influenced by the tender- ness and comforts of civilization had ever been, and what she might have taken as her duty readily for her husband's sake, received a new reading when viewed as it might affect her children. Daniel and Squire could easily move off, as they had before - but the elder of the daring brothers had wider purposes than merely to take a family to a new home. He wanted to make a sure and steadfast event of the possession of the noble domain of Kentucky by the white man. The farm was to be sold; there were varied arrangements to make to give solidity to the enterprise; and above all, the population were to be leavened with the desire to possess the glorious in- heritance. There were other causes which made delay the most obvious. It was from this neighbor- hood that Stewart, and Cool, and Holden, and Monay, and the gallant Finley, had left for the same land to which Boone was persuading them. Where were they 9 Where was the man that accompanied Squire Boone when he first went out Their fate was in mystery, or, in all probability, the certainty of their destruction was the only revealing yet to be made. The Boones had indeed gone and returned in safety, but they were the exceptions to the general rule. It was a noble prize to win, but the hazards and dan- gers seemed fearful. 83 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. But beyond all, Daniel Boone moved with the ac- curacy with which great men make their plans sure, and this patiently abiding two years before he left to accomplish the great purpose of his heart, elucidates his character. It is the truly great man who " in his patience possesses " himself. To wait, is an attribute of those who see beyond the first page of action, which is about all the ordinary man compasses. If Boone had been a grasping, mercenary trader, he would have hurried, lest some keener venturer should dare the peril for the sake of the plunder. If he had been a brutal, coarse man, a mere Indian fighter, his regard for the mild and defenceless, for wife and children, would have been small. He would have commanded a reluctant obedience, and gone out like a Tartar chief. But this is perhaps as suitable a place, in this biography, as any other, to say, that the general, ill- informed opinion that Boone was a sort of corsair of the woods, living on Indian battle as his most cher- ished pursuit, is erroneous. Boone was the man who dared when daring was necessary in duty; but his was the quiet, fixed purpose that, having its serious work, its ordination of settlement, to do, fought only when it was required to clear the way or to defend. He had too much true courage to be the reckless In- dian killer. He was rather a mild but firm con- queror. Two years the people on the Yadkin delibe- rated and prepared, and Boone found much that re- 84 THEY COMMENCE THE JOURNFY. 8 quired his strong will. It was something to prove to himself that it was wise and kind to take them to the land of the wild beast and the scalping knife; to live where the presence of any other than the white man might be the signal for desolation and massacre. The calm recital of Boone had made its way to the people. A movement was now making to give him, when he started, a company of fellow travellers, far beyond, in power and numbers, the Six who had left for the same land a few years before. To go to the new country may have been considered as even more perilous, at this time, than when Boone first went. It could not but have impressed the settlers that a scene of very great difficulty was likely to arise in the whole country. It was in the year 1773, and slow as tidings in those days traveled, the recital of the increasing dissensions at Boston must have been familiar. These people knew the savages well, and had the best rea- sons for supposing, that in the event of a war, the In- dian would find it good ground of quarrel, that a stranger came into their hunting ground, if, indeed, they needed even the pretext. But the hour for parting arrived at last, and on the twenty-fifth of September, 1773, Daniel and Squire Boone left the Yadkin -their families accompanying - strong in resolution. They had taken care to pro- vide themselves with cattle -with whatever would surest make a comfortable home for them - and espe- 8S' 86 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. cially did they not forget to take with them four good horses. Boone knew, as thousands of gallant Kentucki- ans have since his day, that there was a good and abundant pasturage for stock in his new found coun- try. They left the Yadkin, where, since they had parted from their native Pennsylvania, they had found a home. The Eastern States have sent out vast com- panies of emigrants, but never any in whose fortune more for the future was concentrated. Boone had succeeded in starting the acquisition and conquest of Kentucky, and this was a great work begun. This page in the original text is blank. II I II - znT - - BOONE'S FL.IGHlT WITHI 1118 DEA\D SON. CHAPTER V. THlE JOURNEY -FIVE FAMILIES AND FORTY MEN JOIN THE BOONES AT POW- ELL S VALLEY- A PARTY OF THE EMIGRANTS ARE ATTACKED BY IrNpIANS - BOONE S SON AND FIVE OTHERS KILLED -THE COMPANY TURN BACK TO THE SETTLEMENTS ON CLINCH RIVER- THE LONG HUNTERS -VIRGINIA GRANTS LAND IN KENTUCKY TO THE SOLDIERS OF THE FRENCH WAR -THEY LEARN THE CHARACTER OF THE LAND FROM BOONE - LORD DUNMORE ORDERS A SURVEY - THE EXPEDITION - BOONE'S REPORTS CONFIRMED - HERDS OF BUFFALO -SURVEYORS REACH THE PRESENT LOCATION OF HARRODSBUEG AND LOUISVILLE-LORD DUNMORE SENDS FOR BOONE-RESCUOF THE SURVEYORS. THE great journey thus pleasantly begun, had one more most gratifying incident. Such had been the influence of what Boone had said and done, and es- pecially the latter, that at Powell'w Yalley he found himself surrounded by a reinforcement of five fami- lies and forty men, well armed. The Indians might read a lesson in the latter fact. This company was now a strong one. It had for its leader the best hun- ter of the New World-the man who could see and find and do all that the savage could, and beyond him, had the arts and wisdom of the white man. They had horses and cattle-female society-the combined means and strength of a respectable force. 8I8FE OF DANIEL BOONE. They were in the best condition for a journey, and it is quite likely that when the party started, thus in- creased, for the Mountain, Boone felt that he was al- ready repaid for his trials and sufferings. The emi- grants little thought to what a dark and bloody book this gathering of the cavalcade was the preface. A writer (Peck, in Sparks' American Biography,) accu- rately describes the encampment of such a party, as "neal some spring or water course, where temporary shelters are made by placing poles in a sloping posi- tion, with one end resting on the ground, the other elevated in forks. On these, tent-cloth, prepared for the purpose, or articles of bed covering, are stretched. The fire is kindled in front, against a fallen tree or log, towards which the foot is placed while sleeping. The clothing worn at day is seldom removed at night." The knowledge of Squire Boone in this jour- ney was invaluable. He had become familiar with the route -its weary and its winning ways, and where the best resting places for the night could be found. He probably knew well the wide natural way, now known as the Cumberland Gap -the door left by Nature for the use, not so much of the hunter, as for the great achievements of our own day, when engineering under similar circumstances finds that all has been done which art can here desire or hope. The three great States, Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee, lie near in conjunction to this Pass. Squire 88 A'ITACKED BY THE INDIANS. must have marked the journey he had made minutely. He had traversed it alone, and had leisure then to place indelibly on his memory the great features of the road, that is, if their way could be considered as a road. They were approaching the Gap. To get over the mountains was their cherished purpose. Once over, they would see for themselves whether Finley's glow- ing, stories had been true, as the Boones declared they found them to be. The march had been uninterrupted. They had passed the ridge known as Walden's, when seven of their young men fell back; courageous, not fearing separation, but most unwisely as the sad event proved. They had the care of the stock, and perhaps it was to collect the scattered ones that they had gone away from the main body. As no enemy had been seen, the concentration of danger had not been enforced, though it was a bitter error that it was not. Boone had one of his sons in the group who had gone out of line. The company were not entirely easy in their absence, and when they heard sounds proceeding from the quarter where the wanderers were, indicating con- flict, there was a rush to their rescue. It was too late. The Indians had come suddenly upon the seven, un- prepared as they were by any knowledge or sign ox their approach. The fight was a massacre. Out ot the seven, six were killed. One succeeded in an es- cape. When Boone and those who rushed to the 89 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. scene reached there, for there were several miles be- tween them, he saw his own son among those who had fallen. Such was the first severe lesson of loss in which Boone's eventful history was writing itself. His boy was seventeen -his eldest boy- undoubt- edly fully competent to be an aid and companion to his father, as he had been a solace and protect- or to his mother. It was James Boone who thus fell in the struggle to obtain a foothold in the wil- derness. His courage is evidenced by his having been willing to separate himself thus far from the main troop, and his father's confidence in him is equally shown. This severe calamity, almost the most severe that could have fallen to Boone's fate, was a dreadful crisis. It was arresting the high hope of the emi- grants, and, by the saddest of trials, teaching them how true all their fears of danger in crossing the mountain were. The tenth of October was the day on which this occurred, and thus, in the brief space of fourteen days, the entire prospect and plan of the first great party of settlers was changed. The Indians, having done the evil, were easily defeated. Proba- bly they would not have ventured the attack, if the young men had been with the Hunter; but as they found these boys without aid or protection, it was characteristic of the savage to avail himself of the weakness of those to whom his enmity was every hour increasing. The sad task of the burial of the 90 THE EXPEDITION TURNS BACK. dead was performed in sorrow. This blow had not fallen alone on Boone. With his son five others died. Boone, with emphatic phrase, calls it "a cloud of ad- versity." It was a dark one; one that fell upon the expedition just as it was assuming every appearance of being destined for the very happiest results. But it was one of those periods of sadness which have their part in moulding the character of men. The bar was in the furnace, and from it Boone seems to have come forth with less injury than most or any other prominent man of his condition. The expedition turned back! It was a dreadful end to a beginning replete with all that energy and enterprise and experience could furnish. What Boone was, is shown by this. If he had been a mere fighter, a brawler, a half civilized frontier ranger, he would not have listened to the gentle sorrows of the bereaved mother, or the sadness and despondency of neighbors and townsmen. It cannot escape the attention of the observer, that while in almost every narration of the incidents of the lives of the men of the frontier, the desire for revenge for every foray and incursion seems paramount, in Boone's case -severe as were the suc- sessive experiences which he encountered, of the In- dian in his ferocious midnight walks of search after life -he seems to have been calm and mild; ener- getic for defence, but not active or zealous for the blood of those who had injured him. 91. LI9E OF DANTEL BOONE. The trial to. the wife of Daniel Boone was severe indeed. Her husband had organized this expedition. It was to follow the bold path that he had carved out, that they were come. Since the head of her family had taken up the thread of that bold destiny that pointed to the glorious land beyond the mountain barrier, her home had been almost a widowed one. Sadder, indeed, for if Boone had died, the event would have been certain, and Time, the great Healer of human woe, would have interposed; but in the se- paration of successive months, when not a word was to be heard, it was suffering all the pangs of hope de- ferred in its keenest ill. And now, when she had de- termined no longer to be separated, the gratulation at being at his side was lost in the bitter grief for the loss of her manly and beloved child. Boone was on his way to what he deemed (for such are his words in relation to it) " a second paradise." That in all its experiences of wild man and wild beast, solitude and semi-starvation, he should have found it in his heart thus to speak of it, indicates the strong concentration of his purposes -the iron will, deter- mined in its end but prudent in its exertion. When, years afterwards, Boone was relating to his extraordi- nary secretary, Filson, this sad episode in his life, he speaks of it briefly, but there is a directness in the narrative, which sufficiently indicates how great an ob- 92 THE CONSULTATION. stacle to the immediate prosecution of the enterprise, this calamity involved. The consultation which the company held immedi- ately on the occurrence of this disaster, was in sight of the graves of six of their nearest and dearest, and although it is stated that Squire and Daniel, and a few others, were in favor of proceeding, and accom- plishing the mountain passage, the majority were against them, and the retreat was determined. The emigrants were not so utterly disheartened as to re- turn altogether to their old homes, but to the settle- ments on the Clinch River, so that Virginia received them; a circumstance which may have been, in view of the events which followed, of much importance. In the review, it is strange that men so powerful, who had proved the ways of the wilderness, and had known savage life in all its phases, should have so peacefully agreed to return. They must have known that their discovery was now likely to be anticipated, and the incident is abundant in its proof that the great Pioneer possessed the complete mastery over himself, in his quiet waiting for the future. The principal ranges of the Allegany, which they had been about to pass, were Powell, Walden and Cumberland. Stretching fron the north-east to the south-west, they made the great wall which had been, by the settlers at the East, invested with terrors which this band of pioneers had just so signally proved were LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. not imaginary. The mother had told her boy of the dangers of the fierce and wandering Indian, who, in the passes of these ranges, stood ready to destroy whoever might be so bold as to venture; and when first Squire and afterwards Daniel Boone had safely and successfully found their way over, and had kin- dled the enterprise of the frontier by their narration of the glorious land that was to be won, the child was convinced that the fear of the mother hadt paint- ed a foe that did not exist. Fearfully had the child learned how true was the instinct that taught the mother to dread the journey over the mountain. The mountains themselves, divested of the peril of man and beast, were so wild and rugged as to give scope to all the fear of the traveler. Boone says (and he was not of the stuff of which vain fears are made) that " the aspect of these cliffs is so wild and horrid, that it is impossible to behold them without terror." The experiences of the brothers in their journey had been of vast advantage. Aided by this pilotage, the party had successfully gained the most elevated- Waldens -when the attack of the Indians suddenly changed all their purposes, and induced the retreat to Clinch River, from which, it is most probable, many of the party never again issued forth. The settle- ment on Clinch River had been of some duration, and the number of families who had made this their home, gave it a strength where security was felt. 94 THE LONG HUNTERS. The famous company of Long Hunters had, in 1771, two years previous to this incident in the narrative, taken into this western region a hunt of such dura- tion that they who participated in it were designated by the above name. These were Casper Mauiser, whose hunting experiences had been extensive, James Knox, John Montgomery, Isaac Bledsoe, and others. One or two other parties had traversed far into the wilderness, sometimes threading the woods, and in other cases, using the waters of the rivers for the pnr- poses of their exploration. The staple commodity of those days was furs, venison, and bear's meat. These began the great trade which now uses to its utmost capacities all the energies of Commerce. The vicinity of the Great Rivers were sooner known, for the ingenuity of the white man, in his better knowledge of the means of traversing the water, gave him facilities beyond those which the simple skill of the Indian could compass. It was the great boldness in all these enterprises to attack the wilderness. Here the man was left to his own energies, without the friendly assistance of the rapid current of a river, that bore him onward beyond the pursuit of the savage. Here it was that Boone evinced his sublime courage. He called the lone wil- derness, where for months no aid or sympathy was within his reach, a paradise, and proved himself one of 95 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. those sages, who Cowper tells us, have found a charm in solitude. Daniel Boone was now recognized as the discoverer of Kentucky; the discoverer, not as he is so styled who, by the accident of wind and tide may find the prow of his Vessel upon a land hitherto unknown, but as having determined by the heroism and bravery of his experiences, and the intelligence of his obser- vation, what beauty and what bounty had been spread out there awaiting the march of empire. The hunter boy who had learned the power of the rifle in the woods which adjoined Reading, (in our day how un- like the place that taught forest-craft to the woods- man!) was now admitted to have been the guide of his country towards the great possession which the savage used but to abuse, and which were of all lands most suitable for the triumphs of civilization. The description which Boone had given of the inexhaust- ible fertility of the soil, had awakened the keen atten- tion of Carolina and Virginia. If the country was such as the Pioneer had delineated it, it was to be grasped, and he would be fortunate who secured a home there. We are accustomed, at this period, to speak of the Revolutionary struggle as the Old War. The con- flicts of 1812 and 1846 have, by their recent date, thrown the others far back, almost into history; but to our fathers, the strife that immediately preceded VIRGIA PASSES B0U1T1Y LAWS. the Revolution bore the title of the Old War. With us, it is now best known as the French War. It was the last time in which we bore a foreign banner in the field, or graced the Crown by Colonial bravery. In that war the best blood of Virginia had mingled. Our own Washington learned then the lessons of martial knowledge, which he so eminently used, when directing his skill against the sway of the monarch, in whose ranks he had so bravely fought under Brad- dock. Virginia had sent out her troops, who had done good service, and the Colony, for such service, had very properly voted a remuneration in bounty lands. These had been located - for it was very easy for the Colonial government, to declare the statutory possession of land, on the Kentucky. The counsel- ors who, at the seat of government of the Ancient Dominion, felicitated themselves that they had so gen- erously remembered the soldier, did not stop to think that it would require the bravery of a campaign to get possession of the gift. Of what this land was, Boone had told them. They had an indefinite idea where they were, but their duties ended in the law. They told the soldier what they had given him. It was for him to arrive there. Nor is this extraordi- nary The history of the " Military Tract " of West- ern New York would furnish equal instances of the distinction between ownership by law and by actual possession. 97 E 7 98LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. But the Government of Virginia did not quite con- tent itself with passing the bounty laws. Governor Dunmore sent - relying on the great fact that Boone had been able to maintain and sustain himself there alone -a party of surveyors to give some form and shape to the donations to the soldiery. Lord Dunmore was then the governor of Virginia, succeeding Lord Botetourt. The attention of this nobleman had been attracted to the great capabilities of the West, and in 1772, he made all the arrange- ments for a visit thither, in the companionship of George Washington, when the latter was unexpect- edly compelled to give up the enterprise, so welcome to him, by the death of young Custis. It is of vivid interest here to recall the facts which show how much Kentucky owes to Washington, in the preparation of the train of events which led to its settlement. The extract we give from the admirable life, by Sparks, of the great Virginian, will show that it was to his energy that the soldiers of the French War were chiefly indebted for their land -his scrupu- lous and careful justice providing for all. " In the midst of his public engagements, another affair, extremely vexatious in its details, employed much of his attention. The claims of the officers and soldiers to lands, granted by Governor Dinwiddie, as a reward for their servi- ces at the begining of the French war, met with innumerable obstacles for a long time, first from the ministry in Eg,1=d, and next fronm the authorities in Virginia. By his unwearied 98 A SURVEY IS ORDERED. exertions, however, and by these alone, and mostly at his own expense, the matter was at last adjusted. Nor did he remit his efforts, till every officer and private soldier hald re- ceived his due proportion. Where deaths had occurred, the heirs were sought out, and their claims verified and allowed. Even Vanbraam, who was believed to have deceived him at the capitulation of the Great Meadows, and who went as hostage to Canada, thence to England and never returned to America, was not forgotten in the distribution. His share was reserved, and he was informed that it was at his disposal." To facilitate this purpose, the Governor ordered the survey. Id 1773, such names as Taylor, Bullitt, Har- rod, McAfee - famous in the annals of Kentucky,- were employed on this arduous duty. They were led by Captain Thomas Bullitt, well selected for such service, since he had been engaged in the celebrated expedition against Fort Du Quese. He led his party down the Ohio to the Falls, where a camp was built and fortified, so as to protect them from the Indians. Many surveys were made in Kentucky, and the pre- dictions and assertions of Boone verified. The brothers McAfee followed up the survey, and "a local habitation and a name " begun to appear in the wilderness-so rapidly were the plans of Boone un- derstood by the Virginians. The buffalo was of great use to these explorers. Their paths, worn by long use, by the undisturbed travel of successive years, were adopted by the hunt- ers. They had a convenience and form which were LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. valued, and from their resemblance to something like the work of man, the hunters called them the streets. The first survey on the Kentucky River was of six hundred acres, and was made by Taylor and the McAfee's. These adventurous men saw with interest the roads broken through the cane-brake by the mi- grating animals, and watched the contests which the salt licks witnessed among the brute creation, for that article, next to an absolute necessity-salt; less patient and self-denying than Boone, who had passed his solitary months even without it. In 1774, other surveyors followed. In May, Cap- tain James Harrod, with a party of forty-one men, descended the Ohio River from the Monongahela, and arrived at the present location of Harrodsburgh, or, as it was first called, Harrodstown, or Old town; and if the locality should be famous for nothing else, it would be for the fact that there corn was first raised - the first of that harvest which in our days glows in beauty, on all the vast expanse of fertile soil. The manner in which this town was laid out, proves that land was in abundance. They were literally " mon- archs of all they surveyed," and made their town lots to consist of an half acre, and their out lots of five acres, with a generosity of purpose, which would be extravagant in some parts of Kentucky in these times. Another party landed at the present site of Louis- ville, traveling up the Kentucky River. There were 100 DISSA'TIFACTION OF THE INDIANS. thus scattered over the wilderness country successive parties of Virginians, each actively occupied in the possession of the land, in arranging it in order, and in facilitating the plans of Washington for its division among the soldiery of the French War. To all the perils of privation, of whatever rendered the travel difficult, these men were inured. Since the bold da- ring of Boone had enabled him to brave all these alone, it would have been pusillanimous in a party of men to have quailed or faltered. The chief danger, of course, was with the Indians. The treaty of Fort Stanwix, in 1768, might have been sufficiently comprehended by the chiefs engaged in it, but the interior of the Colony of New York was too far off to be considered by the great mass of the nation, or by many included within the powerful confederacy of the Six Nations, as the place in which their title to a great and fertile territory was to be ex- tinguished. " The Indian nations," Filson says, " not concerned in the grant, became dissatisfied with the prospect of a settlement which might become so dan- gerous a thorn in their side, and committed some massacres upon the first explorers of the country." The "some massacres " so coolly talked about, inclu- ded the dreadful slaughter which checked and des- troyed the expedition which, under the auspices and directions of Daniel Boone, had, under such fair pros- pects, started from the Yadldn. 101 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. These men were in danger. Governor Dunmore perceived their peril, and counseled as to the best means for their rescue. The times were dark in all quarters of the country. Between the Crown and the Colonies there was no longer love or loyalty, and the fierce passions of war were stirring, in all their full sway, the savage. To him, the Fort Stanwix treaty was soon to be only the hated memory of an act of subserviency. The Governor of Virginia sought the man for the exigency. When the death of James Boone and those who perished with him, broke up the expedition from the Yadkin and Powell's Valley, as has been be- fore stated, the voice of the majority was controlling, and the party returned, making the end of their jour- ney the settlements on Clinch River. Here Boone remained quietly and peaceably, during seven months. It was a strange end to that journey so nobly begun. A winter of calm domestic incident, among.the set- tlements of a secure land, was not that on which he had built his projects. He expected a winter in the land which he had explored; a camp guarded and protected by the power of Heaven, only by ceaseless vigilance. He had anticipated the possession of the wildest and widest range for his rifle that the keenest hunter could have desired. He had believed that his followers would have been all gathered around him, reveling in the luxuriance of the rich land to which 102 BOONE'S FAME IN VIRGINIA. lhe had brought them. All this the Indian had frus- trated, and the keenest incident of their cruelty was the death of his son; and yet he seems patiently to have gone to the settlement, seeing with strong sense that, for the time, this was the wisest. Boone had not ceased to believe himself " an instrument ordain- ed to settle the wilderness," and he rested till the oc- casion for the continuation of this great work should present itself. The boldness and daring, the calm enterprise of Boone, had made his name known. It had reached the high and aristocratic Court of Virginia -for such was the Government of that Colony-that one man had traversed the mountain, and over every danger, and through every difficulty, had reached the glorious country of Kentucky; had, with perseverance and a courage deserving the epithet of sublime, not from fanaticism, or the dread of or aversion for his species, made his distinct occupation of the land he had cho- sen, and in the midst of all'had been calm, and after all had been patient and firm; who had, with all the perils and persecutions of the pioneer and the prison- er, neither been revengeful nor bloody; and whose character seemed fitted to be that of the leader and the father of a country. Governor Dunmore sent to Boone, and, as Boone tells the incident, "solicited him to go to the Falls of the Ohio, to conduct into the set- tIement a number of surveyors that had been sent 103 104 LIEV OF DANIEL BOONE. thither by him some months before - this country having, about this time, drawn the attention of many adventurers." The summons from Court, the " soli- citation" by the Governor, must have produced its sensation in the quiet settlement on the Clinch. To the wife of Boone it must have seemed like the call to new trials. The husband and father was to be ex- posed to the perils which had deprived her of her son. To the settlers the occasion was one in which they felt pride, since it evidenced that, out of all the coun- try, their leader and companion had been selected as the person most deserving of the confidence of the Head of the State. CHAPTER VI. BOONE AND STONER PENETRATE THE WILDERNESS EIGHT HUNDRED MILES, TO THE FALLS OF THE OHIO-THEY FIND THE PARTY OF JAMES HARROD, ANE WARN THEM OF INDIAN HOSTILITIES - LORD DUTNMORE ASSIGNS BOONE TO A MILITARY COMMAND - BATTLE OF POINT PLEASANT-BOONE RETURNS TO HIS FAMILY - FERTILITY AND BEAUTY OF THE WEST - RICHARD HENDER- SON - HIS PROJECT OF A COLONY - BOONE IS SENT ON A MISSION TO THE INDIANS BY LORD DUNMORE -HIS SUCCESS -BOONE EPLOYED TO OPEN A ROAD FROM THE HOLSTON TO THE KENTUCKY RIVER-HOSTILITY OF THB INDIANS-LESTER TO COLONEL HENDERSON. BooNE says "he immediately complied with the Governor's request." The promptitude and courage of the man was shown in the act. Undoubtedly it was a most welcome service. That winter must have been to him a period of plans and purposes, which found realization in this commission. is One Michael Stoner" was associated with him. Stoner was, like himself, a pioneer. He had hunted on Cumberland River, and was familiar with wood-craft. He after- wards was conspicuous in the frontier conflicts, and was wounded at Boonesborough. Hardy, and bold, and adventurous as he doubtless was, it seems that he had the rare wisdom of taking good care of him- LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. self, and from all the perils of the border war, secu- ring for himself a good share of the land he had as- sisted in subduing. When, in after years, the court assembled to vindicate and arrange the accuracy of the land titles, Stoner receiver the following certificate. "Michael Stoner, this day appeared, and claimed a right to a settlement, and preemption to a tract of land lying on Stoner's Fork, a branch of the South Fork of Licking, about twelve miles above Licking station, by making corn in the country in the year 1775, and improving the said land in the year 1776; satisfactory proof being made to the court, they are of the opinion, that the said Stoner had a right to a set- tlement of four hundred acres of land, including the above mentioned improvements, and a preemption of one thousand acres adjoining the same, and that a certificate issue accord- ingly." With this suitable companion Boone left the Clinch. It has been stated that the reason why Boone and his expedition remained during the winter, after the death of James Boone, at Clinch, was that they were kept in check by the Indians, but this does not seem prob- able, since, as soon as Lord Dunmore communicated his request to Boone, he started off-himself and Stoner traversing the scene of all the danger, and ar- riving safely at the Falls of the Ohio; tracking their way through the wilderness, and by their skill and by their bravery, accomplishing with honor to themselves the important mission of deliverance; completing a tour of eight hundred miles, through every species 106 BOONE AND STONER'S JOURNEY. of obstacle, or, as Boone modestly calls it "many difficulties," in sixty-two days. It is sad to think that of a journey so interesting, those who participated in it have left so few memori- als. Its record by Boone is of the most brief and unsat- isfactory kind. Yet, it was not devoid of interest, and to Boone it must have been of the greatest mo- ment. His very journey resulted from his own la- bors. He saw how rapidly his movement had been followed, and how soon the adventurous and enter- prising had pushed through the gate himself had opened; and wherever he went, those who had reared their cabin cheered the brave Pioneer whose lead they had followed. At their settlement, Boone found the party of James Hiarrod, and it was part of the duty to which Gov- ernor Dunmore bad assigned Boone and Stoner, to warn the settlers that the Northern Indians had be- come hostile. It would have been well for this com- One of the party whom he rescued was John Floyd, a name memorable in the annals of Virginia, as associated with its bravery, its honors, its eloquence. The region west of the mountains was considered as part of Fincastle county, Virginia. Of this Col. Preston was the chief surveyor. Floyd acted as his deputy, and as such was sent out by Lord Dunmore. His career in after life, though terminated by a murderous assault from the savage foe, was conspicuous in the history of the country, and it is interesting to know that on a memorable occasion in Boone's life, when he sought to rescue beloved members of his own family, Col. Floyd was of the party who aided him Such is the destiny of a heroic deed. It is transmigrated into another. 107 1LE0IM OF DANIEL BOONE. pany had they given immediate heed to the informa- tion thus communicated to them. The Harrod party remained at their settlement till July 20. At that time, some of his men having discovered a spring near their town, to which they had assigned the pretty, plagiarised title of Fontainblau- were remaining around their discovery. The Indians made one of their characteristic and sudden attacks, killing one of their number, and dispersing the others. One of them returned safely to Harrod's camp. The other (and the incident is characteristic of the strange and unexpected results which are woven in the lives of these men) made for the trail that led to the Falls, (where Louisville now is,) and descending the Ohio, and even the great Mississippi, in a bark canoe, does not seem to have rested till he got around to Phila- delphia by seal If all this journey was the result of one fright by Indians, this man could not have been of the stuff of which the race of pioneers were formed. And yet there was some courage in this voyage in a bark canoe; such boats being occasion- ally formed only with tomahawk and knife, with which a tree would be cut down and skinned -begun at sunrise and finished at sundown. The judgment of Lord Dunmore in respect to the probability of hostilities with the Indians, was veri- fied. The Shawanees, occupying the Great and Little Miami, and other of the Northwestern Indians, deter- i Os TIHE INDIANS DETERMINE TO FIGHT. mined to fight. They saw the rich possession of their fathers fading from them, for since the attention of the settlers had been given to the Kentucky, the rapid increase in number of the occupants taught them that a very different destiny was before them, than when a solitary individual, like Boone, sought their wilder- ness. They went to the fight with the conviction, in some minds, that they could crush at once the emi- gration, and, in all probability, with the belief in the minds of others, even among those savage tribes, that the day of the Red Man would soon be over. Boone speaks of this war as "the campaign which Gov- ernor Dunmore carried on against the Shawanee Indians." Of all that Boone and Stoner did, in their sixty- two days' journey, the imperfect record furnishes few facts. Undoubtedly Boone from place to place continued his research into the capacities of the new country, and stored away in his mind those points in its topography where the white man would soonest find facilities for his settlement. Of the rich lands- the abundant pasturage - the hunting ground - the water power -the forest, he informed himself thor- oughly. His selection by the Government had given him a confidence that his labor in the progress of do- minion over the wilderness, was recognized and ap- preciated by his fellow men. The perseverance and vigor which must have char- 109 LIEM OF DANIEL BOONE. acterized this journey - the great distance traveled, in the very midst of that which, in the full sense of the term, was an enemy's country-makes this one of the most remarkable, as it is one of the most hon- orable, of the incidents of the life of this great man. That to the Virginian Court the performance of this duty by Boone, had been most satisfactory, is evidenced by the fact, that immediately upon the close of his trust, Governor Dunmore assigned him to a military command. It is curious to note the dif- ferent language which Boone uses, in his own narra- tive in relation to this. When he had been deputed to the first service, he says he was 8olicitd by the Governor. When the military office was bestowed, he says he was "ordered to take the command of three garrisons;" so soon did he fall into the language, as undoubtedly he did into the habits and discipline, of the soldier. These garrisons were upon the fron- tier; the Governor wisely judging that to the man who could evade and baffle the savages while alone, during months of residence and the travel of many hundreds of miles, might be safely committed the very out-posts of the war. This campaign ended with the battle of Point Pleasant, fought where the Great Kenhawa and the Ohio rivers join. It is the bloodiest battle in the re- cords of Virginia, with its Indian foe. The Virgin- ians, eleven hundred strong, were under the command 110 BATTLE OF POINT PLEASANT. of General Andrew Lewis. The Indians were led by their celebrated chief, Cornstalk. In the Shawanese tribe and Confederacy, he was first. He had the ability to lead, and the battle, under such control, could not but be decisive, and it was so. The In- dians fought desperately, and in the records of the dead and wounded, left bitter memories of their prowess. The loss was very severe to the Virginians, seventy-five being killed, and one hundred and forty wounded. This ended the campaign, and it was felt throughout all the Indian Nations. Boone, after the same careful and satisfactory dis- charge of his duty, returned to his family, at Clinch River, passing the winter in hunting, as an occupation suited to his vigorous energies, and, in all probability, framing in his mind new thought of future plans for the occupation of the new country. Before entering on the next epoch in the life of this remarkable man, it will be of interest to notice the opinion which others entertained of the magnitude, -of the value of the country to which he stood in the relation almost of a discoverer - certainly in that of the Pioneer. Kentucky was to the enterprising a field of hope. There, all that had been fancied of a rich and luxuriant country, free to the adventurous, and in which the enterprising were to find, so soon as the blessing of a good government should be extend- ed over it, every good that the remunerating tillage illl LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. of the earth could furnish - in Kentucky, all this was to be realized. The language used by Boone and Finley, was repeated in less inflated and in calmer terms, but with a meaning of equal strength, by those who necessarily came out to see this good land for themselves. It had a value which they felt would repay the severe toil its occupancy was costing, and would cost, and there were those who, like Boone, lived to see the greatness of the Free State realize- more than realize -all that, when they looked upon it in its original beauties, had been uttered and delin- eated. Imlay gives his sketch of its appearance, which while rhapsodical and poetical, is yet indicative of the impression upon the early traveler. " Everything here assumes a dignity and splendor, I have never seen in any other part of the world. You ascend a considerable distance from the shore of the Ohio, and when you would suppose you had arrived at the summit of a mountain, you find yourself upon an extensive level. Here an eternal verdure reigns, and the brilliant sun of latitude 390 piercing through the azure heavens, produces in this prolific soil an early maturity, which is truly astonishing. Flowers, full and perfect, as if they had been cultivated by the hand of a florist, with all their captivating odors, and with all the variegated charms which color and nature can produce, here, in the lap of elegance and beauty, decorate the smiling groves. Soft zephyrs gently breathe on sweets, and the inhaled air gives a voluptuous glow of health and vigor, that seems to ravish the intoxicated senses. The sweet song- sters of the forest appear to feel the influence of the genial 112 VIRGINIA ENCOURAGES TIlE sEwl LERS. clime, and in more soft, and modulated tones warble their tender notes, in unison with love and nature. Everything here gives delight,, and in that wild effulgency which beams around us, we feel a glow of gratitude, for the elevation which our all bountiful Creator has bestowed upon us. You must forgive what I know you will call rhapsody, but what I really experienced after traveling across the Alleghany Mountain in March, when it was covered with snow, and after finding the country about Pittsburgh bare, and not recovered from the ravages of winter. There was scarcely a blade of grass to be seen; everything looked dreary, and bore those marks of melancholy which the rude frost produces. I embarked immediately for Kentucky, and in less than nine days landed at Limestone, where I found nature robed in all her charms." Virginia now determined to encourage the settle- ment of a land which promised to be, in its wide ex- tent and unexampled fertility, so useful and so pow- erful. The authorities offered four hundred acres of land to every person who engaged to build a cabin, clear a piece of land, and produce a crop of Indian corn. This was called a settlement-right. Many of these settlements were made, when a new and extra- ordinary feature in the history of Kentucky presented itself, and one with which Boone was intimately connected. Richard Henderson, of North Carolina, had grown up to maturity before he could read and write, and only acquired these foundation branches of education by perseverance at a period when, as the early love 8 113 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. of learning has not been fostered, it is often most diffi cult to form. I-e began life as a constable, but pos sessing genius, and that power of voice and expres- sion in conversation and public speaking which is the real eloquence, he adopted the profession of the law, always most influential in a new settlement. A Brit- ish traveler, (Dr. Smyth,) an agent of Lord Dunmore, describes him as of superior genius, with amazing talent, and of a manner so agreeable as to leave him without a single enemy; and that, while a very young man, ho was appointed Associate Chief Judge of North Carolina. Evidently, to this gentleman even his judicial honors did not afford sufficient dignity, and he struck out a bold path-one of the boldest ever attempted by any American. He spent his mo- ney somewhat too freely, and Dr. Smith observes that his extensive genius struck out a bolder road to for- tune and fame than any one before him had ever at- tempted. He founded a colony. He was not content with any possession but a principality. Dr. Smyth thus rapidly sketches this new grasp at empire: " Under pretence of viewing some back lands, he privately went out to the Cherokee nation of Indians, and for an insig- nificant consideration, (only ten wagons loaded with cheap goods, some fire arms and spirituous liquors,) made a pur- ohase, from the chiefs of the nation, of a vast tract of terri- tory, equal in extent to a kingdom, and in the excellence of climate and soil, extent of its rivers, and beautiful elegance of situations, inferior to none in the universe. A domain of 114 HENDERSON'S PURCHASE. no less than one hundred miles square, situated on the back or interior part of Virginia, and of North and South Caro lina; comprehending the rivers Kentucky, Cherokee and Ohio, besides a variety of inferior rivulets, delightful and charming as imagination can conceive. This transaction he kept a profound secret, until such time as he obtained the final ratification of the whole nation in form. Then he im- mediately invited settlers from all the Provinces, offering them lands on the most advantageous terms, and proposing to them, likewise, to form a legislature and government of their own; such as might be most convenient to their par- ticular circumstances of settlement. And he instantly va- cated his seat on the bench. Mr. Henderson by this means established a new colony, numerous and respectable, of which he himself was virtually proprietor as well as gover- nor, and indeed legislator also; having framed a code of laws particularly adapted to their singular situation and local circumstances. "In vain did the different Governors fulminate their pro- clamations of outlawry against him and his people; in vain did they offer rewards for apprehending him, and forbid ev- ery person from joining or repairing to his settlement; un- der the sanction and authority of a general law, that ren- ders the formal assent of the Governois and Assemblies of the different Provinces absolutely necessary to vindicate the purchase of any lands from the Indian nations. For this in- stance being the act of the Indians themselves, they defended him and his colony, being in fact as a bulwark and barrier between Virginia, as well as North and South Carolina, and him; his territory lying to the westward of their nation." An authority more reliable than that of Doctor Smytl-the intelligent and well judging Governor 115Y L IFE OF DANIEL BOONE. Morehead -recites the founding of Transylvania in an interesting detail. "In the autumn of the year 1774, there originated in North Carolina, one of the most extraordinary schemes of ambition and speculation, which was exhibited in an age pregnant with such events. Eight private gentlemen- Richard Henderson, William Johnston, Nathaniel Hart, John Tuttrel, David Hart, John Williams, James Hogg, and Leonard Henley Bullock, contrived the project. of purchas- ing a large tract of country, in the west, from the Cherokee Indians, and provisionary arrangements were made, with a view to the accomplishment of their object, for a treaty to be held with them in the ensuing year. This was the cele- brated Transylvania company, which formed so singular a connexion with our early annals. In March, 1775, Col. Hen- derson, on behalf of his associates, met the chiefs of the Che- rokees, who were attended by twelve hundred warriors, at a fort on the Wataga, the south-eastern branch of the Hol- ston River. A council was held, the terms were discussed, the purchase was consummated -including the whole tract of country between the Cumberland and Kentucky rivers." This treaty, so curiously formed by these adventur- ous gentlemen with the Indians, and which transferred to them, for a brief time at least, a sovereignity so ex- tensive, was held at Wataga, an Indian Town, sit- uated on the south branch of the Holston River. As Boone had been selected by Lord Dunmore to guide through the wilderness his best surveyors, so was his sagacity and skill recognized in this new trust. He was, in fact, the man who was relied upon to secure 116 TRIEATY W VIT TH 1 IN r ITANS. the possession of this vast country. Ile had been (the Indians must have known it well,) the man to whom the whites were indebted for their knowledge of the rich and beautiful land which was once all their own, in undisturbed possession, and which, but for the courage and perseverance of Boone, might have been in their possession for years; for it has been said by good authority, that the conduct of Boone anticipated for the whites the possession of that noble land, many years ahead of the period when, by the succession of events, it would have fallen to them. The Indians saw in Boone, the man who had wrought all this, and yet he had never given them personal cause for hatred or revenge. This is the marked dif- ference between Boone and the other Pioneers. He went out to possess; too many of them went forth to slay and destroy. Boone was chosen to represent the intending proprietors in their immediate nego- tiations. The treaty was most numerously attended. There twelve hundred warriors saw the great Hunter, and the greater Pioneer. The chiefs of the Chero- kees saw for themselves, who it was that had sought out their land. And yet, so wisely was this coun- cil directed, that it resulted, as has been stated, in the acquisition. Doctor Smyth thinks the consideration paid, a tri- fling one, but. it is elsewhere, with greater probability, stated to have been ten thousand pounds sterling, in 117 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. goods. The unconscionable profit realised in Indian trades, may somewhat reduce this high sounding cost. Judge Hall thinks this purchase was the result of the careful examination and accurate secret informa- tion obtained by Boone on his first journey, when, as the learned Judge thinks, he was acting as the confi- dential agent of those who, afterward, became the proprietors of the Transylvania Colony. If this be so, never was an agent more faithful; and the fact that a company of men, intelligent and prominent such as these were, should hinge the great purpose of their life on his statement, is a vivid illustration of the real greatness of his character. He sagaciously kept his counsel and theirs. He thoroughly fulfilled all that had been intrusted to him. John Quincy Adams said of La Fayette, that he had the great tal- ent of always being adequate to the duty to which he was designated. When these proprietors had accomplished their ne- gotiation with the Indians, their next step was to pro- vide for the settlement and survey of their possessions, and Boone was immediately selected. He had dis- covered the country, negotiated for it, and was now to make the first mark of civilization upon it, in the exploration and opening of a road from the settlement on the Holston, to the Kentucky River. This was no light labor. In the cane-brakes and the hills, there would have been work enough in peaceable times to 118 OPENING OF THE ROAD. have found a path through the wilderness; how much more, when a savage and treacherous race was all around, who would very readily find loop holes enough in a treaty to put a musket ball through, especially as every mile of the road was a presage of their own downfall. He had assigned to him to aid in this service, a company of men, well armed. Boone says they were all enterprising men, as they had need to be, if they were to follow Boone through the wilderness. He was " to mark out a road in the best passage from the settlement, through the wilderness, to Kentucky, with such assistance as he thought necessary." It was a perilous task, but Boone was at home in the woods, and knew all the mysteries of campaigning there. In the clearing he was to make, would soon follow the pack-horses and wagons, in which Colonel Henderson was to essay the furtherance of his settlement. Again Boone left his family for a scene of peril and ex- posure. It will be seen shortly, that these constant absences were becoming intolerable, and were rem- edied. On went the road-makers: the road is the compan- ion of civilization. The treaty was held in March, and the pioneers appear to have been immediately set at work, as Colonel Henderson was a man of en- ergy, and it is very probable, thought that the sooner he reduced into actual possession his new territory, 119 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. the better. They accomplished their work rapidly, and without serious obstacle, until they had arrived at a spot, within fifteen miles of the present Boones- borough. Here the Indians broke out in open hostil- ity. The road had assumed a visible appearance, and the savages believed it best to arrest its further pro- gress. They made an assault, which proved fatal to two of Boone's party; thus making it certain that every movement towards the possession of that land, would be marked with blood. The thing was a sur- prise. Cool and wary as the Hunter was, the craft of the Indian was often his superior. Boone acknow- ledges that in this instance he was "surprised and taken at a disadvantage;" but he declares, like a sol- dier, that lie and his party stood their ground. The Indian was not satisfied with this. He followed up his attacks rapidly, and the company, in three days afterwards, lost two men more. Of this Boone gives, in a letter to Colonel Henderson, an interesting ac- count: APRIL Ist, 1775. DEAR COLONEL: ' Ater my compliments to you, I shall acquaint you with our misfortunes. On March the 25th, a party of Indians fired on my company about half an hour before day, and killed Mr. Twitty and his negro, and wounded Mr. Walker very deeply, but I hope he will recover. " On March the 28th, as we were hunting for provisions, we found Samuel Tale's soni, who gave us an account that 120 LETTER TO HENDERSON. the Indians fired on their camp on the 27th day. My brother and I went down and found two men killed and scalped, Thomas McDowell and Jeremiah MePeters. I have sent a man down to all the lower companies in order to gather them all to the mouth of the Otter Creek. My advice to you, sir, is to come or send as soon as possible. Your company is desired greatly, for the people are very uneasy, but are willing to stay and venture their lives with you; and now is the time to flusterate their (the Indians') intentions, and keep the country, whilst we are in it. If we give way to them now, it will ever be the case. This day we start from the battle ground, for the mouth of the Otter Creek, where we shall immediately erect a fort, which will be done before you can come or send; then we can send ten men to meet you, if you send for them. I am, sir, your most obedient DANIEL BOONE. "N. B. We stood on the ground and guarded our bag- gage till day, and lost nothing. We have about fifteen miles to Cantrick's at Otter Creek. F 121 CHAPTER VII. BOONE AND HIS COMPANY BUILD A FORT-TIE REMOVES HIS FAMILY TO IT-OTHER FAMILIES REMOVE TO THE FORT-ARRIVAL OF HENDERSON- BOONESBOROUGH -TRANSYLYANIA LAND COMPANY- OTHER SETTLEMENTS -THE FIRST LEGISLATURE-BOONE A DELEGATE-JOHN FLOYD-HEN- DERSON'S ADDRESS-BOONE AS A LEGISLATOR-DIVINE SERVICE-COL. CALLAWAY'S FAMILY ARRIVES-THE INDIANS CAPTURE THREE GIRLS- THE PURSUIT AND THE RESCUE-THE INDIANS ATTACK OTHER POSTS- INDIAN MODE OF WARFARE - THE WAR WITH GREAT BRITAIN -ALARM OF THE SEITTLERS-RETURN OF MANY OF THEM. BooNE wrote the foregoing letter on the day that the building of the fort was commenced. It was a rude structure but a strong one, and furnished a most important rallying point for the settlement. It was situated adjacent to the river, with one of the angles resting on the bank near the water, and extending from it in the form of a parallelogram. The length was about two hundred and sixty feet, and the breadth one hundred and fifty. Colonel Henderson perpetu- ated the remembrance of this famous garrison, by a sketch of the fort, of considerable accuracy of detail. Butler says that a fort, in those rude military times, consisted of pieces of timber, sharpened at the ends and firmly lodged in the ground. Rows of these pickets covered the desired space, which embraced CAPTURE OF THE MISSES BOONE AND CALLAWAY. This page in the original text is blank. A FRONTIER FORT. the cabins of the inhabitants. Slight as all this was, to the Indian it was formidable, who much rather preferred the encounter in the open plain, or the woods, or the canebrake. To the pioneers, this pro- tection was invaluable. The fort built by Boone seems to have been very well planned and construct- ed, although the clearing was just sufficient to admit the fortification, and brought it in what would seeni to us a most uncomfortable contiguity of position to the woods; affording to the foe a shelter and an ambush directly at the fort. If all the frontier forts had been as well built as was this one, it would have saved great suffering. The corners had houses of hewn logs projecting from them; the spaces were filled up with cabins of rough logs, close together. The gates were strong and stout. The fort was not finished till the fourteenth day of June. Boone says, with strong simplicity of expression, they were " busily employed about it." In its progress, they lost one man by the attack of the Indians. The savage saw this strong house in their midst with dismay, for they could see in it a strength that their arts could not overthrow. It was the beginning of the end. When the Pioneer had finished the fort, he saw in it the sufficient guard for a garrison, and he left a company there, who should keep possession of the place and cultivate the land adjacent. Two great objects were gained. The proprietors of the territory 123 124 LIFE, F' I ANIEiL lI()NIE. had secured a central point to which their followers could resort, and, while there was force enough there, they could show the Indians, by their pursuit of agri- culture, that their object was a peaceable one. Boone returned to his family, and determined, at all hazards, to remove them to the settlement. It will be noticed that under two circumstances only did this truly bravo man seek to bring his kindred to the beautiful land lie had discovered, aware, as lie so thoroughly was, of all its dangers. The first was, when he knew he was surrounded by a large and powerful company; and the second was, when a fortification was built which could adequately protect them. He knew the civili- zing effect of the society of a wife and a mother, and it was in noble consistency with the devotion of ser- vice he had rendered in all stations to those in whose employ he was, that he desired, even at the risk of exposure of the kindred dearest to him, to give a per- manency and a healthful vigor to the new settlement. In the path of one daring woman others would fol- low, and the wife of Boone was the one most worthy of leading in this valuable enterprise. His wife and daughters agreed to accompany him. Boone glides in his narrative rapidly over the circum- stances of the journey, which he says was " safe, with- out any other difficulties than such as are common to the passage," to announce with evident complacency and gratulation, that they were the first white women 124 MRS. BOONE'S ARRIVAL. that ever stood on the banks of the Kentucky River. Pioneers were they-first of a band of heroic, self- devoting women, who were subjected to such sights and sounds of horror as only brave hearts could have borne, but who, in the midst of all, fulfilled the home- cheering mission of their sex; who were surrounded by peril, but never forsook father, and brother, and husband. A distinguished citizen of Kentucky (Orlando Brown, Esq.) relates, in connection with this subject, the following incident: "An old lady who had been in the forts was describing to Dr. Brown the scenes she had witnessed in those times of peril and adventure; and, among other things, remarked that during the first two years of her residence in Kentucky, the most comely sight she beheld, was seeing a young man dy- ing in his bed a natural death. She had been familiar with blood, and carnage, and death, but in all those cases the suf- ferers were the victims of the Indian tomahawk and scalping knife; and that on an occasion when a young man was taken sick and died, after the usual manner of nature, she and the rest of the women sat up all night, gazing upon him as an object of beauty." What the ordinary perils of the journey were, may be imagined. To traverse for hundreds of miles a wilderness where an imperfect road was a curiosity - when, at every thicket, the probabilities were almost even that a foe would be found, and when the wild beast tracked every foot-step-these were the inci- 125 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. dents of the journey of those females; and to one of them, the remembrance was always present, that un- der just such circumstances she lad lost her eldest son, when the best hopes of early youth were with him. The shelter of the fort soon received them, and it was difficult to judge as to which was most wel- coined, the brave and reliable Pioneer, or those who came with him, as evidences that there was yet a con- nection between the fort and the gentle and the pleas- ant things of life. Mrs. Boone was soon rewarded for her courage and enterprise. When Boone had projected and in part executed his first great scheme of civilization-the one which was so fatally arrested near Cumberland Gap -there were with him, as part of the adventur- ouis company of pioneers, the families of McGary, Hogan and Dexter, and they had given, in terrible sacrifice to the new empire, the life of a son -their loss having been such as Boone experienced -for the Indian seldom put his knife deeper into the home of the white man, than on that dreadful occasion. Events developed themselves in the progress of this history, to prove how faithfully Boone had fulfilled the hope of all who confided in him. Remembering his manly and brave conduct-his patience-the gentle manner in which he had yielded to the remon- strances of bereaved mothers, and returned, even at the risk of every great hope in him -when they 126 OTHER FAMILIES EMIGRATE. heard that Boone was again to test the fortunes of the wilderness, they determined to go with him, and make one more venture upon the winning of the land which Boone had so truthfully and glowingly described. The party that started were quite respectable in force. The possession of twenty-seven guns was an argument which the Indian respected. After travel- ing together for some time, for some unexplained rea- son, they separated. The parties of McGary, Denton, and Hogan, were left in the rear, while Boone pushed on. Various fortunes befell these, but after losing their way - after leaving their cattle with those young men -all terminated safely by their arrival at the fort. The fort built by Boone, was, on its completion the signal for other settlements. As they knew that they could fall back on this, in case of extremity, men be- gan at this or that favorite location, to make a per- manent abiding place. Such was the influence of the strong position taken by him. He seems to have realized its value, and in recording a skirmish, which darkened the day before that which should have been their "merry Christmas" by the loss of one man by the Indians, he says quaintly, " the Indians seemed determined to persecute us for erecting this fortifi- cation." As the strength of the fort became known, other emigrants came in, among them Richard Callaway; 127 LIFE OF D)ANIEL BOONE. but the chief arrival was that of the head of the col- ony, Henderson. He, with forty armed men, and others unarmed, for unlike Young Lochinvar he did not ride "All unarmed and alone," with all the paraphernalia of pack-horses, moved on their way to the fort, designating it as the future seat of government for the territory. The party moved on with sure step, traversing the road which their faithful pioneer had prepared for them, and without which the journey, so important in its results, could not have been taken. This journey to take possession of such vast estates, with a company of soldier-like men, and upon the path arranged for them by the great discover of the country, had something in it of the magnificent, and was one of the extraordinary scenes accompanying the career of Boone, most of whose manhood seems to have been passed amidst stirring incidents. There was no want of occupation or of the means of subsistence for those who were gathered at the fort. The great object of the settlement was to conquer the forest and constitute the farm; this furnished work enough. Such hunters as were assembled there, found in the fresh woods around them sufficiency of game. If the hunter ventured too far in his eager pursuit, he was reminded by Boone of his danger, and the saga- cious counsels of their leader taught the camp a dis- 128 EXCITING TDIES. cipline which was of inestimable value. These were days when the approaching conflict with Great Brit- ain was commencing its agitation; when the savages became aware that a mighty power would soon be at their side, glad to enlist their prowess against the set- tler; when thus from the trained soldier, and the men of the woods - from the forest and the field - danger menaced. An intelligent historian says, " Boone fig- ured in these exciting times, the centre figure, tower- ing like a Colossus amid that hardy band of pioneers who opposed their breasts to the shock of the struggle which gave a terrible significance and a crimson hue to the history of the old " Dark and Bloody Ground." As the events of the openink scene of the Revolu- tion reached the settlers, there could be no uncertain- ty or doubt as to the side which would be espoused by them. When the news of the fight of Lexington reached a party of emigrants, who had made a rest- ing place near the head waters of the Elkhorn, where the land lay smiling to the sun, they immediately transferred the name of the battle-field to their own new home. The Bay of Boston was " a far away," but these gallant men of the forest felt their pulse beat quick as they listened to the story of the Sons of Liberty. They must have felt that the incidents of a fight for freedom would not always be confined to the shores of the Atlantic; and they could not but have realized that their own perils were greatly in- F 29 129 L0EE OF DANIEL BOONE. creased by the probable union of the bayonet of the British soldier, with the tomahawk of the savage. Colonel Henderson having arrived at the fort, which seems now to have had conferred upon it the title of Boonesbo1ough, he determined to organize his government. The proprietors of the Transylvania Company knew that it was necessary for them to be in earnest, for as intelligent men they must have known the questionable character of their proceed- ings. He opened a Land Office and selected its offi- cers. In a short period over an half million of acres had been entered in this extensive office. In a colo- ny so wide spread, thousands of acres was not of great consideration. The titles of the leases were in the name of " The proprietors of the Colony of Transyl- vania, in America." The reservation of- a perpetual rent, if this singular domain had been preserved, would have soon led to the same disastrous scenes which have signalized the leasehold estates of the country. While the settlements are sparse, to secure the pow- erful aid of the proprietors, the agreement to pay the rent is readily made, but when the tenant feels him- self fully competent in all respects to manage his own property, the quit-rent becomes an intolerable burthen. Those who entered land in the office at Boonesbor- ough believed the title secure. They desired a paper title-it had the appearance of security; and while 130 BOONE A LEGISLATOR. their property was situate where the Indian would have laughed at the "deed" or "article," the old habits of the Eastern States were yet upon them, and this office found abundant occupation. There were now four settlements from which, for the organization above mentioned, delegates were summoned-Boonesborough, Harrodsburgh, (settled in the summer of 1774, by the erection of a log cabin by James Harrod,) the Boiling Spring settlement, and that of St. Asaph's-these having sprung up in the wilderness wherever courageous men believed them- selves strong enough to make a stand to resist the en- emy. These gatherings of the pioneers responded to the call made upon them to form a State, and this ex- traordinary Legislature met on the twenty-third day of May, 1775; the log-built fort which Boone erected being at once the fortress, the city, the capitol. Ne- ver had legislature so few constituents to so much territory. Colonel Henderson managed his territory in a very dignified manner. He did not take his place among the delegates, but appeared in the character of presi- dent or sovereign of the country. Here our Hunter and Pioneer appears in a civil dignity, as he heads the list of delegates from Boonesborough. His faithful brother, Squire, now reappears in the narrative, by his side, as an associate with him, as does his friend, Callaway. Indeed, if this procedure bad been in our 1 .9 1 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. day, it would have looked exceedingly like a " packed delegation." The gentlemanly John Floyd was of the representation from St. Asaph's, and must have been of inestimable service to their councils, since Governor Morehead describes him as alternately a surveyor, a legislator, and a soldier; an ornament and a benefactor of the settlements; of excellent in- formation; an intellectual man, and of undaunted courage; his person singularly attractive; his com- plexion unusually dark; his eyes and hair deep black; and his tall, spare figure dignified by the accomplish- ments of a Virginian gentleman. The Assembly opened with all decorum, with an act which is of lustre to the principle and character of those men of wild and suffering days. Among their number was a clergyman, the Rev. John Lythe, by whom divine service was performed; thus heralding, with the recognition of Heaven, the first Legislative Council of Kentucky. They had not then shaken off the idea of their Colonial dependence, as President Henderson addresses them as convened in the fif- teenth year of the reign of His Majesty, King of Great Britain. The address of Mr. Henderson is a remarkable one. He tells them that, although only representing one hundred and fifty persons, they are placing the first corner stone of an edifice, the height and magnifi- cence of whose superstructure can only become great 132 OOL. HErENDERONS SPEECH. and glorious in proportion to the excellence of its foundation. He trusts their sentiments will be wor- thy the grandeur of the subject. Nor ought it to be omitted, as a significant fea- ture in his speech, that he (and this was in 177a) dis- tinctly considers the only legitimate source of all po- litical power to be the people. Tame platitudes as are all such declarations now, in that day these opin- ions were enlightened beyond the ordinary mind, and were advanced at cost and hazard. He alludes to their remote frontier, surrounded on all sides by dif- ficulties, and subject to one common danger, and if Jeremy Bentham had been in existence of manhood, he would have sent his compliments to the President of Transylvania, for such a sentence as this: "If any doubt remain among you, with respect to the force and efficiency of whatever laws you now or hereafter make, be pleased to consider that all power is origi- nally in the people: make it their interest, therefore, by impartial and benecent law8, and you may be ure of their inclination to see them enforced." It seems that Lord Dunmore was greatly scandal- ized by the bold movement of the Transylvania pro- prietors, whom, in a proclamation, he had desig- nated as "one Richard Henderson and other disor- derly persons, his associates." Within the shelter of the walls of the fort, the president does not spare the noble governor, but fires into him an attack, which, 133 LIFE OF DANIEL BOWNE. if Lord Dunmore had not had, about those days, just as much else of occupation as the expiring and tremb- ling days of royal rule could entertain, might have been the occasion of a oompulsory visit by Hender- son to the seat of authority in Virginia. I-e suggests that the "moral character of his settlers would de- rive little advantage " by being placed in competition with that of the representative of the crown. Evidently, the proprietors relied on their seclusion and distance, else their convention of a Legislature against the will of the governor, would have run uncomfortably near the serious offence of high treason. He acted upon the conviction that good English was utterly unintelligible to the Indians, else he would not have proclaimed the fact -and a sure fact it was -that the ignorance of the Indians of the weakness and want of order of the Colony, had pre- vented their attack. As a cunning topic, and one at the mention of which, he knew there would be a " profound sensation," among the bold and roving auidience before him, he speaks of " the wanton de- struction of our game, the only support of life among many of us, and for want of which the country would be abandoned ere to-morrow, and scarcely a proba- bility remain of its ever becoming the habitation of any Christian people." The answer of the delegates, which was made in all form, has, as its most important feature, the claim for 134 PROCEEDINGS OF TilE LE'GISLA'TUR.-1.. that Assembly, as an absolute right, to frame rules for the government of their little society, without giving umbrage to Great Britain or any of the Colonies. The records of this extraordinary House, indicate that they who projected the Transylvania Colony, were men of mind. From the beginning, while act- in, with great boldness, they had also originated and matured their plans with eminent sagacity. It is very, curious to note that this handful of men, almost with- out constituents, and all gathered just out of hearing of the war-whoop, and all within one log edifice, fol- lowed with due care all parliamentary forms. One of their earliest orders was to direct their sergeant-at- arms to bring up before them an outsider, a Mr. John Guess, for an insult offered Col. Callaway. It indi- cates the subordination and discipline, that in this way this result was noticed. It would have been suf- ficient punishment to have left the offender one night outside the garrison walls. Our great Hunter was not a mere spectator of the proceedings of this Legislature. It would have been most excusable had he been, and that from utter amazement, for it was but a few months - scarcely years -since he had been the only white man in all that country, far and wide, with not the first atom of human government-its lore, its law, its rules-about him; and here he was in the midst of a formal as- semblage. But he made his presence known, and, 135 LiEM OF DANEL BOONE. true to the practical, earnest habit of his life, doing that which he could do best, on the very first day the entry is this: " On motion of Mir. Daniel Boone, leave was given to bring in a bill for PRESERVING GAME, and a committee was appointed for that purpose, of which Mr. Daniel Boone was chairman." His next bill was one for improving the breed of horses, and both these bills passed, were signed by the proprietors, and became laws. Nor is it to be passed over, before leaving this sub- ject, that this infant colony honored itself by intro- ducing a bill to prevent profane swearing and Sab- bath breaking; the desecration of the Creator's name, shocking the moral sense, even among these solitudes. The session was three days. Col. Henderson kept a diary of the events that signalized it; and it is of interest to read the description he gives of the place where this Legislature held its deliberation. Never in the history of mankind, was there a more fitting arena for a council of forest men -bold hunters - pioneers - identified with the occupancy and con- quest of the woods. They ended, as they had begun, by the celebration of divine service. The remaining history of the set- tlement will follow in due course. The moral effect of such a convocation could not but have been most important. These men were known to be the found- 136 GIRLS CAPTURED BY INDIANS. ers of the settlements, of all others the boldest and the bravest. That it should have been among the first acts of their organization, to establish certain just principles of action - equitable and honest regulations -was a strange event in history; and brief as was the existence of the Colony or State of Transylvania, it left its mark, strong and deep, in the moulding of the future. As the year 1776 opened -a year, which, to all parts of America, seaboard and frontier, was to be important and memorable - other emigrants came in, and among the most welcome was the family of Col. Callaway. His wife and two daughters came to the fort, while Col. Benjamin Logan brought his wife and family to Logan's Fort. That it was not an imaginary peril which surround- ed .the settlers, was soon painfully proved, and by an incident which, unquestionably, was longer remem- bered by every female in the new country, than any other. It was the capture, by the Indians, of the two daughters of Col. Callaway-Misses Betsey and Fran- ces -and Jemima, one of the daughters of Boone. His own narrative of this interesting event, is exceed- ingly meager; it may be because he was one of the principal actors in it. Fortunately, John Floyd, (one of the surveying party that Lord Dunmore had sent Boone to rescue,) has given an animated description. This, and the additions to it, gathered by the intelli- 137 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. gent historian, Peck, from one of the captured parties, will always remain a vivid chapter in the true stories of the border. " On the fourteenth of July, 1776, Betsey Callaway, her sister Frances, and Jemima Boone, a daughter of Captain Boone, the two last about fourteen years of age, carelessly crossed the river opposite to Boonesborough, in a canoe, at a late hour in the afternoon. The trees and shrubs on the opposite bank were thick, and came down to the water's edge. The girls, unconscious of danger, were playing and splashing the water with the paddles, until the canoe, floating with the current, drifted near the shore. Five stout Indians lay there concealed, one of whom, noiseless and stealthy as the serpent, crawled down the bank until he reached the rope that hung from the bow, turned its course up the stream, and in a di- rection to be hidden from the view of the fort. The loud shrieks of the captured girls were heard, but too late for their rescue. The canoe, their only means of crossing, was on the opposite shore, and none dared to risk the chance of swimming the river, under the impression that a large body of savages was concealed in the woods. Boone and Calla- way were both absent, and night set in before their return, and arrangements could be made for pursuit. Next morn- ing, by daylight, we were on the track, but found they had totally prevented our following them, by walking some dis- tance apart through the thickest canes they could find. We observed their course. and on which side we had left their sign, and traveled upwards of thirty miles. We then ima- gined that they would be less cautious in traveling, and made a turn in order to cross their trace, and had gone but a few miles before we found their tracks in a buffalo path; pur- sued and overtook them, on going about ten miles, 138 TI1H CAPT''IVES RESCCEDI). just as they were kindling a fire to cook. Our study had been more to get the prisoners, without giving the In- dians time to murder them after they discovered us, than to kill them. We discovered each other nearly at the same time. Four of us fired, and all rushed on ttem, which pre- vented them from carrying away anything except one shot- gun, without ammunition. Mr. Boone and myself had a pretty fair shoot, just as they began to move off I am well convinced I shot one through, and the one he shot dropped his gun; mine had none. The place was very thick with canes, and being so much elated on recovering the three little broken-hearted girls, prevented our making further search. We sent them off without their moccasins, and not one of them with so much as a knife or a tomahawk." In introducing this extract, it was said that it will always remain among the most interesting of the true narratives of the border and the frontier; for it can- not be concealed that the historian finds his chief dis- couragement in the record of the life and story of the bold and the brave, that Fiction has been in the field, and so occupied the place that belongs to Truth, that after the lapse Qf years, it is the most difficult duty to find what actually was done, rather than what was imagined. Especially vexatious is it to observe, that of this most eventful hour in the life of Boone, when those dearest to him were taken from his side, and by his brave and sagacious pursuit so gallantly rescued, his amanuensis, Filson, who had the precious advan- tage of being where the very best opportunity pre- sented itself for knowing all the details from Boone, l 39 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. himself, should allow the affair to be so summarily disposed of in " these few lines: " " On the fourteenth day of July, 1776, two of Col. Calaway's daughters and one of mine, were taken prisoners near the fort. I immediately pursued the Indians, with only eight men, and on the sixteenth, overtook them, killed two of the party, and recovered the girls." Such is the narrative which Boone gives of an affair, which, in the memoir of many another man, would have been the very jewel of his life; and yet there is a noble- ness in the quiet language. Boone saw only his duty in the scene, and in that word-duty-he placed his energies. This.fourteenth of July was a busy day for the new settlements. Not content with the capture of the children, the Indians divided themselves into differ- ent parties, and attacked several other forts, ravaging and destroying the labor of the settler, and evincing, in their own cruel and characteristic manner, their determination to destroy the new empire of the white man, since it could only exist on the ruin of their own; a sad truth which they soon began to realize. At this juncture the Indians seem to have made an organized series of attacks-skilful, watchful and cunning. The open field fight was never to the taste of the savage. He desired such a fight as could be had by a cover-from an ambush-out of a cane- brake-wherever the knowledge of the life passed 140 NADIiA TACTICS. among the woods might make him more than equal to the white man. In his entire history, this has been the policy of the Indian. It is manifested at this day, in the expiring struggles of the western savage to re- tain some grasp of the great domain, once all his own. In the long and destructive war with the Seminoles in Florida, the terrible assaults which left their sad record in the death of so many of the very bravest and best of the army, were of this character. The Indian was patient and enduring beyond the white; and the hours which the soldier gave to sleep, the savage employed in stratagem. He would use every art, every device and disguise, which his limited ob- servation suggested. He would linger and wait for' the moment when the blow could be struck with most certainty, and it made the revenge most gratifying if the murderous fight could take the settler by sur- prise. They knew so much of the habits and appear- ance of the wild beasts, as to be able to imitate them, and used their knowledge in making such imitation a part of their system of warfare. But in all this, they had not the concentrated purpose of the white man. To them, the plot which did not at the instant suc- ceed, became valueless; hence, if the yell and the shout, the midnight blow, and the rush from the am- bush, was unsuccessful, their disappointment was ex- cessive; and it does not seem that they had, as the settlers had, plans in preparation to take the place of 141 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. those suddenly frustrated. The poor Indian used the tactics which his limited knowledge suggested; but, horrible as they were in appearance, it was extraordi- nary circumstances which ever made them trium- phant over the whites. Boone narrates the sufferings of the settlers with more detail and more feeling than is used in the allu- sion which he gives to the capture of his daughter. It touched him keenly that the Indian seemed to neg- lect no hour which, either by night or day, promised to afford some opportunity for assault. He says it was extremely distressing. The Indians shot down the cattle, and attempted to kill the innocent hus- bandmen, while engaged in cultivating the soil for his family's support. Evidently, the Indian had grown enraged in witnessing the calm and determined manner in which, under the guidance and leadership of Boone, the signs of a permanent establishment of the settlements were manifesting themselves. This was one of those periods in the history of Ken- tucky when it trembled in the balance, whether all that had been gained in the attempt to civilize and subdue the wilderness should be maintained or sur- rendered. Boone seems to have been equal to the emergency. He had kn6wn the savage so thoroughly, that they had no device but that his memory suggest- ed a parallel in his experiences, and he was prepared to meet it. The poor settlers, scattered about, looked 142 ALARM OF THE SETrrLERS. 1 to him as their great leader, and he maintained his position. It seems to have been of the characteris- tics of his remarkable career, that when the perils and the responsibilities of the scene concentrated, and became collected upon one, he was there to sustain them, and when the most dangerous hour was over, and the excitement of greater numbers was experi- enced, he stepped aside from the place of power, and sought to conceal himself rather than to obtrude. Now, the settlements all around him were in trouble, and his own narrative indicates how deeply he gave his sympathies. He realized that if the settlers were compelled to retreat all might be lost, and the labor of years thrown aside. There were those in the forts, and especially at Boonsborough, who had made all their calculations for peaceful experiences. They were sensible of the value of the land, but were notowilling to live in a succession of alarms. The whole country was pass- ing into that condition of war and rumors of war, which the struggle with Great Britain produced. The timid and the irresolute left the settlements and re- treated to the seaboard. The Indian soon became aware that he had, in the royalist, a new ally, and the new hope sprung in his heart, of conquering, by the aid of the British, the colonists, or at least of driving them back again beyond the mountain passes, which had been crossed at such hazard and with such bra- 143 LIFE OF DAMEL BOONE. very. The alarm was on every midnight hour. The Indian essayed to surprise the solitary sentinel, or to seize the wanderer from the fort. It was a frequent accompaniment of the night, that the yell of an at- tack designed to be murderous, was heard at the very gates. These were no times for those who had come into the new colony only to make merchandize of its lands. It was not for such traffic with horrors that they had prepared themselves, and they found it easy to persuade themselves that it was wisest to let the storm pass over, before they finished their plans. They left, and in such numbers as materially to embarrass the colony. Col. Henderson found it easier to dis- pose of his lands in Transylvania than to people them with men prepared for the battle, as well as for the council. They left, ready to come back when the bold and brave men who remained, should have pro- claimed that the foe had been extirpated. Boone saw his duty in remaining, to be, as he was, the calm and brave leader, who, with a sagacity and courage that had no ebb or flow, kept quietly on, whether the In- dian dissembled in false peace, or raged in anger. 144 CHAPTER VII1. THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR-HARASSED BY THE INDIANS-GEN. CLARKS JOURNAL- MILITARY FORCE OF THE SETTLEMENTS - HENDERSON'S LAND TITLES -THE COMPROMISE - THE SETTLERS' PETITION TO BB TAKEN UN- DIR THE PROTECTION OF VIRINIAs-THE INDIANS ATTACK BOONESBOROUGH FORT AND ARE REPULSED - THE ATTACK RENEWED BY GREATER NUMBERS - THE WHITES AGAIN SUCCESSFUL - REINFORCEMENTS ARRIVE - NEWS ARRIVES OF WASHINGTON S VICTORY OVER ROWE EvmIENTLY, the commencement of hostilities with Great Britain entered deeply in its effect on the con- dition of the colony. When the Indian was alone, and had against him all the population, he was bad enough, and his cunning and his cruelty made the possession of a frontier farm, a scene of constant alarm; but when that Indian came in the increased force of an ally of a powerful government, willing to supply him with the arms and munitions of war, and whose leaders seemed to have calculatedon the attack of the Indian as a most summary way of breaking up the labor of the pioneer -when the Indian was seen thus allied, the settler had good reason to tremble. The fort at Boonesborough was the object of distinct and determined hatred. It was the place where the strength of the settler concentrated, and in which and 10 G LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. from which it could be made available. All these circumstances tended to thin out the inhabitants of the fort, but those that staid were of the class of men whose names are always written in their country's sufferings and successes. That winter of 1776--77 was a gloomy one. As the solitary messenger found his way from the seaboard, he brought the news of a deeper and deeper gloom of war with a great nation; of commerce destroyed and trade relinquished; of old communities needing all their resources for self-support and self-protection; and of the certainty that but little of assistance could be spared to the frontier. It told of the determina- tion expressed in arming and scheming; in the trans- port of soldiery; in fierce threatening; in parliament- ary denunciation and royal resolves to make the war a short one, by a vigorous campaign. If these were sad tidings to the populated colonies of the Atlantic, what alarm was there in all this, for the scattered forts of the wilderness ! It was just such an hour as is ever the frame which receives the Man, and Boone filled it - filled it with an ability which it is not yet too late to eulogize. In the fort and outside the fort, the Indian made Boone and the colonists aware of their unrelenting enmity. McClung says, they were incessantly ha- rassed by flying parties of Indians. While at work in the fields, they were waylaid, and while hunting, 146 HARASSED BY INDIANS. shot at; and the welcome to the first of the garrison who appeared in the morning, was a shot from some Indian who had, for the purpose, watched during all the night I If any one doubts that this, all over the colonies, was a period of peril, let them read the testimony of Gen. Washington - February 10, 1776 - written to Joseph R-eed, and which portrays the real condition of the country: "I know the unhappy predicament in which I stand. I know that much is expected of me; I know that, without men, without arms, without amunition, without anything fit for the accommodation of a soldier, little is to be done, and, what is mortifying, I know that I cannot stand justified to the world without exposing my own weakness, and injuring the cause by declaring my wants, which I am determined not to do, farther than unavoidable necessity brings every man acquainted with them. My situation is so irksome to me at times, that if I did not consult the public good, more than my own tranquillity, I should long ere this, have put everything on the cast of a die. So far from fny having an army of twenty thousand men, well armed, I have been here with less than half that number, including sick, furloughed, and on command, and those neither armed nor clothed as they should be. In short, my situation has been such, that I have been obliged to use art to conceal it from my own officers." The Colonies had too much to do in looking after their own safety, to give much attention to the fron- 147 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. tier; and though a reinforcement for the fort, from Virginia, had been expected, it did not arrive. This added to the causes which dishearted so many. The Indian found out that the numbers were lessening, and it renewed the vigor of his attack. Where- ever the settler exposed himself, he was attacked; and he was a bold man who ventured out of the pro- tection of the guns of the fort. The interesting, though too brief, diary of George Rogers Clarke, in its memoranda of the chief occur- rences of the winter, illustrates this scene of constant alarms. It is in extraordinary contrast to what would now be the record of the rich land where quiet citi- zens follow in their honest occupations the arts of peace. Though a few lines suffice to tell the story, there is meaning in each line. The record is of the death of the pioneers-of the men who sought to sub- due the wilderness, and who, like Boone, left the or- dinary routine of existence to write their names in bold service for their country. Gen. Clarke thus notes the incidents of the times: "Dec. 25th. Ten men, going to the Ohio for powder, met on the waters of the Licking Creek by Indians, and de- feated. John G. Jones, William Graden, and Josiah Dixon were killed. "Dec. 29th. A large party of Indians attacked McClel- land's Fort, and wounded John McClelland, Charles White, Robert Todd, and Edward Worthington - the two first mortally. 148 GEN. CLARKEIS JOURNAL. "Dec. 30th. Charles White died of his wound. "Jan. 6th, 1777. John McClelland died of his wound. "March 5th. Thomas Shores and Wil]iam Ray killed at the Shawanese spring. The Indians attempted to cut off from the fort a small party of our men; a skirmish ensued; we had four men wounded, and some cattle killed. A small party of-Indians attacked, killed, and scalped Hugh Wilson. A large party of Indians attacked the stragglers about the fort." Such is the journal of the occurrences of that me- morable winter. It was gloomy and sad. It exhib- its, with the accuracy of a recital made at the very time, how fearful was that pioneer enterprise at that time. In the midst of all of it, Boone remained firm. He seems to have been the man on whose judgment they all relied. Characterized as he has been, by a competent historian, as having "a quick perception of expedients-much prudence and caution-un- yielding perseverance, and determined valor, com- bined with superior strength and activity of person " -he was the true leader for this long-continued and severe trial. He kept the great wheel of civilization from rolling back. At this time, the whole military force of the col- ony was about one hundred men, of which Boones- borough had twenty-two, Harrodsburgh sixty-five, and Logan's Fort fifteen. Three hundred had gone back, alarmed at the positive peril which was so im- minent. While all those who were left had the con- 149 LIFE 01J' 1)DANIE1L, Iiu NEi. stant and harassing duty of a day and night guard; while the savage kept his fierce watch; while all these dangers pressed and calamities impended-the settlement of the country was becoming a fixed and a permanent thing. The Colony of Transylvania was preparing to become, by another name, known among the coinmunities of men. Col. Henderson found his domain a source of great trouble and vexation. The Proprietary Government which he had attempted to establish, found its decay in the impression, which soon became general, that Col. Henderson had taken too much upon himself in asserting the validity of his title, and that there was danger in holding land whose possession had no bet- teravouchment. The bold independence of his course made him an object of jealous supervision by Vir- ginia. This convening of a Legislature by a Lord Proprietor, was a step which it was needful to main- tain with more power than he could command. Those who were brought by him from North Caroli- na, believed in his title-their attachment being prob- ably somewhat the result of the old clanship feeling which the Scotch had introduced into that State. Not so with the Virginians, who believed in their own "An- cient Dominion," over all the "western parts of Fincastle county on the Kentucky River," as that do- main was designated. There were others (and they may have been of that class who kept clear of all 150 HENDERSON'S LAND TITLE. danger) who contented themselves with securing good lands, and declining to perfect a title till the mastery was settled. The Royal Charter, as Virginia read it, gave to her all the land to which the designation of Kentucky had been given; and when Col. Henderson purchased the title of the Indians, he usurped, (so Virginia claimed,) the preemption or right- of purchase which belonged to the colony. The title of Henderson was declared null and void; but Henderson was a man of power and influence, as has been shown, and he had so much persuasion over the government, that a spe- cies of compromise was made, by which his claim was considered good as against the Indians. It an- ticipates to say that he received a liberal grant of land lying on the Ohio, below the mouth of Green River, and twelve miles square. He deserved it; for to him does, in all probability, Kentucky owe the gratitude belonging to him who brought Daniel Boone prominently into the stirring action of public life. It was an important feature in the series of troubles which surrounded Boone, that this was the season of the great and growing discontents in relation to these land titles. It probably stirred the blood of the sol- dier and the pioneer, to find that so many of those who came into the wilderness, did so, the better to pursue some cool and calculating plot against the owners of the soil. The land speculators never were 151 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. of that class of men to whom Boone assimilated, and he could not but be indignant that when such im- minent peril, as that which now surrounded them, re- quired the united action of all, Col. Henderson, who had done so much to form the colony, should be so traduced. There is a curious document in existence. It is styled "A petition of the inhabitants and some of the intended settlers of that part of North Amer- ica, now denominated Transylvania," addressed to the Convention of Virginia. It so forcibly illustrates the history of the country, that a copy of the mate- rial part of it is given: " Whereas some of your petitioners became adventurers in that country, from the advantageous reports of their friends who first explored it, and others since allured by the specious show of the easy terms on which the land was to be pur- chased from those who style themselves proprietors, have, at a great expense and many hardships, settled there, under the faith of holding the lands by an indefeasible title, which those gentlemen assured them they were capable of making. But your petitioners have been greatly alarmed at the late con- duct of those gentlemen, in advancing the price of the pur- chase money from twenty shillings to fifty shillings sterling, per hundred acres, and, at the same time, have increased the fees of entry and surveying to a most exorbitant rate; and, by the short period prefixed for taking up the lands, even on those extravagant terms, they plainly evince their intentions of rising in their demands as the settlers increase, or, their insatiable avarice shall dictate. And your petitioners have been more justly alarmed at such unaccountable and arbitra. 152 THE SETTLERS' PETITION. ry proceedings, as they have lately learned, from a copy of the deed made by the Six Nations with Sir William John- son, and the commissioners from this colony, at Fort Stan- wix, in the year 1768, that -the said lands were included in the cession or grant of all that tract which lies on the south side of the rivers Ohio, beginning at the mouth of Cherokee or Hogohege River, and extending up the said River Ketta- ning. And, as in preamble of the said deed, the said con- federate Indians declare the Cherokee River to be their true boundary with the southard Indians. " Your petitioners may,with great reason, doubt the valid- ity of the purchase that those proprietors have made of the Cherokees - the only title they set up to the lands for which they demand such extravagant sums from your petitioners, without any other assurance for holding them, than their own deed and warrantee; a poor security, as your petitioners honestly apprehend, for the money that, among other new and unreasonable regulations, these proprietors insist should be paid down on the delivery of the deed. And, as we have the greatest reason to presume that his majesty, to whom the lands were deeded by the Six Nations, for a valuable consideration, will vindicate his title, and think himself at liberty to grant them to such persons, and on such terms as he pleases, your petitioners would, in consequence thereof, be turned out of possession, or obliged to purchase their lands and improvements on such terms as the new grantee of proprietor might think fit to impose; so that we cannot help regarding the demands of Mr. Henderson and company as highly unjust and impolitic, in the infant state of the set- tlement, as well as greatly injurious to your petitioners, who would cheerfully have paid the consideration at first stipula-. ted by the company, whenever their grant had been confirmed by the crown, or otherwise authenticated by the supreme 153 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. Legislature. And, as we are anxious to concur, in every re- spect, with our brethren of the United Colonies, for our just rights and privileges, as far as our infant settlement and re- mote situation will admit of, "We humbly expect and implore to be taken under the protection of the honorable Convention of the Colony of Virginia, of which we cannot help thinking ourselves still a part, and request your kind interposition in our behalf, that we may not suffer under the rigorous demands and imposi- tion of the gentlemen styling themselves proprietors, who, the better to effect their oppressive designs, have given them the color of a law, enacted by a score of men, artfully picked from the few adventurers who went to see the country last summer, overawed by the presence of Mr. Henderson." The charge against the memorable Legislature that convened in the open air, and so wisely and with such dignity, essayed the duties of law-making, should have been omitted. There are about eighty-eight signatures to the memorial; but it is gratifying to know that not one of those who were delegates from Boonesborough to the Legislature of Transylvania, affixed their names to it. The declaration, by the General Assembly of Virginia, against the title of the Transylvania Company, and the erection of the county of Kentucky, settled the question, and Transylvania, with all its brief annals, vanished into history. On the fifteenth of April, 1777, the Indians made an attack on Boonesborough, with a party of over one hundred, and notwithstanding all this great force - great in proportion to the small garrison - the latter 154 ATTACK ON BOONES0BORtOUII. lost but one man. So faithfully did the savages keep within themselves the sad record of their own losses, which unquestionably were severe, that Boone was not able to tcell what had been their suffering. In this engagement as in many others, the Indians felt h1w powei less all their ferocity was against the civ- ilization of the white-s. The Indian might have pouredbhis fierce wanriors into the fort, storming it, whiatever was the bravery of the garrison, if the sav- ag chad kn own the uses of a scaling-ladder. But as they hadtnolt having spent all their force on one desperate movement - thus repulsed, they fled, leav- ing the garrison painfully conscious that the time might come when bolder and better discipline might direct the forest warrior to victory. They carried off their dead - a practice, Boone says, common among them. It shows the inefficiency of their judgment. It was done to prevent their loss being known, while its effect was so to embarrass and occupy the living, as to diminish their strength, just when they most needed it. The fight of the fifteenth of April being over, the garrison rested, but knew well that it was but for a brief period, and that a renewed attack might be ex- pected. Nor were they in error. On the fourth of July- a date which, for one year, had been a famous one - the campaign was renewed in a more determined 'l 55 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. manner. At this time, the Indians had reinforced their numbers - a thing which the garrison would have been only too glad to have done, but which seemed almost impossible. Two hundred savages were in the fight, at this time, and the fort was sub- jected, for forty-eight hours, to their murderous at- tack. They used all their arts, and put forth all their strength. There were about ten Indians to one wiite man; but the fort had been built by one who knew the strength of the Indian, and the means best adapt- ed to guard against him. The fort stood the onset during all these fearful hours. The woods were vocal with the war-cries of the infuriated Indian. Boone's garrison fought with the consciousness that defeat or surrender was the presage to a fierce death, and they fought with such wise courage and vigor, that, in all this siege, their loss was only the same as in the bat- tle of the fifteenth of April - one man - and the number of their wounded, two less. All this, by in- ference, illustrates Boone's good judgment. He must have noticed, like a good commander, the every inci- dent of the former attack, and guarded and secured the most defenceless position. By the power of a good Providence, Boone successfully fought out this battle, also, and he, in simple language, records that, "finding themselves not likely to prevail, they raised the siege and departed." At this attack, the Indians had, instead of concentrating all their force on one 156 CONTINUED SKIRMISHES. fort, separated into different parties, and by vigor- ously assaulting all the settlements, prevented their rendering to each other any assistance. Boone knew the Indians well, and calculated coolly on the proba- bilities of their arrival. The bold resistance and the slight loss, establishes the fact that he was at all times prepared for them, knowing, as he did, their desperation. And they were desperate. He says that they were numerous, and dispersed through the country, intent upon doing all the mischief that savage barbarity could invent. This last affair seems to have been the crisis of this campaign. He relates that on the twen- ty-fifth of July, forty-five men arrived from North Carolina, and on the twentieth of August, Col. Bow- man arrived with one hundred men from Virginia. Now they began to strengthen, and from hence, for the space of six weeks, they had skirmishes with the Indians, in one quarter or another, almost every day. The savages learned the superiority of the Long Knife, as they called the Virginians, being outgen- eraled in every battle. During all this period, the settlement of which Boone was in charge knew no peace - no exemption from the unrelenting hostility of the Indian, intent upon the most savage assault. Such was the educa- tion and the experiences of Boone with the Indian; Such a life has made most men revengeful and cruel. 157 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. It is in scenes like these that the pioneer was taught to consider the Indian as a wild beast, subject to the same law of unrelenting extermination, and to be pur- sued and trodden down with enduring memory of wrong. And it is here that the character of Boone rises above his contemporaries. He seems to have always met the attacks of the Indian with a bravery that knew no diminution. He led campaigns. He was the first to break in upon their dominions - the first to lead successfully the footstep of a civilization they detested, and through whose influences they were fading from the earth; and yet his life shows that he never seems to have gone beyond the line of his duty -never used his power in wanton cruelty; and his kind treatment by the Indians, when he fell in their personal power, confirms this. They knew him as a foe, but a generous and a brave one. Gen. Clarke's diary, before quoted, in its record for May, 1777, has the following entry: " May 23d. A large party of Indians attacked Boonesbor ough Fort. Kept a warm fire till 11 o'clock at night. Be- gun it next morning, and kept a warmr fire till midnight, attempting several times to burn the fort. Three of our men were wounded - not mortally. " 26th. A party went out to hunt Indians-one wounded Squire Boone, and escaped." Boone does not appear to have made record of this, and it is quite probable that the entry in General 158 NEWS OF HOWE'S DEFEAT. Clarke's journal may be an error of date. It indicates the life which the garrison was compelled to lead; nor will the incident be passed over, that the faithful and bold brother of Boone was by his side. About the twentieth of September, news was re- ceived at Boone's residence that Gen. Washington had defeated Howe, and it spread through the settle- ment by express. It gave the settlers the knowledge of the great man whose career, as the leader of his country to victory, had begun. Gen. Clarke, in no- ting in his diary, says, "JoyfuZ news, if tue." It was only by some messenger reaching them at peril of his life, that these pioneers received the news of the great movements of the country, though them- selves all the while were acting a bold part in the struggle, though so remote from the public observa- tion, that they might have been annihilated, and not a vestige of the settlement left, before aid could have been rendered them by the far-off, seaboard States. 159 CHAPTER IX. GEN. GEORGE H. CLARKE - VIRGINIA GRANTS POWDER TO THE COLONY -THE BRITISH GARRISONS AT DETROIT, VINCENNES, AND KASKASKIA -GENERAL CLARKE SECURES THE AID OF BOONE-SIMON KENTON-HIS CAPTIVI AND CRUEL TREATMENT BY THE INDIANS -HIS RESCUE-THE ANTICIPATED RE- UNION OF THE SURVIVORS -THE OLD AGE OF KENTON -AN INDIAN AT- TACK - BOONE IS WOUNDED AND NARROWLY ESCAPES - BOONE'S DARING AND SERVICES TO THE EMIGRANTS - BOONE, WITH THIRTY MEN, PLANS AN EXPEDITION TO THE BLUE LICKS. GEN. GEORGE ROGERS CLARKE, it seems to be con- ceded by historians, was the great military leader of Kentucky -taking the direction of those affairs, the foundation for the success of which Boone, in his ca- pacity as pioneer, had laid. To him that great State is deeply indebted, and her historians have given full measure to their praise. He had shown his power in the Council, when he overthrew the claim of Hender- son, and he was entering on a long and glorious ca- reer in the field. He had been engaged inl "h1un- more's " war, and at its close had been offered a com- mission in the English service, which, fortunately for his own country, he declined. He had impressed the settlers in Transylvania with the conviction that their allegiance was due to, as their titles should come from, Virginia; and he was GRANT OF POWDER FROM VIRGINIA. chosen as their commissioner or representative to the General Assembly of Virginia. He consulted with Governor Henry, who took it into his counsels to ad- vise, on a subject so important, his best men. Clarke told the story of the frontier, and requested from Vir- ginia the material aid of five hundred weight of gun- powder. But it was even then doubtful whether the claim of Henderson might not be established, and the ammunition was only conditionally provided. Strange that such men as were gathered at that Council, would not listen to the recital of the real condition of the frontier - of its harassing difficulties - of the alliance of the Indians with the British -and that Boonesborough stood as a bulwark to resist the savages. All this was unheeded. Virginia did not realize that in the calm bravery of Daniel Boone, the savage found an obstacle, the which if he could surmount, his way was open to a long march of wild fury against the settlements of the Virginians. The Coun- cil made so many conditions about the powder, that Clarke told them, in memorable phrase, that " a coun- try which was not worth defending was not worth claiming." This allusion to an independent sovereign- ty, recalled the Council to reason, and the ammuni- tion was sent. Upon his return, Gen. Clarke made such examina- tion of the scene and circumstances of the Indian 11 161 LIFE OF DANIEL B(OONEI. warfare, as to induce him to concentrate his views to this - that to strike the boldest blow, was to conquer Detroit, Vincennes, and Kaskaskia, where were the stations from which the savages obtained supplies of ammunition and food. It was at these places that the Indians learned that a reward would be given for their production of human scalps ! and that prisoners would be the most acceptable gifts. He formed his plan - visited Virginia - laid it before the best of Virginia - before Jefferson, and Henry, and Wythe, and Mason; and, encouraged by them, went forward. He needed men who knew the whole frame-work of Indian life, and he selected Daniel Boone. To the Pioneer who had kept Boonesborough, any bold ser- vice might be assigned; and it is another of the great incidents of his history, that authority, in looking for those who would, with most fearlessness and good judgment, conduct a great undertaking, found -its search concentrated on him. Collins states, that the war in Kentucky had been a border war, and its conduct an irregular and a pre- datory one -more like the scenes which Scott so of- ten describes, and which characterized the counties that lay on the line separating England from Scotland. Every man fought for himself-selecting his own ground, and determining his own time - and finishing the campaign when he chose. "The solitary back- woodsman would sharpen his hunting knife, shoulder 162 INDIANS ENCOURAGED BY THE BRITISH. his rifle, and provide himself with a small quantity of parched corn as a substitute for bread, and then start on an expedition into the Indian country." He soon learned to more than rival the Indian in all stra- tagem and concealment, and to seize every opportu- nity of harassing the foe. The garrisons of Detroit, Vincennes and Kaskaskia, lost no opportunity of promoting and encouraging the Indian depredations on the Kentucky frontier, and to prejudice their own people against the frontier set- tlers. The Indian, if he could come back to strong military posts, whence he could again issue, laden with all that he desired with which to continue the warfare, was willing to see the war go on. He did not comprehend that it was for him a choice whether he should have a British or an American master; but considering the settlers as his foe, he gladly made his offensive and defensive league with the adherents of the crown, and believed himself likely to retake all his old hunting ground. For this he knew no step so decisive, as to destroy Boonesborough. That fort was obnoxious, because it had been a first effort of the settler, and had been a successful one; and it was dreaded, because it held in safety the man who had shown the world that the skill of the white man was proof even against the terrors of a solitude in the wilderness, when its sway by the savage was undis- puted. 163 1LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. Boone was aware of all the subtlety of the Indian, and seems to have met it at all its different exhibi- tions. When Gen. Clarke assumed the general super- vision of the frontier settlements, a company of spies was organized, for the payment of whom, the general pledged the faith of Virginia. The value of their service was appreciated in every hour. These men, taking the duty by detachments, roamed up and down the Ohio, keeping a bright watch for signs of Indian approach, as Boone did not intend that his fort should encounter a second sudden attack. He appointed two of these spies -and one of these was the re- nowned Simon Kenton - a man whose career of mem- orable activity was so distinguished, that in the an- nals of Kentucky he is placed second only to our great Pioneer, as among the founders of the State. It has ever been among the qualities of those who write their names illustriously in the annals of the world, that when called to lead in great enterprises, their selection of those who shall be their assistants, is such as to indicate their acute knowledge of men and estimate of character. In selecting Kenton, Boone brought into service a man whose name is cherished in Kentucky as the bold and brave. The life of Kenton was one of romance. At the age of sixteen he had fixed his affections on a young girl, who did not return them, but preferred another. Kenton was an uninvited guest at the wedding, ana 164 SIMON KENTON. in the rough manners of those days, was severely handled. Meeting his favored rival some short time afterwards, a fight ensued, in which Kenton thought he had killed him, and he fled the society of civilized man. He changed his name to Simon Butler, plunged into the forest, and thenceforth, one stirring adventure after the other succeeded, in all of which he bore a bold part - courageous and vigorous - and encompassed by danger constantly. He suffered all manner of cruelty; eight times he was condemned to run the gauntlet, always one of the most cruel of the Indian inventions of horror; three times tied to the stake; once nearly killed by a blow from an axe. He knew all the terrors of be- ing the Indian's foe. On one occasion he had taken an Indian horse, and soon afterwards fell into their hands. " After beating him till their arms were too tired to indulge that gratifying recreation any longer, they secured him for the night. This was done by first placing him upon his back to the ground. They next drew his legs apart, and lashed each foot firmly to stakes, or saplings, driven in the ground. A pole was then laid across his breast, and his hands tied to each end, and his arms lashed with thongs around it, the thongs passing under his body so as to keep the pole stationary. After all this, another thong was passed around his neck, and the end of it secured to a stake in the ground, his head being stretched back 165 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. so as not entirely to choke him. In this original man- ner he was left to pass the night. The detail of this cruelty is not inappropriate to this history, as the con- trast between this treatment, and that to which Boone was subjected when a prisoner, as he on several occa- sions was, indicates very apparently, that towards Boone, the Indians, while they recognized him as the great leader in the settlements they hated, and the expeditions that destroyed them,- yet such was their confidence in his real worth, that towards him they bad no bitterness of revenge. All this confirms the idea that the Indians never confounded Boone with the mere Indian-killer. They could respect a mag- nanimous foe; and Boone had often the greatest rea- son to congratulate himself that he had been an open and an honorable warrior - never striking the unne- cessary blow, but ending the fight when the victory was won. At the age of twenty-four, Kenton was rescued from captivity, by the wife of an Indian trader -a Mrs. Harvey-who was won by his fine, manly deport- ment. To his latest hour, the old man recollected the interposition of this lady, and her pleasant image filled a thousand dreams. This affair is kindred to the romances which were frequent in the hunter's life, making their true history replete with incidents so singular as to be kindred to the fictions of the ro- mancer. 166 KENTON'S BENEFACTRESS. " This lady had become interested in him, and upon his solicitation, promised to assist him and two other Kentucki- ans, prisoners with him, to procure rifles, ammunition, c., without which, a journey through the wilderness could not be performed. Engaging in their cause with all the enthu- siasm of her sex, she only awaited an opportunity to per- form her promise. She had not long to wait. On the third of June, 1779, a large concourse of Indians assembled at Detroit, to take a " spree." Preparatory to getting drunk, they stacked their guns near Mrs. Harvey's house, who, as soon as it was dark, stole silently out to the guns, selected three of the best looking, and quickly hid them in her gar- den, in a patch of peas. Avoiding all observation, she has- tened to Kenton's lodgings, and informed him of her success. She told him, at midnight, to come to the back of her gar- den, where he would find a ladder by means of which he could climb over and get the guns. She had previously collected such articles of food, clothing, ammunition, c., as would be necessary in their adventure. These she had hid in a hollow tree, well known to Kenton, some distance out of town. No time was now to be lost, and the prisoners at once set about getting things in order for their flight. At the appointed hour, Kenton, with his companions, appeared at the designated spot, discovered the ladder, and climbed into the garden, where they found Mrs. Harvey sitting by the guns, awaiting his arrival. To the eyes of the grateful young hunter, no woman ever looked so beautiful. " There was little time, however for compliments, for all around could be heard the yells of the drunken savages - the night was far advanced, and in the morning the gune would be missed. Taking an affectionate leave of him, with many tender wishes for his safety, she now urged him to be gone. Heaping thanks and blessings on her, he left her, ad LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. rejoined his companions. Kenton never saw her afterwards, but he never forgot her, for more than half a century after- wards, when the wilderness, and the savages who peopled it, were alike exterminated before the civilizing march of the Anglo Saxon, the old pioneer, in words that glowed with gratitude and admiration, delighted to dwell on the kindness, and expatiate on the courage and virtue of his benefactress, the fair trader's wife. In his reveries he said he had seen her a thousand times sitting by the guns in the garden." Simon Kenton (for when he ascertained that he had not killed the young man with whom he had the en- counter, he took his own name again,) lived to be a very old man, and as such addressed to the present generation one of the last words which the pioneers spoke. When, in the fall of 1782, Gen. Clarke, to re- venge the disaster of the Blue Licks, spread, with an- other army of fifteen hundred men, disaster and de- struction through the whole Indian country, Kenton was in command of the army. His experience in the service of Boone had given him an unsurpassed know- ledge of woodcraft, and he was the reliance of the army. When this expedition was returning, and when they were at the mouth of the Licking, on November 4th, the romantic engagement was made that those who survived for fifty years, should meet and talk over the perils of the past. This was first suggested, strange as it may seem, by a dying soldier, who breathed his last as he was descending the hill near the place where Cincinnatti, in all the glories of REUNION OF THE PIONEERS. a great city, now arises. It was then all one dense wilderness - the forest was the occupant of the land, whose value is now estimated only by millions. The fifty years, in the sure progress of the wheels of time, rolled around, and the fourth of November, 1832, was the day when this extraordinary reunion was to take place. Simon Kenton bad not forgotten it, and to encourage the attendance of all who sur- vived, he wrote the following address - a gentle and a kindly word for the Old Brave: "FELLOW CITIZENS: - Being one of the first, after Col. Daniel Boone, who aided in the conquest of Kentucky, and the west, I am called upon to address you. My heart melts on such an occasion. I look forward to the contemplated meeting with melancholy pleasure; it has caused tears to flow in copious showers. I wish to see once more before I die, my surviving friends. My solemn pledge made fifty years ago, binds me to meet them. I ask not for myself, but you may find in our assembly some who have never re- ceived any pay or pension, who have sustained the cause of their country, equal to any other service, who in the decline of life are poor. Then you prosperous sons of the west for- get not those old and gray-headed veterans on this occasion; let them return to their families with some little manifesta- tion of your kindness, to cheer their hearts. I add my prayer: may kind heaven grant us a clear sky, fair and pleasant weather - a safe journey and a happy meeting, and smile upon us, and our families, and bless us and our nation, on the approaching occasion. "SIMON KENTON." II 169 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. The cholera, in its wild ravages, prevented the meeting from being attended as could have been de- sired. The municipal authorities of the great city of Cincinnati, entertained those who did attend; but the pestilence being in the city, deterred the old man from approaching it. He shared the usual fate of the pio- neer. The State that he had built up, forgot him, or recognized him only by the cheap pageant of a formal welcome to Frankfort, by the Legislature there as- sembled - a welcome somewhat in contrast to the fact that he had been allowed to wander in tattered garments, an unknown stranger, through the streets. The recompense his country gave him, at last, and that obtained through the good offices of Judge Bur- nett and Gov. Vance -was a pension of two hundred and forty dollars. Ile died in April, 1836, " in sight of the place where the Indians, fifty-eight years be- fore, had proposed to torture him to death." He died surrounded by his family and friends, and supported by the consolations of the gospel. Our readers will not overlook the significant ex- pression which the old man uses, in his letter: " Be- ing one of the first, after Colonel -Daniel Boone, who aided in the conquest of Kentucky, AND THE WEST." He brines his most valuable testimony to the fame of the great Pioneer, and places him in the front of those who aided in securing for civilized man, THE WEST- the word which is now identified with a great nation, 170 MEN ATTACKED NEAR THE FORT. every hour rising higher and higher in all the worth and wealth that makes a community illustrious -the word which has gone throughout the earth, as desig- nating the land where, in the midst of free institu- tions, the path to prosperity lies fully open to whoever treads it with honest industry. Boone gave to his countrymen the key to all this priceless region. During Boone's occupancy of the fort, he had con- stant occasion to see the value of an efficient and un- ceasing guard. He knew his foe, and he felt that with such an enemy, there was no hour for quiet. On one occasion, Kenton, while engaged in the spy ser- vice, for which he had been detailed by Boone, early one morning, having loaded his gun for the chase, and just before leaving being at the gate of the fort, saw that two men in the fields were fired upon by the In- dians. The men were not hit, and ran, the Indians being in pursuit, and the pursuit was successful. So closely did horrors encompass the walls of Boonesbo- rough, that one of these poor fellows was tomahawked and scalped within a few hundred feet of the fort. Kenton soon turned the order of things, shooting the savage dead, and giving chase to others. Boone, in the fort, hearing the alarm, rushed out with ten men. The Indians did not retreat without a fight - Kenton killing one of them in the act of firing at Boone's party. Engaged in this skirmish, Boone did not at first perceive in how large force the Indians had 171 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. gathered. He found himself suddenly cut off by a body of savages who had placed themselves between him and the fort. The hour was one of those in which a bold movement is the only one that can be made. He gave the word for a fire and a charge, and his men obeyed him; but in their onset, the In- dians gave one fearful fire, and Boone and six: of his men fell to the ground, wounded. Boone's leg was broken, and an Indian was after his life, for in a moment the uplifted tomahawk was over his head. Kenton's sure rifle ended the scene, bringing down the savage, and rescuing Boone. They succeeded in getting-wounded and all-into thegate. Thenar- rative significantly says, that Boone wee a 8ilent man, and not given to comrpliment, but was warm in his gratitude to Kenton. Such were the scenes which relieved the dullness of frontier life ! The times were busy - busy in all the incidents of war. The hand of the colonist, on seaboard and fron- tier, was ready at a moment to strike for the fulfill- ment of the pledges made at Philadelphia, on July 4th, 1776. But in the midst of all the strife, the em- igration to the land opened by Boone, went on. The rich soil -the delightful climate -the independent home, attracted the traveler; and, with and without a family,the settler dared all the horrors of Indian neighborhood, for the luxury of being the master of, and living on, his own land. Mr. Peck truthfully 172 BOONE'S HABITS. and interestingly narrates that the record of the ser- vices rendered by Boone to the emigrants, would be a volume of memorials of the best of actions. " As dangers thickened, and appearances grew more alarm- ing, as scouts came in with rumors of Indians seen here and there, and as the hardy and bold woodsmen sat around their camp-fires, with the loaded rifle at hand, rehearsing, for the twentieth time, the tale of noble daring, or the hair-breadth escape, Boone would sit silent, apparently not heeding the conversation, employed in repairing the rents in his hunting- shirt and leggins, moulding bullets, or cleaning his rifle. Yet the eyes of the garrison were upon him. Concerning ' In- dian signs,' he was an oracle. Sometimes, with one or two trusty companions, but more frequently alone, as night closed in, he would steal away noiselessly into the woods, to recon- noiter the surrounding wilderness; and in the day-time, stealthily would he creep along, with his trusty rifle resting on his arm, ready for the least sign of danger; his keen, piercing eyes, glancing into every thicket and cane-brake, or watching intently for ' signs' of the wily enemy. Accus- tomed to range the country as a hunter and a scout, he would frequently meet the approaching travelers, on the road, and pilot them into the settlement, while his rifle supplied them with provisions. He was ever more ready to aid the com- munity, or engage in public services, than to attend to his private interests." When Boone was alone in the wilds of Kentucky, for months without the companionship of one human being, he submitted to the severe deprivation of be- ing without bread, salt, or sugar. This was a trial 173 LIFE OF DA-NIEL BOONE. which all were not so willing to endure. There was great complaint in the garrison for the want of salt. It was a necessity which entered into the business of life, and it must be had. It was a duty only to be performed amid peril, as certain to come as the pro- gress of time; but the man to discharge the duty was at hand. Boone, who had thus far maintained the inviolability of his fort, defending it, and making it the terror of the red man, determined to leave it for the even more dangerous position of a march, and an encampment, where there would be no fort to protect them, and where they would meet the Indian in cir- cumstances much more favorable to the success of the latter. He placed himself at the head of a party of thirty men, and left his family. He had often left them for scenes of peril, and he knew all the proba- bilities of these forays in sufficient force to make him notice that he was more likely to go out for the last time, than to return in safety; but in this, as in all his life, he saw that his duty was to go forward, and he fulfilled that. 174 CHAPTER X. T1U BLUE LICKS - TRE EXPEDITION - BOONE'S ADVENTURE WITH TWO IN- DIANS-THE INDIANS PLAN AN ATTACK-BOONE IS TAKEN PRISONER WHILE HUNTING-HIS PARTY SURRENDER AND ARE SPARED THROUGH HIS INFLU- hNCE-BOONE IS AFTERWARDS TRIED BY COURT MARTIAL AND HONORABLY ACQUITTED-BOONE AND HIS COMPANIONS ARE TAKEN TO OLD CHILLICOTHE -THENCE TO DETROIT - REGARD OF THE ENGLISH FOR BOONE - THE IN- DIANS REFUSE A LARGE RANSOM-THEY RETURN TO OLD CHILLICOTHE WITH BOONE ALONE - THEY ADOPT HIM INTO THEIR TRIBE - THEY SET HIM TO MAKING SALT, AND PERMIT HIM TO HUNT. BooNE'S expedition was to the Blue Licks, famous for their richness in the product of salt, and esteemed by the settler as the possession, in the defence of which all the force of the frontier should be engaged. They soon became memorable in the battle history of that region. The principal spring is situated on the northern bank of the Licking River, about two hun- dred yards from that stream. It is in Nicholas coun- ty, in the north-east middle part of Kentucky. They who now, at each return of the season, visit these springs, would not, but for the tradition, believe them- selves on the spot where the very necessities of life were won only by fierce conflict, and whose ground will ever be memorable for its severe struggle bc- LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. tween the settler and the savage. There are now all the elegancies of a fashionable watering-place -great hotels - the luxurious appendages of refinement - all thac can minister to cultivation and taste. The house is of the vast length of six hundred and seventy feet, and there are galleries around it where the vis- itor can find his walk extended over eighteen hun- dred feet. All this is in strange contrast to the scenes which Boone witnessed. He and his party, after a march through the woods where every mile was won by sa- gacious movement, arrived in safety, and proceeded to the work of preparing salt for the garrison. They worked never out of the grasp of their rifles. There was never an hour of complete security, for the Indian would hear that the great leader of the settlers had left the cover of the fort, and was in the forest. Boone went on actively, for he had to prepare the salt for all the different garrisons. It was a task which had to be done rapidly, for the cessation of it -the turn- ing of the manufacturing into a fight -was probable each day. The Indians were soon to investigate what the Long Knives were after, with the big kettles, and the popular expression that "salt could not save them," might be realized entirely too soon. But these founders of a nation learned every day that dif- ficulty is the companion of success; and they worked on. It was almost easier to fight Indians, than to 176 ANECDOTE OF BOONE. bring salt over the mountains on pack-horses from the seaboard. Connected with the expedition to the Salt Springs, is an incident which should be noted, as it shows how often, in historical events, the ideal is placed for the real, and what is originated in fiction becomes re- ceived as authentic, because not investigated. Mr. Flint, in his clear, though imaginative, history, re- lates that when Boone was at the Salt Licks, the fol- lowing adventure occurred: " Boone, instead of taking a part in the diurnal and unin. terrupted labor of evaporating the water, performed the more congenial duty of hunting, to keep the company in pro- visions while they labored. In this pursuit, he had one day wandered some distance from the bank of the river. Two Indians, armed with muskets - for they had now generally added these efficient weapons to their tomahawks - came upon him. His first thought was to retreat. But he dis- covered, from their nimbleness, that this was impossible. His second thought was resistance, and he slipped behind a tree, to await their coming within rifle-shot. He then ex- posed himself, so as to attract their aim. The foremost lev- eled his musket. Boone, who could dodge the flash, at the pulling of the trigger, dropped behind his tree unhurt. The next object was to cause the fire of the second musket to be thrown away in the same manner. He again exposed a part of his person. The eager Indian instantly fired, and Boone evaded the shot as before. Both the Indians, having thrown away their fire, were eagerly striving, but with trembling hands, to reload. Trepidation and too much haste retarded H 12 177 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. their object. Boone drew his rifle, and one of then fell dead. The two antagonists, now on equal grounds, the one unsheath- ing his knife, and the other poising his tomahawk, rushed toward the dead body of the fallen Indian; Boone, placing his foot on the dead body, dexterously received the well- aimed tomahawk of his powerful enemy on the barrel of his rifle, thus preventing hig skull from being cloven by it. In the very attitude of firing, the Indian had exposed his body to the knife of Boone, who plunged it in his body to the hilt." Now this has been received as true, and by the cur- rent public judgment was deemed very appropriate and probable, because Boone was considered as a sort of wild adventurer and forest hero, on a large scale. The government of the United States has given the story to sculpture; having at great cost caused it to be commemorated in stone, in a group, placed over the northern door of the rotunda of the Capitol at Washington. The incident, as 'a symbol of what might have occurred, is appropriate, but as giving to all ages a portraiture of what did take place, is value- less, because no such incident took place. Boone was much more likely to be in the most arduous of the labor. The man who is really brave, has gen- erally seen so much of the danger that needless ex- posures are avoided. Those who make our statues and pictures, too frequently look to the coloring and grouping, rather than to the preservation of the actual fact. Thus, in the famous picture of the Landing of 178 NEW EXPEDITION AGAINST BOONESBOROrGI. 179 the Pilgri'ns, the Indian, Samoset, is made prominent as extending his hand to the disembarking wanderer; while, in truth, it was not till long afterward that he came among the Pilgrimns, and astonished them by uttering, in their own language, his memorable salu- tation of " Welcome Englishmen." The salt-makers pursued their vocation for nearly a month, and had, though a watchful, a peaceful labor, but the rest was a temporary one. The news of their occupation of the Licks, soon reached the Indian. It aroused the enemy to the fact that it might be prac- ticable, in the absence of Boone, to make a new at- tack on the fort, and an expedition was formed, con- sisting of one hundred and two Indians and two Frenchmen. This was destined for Boonesborough. Boone emphatically says " that place being particue larly the object of the enemy." Another historian says it was " a particular mark for Indian revenge." Of the thirty men whom Boone had brought out, three had returned to the garrison with the salt, and were bearing home news of the, good condition of the party -tidings whose sad reverse was so soon to follow. On the seventh of February, Boone was out hunt- ing. The old sport he followed, not for amusement, but to provide food for the party. It was a disastrous hunt for the Pioneer. He had wandered some dis- tance from his men -the exemption from any at- L8M L OF DANIEL BOONE. tack for nearly a month having emboldened him - and while engaged in the chase, he was suddenly iur- prised by this expedition of the Indians and French- men. Boone, on seeing the danger, attempted to es- cape by flight, but the young men were too fleet for him - though he was yet in the prime of life - and he was captured. His sagacity seems not to have been at fault in any emergency. Instead of obstinate and fruitless resistance, which would have excited the anger of the Indians, he yielded in the manner most gratifying to them. He was again their prisoner. It will be recollected that he was, in all probability, known to them as the leader of the white men, and yet his influence over the Indian, acquired by consum- mate sagacity, soon began to develope itself. He jays the Indians, in his capitulation, promised him generous usage. What was become of the party he had left at the Blue Licks, now occupied Boone's mind most pain- fully. His course of conduct was of the most diffi- cult. The Indians were determined to seize them, and Boone prepared for what he believed the wisest course. He ingratiated himself immediately with the Indians, for which he always seems to have possessed a rare faculty. He was well known to them, and it was in their knowledge that he had never sanctioned any cruel or unusual procedure towards them. The fact that he soon won their confidence, illustrates this. 180 SURRENDER OF BOONE B PAItY. He would gladly have warned the party of the dan- ger, so that they could have fled to the fort, but this was impossible, and he prepared for the bold move- ment of a surrender, trusting to his power over the Indian, to secure his men. He approached them; and it shows the mastery that Boone had over his fol- lowers, that the signs which he made to them to yield themselves, were immediately obeyed. They might have sold their lives dearly, and before capture have made the Licks memorable for a bloody conflict; but Boone judged wiser. He, in all probability, told the Indians that if his men had assurance of kind treat- ment, the capture would be easy; but that, if no such assurance was given, the battle would be bloody. The party surrendered; and Boone records that the Indians kept their word. Neither death nor torture awaited them. For the surrender of his party, Boone, a short time afterward, when released, underwent a trial by court- martial. The charges were preferred by Col. Calla- way, an intimate friend of Boone, and Col. Benja- min Logan. Boone defended himself, and so effect- ually vindicated his conduct, and demonstrated the sagacity of his course, that, not only was he honorably acquitted, but, at its close, an immmediate promotion to a majority followed. The expedition against Boonesborough seems im- mediately to have been relinquished -indicating at 181 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. once the good effects of the policy pursued by Boone. Had the salt party fought and been conquered, as was too probable, as the numerical advantage of the In- dians was very great, and the whites had nIot the ad- vantages of fortifications, the Indians, flushed with their triumph, would have gone on to the fort, which would have been surprised, and, as its leader was a prisoner and its garrison diminished, the settlement, in the winter, would have been captured, and the most fearful results followed. As it was, the whole plan of the campaign was changed, and with the great Pioneer and twenty-seven of his braves as pris- oners, the Indian expedition returned in triumph. They then proceeded with their spoil to the chief Indian town on the Little Miami, to old Chillicothe. The march was in the severe weather of February, which Boone and his companions in captivity were probably better able to endure than the Indians. Boone says, the journey was uncomfortable -a very mild word for a captivity under such circumstances. He rather quaintly says that they received as good treatment as prisoners could expect from savages. This was on the eighteenth day of February. Boone must have made good use of his time and opportuni- ties, for on the tenth of March, he had so won on them that they selected ten of his men, and sent them, with himself, under a guard, to Detroit. It was an. other long and painful march through the wilderness, 182 BOONE TAKEN TO DETROIT. occupying twenty days. Of the route and circum- stances, Boone has left no record; but it is quite ev- ident that he was all the while laboring to fix himself in their confidence so firmly, that it would enable him to command his time and opportunity. He had the ultimate end in view, at all hours, and made his plans complete, like a master mind, as he was. It has been said that it entered into the calculations of Boone that it was the policy of Hamilton, the En- glish. official who was in command of Detroit, that for scalps he gave a reward, and for prisoners; and that he deemed it wisest to have the Indians encour- aged in bringing in prisoners rather than scalps. What a change has been wrought in the opinions of man- kind in the last half century! It could not now be a regulation of war, that the savage should be encour- aged to mutilate his victim, without drawing on the nation who could thus offend the moral sense of man- kind, the most severe reprobation. It is not, howev- er, in the truth of history wisest for us to declaim against the policy of the English in the Revolution, in the employment of the savage, as if they were the only ones who had erred. Notwithstanding the in- dignant language used by Jefferson in the Declara- tion, in which the incitement of the savage to deeds of blood, is recited as one of the chief acts of tyranny of George III.-it is to be feared that the assistance of the Indian was welcomed by our own people, 183 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. without inquiring too closely into the warfare he prac- ticed. Yet it is to be hoped that our leading men did not cultivate their ferocity or imitate it. One of the Johnsons, who resided on the Mohawk, and whose in- fluence over the tribes was so very great as to make his will their law, made repeated efforts to take John Tayler, of Albany, prisoner, as Gov. Tayler was one of the chief actors in the Revolution. After the Revolution, and when a number of years had elapsed, at a sale of some books in Albany, Gov. Tayler dis- covered the family Bible of the Johnsons. He bought it, and sent it to the exiled chieftain, who was living in Canada; saying that it was in return for the treat- ment he had received from him during the war. The extraordinary answer returned by Johnson was, that if he had caught him in the Revolution, he would have given him to the Indian8. Notwithstanding Gov. Hamilton's reputation as dispensing rewards for scalps, it is due to him to note, that Boone records that on his arrival he was treated by the governor with great humanity. He alludes to his journey with the Indians, and says they treated him well, or, as he says, entertained him; indeed, as Filson writes it, (though this seems language stronger than Boone would naturally have used,) "their affection for him was so great." The exaggerated sentence, however, conveys the truth that Boone had so well excercised his powers of kindness 184 MOTIVES OF THE INDIANS. and his sagacity with the Indians, that, although he had been the commander of a strong fortress -one which annoyed and angered them more than any other -he had made them generous and friendly to- ward him. The motive that induced the Indians to risk the journey to Detroit with Boone, was two-fold. It was to inspire the English with a sense of the great ser- vice which they had rendered by securing such a captive, and to show Boone the friendly relations ex- isting between them and the royal troops. It was a refinement of cruelty, though not intended as such, to take a white man to a polished and agreeable place like Detroit, and not to allow him to remain. It could not well have been that they claimed a reward for Boone, as for the other prisoners, because that would havc given to the English commandant full authority over them. It was rather an exhibition of the great captive, in triumph, since all barbarians are alike, whether led by a Shawanese chieftain, or by Titus at Rome. Boone still wore the appearance of satisfaction with his position. It was necessary to secure such confi- dence as should, at the proper time, leave him un- guarded, and he looked around Detroit with his In- dian guard, as if it had not inducement to alienate him from them. His residence at Detroit was about a month. It 185 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. was a peculiar position for a prisoner. He knew that at any hour he might be summoned to resume his toilsome and painful march as a captive. He was in constant communication with men like himself- of similar birth and habit -and yet he was an append- age to a tribe of wandering savages. The English gentlemen at Detroit, estimated the worth of the no- ble-hearted Pioneer, and evidencing the kind human nature that civilization cultures, they pressed upon him the offer of money, and whatever else his neces- sities required. Boone plaintively says, they were " sensible of his adverse fortune, and touched with human sympathy." He acted towards his generous friends with a dignity which we cannot contemplate without having the old man's memory lie nearer our hearts. He declined their offer, because he looked forward through the probabilities of his life, and saw no prospect of his being able to repay. He gave them " many thanks for their kindness- their unmerited generosity." In Detroit, the arrival of this celebrated Pioneer must have been an event of extraordinary interest. Caged by the savage, he showed ne fear; but with all the horror of Indian captivity before him, was yet the simple-hearted pioneer. The intelligent English knew, through the notice taken of him by Lord Dun more, by Henderson, and by the people generally, hip consequence and worth. They had received no such 186 BOONE'S RANSOM REFUSED. visitor, and it was unquestionably a serious grief to them, that the Indian insisted upon retaining him. Yet they did not dare to thwart the Indian, because the war against the Colonies needed, they thought, such terrible alliance. That the interest manifested in Boone by Com- mandant Hamilton was not feigned, was shown by his offer to the Indians of the sum of one hundred pounds sterling-a very large ransom, in the value of money in those days. That such an offer was re- fused, indicates the great value which the Indians at- tached to the possession of Boone; but it also proves another thing, that the government of Britain, in the administration of its power by the authorities in the Colonies, regarded the alliance of the Indian as so valuable as to induce every effort to please them. Else, certainly such a prisoner as was Boone, would have been taken into the guardianship of the military power. But there was much about Boone for the In- dian to admire. This, all his intercourse with them seems to prove. The Indians occasionally found a white man in whom they had every confidence, and for whom they manifested as much of friendship, if not of affection, as was in their natures. It was so, two hundred years before, in the instance of Corlear, the Hollander, who obtained such possession of the Indian heart as to be all-powerful with them, and so that their synonym for honor and beauty, was his 187 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. name. Boone was quiet and silent. This pleased the Indian. It was so different from the noisy brawling of the mere hunter, that in his taciturnity the Pioneer seemed to assimilate the character of the man of the woods. He was brave. His conduct had proved this; but he won his bravery as a soldier and not as a tyrant. He seemed to be willing to deal with the Indians as having manhood and humanity about them, instead of waging a war of extirpation, as against wild beasts. The Indians could not imagine how Boono could be a perpetual foe to them. They probably believed that time would reconcile him to his captivity, and that if they could identify him with them, he would be of invaluable service to them. Hence, it was dangerous to let him remain too long at Detroit, and having satisfied their vanity by the exhibition of their powerful prisoner, they deter- mined to return to the wilderness. The men who had been taken prisoners with Boone at the Salt Licks, were left as prisoners with the British - where they received the fortune of war, as dispensed by those who respected the captured soldier -a fate infinitely preferable to that which would have been theirs, if Boone had not, by his prudent course, rescued them from a bloody death or a cruel captivity. Boone left Detroit on the tenth of April. The com- mandant doubtless lamented the sad circumstances which prevented him from assuming full power over 188 RETURIt TO THE NILDERNI :SS. him; for when the ransom was offered, it was with the intention to allow Boone to return to his home, a prisoner on parole. Probably the safety of Boone with his captors was considered very problematical, as the British officers knew that any sudden and se- vere disaster occurring to the savages, might induce them to murder, in revenge, whatever white man was in their power. The march of the Indians was again towards old Chillicothe, and it was a long and a fa- tiguing one; but during its progress, Boone looked around and made an intelligent observation of the general appearance of the country. That region whose every acre is now the scene of a prosperous activity, by whose resources the nation is cheered and enriched, lay there in all its forest wealth; but the judgment of the Pioneer determined it, as he says, to be " an exceeding fertile country, remarkable for fine springs and streams of water." Boone's own record of his conduct in captivity is remarkable: "At Chillicothe I spent my time as comfortably as I could expect; was adopted, according to their custom, into a family, where I became a son, and had a great share in the affection of my new parents, brothers, sisters and friends. I was exceedingly familiar and friendly with them, always ap pearing as cheerful and satisfied as possible, and they put great confidence in me. I often went a hunting with them, and frequently gained their applause for my activity at our shooting matches. I was careful not to exceed many of them in shooting; for no people are more envious than they 1811) LtFE OF DANIEL BOONE. in this sport. I could observe in their countenances and ges- tures, the greatest expressions of joy when they exceeded me; and, when the reverse happened, of envy. The Shawa- nese king took great notice of me, and treated me with pro- found respect, and entire friendship, often entrusting me to hunt at my liberty. I frequently returned with the spoils of the woods, and as often presented some of what I had taken to him, expressive of duty to my sovereign. My food and lodging were in common with them; not so good, indeed, as I could desire, but necessity made everything acceptable." Boone had so completely concealed his purposes, and so ingratiated himself with his captors, that they thought that they had secured him. In order to iden- tify him as closely as possible with them, and attach him to them by a tie which they thought could not be broken, they adopted him into their tribe. Mr. Peck, whose narrative, from having been collected in some of its leading incidents from Boone himself, is the standard authority, next to the account prepared by Filson, from Boone's information, gives some par- ticulars which are curious and interesting. Black- fish, a distinguished Shawanese chief, had lost a son, who was a warrior. These were days when vacan- cies in an Indian family were quite likely to occur, if the rifles of the settlers could get a chance to make themselves felt. Blackfish selected Boone as the indi- vidual who should supply the loss to him, and it was proposed to him that he should be adopted by all the due forms into the tribe. True to his sagacious pol- 190 ADOPTED LNTO THE TRIBE. icy, Boone consented, for he knew well that the dis- tinction between the wise and the foolish, is often that the former allows a plan to be fully matured before he acts on it, while the latter is hasty, and before the power is completely within grasp, acts upon it. Boone had now been, the Indians thought, somewhat thoroughly tested. He had been in the forest and in the city, and in both had seemed to be contented. They knew that in the city especially, he had often good opportunity to get away; for, in all probability, the British would have looked leniently on his escape, as they would, and rightly, have known that his feel- ings towards them would have been softened by their kindness. They saw in him a man distinguished in all that they thought adorned manhood, and if they could win such a one to their tribe, it was most desirable. Mr. Peck says, "The forms of the ceremony of adoption were often severe and ludicrous. The hair of the head is plucked out by a tedious and painful operation, leaving a tuft some three or four inches in diameter, on the crown for the scalp-lock, which is cut and dressed up with ribbons and feathers." After all this, he is thoroughly washed, and " the white blood " rubbed out. He is then taken to the Council House, where a speech is made him, in which he is assured of all the honors intended and services expected. After this, follows a luminous painting of 191 LIFE OF I)ANIEL BO(NE. head and face, and the ceremony concludes with a feast and the pipe. To all this Boone submitted. They might make the Pioneer, darkened by the exposure of so many huntings and campaigns, to resemble an Inlian, but they could not put in his heart purposes of revenge or love of cruelty. In all of it he saw but one thing, and that was, that it facilitated this great design of reaching home at some period. Boone relates his sagacious and courtier-like man- ner of leaving the honors of the shooting-match to be won by the Indian. He soon saw that he was win- ning their confidence, but he could not but notice that they did not entirely trust him. He was allowed to hunt; but they counted his balls, and he was obliged to show what game he had shot, and thus prove that he had not concealed any of the ammuni- tion to be used in an escape. But Boone had an art beyond them, for he divided the balls into halves and used light charges of powder. The Indian, with all his watchfulness, never supected this; and Boone had too much self-control to show the least exultation in outwitting them. He never seems to have forgotten the great " mis- sion " which he always believed was his -the subju- gation and development of the beautiful and fertile west, to the settler. Even as a wandering captive, his heart was not so heavy but that he could observe 192 EMPLOYED IN SALT-MAKING. the beauty of the soil, and while he was hunting around Chillicothe, his investigation and research were continued. He hunted for them, and he says he " found the land, for a great extent about this river, to exceed the soil of Kentucky, if possible, and re- markably well watered." He could scarcely imagine the possibility that any land could exceed his beloved Kentucky, to which he had called the attention of the world, and towards which, while he was a pris- oner, the settler, anxious to realize the truth of all that Boone had said, was pressing with all his vigor, daring every hour the same captivity in which the Pioneer himself was held. The Indians recollected in what pursuit they had found Boone, and had a very practical idea of making him useful to them. So they took him to the Salt Springs on the Scioto, as they, like their white breth- ren, desired this indispensable article. In all the de- partments of duty they found their prisoner useful, and he turned to every service which they required of him with a readiness, the sincerity of which they could not question. Salt-making was not exactly in the Indian's line. It belonged too much to work, and the Indian, in his forest, was too lordly to submit to any physical exertion not prompted by his pleasure. For ten days he was busy, and his Indian guard un- doubtedly admired the quiet industry with which their adopted son ministered to their comfort. His I 13 193 1V4 LIE OF DANrEL BOONE. narrative shows, also, this extraordinary fact, that such was his superiority in hunting, that these wild men, brought up to know no other occupation, em- ployed him to hunt for them. CHAPTER XI. AFFAIRS AT BOONESBOROUGH - BOONE'S WIFE RURNS TO NORTH CAROLINA -BOONE RETURNS FROM THE SALT LICKS TO CHILLICOTHE - HE FINDS THE INDIANS PREPARING AN EXPEDITION AGAINST BOONESBOROUGE - BOONE MAKES HIS ESCAPE, AND ARRIVES AT THE FORT-HE HASTILY REPAIRS THE FORT - BOONIES EXPEDITION TO PAINT CREEK - DEFEAT OF THE INDIANS - RETURN OF THE PARTY- ARRIVAL OF A LARGE BODY OF INDIANS, LZD BY DU QUESNE -THE GARRISON SUMMONED TO SURRENDER BOONE had now been absent from the fort four months and three days. It was a long and weary time. In all of it, he had no intercourse with those who were most dear to him, and of friends or family he could hear nothing. Of the general progress of events he had learned at Detroit, but obtained his information there from sources the most anxious to impress upon a leading mind like his, that to the feeble Colonies, seaboard and frontier, all was gloomy and disastrous, and that the British had conquered, and would soon completely destroy the rebellion. All the news the Indians brought him was of their own success. At the fort, the capture of Boone and his party was known, but the circumstances could not have been, else a different course of conduct would have been maintained. They had learned, by the report brought LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. by prisoners effecting an escape, that lie had been at Detroit. Indeed, the English authorities would natu- rally have given all currency to the fact that they had, by their allies, captured the great leader of the settlers. Such a deed would convey a more forcible idea of the prowess of the Indian, and would be effect- ual in disheartening the Americans. But it seems that the garrison and Boone's friends took the obvious view of the subject, that once in the British power, the Indian would relinquish their distinguished pris- oner to the royal troops. That he was brought to Detroit only to be shown as a part of a triumphal dis- play, they did not imagine; and as his subsequent fate was unknown, they imagined that he had been sent far off into the interior, into Canada. The con- sequences of the absence of their leader soon begun to develop themselves in the want of attention to the defences of the fort. Had they known the real state of Boone's affairs, it is probable a different course would have been adopted. It was not known to them that the anxiety of the Indians to possess themselves of Boonesborough had been so great that the capture of Boone resulted from a winter expedition - a thing very unusual - direct- ed to the subjugation, if possible, of the fort. It is probable that it was in the belief that the Indians would not move during the winter, that induced the salt-making party to venture away from the garrison. 196 THE FORT AT BOONESBOROU'GHT. Boone had been so much the leader of the forces at Boonesborough, and had so concentrated in himself the preparations constantly in readiness against sur- prise, that when he was away there was none to take his place. "The fort," says Flint, "was a perfect parallelogram, including from a half to a whole acre. A trench was then dug four or five feet deep, and large and contiguous pickets planted in the trench, so as to form a compact wall, from ten to twelve feet above the soil. The pickets were of hard and dura- ble timber, about a foot in diameter. The soil about them was rammed hard. At the angles were small projecting squares, of still stronger material, and planting, technically called ftankers, with oblique port-holes, so that the sentinel could rake the external front of the station without being exposed to shot from without. Two immense folding gates were the means of communication from without." The garrison evidently believed that the danger to Boonesborough was not immediate. The gallant con- duct of Gen. Clarke - the more diffused settlements - the increased emigration -all induced a disorgan- ization; and the probabilities are that if the Indian had possessed the sagacity then to attack the fort, while they held its leader as prisoner, it would have been compelled to yield, and what Boone had so often defended, would have been a subject of the savages' triumph. 197 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. The wife of Boone had seen too much of the frontier life, and, by the most painful experience, known its dangers, not to realize that the residence at Boones- borough was a precarious one, when her husband was away. She had her family around her. While Boone was there, though it was a strange and wild life for the nurture of children, when the midnight might at every recurrence be the hour for a bloody death; yet. for the love of the husband and the father, it might be borne. She had estimated all these dangers when she left North Carolina. Boone's absence had now continued so long as to render it much more than doubtful whether he would ever again appear. The life of the settler was suspended upon a thread, and it seemed most probable that, in Boone's case, it was severed. Boone himself relates that his wife des- paired of ever seeing him again. She knew that Boone had once before been a prisoner, and had es- caped, and she had heard from him his statement that it was, in Indian judgment, a grievous crime; that it seemed to them almost unforgiveable that, when they had spared the life of a captive, he should leave them, especially as his stay with them enabled him to com- municate such information of what their real condi- tion was; and although her anxieties were relieved by the knowledge that he had been taken to Detroit, her fears and sorrow returned when she found that all trace of him ceased there. Her husband, in his 198 MRS5. BOONE RETURNS TO NORTIT CAROLINA. narrative, says, that she expected that the Indians had killed him. She had seen her bright and cher- ished son shot down by the savages, though he had done them no harm. How could she anticipate any other fate for the bold leader who had so often made the Indian feel his prowess. But there was something more than the sorrow for her husband's probable loss. Boone relates that she was " oppressed with the distresses of the country," as well as "bereaved of me, her only happiness." In all these circumstances of peril and sorrow, the earn- est energy of the woman did not forsake her. She determined to leave the fort, and return to her father's house, in North Carolina, and she acted out her de- termination. With her family and her effects, she left the protection of the garrison, and, on horseback, through what Boone characterizes as a multitude of dangers, she found the long journey before her. This was an enterprise worthy of the wife of the great Pi- oneer. It was a journey from which the greater part of mankind would have drawn back. It is gratifying to be able to record that she safely reached her old home. The good Providence that had preserved her heroic husband's life amidst so many dangers, did not desert her. It is true that she only removed from one scene of war to another, but in the old States, the usages of civilization prevailed, and she was where, LIM OF DANIEL BOONE. since she believed her husband was lost to her, the kindness of the paternal mansion was doubly prized. Mrs. Boone must have believed that a destiny of sorrow was associated for her with the settlement of the West,- her son killed, her husband gone, and, as she thought, with similar fate - her home at the fort always held by the most precarious tenure -it is in the experiences of such women that we realize at what cost of all that the heart values, the foundations of these States were laid. She was only reenacting the same scenes of suffering which, under differing pha- ses, the pioneers of Albany, and Jamestown, and Plymouth, had experienced. Boone having been successful and satisfactory as a salt manufacturer was taken back to Chillicothe. It is quite probable that he was sent off to give the better opportunity for the preparation which he found in ac- tivity when he returned. Ile says he was " alarmed to see four hundred and fifty Indians, of their choicest warriors, painted and armed in a fearful manner, ready to march against Boonesborough." This seems to have been unexpected by Boone, and to have has- tened the consummation of his plans. It is quite probable that the Indian spies had heard that, during the captivity of their leader, the garrison at Boonesbo- rough had allowed the fort to be out of repair. A neglect of care for the fortification, would be accom- panied by less watchfulness and caution, and the wary A NEW EXPEDITION AGAINST THlE FOI1T. Indian who ventured near the scene, could readily observe that there were broken places -weakened timbers - and the easy avenue for a surprise. Boone was too sagacious to evince that he took any interest in the procedure, and especially did he conceal his own accurate knowledge of the Shawanese dialect, so that the Indians talked freely and fully all around him, and he obtained a complete knowledge of all their plans. It was a bitter trial. He felt that he was in the power of the Indians, and he had every reason to dread that the expedition would be successful; and in that fort were his wife and his children! He heard the Indians talk about the fort, and if they were aware of its exposure and neglect, they would be likely to mention it. All this made a fearful conflict in his mind, for it became, of all things, necessary that his countenance should be as calm, and his ap- pearance as contented, as if he was in reality that which the Indians hoped they had made him-the son of old Blackfish. He had to do more. Instead of being merely a passive spectator, he thought it wise to applaud their war-dances, and smile at the preparations which were making to murder those dearest to him. He determined to risk all in an escape, but, unlike lesser minds, he made no false step. He was, to all appearance, the brave, changed into an Indian. The least unwary movement, at this juncture, would have betrayed 1 20)1 22IFE OF DANIEL BOONE. him, and he summoned all his faculties for the flight. So completely had he appeared to be as contented as usual, without any difference of conduct from that manifested before he went to the Salt Licks, that no opposition was manifested to his taking his usual hunt on the sixteenth of June. He arose very early. The task before him was to escape, through a wilderness, from four hundred and fifty infuriated Indians; for such they certainly would be, when they ascertained how completely they had been deceived. These In- dians included the sagacious warrior- the young and hardy brave - the men capable of all that men could endure, in securing a quick pasage through the woods. He knew thoroughly his risk, and real- ized his own value. He saw the probabilities, almost the certainty, that a horrible death would signalize his recapture. So that morning was an intense hour. He took his gun, and secreted some venison, so as not to be entirely without food, and left the fierce force behind him. If a situation of keener interest can be found in the annals of human experience, it is most rare. Once fairly off, he felt that with anything like a reasonable time gained, his knowledge of woodcraft was equal or superior to that of the Indian; for his close observation of him had convinced him of the supremacy of the white man. His age was now forty-three, and he knew his own capacities of endu- rance. The race was for life, and he was in for it. 202 BOONE S ESCAPE. Hte very summarily, in his dictated narrative to Filson, disposes of his journey. He says he departed in the most secret manner, on the sixteenth, before sunrise, and arrived at Boonesborough on the twen- tieth, during which he had but one meal. Peck, deriving his information from Boone and oth- er reliable sources, states particulars which are of great interest. The distance to Boonesborough exceeded one hundred and sixty miles, which he traveled in less than five days, eat- ing but one regular meal on the road, which was a turkey he shot after crossing the Ohio River. Until he left that river behind him, his anxiety was great. He knew the In- dians would follow him, and it required all his skill and tact, as a backwoodsman, to throw them off the trail. His route lay through forests, swamps, and across numerous rivers. Every sound in the forest struck his ear as the signal of ap- proaching Indians. He was not an expert swimmer, and he anticipated serious difficulty in crossing the Ohio, which, at that time, from continued rains, was swollen, and was run- ning with a strong current. On reaching its banks, he had the good fortune to find an old canoe, which had floated into the bushes. A hole was in one end, but this he contrived to stop, and it bore him safely to the Kentucky side. His appearance before the garrison at Boonesborough, was like one risen from the dead." Let no one doubt the special interposition of Prov- idence. That old canoe that floated on the Ohio, ap- parently of all things most useless, had in it a trust, 203, LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. in which the happiness of a great State was deeply involved. That journey Boone could never forget. It was distinct from an ordinary escape. It was of a nature to arouse every Indian passion, for he had, as they thought, forfeited the adoption they had made of him. He was possessed of their secrets, and had received, by his residence among them, a greatly augmented power to injure them. There was " racing and chasing " in old Chillicothe camp, when the Shawanese Blackfish discovered that his adopted son had fled. To rush on all sides to dis- cover his trail, was their impulse, and the fleetest foot and the keenest hunter was sent after him. They immediately suspected his route, as appears by their subsequent conduct, and in all the forest towards Boonesborough the enraged Indian was found. It is quite probable that, with those who had known him best, there was as much of grief as of anger, because he would not have received from them such treament and such confidence, if he had not made himself loved and respected. As he had been suffered to hunt, their suspicions of his escape would not have been aroused till the day had advanced several hours. On this Boone had formed his plan. He knew how much progress he could make by the daylight, and that an attempt to get off in the night might have been fatally discovered. 204 HE REPAIRS THE FORT. Postponing his departure till about the usual hour for his hunting, made the action an ordinary one, as it would have been supposed that had he intended to escape, the night would have been chosen. To those few hours Boone, by the mercy of Heaven, owed his escape. They enabled him to put such a distance be- tween him and his enemy, that he could, by the arts of woodcraft, in which the country held no superior to him, baffle their search and throw them off the trail. It was one of the most memorable passages of his life, and if ever man earned the title of brave, he did. He came upon the garrison as if death had released him from its bonds. The men at Boonesborough be- lieved in his capture and in their own safety. He had immediately much to do. From the loss of his wife and children, while the grief of not finding them there to welcome him was natural, he gathered at once the great consolation that they were safe, and would not be exposed to the fearful ordeal through which he foresaw his fort was to pass. There was enough to do. Boone proceeded to re- pair the flanks, strengthen the gates and posterns, and to form double bastions. The same energy which had enabled him to come through a wilderness, one hun- dred and sixty miles, in less than five days, with one meal- scarcely sleeping, and perpetually in alarm- was manifested here; and in ten days the fort at 205 LIFE OF I)ANIEL BOONE. Boonesborough was in a state of defence, ready for the siege which its commander knew it was destined to sustain. It had survived many ordeals. The woods around it had been often alive with the savage, but its worst blow was to fall, and Boone knew that the enemy calculated confidently on its conquest. He had the most positive personal reasons for a des- perate defence. Boone had heard from the Indian force. Fortu- nately, one of those who had been held prisoner with him, had also escaped, as, in all probability, the same watchfulness was not bestowed on the others as over Boone. The great consequence which Boone pos- sessed in their estimation, was at once shown. His flight, when the pursuers returned, weary and disap- pointed, from their vain effort to recapture him, changed the music of the war dance. The Grand Council of the Nation was held. It was debated whether the expedition should go forward -for the Indian seems to have had complete confidence in Boone's having successfully returned. Indeed, their spies soon related to them the changes which his in- dustry and activity had brought about. The fort that they expected to find defenseless, was now likely to give them abundant trouble. Long and deep was the deliberation. The wise men checked the impa- tience of the young men, and counseled the utmost accuracy of movement. The Indian, in the escape 206; EXPEDITION TO PAINT CREEK. of Boone, saw that the white man could foil them at their own weapons, for he had shown a dissimulation and a sagacity entirely beyond all that they could furnish to their cause. The Pioneer makes, in his narrative, the reflection that the Indians " evidently saw the approaching hour when the Long Knives would dispossess them of their desirable habitations, and, concerned anxiously for futurity, determined ut- terly to extirpate the whites out of Kentucky." This was a resolution kindred to that which King Philip made in reference to the settlements in New England. The Indian could not understand, till forced to do so, that his cunning and cruelty had no other effect than to make surer and speedier his ultimate destruction. Boone seems to have been renewed in vigor after he had completed the fortifications at Boonesborough, for he no longer contented himself with acting on the defensive. It was expedient to strike a blow which should show the savages that if their expedition pro- ceeded, it would have enough to do. Immediately on the ending of his work at the garrison, he took a force of nineteen men, and issued forth for a surprise against a small town, called Paint Creek, up the Sci- oto. When they were within four miles of their des- tination, they discovered a party of Indians, already on their way to attack Boonesborough. They were to join the great body who came on from Chillicothe. These invaders found their energies put in requisition 207 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. somewhat ahead of the time they contemplated. A fight ensued-Boone calls it " a smart fight "- but Boone and his nineteen men, though the scene of the battle was not within fort or fortrress, proved too many for the thirty savages. It was not a very bloody battle on either side, as but one man was killed, and two wounded, and all this was on the part of the In- dians. Boone's party escaped unhurt. The Indians now fled, leaving behind them all their baggage, and three horses. The Paint Creek town was in solitude, the Indians having all deserted it. Boone realized that it was best to go back to the fort, as the expedi- tion would soon be there, and then every one was needed for an obstinate defence. After an absence of seven days, they were again safely in the fort, and the foray, which had extended one hundred and fifty miles, had its advantage. It showed the bravery of the garrison. It taught the Indian to look out for the safety of his own home; and the fact that Boone and his party had, after dis- covering in their march the main body, the adroitness and sagacity to get around them, and safely secure the protection of the fort, encouraged the heart of the garrison. They believed they could conquer an ene- my that they could thus outmancouvre. Boonesborough had now to encounter the most for- midable force that had ever been arraigned against it. It had known what it was to be attacked by night and 208 'TE INDIANS ARRIVE AT THE FORT. 20 day -by open fight and by stratagem; but never had such an army presented itself for its destruction, as was now marching against it. Boone's own narrative states that the invading force arrived on the eighth of August, but Peck thinks it is proved by a letter written by Col Bowman, that it was not till the eighth of September; and yet the letter of Bowman is certainly inaccurate in some of its statements, and may be, in its date. The invaders approached. It was the most formi- dable of all the expeditions of the war. The Indians were arrayed in all their war attire, for there seems to be a kindred policy in all barbarians. When the English were at war with the Chinese, the Oriental plan of campaigning was to make at the foe the most hideous grimaces - throw their bodies into the most violent contortions, and give the loudest exercise to their gongs. So the Indian relied oil his paint, his fierce face made up of vermillion, and whatever other gaudy hue could add to the beauty of his copper color, -nor less on the war whoop, which lie knew was par- ticularly frightful to the unaccustomed settler, but of which the pioneer soon knew the whole force was spent in empty breath. Painted and caparisoned, the Indians drew up in front of the fort. They did not trust entirely to their own skill, but had placed themselves under the com- mand of Capt. Du Quesne a name of importance in 14 209 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. the annals of the country, and which was that of the fort so memorable in the early annals of Washing- ton's military career. The Indian commander was Blackfish, who had thus come with scalping-knife and tomahawk to look after his adopted son - evidently not with the most delicate or tender of paternal feel- ing. Boone knew the anxiety of his Indian father to get hold of him, and estimated precisely what would be his family welcome ! The Indians were four hundred and forty-four in number, and there were twelve Canadians. Du Quesne, as possessing a knowledge of military tactics, was the leader, in fact, though Blackfish had com- mand, and was qualified to conduct the negotiations, as possessing the knowledge of both languages. Strange to say, the expedition, while it summoned the surrender in the name of His Britannic Majesty, appeared with the colors of France flying, as well as of England. As there existed at the time a treaty of alliance between France and the United States, this was a strange movement. It indicates that the affair was one which, although under the general campaign of the English, was a sort of partnership foray between the Indians and the Canadians. The latter had so re- cently been under the dominion of the French, and were so identified with them in language, manner and association, (as even to this day such a large popula- tion in the Eastern Province are,) that the flag of 210 POLICY OF THE FRENCH GOVERNMENT. France seemed their own, quite as much as did that of St. George. The great work of Wolfe had but partially developed itself. The French Government was opposed to any expe- dition by the United States against Canada. The French minister had instructions, before leaving France, to oppose any such plan, and the French de- sired that Canada and Nova Scotia should remain in the possession of England. So says Sparks; and these incidents illustrate it. The reason may have been that the government believed that where the French habit and manner remained so strongly, there was good hope that, if left alone, after Great Britain should be weakened by the loss of the Colonies, the French in Canada would follow their example, and come back to the dominion of the nation with whom the affections of such great numbers of their popula- tion were so cemented. Certainly, the French flag was a strange banner to float over an expedition whose object was to regain the periled and lost territory of Great Britain. There were about sixty-five men in the garrison. Al- though Boone's family had gone, there were others of the weak and defenceless who must be protected. The bravery of Boone and his force, and the strength of the log fortification, was to overcome the terrible odds of about six to one. Capt. Du Quesne was pre- sumed to be acquainted with the art of war as well, 211 LIM OF DANIEL BOONE. and in all probabilities better, than were the pioneers and settlers in the fort, while old Blackfish had earned Supremacy among the Indians. With him in coin- mand, the garrison could expect no mercy. Boone had forfeited all their lenity. His presence in full command of the garrison, after having, for months, been in their power, when in any hour they might have crushed him, was a bitter triumph, and one which was to them a perpetual reproach. The influence of European or civilized custom was now apparent. Instead of a tremendous yell, the first process was the summons to surrender, above noted, which was made in all due form - Boonesbo- rough being invited to place itself under the merciful care of four hundred and forty-four Indians ! wild for vengeance on the Brave who had successfully eluded their utmost care. The twelve Canadians could not have turned the savages aside from cruelty, and it is hardly probable, in the extraordinary military policy of the day, that they would have very zealously so endeavored. Boone had, from the hour he gained the sight of the fort, when he escaped from Chillicothe, delibera- ted as to all that was necessary to the full defence of the station. It will be recollected that, by his know- ledge of their language, he was in full possession of all their plans - their alliances - and knew the de- termination to possess themselves of this garrison, as 212 BOONE IN CoMMAND. 213 the boldest and greatest plan of their war. In all their operations, his captivity among them was a great feature, inasmuch as they knew very well that Boones- borough, without Daniel Boone, was a fortress with its greatest protection absent. CHAPTER XII. BOONE OBTAINS TWO DAYS TO CONSIDER THE SUMMONS TO SURRENDER- HE REFUSES TO SURRENDER -FURTHER NEGOTIATIONS OUTSIDE TUE FORT - TREACHERY OF THE INDIANS - SQUIRE BOONE WOUNDED - NINE DAYS' SIEGE CO0ENCES-THE INDIANS RETRLEAT-BOONE'S GREAT SHOT- HIS DAUGHTER-THE SIEGE AND THE DEFENCE-CAUSE OF KENTON'S ABSENCE-BOONE IS THIED BY (OURT-MARTIAI, AND HONORABLY AC- QUITTED. WHEN Boone had escaped, it took the Indians three weeks to recover from the surprise. They had to re- arrange and remodel all their campaign. They had believed that they were sure of Boone. His being a prisoner, or being in command of the fort, a brave and desperate leader, was quite a different affair. Im- pressed with the belief that the Indians would make their boldest endeavor upon Boonesborough, he had sent off an express to the settlements (as the eastern habitations were designated) for assistance. The re- quest was addressed to Col. Arthur Campbell-whose name proclaims him of the Highlander settlers-and it became a very important feature in his movements to gain time, so that the gallant Campbell could reach him. Boone says that when the summons was given, " it /I ATTACK ON FORT BOONESBOROUGII. I : f This page in the original text is blank. TIHE GARRISON SUMMONED. was a critical point with us. We were a small num- ber in the garrison - a powerful army before our walls, whose appearance proclaimed inevitable death -fearfully painted, and marking their footsteps with desolation." To Boone, who knew what the terror of the Indian really was, the language was but cold truth. He demanded two days in which he might consider the proposal to surrender. It was every thing for him to gain these two days. In them, Col. Campbell or his men might make their appearance, and the enemy find the woods as much a foe as the fort. It seems somewhat surprising that Capt. Du Quesne and Blackfish agreed to the two days, especially as in them the garrison found means to collect their horses and cattle, and bring them through the posterns into the fort. Certainly, if court-martials were in fashion among the Shawanese, Blackfish deserved one; or if time was granted by Capt. Du Quesne, his general- ship deserves the same review. What could have induced him to allow the garrison to provision them- selves, is mysterious, for every day's provision they obtained was a fearful loss to the besiegers. But men do not act thus without a reason. Du Quesne probably thought that there was very hard fighting to be done before the fort could be conquered, and if he could win it by negotiation, it would spare his force a severe loss. Else, he could not have al- 215 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. lowed the provisions and water to be brought in, for the females were actively employed in the two days in bringing water from the spring. Bowman says, that the invaders, as soon as they had raised their flag, called for Capt. Boone. They knew that he was the strength of the garrison, and thought it wisest to seek to inveigle or persuade him first. They stated the terms of peace on which they would agree to a capitulation. As the Indians had negotiated with Gen. Clarke at the Illinois, there was one reason to believe that the same sincerity might be observed here. It is doubtful whether Boone, who knew all their plans, for a mo- ment believed in their sincerity, but time was every- thing, and every hour gained was a great gain. It seems, however, that during these two days the truce was faithfully kept, else the cattle could not have been brought in so safely. Indeed, Boone's lan- guage justifies this belief. Du Quesne, for his own reasons, was able to restrain the Indians; while Boone never so far placed himself in their power, but that he could seek at once the protection of the walls. The two days expired. In thistime theyhadbecome quite familiar with each other, and Boone observed many of those with whom he had feigned intimacy while at Chillicothe. All being prepared, Boone consulted his men whether anything like a capitulation should be grant- ed. The conference was that of desperate men. He 216 REFUSAL TO SURRENDER. states that death was preferable to captivity, for he well knew that Du Quesne could not prevent the In- dians from cruelty. The determination was to fight -although against such terrible odds -and Boone, who knew that he had the deepest stake in the trans- action, for he had most displeased the savage, was probably the first to insist upon holding the fortress to the last. Standing on one of the bastions, he returned the final answer of the garrison to the captain, who trans- lated it the Indians. He said, " We are determined to defend our fort while a man is living." Du Quesne, with the courtesy of his lineage, stood in attentive au- ditory of what Boone was saying. Boone was also courteous, and talked like a brave man. " We laugh at all your formidable preparations, but thank you for giving us notice and time to provide for our defence. Your efforts will not prevail, for our gates shall forever deny you admittance." This was a longer speech than usual with the Pioneer. Tile gratitude expressed for the time and opportunity to provision the fort, may have impressed Du Quesne as ironical. It may be asked here, why, if Boone took every precaution, this provisioning was not before ac- complished. The expedition to Paint Creek may have been the solution, since it was his bold policy to strike a blow, while the Indian only thought him preparing to receive one. J 217 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. Boone questions whether his language did not affect the courage of the invaders. It may have fully aroused them to the idea of what folly had been theirs in allowing the garrison this time. Boone thought they would immediately begin the siege, but the Frenchman had not quite exhausted his diploma- cy. It is quite likely that Boone's vigor in getting ready had taught him what a formidable task was be- fore him. The next move made by Du Quesne was to communicate the instructions of' Gov. Hamilton, who was in command of Detroit, which, he said, were to take the garrison captive, but not to destroy it, and he requested that the garrison would send out nine of their chosen men to make a treaty, which, if done, the forces would be immediately withdrawn from un- der the walls, and the Indians and Canadians would return home peaceably. Boone says, "this sounded grateful to our ears, and we agreed to the proposal." Why did Boone accede to this proposal He had every reason to believe in the cruel and desperate character of the foe. He had insulted and mortified them by his escape, and he could not but see that every thing in the case looked very unlike a peace or an agreement. The solution of all this may have been, that in the use of Gov. Hamilton's name, Du Quesne struck a cord which vibrated. Boone knew the kindly feelings of the governor towards him. It had shown itself at Detroit in a manner in which 218 THE CONFERENCE. there was no treachery or deceit, and if Hamilton had been allowed to follow the dictates of his own heart, Boone would not have been taken to Chillicothe, but would have been honorably discharged from captivity. Boone consulted his friends. Gov. Hamilton's name went far with him, and, at last, the selected nine went out. These were, among others, (and of course Boone was at their head,) his brother, Flan- ders, Callaway, Stephen and William Hancock. To withdraw from the interior of the fort these men of mark, certainly seems to have been very unwise, but it is to be considered that Boone knew just what his men could do, and he knew well - accustomed as he was to the Indian - that the chances were greatly in favor of a safe retreat to the fort in any event. Those who had lived to old age, who had mingled in this affair, declared that they knew their strength and felt confident of success. They knew how strong and ac- tive they were, and from what Du Quesne had already lost by folly, they had no very great fear of him. They met in front of the fort, about one hundred and twenty feet from the walls - space enough for a party to cut them off, but this had not been forgotten. The sure riflemen of Boone's force were in such posi- tion as to give them the power at once to pour in such a fire as should prevent a surprise. The table of this conference was spread at the Lick - so 219 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. Bowman says -and the negotiation began, watched by rifle and by tomahawk in every minute of its progress. Boone's language is peculiar. " We held the treaty within sixty yards of the garrison, on purpose to di- vert them from. a breach of honor, as we could not avoid suspicion of the savages." They were to be di- verted by a sufficiency of good rifles within fair dis- tance. He does not suspect the Canadian, because he knew how differently honor was estimated by sav- age and by soldier. The captain offered his terms, and they were very liberal, yet they contained the extraordinary proposition that the oath of allegiance should be taken to George III., and a submission made to the Canadian authorities. Doing this, they were to be allowed to go with pdrfect freedom and take all their property. All this was too much, and Boone understood it. He knew that four hundred and fifty savages, who had been preparing for weeks and months for this expedition, did not come in all the panoply of war to end by a signature of a paper which they did not comprehend, and concerning which they did not care. They needed to gratify their vengeance - the captive at the stake, and the trophies of scalps. They did not intend that Boone should go unscathed again, and he knew all this. He negotiated, and signed, and diplomatised, to gain time. Col. Campbell's troops might, at any moment, 220 TREACHERY OF TIlE INDIANS. make their appearance, for the express sent had been told of the extremity of the danger. Boone and his fellow-commissioners from the garrison signed the proposed treaty, curious to know what was to come next. But if Boone had not had cause to suspect the whole thing a fraud and a decoy, his act in signing the treaty might have been considered a desperate one, rendered under the possession of a force exceed- ing by many times his own. But the first explana- tion is sufficient. He knew his men, and when, after the treaty was finished, his father by adoption - Old Blackfish-arose, and commenced a speech, he knew the play had another act. Boone had relied on the presence of his good rifles, as the whole affair was within cover of their fire. They were such. shots as upon them he could rely. The Indians now stepped into the front. As Du Quesne had been the paper and pen negotiator, their part was to come, and they soon avouched it. As became those who were engaged in the forma- tion of a treaty, neither had arms. It being an affair of peace, the outward appearances were consulted. The Indians, in their figurative language, declared that this was a negotiation between two great ar- mies, and there should be evidence of entire friend- ship. It was customary among them, they said, on such occasions, for two Indians to shake hands with every white man. Now this was a scheme so trans- 221 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. parent that it must have been at once perceived, in all its intention, l)y Boone and the hardy men at his side. They consented, and the grasp was given - the cowardly savages having calculated that if each white man could be brought into contact with two Indians, the surprise would succeed. They mistook their men. These stalwart frontier pioneers and hunt- ers were not easily captured. They were on their guard, and knew what each one could do. Of course, the exigency was one of desperation, and civilized men concentrate their energies tremendously in such cases. Bowman relates that Blackfish, after his long speech, uttered as a signal, the word " Go," and that a signal gun was fired. If he is right in this, the pre- concert of the whole affair is seen at once -" the In- dians, fastened on them, were to take them off." The white men began to diTpute the matter, though un- armed, and broke loose from them, though there were two or three Indians to one white man. It was the signal for a general firing-Boone's party endeavor- ing to protect them from the savages, while the In- dians poured in to assist their plot. Guns, by hun- dreds, were fired, but they all escaped into the fort and closed and barricaded the heavy gates behind them; all safe but Squire Boone, that brave brother, who was wounded. Never did nine men escape from such crisis of peril. The treaty was forgotten, or made into wadding. 222 T1HE SMGEi BEGUN IN EARNE.ST. The besiegers had lost character and time. Boone and his company had showed the savages, at the be- ginning, of what lion-hearted courage they were made up. This display was of the very kind to intimidate the Indian. Any such exercise of great personal strength told upon the savage with a force beyond any other species of reasoning. Du Quesne and Blackfish now began the siege in earnest. They had a force that could pour into the fort a power of ammunition, that if a white man pre- sented himself within range must be fatal. The siege lasted nine days and nights, for the invader was in number sufficient to take alternate watches. It is easy for us to give these details to the page, or to pe- ruse them, but the reality of that fight never could be effaced from the memory of those who participated in it. It was one of the most heroic of that series of struggles which gave to Kentucky such bloody ad- mission into the family of nations. A few gallant men, trained in a forest school, were shut up in a feeble fort, which, if the enemy had possessed artil- lery or scaling ladders, might have been knocked to pieces or covered with men. They had around them those whose life was dearer than their own. The balls fell like rain, and there was no hour for rest. It needed such a scene to illustrate the energy of the great Pioneer's character. H1is conduct on this occa- sion. shows him entitled to rank among the bravest 223 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. warriors of our country. Indeed, Boone personally enacted an heroism immeasurably superior to that of many to whom history assigns the laurel. Alone or at the head of his men, he was ever the brave man, content to do his duty under every form or circumn- Mtance of peril. The men at the fort fired when they could hit, while the savages seem to have fired away, as con- scious of a full treasury of powder and lead on which they could rely. Boone says: " After they were gone we picked up one hundred and twenty-five pounds of bullets, besides what stuck in the logs of our fort - which certainly is a great proof of their indutry ! " It was a great proof of the fact that the Indian knew, by fatal experience, that if he showed himself within range he was destined to know the accuracy of a Ken- tuckian's aim. The picture of the old fort, so accu- rately given in Collin's Kentucky, from a sketch by Col. Henderson, shows near it a belt of woods. These probably sheltered the savages, who blazed away im- potently, only at rare intervals doing any injury, The defenders lost two men, and there were four wounded. Of this loss, one of the killed and one of the wounded was in consequence of a desertion from the fort, of a negro, who had a capital rifle, and also had been trained to do execution with it, as was the education of all those in the fort. HIe got into a tree, and having a good aim, was soon one of the most suc- 224 BOONE'S DAUGHTER WOUNDED. cessful of the assailants. Boone found this out, watched him, and when he saw his head, fired. The man was found after the battle - a ball in his head - the shot being made at the distance of one hundred and seventy-five yards - five hundred and twenty-five feet. In all his best days Leather Stocking never sur- passed this. The Indian felt Boone in every hour of the siege. One of Boone's daughters remained in the fort. Why she did not accompany her mother in the re- turn to North Carolina, is not from the records appa- rent; but as it was with her, when married to Mr. Callaway, that he in his old age resided, it may be that her attachment to her father was so great that she preferred the perils of the fort rather than to be separated from him. She was a noble girl - "s Of such a sire, descendant true." She labored in the defence as zealously as her strength permitted, and was of those who supplied the ammu- nition. She was wounded, and when the annals of the heroic women of America are written, her name deserves conspicuous place. The Indians tried that by which they had often won horrible passage to the dwelling of the white man. They threw fire on the fort and it took ! -and for a time it seemed as if the fated hour for Boonesborough had come. There was no time for thought. At all risk the fire must be esx J 15 225 LIFE OF DANIEL BOO--NE. tinguished, and by the boldness and bravery of one young man, who risked and dared all the storm of balls, the impending danger was averted. All these things disheartened the Indians, for they had no re- course beyond the immediate act, and when in the conflict of physical strength they were overcome, they could see no recourse but flight; for, notwith- standing all that is said of their bravery, the Indian was quite ready to recognize that there is a time to run. Bowman says the fire was kept up during all the siege without intermission; but this must be some- what figurative, as during nine days and nights, if the battle had not sometimes wavered or ceased, the physical endurance of the garrison must have failed. Boone relates one of the best tactics of the be- siegers. " The enemy begun to undermine our fort, which was situated fifty yards from Kentucky River. They began at the water mark, and proceeded in the bank some distance, which we understood by their making the water muddy with the clay; and we im- mediately proceeded to disappoint their design by cutting a trench across their subterranean passage. The enemy discovering our countermine, by the clay we threw out of the fort, desisted from that stratagem." This device was too good to have been suggested by the Indians. It was a point in civilized warfare, and was probably counseled by DuL Quesne; but lie forgot that the Pioneer had not been ail inatteiitive 226 THE INDIANS RAISE THE SIEGE. observer of whatever of war and its incidents he had witnessed at Detroit. The digging was too hard work for the Indian, and so far as he participated in it, he was doubtless quite willing to discontinue the labor. Experience, Boone says, fully convinced them that neither their power nor their policy could effect their purpose. On the twentieth day of August, (Mr. Peck says, twentieth of September,) they raised the siege and departed. This was a great siege. It is one of the most mem- orable pages in our military history. While other and minor affairs have placed their chief actors high in fame, the siege of Boonesborough, sustained for nine days - four hundred men against fifty - in a wild country - against a selected band of Indian warriors -has been comparatively forgotten. It re- sembles the desperate battles of the Old World, and had it occurred in Europe, no honors or reward would have been too great for the bold defender. Boone was not the man to make conspicuous his own achievements. Boone and others who survived, in their old days spoke with gratitude of their preservation. He was the man to remember, as brave men do, who had been the defender of the oppressed. In this repulse of the savage, Boone felt the absence of one of his boldest and bravest men -one whose courage and skill would have made themselves visible 227 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. to the discomfiture of the enemy. Simon Kenton was not a man to be willingly away from such a scene. I1is absence was owing to the following cir- cumstances: " Kenton finding Boone about to undertake an expedition against a small town on Paint Creek, readily joined him. Inaction was irksome to the hardy youth in such stirring times; besides he had some melancholy reflections that he could only escape from in the excitement of danger and ad- venture. The party, consisting of nineteen men, and com- manded by Boone, arrived in the neighborhood of the In- dian village. Kenton, who as usual was in advance, was startled by hearing loud peals of laughter from a cane-brake just before him. He scarcely had time to tree before two Indians, mounted upon a small pony, one facing the animal's tail, and the other his head, totally unsuspicious of danger and in excellent spirits, made their appearance. He pulled trigger and both Indians fell, one killed and the other se- verely wounded. He hastened up to scalp his adversaries, and was immediately surrounded by about forty Indians. His situation, dodging from tree to tree, was uncomfortable enough, until Boone and his party coming up, furiously at, tacked, and defeated the savages. Boone immediately re- turned to the succor of his fort, having ascertained that a large war party had gone against it. Kenton and Montgom- ery, however resolved to proceed to the village to get " a shot," and steal horses. They lay within good rifle distance of the village for two days and a night, without seeing a single warrior; on the second night they each mounted a fine horse, and put off to Kentucky, and the day after the In- dians raised the siege of Boonesborough, they cantered into the fort on their stolen property."- Collins' Kentucky. 228 CHAORIN OF THE INDIANS. This siege culminated the military history of Boonesborough. It was the last attack it sustained, and it was fairly entitled to the title of the Impreg- nable. Boonesborough now is a small village, and yet it will always remain, in the history of Kentucky and of the country, a classical locality. In later days, the voice of eloquence has made the scenes of the Hunter and the Warrior live again. Senator More- head, distinguished for his intellect in a land where such men as Clay, and Crittenden, and Breckenridge lived, delivered, in 1840, an address in commemora- tion of the historical incidents of the place, which is of the most valuable contributions to our annals. Kentucky owes it to itself to build, at the site of the fort, a monument, worthy in its magnitude of the place where brave men laid the corner stone on which the great edifice of the State has been so successfully reared. After the siege was over, the Indians dispersed. They felt the deepest chagrin that they could not have secured Boone. He was the noblest prisoner they had ever secured, and twice he had successfully escaped. He had crossed river and swamp - en- dured hunger and every privation - and after such a march as would have done honor to their best war- rior, had disappointed all their hope of taking.the fortress. They had lost the leader, and not gained 229 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. the garrison. Boone henceforth was a memorable word in Indian tradition. Their loss was heavy. The fire from the fort killed thirty-seven, and wounded a great number. When they left, they went in different parties to the several forts, and waylaid the hunters. It is quite probable that, had they been successful at Boonesboroughi, the American cause would have suffered greatly, for it would have been complete encouragement to the British to sustain the alliance with the Indians at any cost. Curiously -certainly it would be curious if histo- ry did not show so many similar instances - the lon- or that first awaited this brave soldier, who had con- ducted himself with a valor worthy the plaudit of a nation, was a - Court-Martial I We have had illus- trations in our own day of heroism and consummate military skill, receiving the same reward. Four charges were made against him - the first concerning the capture of the salt-makers at Blue Licks; the second, a very singular one-" manifesting friendly feelings towards the Indians while a prisoner, and of- fering to surrender Boonesborough, have the people removed to Detroit, and live under British protection and jurisdiction "-taking off a party of men from Boonesborough, in his expedition to Scioto, and thus weakening the garrison, when he had reason to be- lieve the Indians were about to invade the fort - and 230 BOONE TRIED BY COURT-MARTIAL. 231 at the siege of Boonesborough, being willing to take the officers to the Indian camp, and thus endangering the garrison. It must be that this court was called by his friends, to give him an opportunity to show to the world the consummate skill with which he had conducted him- self in the most intensely precarious positions. Of the most honorable result of this trial, mention has before been made. Mr. Peck says: "After a full in- vestigation he was acquitted honorably, and the-con- fidence of the people in his patriotsm and sagacity confirmed and increased." The reader who has care- fully noted the conduct of the Pioneer, will realize how truly he deserved the gratitude of his country for his wisdom and bravery in all these situations. CHAPTER XIII. RESULTS OF THE WAR- A RETROSPECT-BOONE VISITS HIS FAMILY HN NORTH CAROLINA - EMIGRATION TO THE WEST INCREASES - LAND OFFICE XSTABLISHED -COMMISSIONERS TO SETTLE SOLDIERS' LAND CLAIMS-GOY. SHELBY-GREAT ACTIVITY IN THE SURVEYING OF LAND-BOONS IS ROBBED OF A LARGE SUM OF MONEY - ITS EFFECT ON BOONE - THE LAND LAW. TuEX year 1778, like every other year of the RIX- volutionary period, was one of alarm. The great power against which the colonists were forced to con- tend, spread its attacks and aggressions throughout all the land, and the Indian was relied upon as one of the most efficient means of delaying the progress of the frontier towards the arts and power of civilization. While the settlers were in all the distress that their neighborhood to a savage foe could produce, the army at Valley Forge were enduring all the trials and pri- vations, which have made the name of their residence sadly famous in our history. From the ordeal of such sorrows, freedom rose in all its strength. Their suffering gave purity and firmness to their principles. While the battles of the Atlantic States are en- shrined in the annals of the country, and those by whose valor they were won, have been immortalized, the brave men whose courage was as conspicuous A RETROSPiXJI. and whose trial was far more severe, have been, in great measure, rejected; and yet, an authority so high as that of Gov. Morehead, says Boone's triumph saved the frontier from depopulation. The Indian felt that the West was especially his own battle ground, and he yielded the possession of his hunting ground, only after he had exhausted all the means of defense and attack of which he was capable. When he found, just before the commencement of the Revolution, that the mountains, behind which were his cherished hunting grounds, had been overcome, impregnable as he had believed they were, by the bold adventure of such men as Boone and Finley, he thought himself able to drive out or crush the invader by a foray; but as the strength of the settler developed, he saw his increasing danger, and felt how powerful was his foe. The quarrel between the Colonies and the Brit- ish, brought to his aid the treasury and arsenals of the English, and, aided by these, he believed he would soon possess the power to exterminate the pio- neer. Hence, the fight at Boonesborough and the long series of attacks of which it was the principal. The Indian fought for existence, and fought hard. When Boone has finished his relation of the siege of Boonesborough, he dismisses a period in his life as though it were but of small moment: "Soon after this, I went into the settlement, and nothing worthy of a place in this account, passed in my affairs for 233 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. some time." However unworthy of being included in his history Boone may have considered the events of the ensuing time, the labors of faithful historians have enabled readers to judge for themselves, and it will be seen that the review is of interest. Probably because it was of an embarrassing and unpleasant na- ture, Boone avoided the dictation to Filson, of so much of his life. It suffices him to tell, in a few words, the story of his domestic life: "Shortly after the troubles at Boonesborough, I went to my family, and lived peaceably there. The history of my going home, and returning with my family, forms a series of difficulties, an account of which would swell a vol- ume, and being foreign to my purpose, I omit them." It was a wise remark of John Quincy Adams, that posterity is always anxious for detail; and in this case of the life of a man who was so truly one of the founders of Empire, the world would be glad to know all that illustrates his character. If Boone had left a more extended record of all his life, it would have been one of the most valuable of all contributions to the history of his country. There is, however, a modesty and dignity in the unwillingness to bring himself personally before the world, which is coincident with what Boone really was. He con- sidered that if his narrative illustrated the manner in which his beloved Kentucky was brought from the forest to be the abode of a noble ptwnle. it Sight 234 THE VICISSITUDES OF BOONE'S LIFE. that he should give it; but as to making himself the hero of the story, the recital shows that he did not intend this; for had he so intended, he would have told the tale of his fierce fighting, with all the par- ticulars, for which, in most men's personal narratives, we are not compelled to search. When Boone returned to the Carolinas, he recol- lected with what strange vicissitudes his life had been marked since he, with that gallant and hopeful com- pany - gathered by the magic of the bright narra- tions he had given of the glowing fertility of the Ken- tucky country -had essayed their path across the mountains. His son had been the first victim. Since that loss, his own life had been suspended under the impending blow of Indian cruelty. He had borne the chief part in a siege, for the dangers of which the annals of the country show but few parallels. Every- where war had been about him, and, peaceable and mild as he was, he had been compelled to make his rifle his hourly companion. He had deserved to be, if he was not, since he left the Yadkin, one of those whose names are on the voice of men, as eminent and honorable. The wild scenes of his Chillicothian captivity could not be effaced from memory. That for weeks and months he had been held in the toils of the savage - with each sun rising upon his most uncertain destiny - his life completely in their power - that all this 235 LIFE OF DANo BOONE. should have been changed in a few days to the extra- ordinary position of being the leader of a fortress sus- taining a fierce seige, against the very savages who had held him in bondage - himself the while con- scious that the Indian, in all the cruelty of disap- pointed rage, was awaiting his retaking to make him a monument of their vengeance - this must have been present to him in all its reaiity. To exchange this for a peaceful home -friends and family around him - was in vivid contrast! Such scenes are not in the life of every man. They made part of the ex- traordinary experiences of an extraordinary man. To Boone life seemed a wheel whose circuit was run in the midst of the rough and sharp rocks of danger, and again in the pleasant abundance of regions the most fertile and soil the most luxuriant; and in the battle or at home, a captive or free, he was the same firm and gentle man. The excellent effect of the determined stand which had been taken at Boonesborough, now fully devel- oped itself. It had been the turning point where was to be determined whether the savage should proceed to reassert his lost rights, and make a new and better title to his hunting fields, or whether the white man should hold them under the dominion of the plough. It was whether Kentucky should go back to the In- dians or forward to the whites. The news that fifty men had driven back and defeated four hundred and fifty 236 EMIGRATION CONTINUES. savages, and that the Indians had fled, was soon known through the settlements. The presence of Boone there, in safety and unharmed, after his captivity and battles, was an indication of security, and it was of effect. Virginia - who had refused to advance to Gen. Clarke a few tons of powder for the defence of the frontier, fearing that it was an adventure too haz- ardous, and uncertain whether her own dominion was extended there, or whether the defiance given to their governor by Henderson might not be a potent one- concluded that her fears were groundless, and that she had a great treasure in her western possessions. There were large estates to be had, and those who adventured earliest found a wide freedom of choice. Hence emigration, in the year 1779, was abundant. Even the progress of the revolutionary incidents could not subdue the desire to exchange a barren home on the seaboard for the luxuriant harvest fields of the land Boone had brought into notice. These lands were, in the phrase of the act, on the western waters, and to secure her rights in relation to the lands and the revenue arising.therefrom, Virginia established a land office. A selection of prominent citizens was made to form the court, who should go from place to place where questions were presented, and confirm the titles. Of course, in the formation and extin- guishment of the State of Transylvania-in the vari- ous affairs, complicated and uncertain, arising out of 237 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. the weighty claim of Col. Henderson -in all this there was work enough for the commissioners, and their decisions were to be of the highest importance. A similar position of affairs in respect to land titles has, in other States, called for like action. To settle the many questions which came out of the granting of land to the soldiers of the Revolution, the State of New York once instituted a commission, one of the members of which -Vincent Mathews - survived to witness her great prosperity, which fol- lowed the decision of the various contests. The ses- sion of this tribunal was, in part, held at Aurora, on the Cayuga Lake. The Virginia commissioners were William Flem- ing, Edmund Lyne, Stephen Twigg, and James Bar- bour. (The last name is associated in modern events with statesmanship.) This commission commenced its duties at St. Asaph's, October 13th, 1779, and the first claim presented was that of the distinguished man who afterwards first wore the gubernatorial hon- ors of Kentucky. Isaac Shelby presented a claim for adjudication, having raised a crop of corn in the country in 1776. He had been a deputy surveyor for the Transylvania Company; for Henderson seems to have been singularly successful in originating the career of those who in after times became men of mark. This crop of corn, in 1776, was the beginning of that Kentucky life which, in him, was distinguished 238 THE VIRGINIA LAND LAW. for all that could illustrate, in high honor, her fame. Gov. Morehead says this famous land law gave birth to unnumbered woes. The trial to which it subjected Boone was one of these. This strange and unfortu- nate law provided "that any person might acquire title to so much waste and unappropriated land as he or she might desire to purchase, on paying the considera- tion of forty poiinds for every hundred acres, and so in proportion." The money was to be paid to the treas- urer -whose receipt, when given to the auditor, en- title to a certificate. This certificate being lodged in the land office, the register granted a warrant author- izing the land to be surveyed. Surveyors who had passed the ordeal of William and Mary College were to lay out the land, and on their return, the register made due record, and made out a grant, and this long labyrinth had its exit in a deed which was to have the signature of the governor, with the seal of the commonwealth attached. Even in these days - with all our flood of legal learning - with common schools, and time to attend them -with no Indian fight nearer than the Rocky Mountains-it may be doubted how many of us could get a title successfully through such a chain of evi- dence. It must have been the last act drawn by the special pleading lawyers. It was not a statute for the hunter and the pioneer. But the land was very de sirable, and there was a rage to obtain it. The hunt- 239 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. ers were pushed aside for the land-jobbers. Collins says: "The surveyor's chain and compass were seen in the woods as frequently as the rifle: the great object in Kentucky was to enter, survey and get a patent for land." Great precision was required in entries, and all vague entries were void. The forest men desired to get the land as keenly as did the land speculator; but the former could draw a sight with his rifle, better than he could designate the line of his lot, and all be- came intermingled, and in confusion. Boone, while with his family, as was most natural, desired to se- cure his home, also, in the land he had often called by such names of beauty, and as he had been in the fight quite enough to satisfy him for a time, now turned his attention to the land office. It was doubt- less the counsel of his kind and considerate wife that he should do so, as she hoped to secure him from fur- ther toil and disaster. He says that he laid out the chief of his little property to secure land warrants, and having raised about twenty thousand dollars in paper money, with which he intended to purchase them, on his way from Kentucky to Richmond he was robbed of the whole, and left destitute of the means of procuring more. He had also been entrust- ed with the amount raised by friends, who probably thought that their claims, with such an agent as Boone, who had been so much the author of the 240 BOONE ROBBED OF HIS MONEY. prosperity of which this great area was available, would meet speedy settlement. A receipt was preserved by Nathaniel Hart, Esq., of Woodford, that from Hart, Boone received about twenty-nine hundred pounds, Virginia money. His robbery gained for him the same fate that be- falls nearly all men who meet with misfortune, while engaged in the execution of a pecuniary trust. He was censured, and it was either charged or insinuated that he had retained the money. Similar cases are in the memory of every man. It was a severe blow to Boone, whose simple-hearted integrity had ever held him above all suspicion of dishonor. It was a blow the more severe, because it seemed to- wreck his property and character, and doubtless he often felt that his captivity at Chillicothe might, for him, as well have been a perpetual one. No wonder Boone calls it "a series of difficulties." Most fortunately for the fame of Boone, Gov. Morelicad has preserved the following extract of a letter from Oapt. Thos. Hart: "I observe what you say respecting our losses by Daniel Boone. I had heard of the misfortune soon after it hap- pened, but not of my being a partaker before now. I feel for the poor people, who, perhaps, are to lose even their preemptions: but I must say, I feel more for Boone, whose character, I am told, suffers by it. Much degenerated must the people of this age be, when amongst them are to be found men to censure and blast the reputation of a person so 241 K 16 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. just and upright, and in whose breast is a seat of virtue too pure to admit of a thought so base and dishonorable. I have known Boone in times of old, when poverty and distress had him fast by the hand; and in these wretched circumstances, I have ever found him of a noble and generous soul, despi- sing everything mean; and, therefore, I will freely grant him a discharge for whatever sums of mine he might have been possessed of at the time." There is in this letter valuable light given to the history and character of Boone. It is a private let- ter-a very well written one-and one in which there is no display or invention, as might have been found in a public document. It is an honorable tribute to an honorable man. It shows us that Boone was, in earlier life, poor and distressed, and yet a stranger even to a thought that was base or dishonorable. It shows that an intelligent contemporary, finding himself a pecuniary sufferer,.still in that hour calls the man through whose misfortune his loss has come, a noble and generous soul. Such a testimonial is of intense value. Men do not say such things of their associ- ates in life, in private letter8, unless the truth impels the sentiment. It shows, also, that not merely the rich, but the poor confided in him; and it is quite likely that Boone felt the accumulated trouble consequent on all this, more than he ever did Indian captivity or bor- der difficulty. Boone had the sagacity to outmanceu- 242 TIE LAND LAW UNPOPULAR. ver a host of savages, but the robbers that made a prey of him, in his journey, were beyond his strategy. The land law, even had Boone not been robbed, would have been disastrous to him. 'If he located, he did so under circumstances which could be turned against him by some sharper. There would be some defect-technical and incomprehensible, but disas- trous - by which he would have lost all. Boone had been accustomed to locate by the majesty of discov- ery. Alone in all Kentucky, he seemed almost to possess the right which Columbus had, when he first heard the "-dashing, Silver-flashing Surges of San Salvador;" and he could not bring himself to believe that it was right to limit him to all the angles and meshes of a most intricate statute. If Boone ever was that which some have described him, and which he was believed to be before a proper investigation had been given to his character - a misanthrope - it was the creation of those who, as Capt. Hart says, endeavored to cen- sure and blast his reputation. Byron says of Boone that "he shrunk from men even of his nation; " but the fancy of the poet is in the thought, for Boone re- spected men whose nature proved itself by generous acts. From those who accused him of being the rob 243 244 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. ber of the poor, he doubtless wished to place the sep- aration of the forest. Notwithstanding all the long train of troubles which ensued upon the land law, Finley, whose work in Kentucky was for many years of great authority, considered the law as most beneficent. Being a little of the "reformer," something of the soldier, as he was a captain, and withal a commissioner for laying out the lands in the settlements, he rather liked the law, as it seemed to provide for everything, and leave no- thing to the lawyers. Vain hope ! It occupied the bar for a half century I CHAPTER XIV. BOONE RETURNS TO BOONESBOROUGH WITH HIS FAMILY - THE BRITISH AND INDIANS CONTEMPLATE A BOLD ATTACK ON KENTUCKY - ANECDOTE OF RANDOLPH - GOV. MOREHEAD S HISTORY OF BOONESBOROUGH - BOONE AND HIS BROTHER GO TO THE BLUE LICKS -HIS BROTHER IS SHOT BY IN- DIANS - BOONE IS PURSUED AND ESCAPES - THE COLD WINTER OF V1780- ORGANIZATION OF COUNTIES - INDIAN HOSTILITIES RENEWED - T BRIT- ISH GOVERNMENT AND T1lE INDIANS-TTHE RENEGADES GIRTY AND MC KEE - CONSTANT ALARMS OF THE SETTLEHS -THE CONFEDERATED INDIANS- BOONE AGAIN AFFLICTED IN THE DEATH OF BRYANT. BOONE could not remain in the settlements. The home he desired was in broader compass. With his losses, there was renewed and greater occasion for his exertion. That exertion he was yet able to make, for now he was in the zenith of his life - being forty- five - though it is most probable that, with his ex- traordinary exposures, tice had borne heavily on him, and that he appeared to be a much older man than in reality he was. He determined to go back to Boonesborough, and, to the everlasting honor of his wife, she agreed to accompany him. Her heart must have been to remain in the pleasant home, where the night passed without the yell of the blood-thirsty savage, fiercely endeavoring to destroy life and pro- perty; but she knew her duty to accompany her no- 2LIE OF DANIEL BOONE. ble hearted husband, and she and her family again prepared to go to the land of the rich but perilous West. The road was better known now. The pro- babilities were that there would be found many bound for the same land of enterprise. With all she held precious in life, she again essayed the journey whose bitterest incident, in former years, had been the loss of her gallant child. She could scarcely expect but that a similar fate might be but too likely to await the bold men around her, who would be found fore- most in every scene of danger. Boone says, in condensed phrase, that he " settled his family in Boonesborough once more." The old fort had its brave defender once more within its walls, and when Boone stood within it, it is not fancy to suppose that the memories of the many fierce fights he had known, in each of which he had been an ac- tor, and which had been waged to obtain possession of this place, must have been in his thought. He had linked his name to fame, among brave and suc- cessful soldiers, by his great defence, and the fort was to him no common place. Boonesborough was destined to no siege after this. It had possessed its share of reverses in that way, and the savage attempted its conquest no more. And yet it might easily have been captured, if ar- tillery had been used against it - that most powerful arm of war which overcomes distance, and before 246 ANOTHER EXPEDITION AGAINST KENTUCKY. 247 which the keen rifle is powerless. That it needed this, to give them conquest over the settler's bul- warks, the British found out in 1780. When General Clarke had successfully pursued his noble campaign of destroying the great influence which the British possessed over the Indian, by the support received at Detroit, Vincennes and Kaskaskia, and had turned the tables by actually taking Col. Hamilton prisoner - the same who had commanded at Detroit when Boone was led there in captivity - the British deter- mined to make a bold and vigorous attack on Ken- tucky. They organized a force of six hundred In- dians and Canadians, under the command of Colonel Byrd; but the Indians and Canadians would have come and gone again, had they not brought with them two cannon. There was immense difficulty in their transportation, and hence the unwillingness of parties to encumber themselves with them. Their route was, as far as possible, by water, using the Great Miami, the Ohio, and the Licking. In the times of the war of 1812, when the authorities of the United States desired to transport cannon, even over a road as much worked and traveled as that between Albany and Buffalo, the labor of forwarding them was so enormous that very often, after the severe work of an entire day, the place of starting could be seen at eve- ning from the place of rest. In our day, all over the land to which Boone invited the settler, and where LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. the weary pioneer held his difficult way, the iron road threads its way. in all directions, so that an army could concentrate with all the pomp and circumstance of war, in less hours than the men of Boone's time could have reckoned by days; and even yet there live some men who have seen the country in both its great conditions. Strange it was that this army with its artillery con- fined itself but to conquests in part, for, with its iron allies, it might have swept out of existence, as well Boonesborough as the other log-built fortresses; but Heaven destined a better fate for the great State of which these forts were the parentage. Boonesborough had once been recognized by the law of Virginia in all the dignity of a municipality. It, with more of adventure than belongs to most towns in our country, had commenced its career in a State sufficiently sovereign and independent while it lasted, but whose duration had been rather brief. It had been a subject to the laws of the Third George, of England, but a short time. It had known the au- thority of Col. Henderson's Transylvania for a period as brief; and now the Ancient Dominion took the fort under its dignified protection. In October, 1779, the Legislature of Virginia established by law the town of Boonesborough, in the county of KYentucky! That Virginia once held the State of Kentucky as an appendage - a mere county - seems strange in- 248 ANECDOTE OF RANDOLPH. deed. When, in his best days, the eloquent Ran- dolph was introduced to a gentleman from Kentucky, he told him he was from the Botany Bay of Vir- ginia. The Kentuckian felt the remark to be dis- courteous, and could not avoid manifesting his sur- prise; but the statesman immediately said - "Yes- just as England, which at first sent only her rougher population to Botany Bay, has founded a State which will outrival and exceed its parent, it will be with Kentucky." Randolph did not live to see how truth- fully Australia was working out, in its golden treas- ure, his illustration, but he did survive to note how steady and sure was the advance of Kentucky till, in freshness of action and strength of resource, it be- comes peer to the State which once considered it only as a far-off, frontier county. Of this town Daniel Boone was named, in the act, as one of the trustees. Surveys of the lots were or- dered, and a very liberal grant directed to be made to all who would build a dwelling at least sixteen feet square, with a brick, stone or dirt chimney. The cit- izens of Kentucky have enlarged their ideas of archi- tecture since that law passed. Every one of the trustees declined to act. What induced this whole- sale modesty of office on the part of these settlers does not appear. It is quite probable that Boone de- sired. no connection with anything that looked like a land office, after his experiences in such subjects. K 249 LTFE OF DANIEL BOONE. He has been so much before us, as connected with Boonesborough, that it becomes appropriate to quote here the eloquent delineation given by Gov. More- head of the subsequent history of the town. "Even with the assistance of these bountiful provisions, Boonesborough never rose to any importance among the vil- lages of Kentucky. It was the first, and perhaps on that ac- count, in the earlier period of her history the doomed for- tress, against which the savages seemed to have directed their most determined efforts, and having withstood them, through a series of years of difficulty and danger, it lost precedence which circumstances had given to it, and sunk with the dis- appearance of the enemy whose incursions it had so success- fully resisted. Time has passed roughly over the consecra- ted spot of the first settlement of Kentucky. The " lots and streets" of Boonesborough' have ceased to be known by their original lines and landmarks. The work of the pio- neers has perished. Scarce a vestige remains of their rudely built cabins and their feeble palisades. The elm under whose shade they worshipped and legislated and took counsel of each other for safety and defence, no longer survives to spread its ample canopy over our heads. But the soil on which they stood is under our feet. The spring which slaked their burning thirst, at every pause in their conflicts with the remorseless foe, is at our side. The river from whose cliffs the Indian leveled his rifle at the invaders of his hunting ground, still rolls its " arrowy " current at our back. These are memorials that cannot fail. How replete with interest are the reminiscences they awaken! "They remind us of Boone and his adventurous compan- ions, plying the forest with their axes, and throwing their quick and anxious glances around them, as if the reverbera- 250 BOONE'S ADVENTURES RENEWED. tion of every stroke might be the tocsin of their doom - of Henderson, and Hart, and Williams, the self-styled proprie- tors of the ' new born country,' priding themselves on their title to the soil, hurling defiance at a royal governor, claim- ing admission into the confederacy of united colonies, and ' placing the corner-stone of a' political ' edifice ' that would only be great and glorious in proportion to the excellence of its foundation - of Slaughter, and Todd, and Floyd, and Har- rod, and Callaway, the law-givers and defenders of the fron- tier; of Sythe, the peaceful ' minister of the church of Eng- land,' whose sacred vocation could not exempt him from the death of the tomahawk: and while we are thus reminded of the men, by whose valor and perseverance this fair land was won, and by whose agency its institutions were planted, who does not feel himself borne down by the weight of the ob- ligations of respect and gratitude, which their services have imposed Honor to the memory-peace to the ashes of the first settlers of Kentucky ! " No sooner did Boone return to Boonesborough than his adventures and his perils were renewed. Indeed, his whole life was one series of wild and strange ex- periences. He found the fort not likely to be at- tacked, as there were so many settlements around it as to give the foe too much annoyance in the rear, if he attempted it. He projected an expedition to the Blue Licks, and was accompanied by his brother, Squire, who had so often been with him in the perils of the forest and the fort. They left on the sixth of October, 1780. It may be that as they had the win- ter before them, they visited Whis disastrous locality 251 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. for the purpose of seeking a supply of salt, with which to prepare their provisions for the winter; or it may have been only the passion for the adventu.- rous in hunting. These same men had hunted to- gether when all Kentucky was their hunting ground, and when they were compelled to rely, under Provi- dence, on themselves to escape the perils of the wild beast, or what they dreaded far more, the cruel and powerful savage, in whose very home they had estab- lished their cabin. The union and affection of these fraternal pioneers were cemented by their endurance of a thousand common dangers. For Squire, Boone had waited for months alone - completely alone - never doubting that if he could, Squire would find his way to him. It was Squire that, when Boone was pursuing that wonderful journey of solitary discovery, had braved the dangers and passed the mountain, and with con- summate sagacity, found, in that trackless forest, his brother; and in fight and hunt, he had been with him. When the siege was on, Squire was of the brave men who dared to meet the treacherous Indian in his pretended council. And now that Boone, with prop- erty gone and with character assailed, had returned to frontier life, it seems quite probable that he sought this expedition with Squire, that there might be full and free converse of all that had passed. There was at least one man who never had deserted him, what- 252 SQUIRE BOONE KILLED. ever might be the peril. They reached the Blue Licks in safety, and were on their return. Certainly, Boone was a man of extraordinary nerve, orhe could not have sought again the scene where his capture had taken place, every feature of which must have been associated with some fearful recollection. And the danger was not fancied. He soon had occasion to know that the destinies of the Blue Licks were fa- tal to him. They were but two. The Indians dis- covered them, and they were fired upon by a party who were in ambuscade. If the Indians had known them, they would not have dared, unless with vast disparity of numbers, to have met them in open field. The fire of the savage was fatal to Squire; and he who had braved successfully all the horrors of the solitary journey -of the siege and of all forms of Indian peril - found his end in this sad journey. He met the fate which is written in the family annals of almost every pioneer. Scalped, and probably disfig- ured, Boone must leave him, for if he hesitated, the same or a worse fate awaited him. Boone soon had reason to know that the Indian was his bitter foe. They soon turned from the dead to the living, and were in full chase after him; and this time they added to their usual pursuit the keenness and ferocity of the dog. He was pursued as if he had been a wild beast; but the Pioneer was not dismayed, either by savage or dog. For three miles, the chase 253 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. kept on. Probably he soon left the Indians behind. They may have lost their time in wreaking their wretched vengeance on his brother's corpse. The dog kept on. When he had gone the distance men- tioned, Boone, by the aid of his unerring rifle, stopped the farther progress of the dog, and completed, in safety, another of his wonderful escapes; bearing, as the Indians must have thought, if they knew who it was that they were after, a charmed life. The settle- ments must have been-much more numerous than be- fore, or the pursuit would have been continued, since it was a long distance between the Licks and the fort. That was a sad hour when he returned alone to the fort. It was to tell the tidings of this new and bitter calamity. Squire Boone was a fitting compan- ion to his brother. He seems to have been like him. He was the man on whom he had relied, and whose energetic companionship was always of intense value. Boone felt this sorrow exceedingly, and following, as it did, his losses, this period was a dark hour in the Pioneer's history. Squire bore the name of his father. He was the youngest boy, and the youngest child but one. In the greater fame and longer career of his brother, his name has been overlooked; but Kentucky may well enroll him among its fathers. Had he done no other deed than that of performing, almost alone, the memorable journey through the Indian wilder- 251 A SEVERE WINTER. ness, in search of the brother he loved, it would have miade his name memorable. Now came on the dread winter of 1780 - memora- ble in our history for its severity. It was that famous winter in which even the Bay of New York yielded to the frost, and artillery rolled over the solid cover- ing. It was the period concerning which, even yet, very old men tell us wonderful relations of its expe- riences. The settler felt it, in one respect, a benefit, for the savage was kept within his forests by it, and the frozen earth was unstained by blood. In every other respect, the frontier people sufered. Boone says: " The severity of the winter caused great diffi- culties in Kentucky. The enemy had destroyed most of the corn the summer before. This necessary article was scarce and dear, and the inhabitants lived chiefly on the flesh of buffalo. The circumstances of many were very lamentable; however, being a hardy race of people, and accustomed to difficulties and neces- sities, they were wonderfully supported through all their sufferings." In this scene of trouble, the frontier had abundant companions - for all over our country, the severity of that season added to the distress which was conse- quent upon the war. The American troops were re- duced to the saddest privations. The winter of 1780 may have been equaled or exceeded in its thermome- trical characteristics, but the cold never else came at a 255 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. time when it so completely accumulated its strength in connection with other ills. Boone felt that the Indians had struck a blow at Boonesborough, in causing the death of his beloved brother, greater than the savage could have hoped, and that winter must have been to him one of the most melancholy periods of his life; nor is it likely but that he looked to the Blue Licks with the most painful association, since he had hitherto only visited it to write disaster and mourning upon his life. And yet, how terrible was the after history of that local- ity I Certainly, to Boone, it was the gloom of his life. In his diary, Boone makes no mention of a circum- stance which, in the minds of most men, would have been so prominent that it would have been of first record. Virginia had wisely concluded to extend its jurisdiction over its western lands, and had deter- mined its division into three counties - Fayette, Lin- coln and Jefferson - neither of the individuals whose names were thus bestowed, having been identified with the settlement of the country. Virginia passed by the honored names of Boone, and Finley, and Henderson, and Clarke, who had done so much to- wards making this vast domain available for the pur- poses of civilization. It was a trait of the policy which soon prepared the way for the separation and independency of Kentucky. To each county was as- THE COURT OF COMMISSIONERS. signed a military organization, and Daniel Boone was made lieutenant colonel of Lincoln county. Pro- motion is not always won by services as gallant as his were. Hle had a noble-hearted general - Clarke - and the frontier could look around on its soldiery, and feel that it might bear comparison with that of any part of the country. Such warriors as Boone, and Kenton, and Harrod, deserve the fame which has so justly fallen to Marion and Morgan. The famous Court of Commissioners in relation to land titles, ended its session on the twenty-sixth of April, 1780. It had been in session seven months, and had granted three thousand claims -an extent of industry to which modern commissions furnish no parallel. It had passed part of its official existence in the fort at Boonesborough- that being the scene of all that was interesting in that region, in peace or war. Very many of those who profited by their la- bors, and secured titles, were actuated by the desire which was expressed by Col. Thomas Marshall, who distinguishing himself at the head of the third Vir- ginia Regiment, at Brandywine and Germantown, declared his object before the commissioners to be " to locate land warrants, as a provision for a numerous family, which he intended to remove to the country on the restoration of peace. " The emigration in this year was very great. Three hundred large boats arrived in the spring of 1780, at 17 257 LM OF DANIEL BOONE. the Falls, whose occupants hoped, in the land of fer- tility, to lay up a better provision than their older habitations furnished. The winter, in its intensity, was a fearful admonition to be protected against long months of privation. Virginia honored herself by laying plans to " dif- fuse knowledge among her remote citizens -whose situation in a barbarous neighborhood and a savage intercourse might otherwise render unfriendly to science." These fostering efforts established a litera- ry institution for Kentucky, which, Gov. Morehead says, " in the progress of sixty years, filled her as- semblies with law-givers - her cabinets with states- men-her judicial tribunals with ministers of justice -her pulpits with divines -and crowded the pro- fessional ranks at home and abroad with ornaments and benefactors of their country." That winter of 1780 deserves more than brief re- cord. It was a sorrow laid across the path of the revolutionary struggle. To this frontier, with the imperfect buildings, it was, indeed, a period of deso- lation. From the middle of November to the middle of February, snow and ice continued on the ground without a thaw. Many of the cattle perished, and numbers of bears, buffalo, deer, wolves, beavers, otters and wild turkeys, were found frozen to death. Some- times the famished wild animals would come up in the yards of the stations along with the tame cattle. 258 sFFiFRINGS OF THE 61,'FrLT.RS. vWas the scarcity of food that a single "jonny- cake " would be divided into a dozen parts, and dis- tributed around to the inmates to serve for two meals. Even this resource failed, and for weeks they had no- thing to live on but wild game. Sixty dollars (Con- tinental) a bushel were given for corn." It is fortu- nate for mankind that only in a long interval of years does such intense cold seem necessary to preserve the great equilibrium of the atmosphere. Though it is three score years and ten since the winter of " '80" occurred, its recollections are even yet often renewed -and with the eclipse of 1804, it furnishes an era by which uneducated old men measure their days. The Indian forbore any organized attack upon Boonesborough, but it was yet unsafe to venture about without the utmost care and precaution. The savage now ceased to molest with murderous intent. Near the fort, about a mile above, but in the same valley of the river, there dwelt some orderly, respect- able people, and the men were good soldiers. They had emigrated, like Boone's family, from Pennsylva- nia, leaving the quiet of that pacific State to find themselves surrounded by the worst of foes. Such men paid most bitterly for their desire to acquire ex- tensive territory. But notwithstanding all this, the settlement of the country went on. The land was too good to be given up to the Indians; and while the attacks of the latter 259 LIFE OF I)ANIEL BOONE. made men desperate, it only gave them greater de- termination, that their children should enjoy in peace, that for which they periled their lives every hour. The settlers took possession, whenever it was practi- cable, of their lots, and the surveyor moved about from place to place, leaving the record of his valua- ble science in inscriptions upon trees, which have long since been so changed, where the axe has not removed them entirely, that they are studied like an ancient inscription. The profession of a surveyor in this country re- ceived unfading honor by its having been, at one pe- riod of his life, that of George Washington, and it is of proof that the surveyors in Kentucky might claim this illustrious man as one of their predecessors. He made for John Fry two surveys, and in complete con- sistency with that wonderful precision and method in business which so distinguished him, every corner was found well marked. On the beginning corner he cut the initials of his name. By such writing on the forest Kentucky holds the pleasant remembrance that the Father of his Country was once within her limits. In 1781, one of the earliest children of Kentucky -Richard M. Johnson was born-who afterwards rose to the high honor of the Vice-Presidency of the United States. His father was of those who took an active and prominent part in the sangui- 260 THE INDIANS GROW BOLDER. nary conflicts which raged between the settlers and the savages, in the early history. Boone, in 1781, remained in Boonesborough. He had seen it placed upon a secure tenure; at least as safe as any place could possess in a scene of constant border warfare. The land, settling as its pleasant acres were, had only arrived even at this degree oF safety by a succession of bloody struggles. He says, in his narrative, that when Col. Henderson secured the deed of cession from the Indians, in which Boone acted a part so prominent, and which enabled Hen- derson to originate the State of Transylvania, an old Indian took him (Boone) by the hand, and said: " Brother, we have given you a fine land, but I be- lieve you will have some trouble in settling it." The Indian's prophecy had written its truth in letters of blood. To Boone, the prediction was fatally forcible, and with a strength of expression which even Filson's secretaryship could not spoil, Boone says, " My foot- steps have often been marked with blood." Towards the spring of 1782, the Indians became bolder, and Boone heard that in May of that year, a neighboring station was assaulted, and a prisoner taken. The marauders were pursued by Captain Ashton, but the Indians were superior in force, and Ashton and eleven of his party were killed- a ter- rible loss out of the twenty-five men of whom the ex- pedition was composed. Such a result of a contest 1).61 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. with the settlers, waked up anew the determination of the Indians to make the frontier men pay most dearly for their occupancy of their old and favorite hunting ground. It is now a time in which the question may be ex- amined, whether the British government did not write a fearful disgrace in its annals, by the manner in which it allowed its officers to excite the savage to deeds of the most dreadful cruelty. All is not fair in war; and even in the contests of nations, there is a limit beyond which the brave encounter of honorable men, each believing his quarrel just, is changed into the ferocious wickedness of demons. The premium offered for scalps was horrible. It gave the Indian, in his terrific barbarity, the strange encouragement of a great and civilized nation. These cruelties were emulated by the British soldier. Mavor, one of the most prejudiced and partial of monarchical historians -fitting to share the partisan reputation of Alison- relates an instance occurring about this period, in a remote part of the country. " A large body of -Brit- ish troops burnt a considerable part of the village of Connecticut Farms. In the neighborhood lived Mr. Caldwellban eminent Presbyterian clergyman, whose exertions in defence of his country had rendered him particularly obnoxious to the British. Mrs. Caldwell, seeing the enemy advancing, retired with her house- keeper, a child three years old, an infant of eight 262 BRMISH AND INDIAN BARBARITY. 2 months, and a little maid, to a room secured on all sides by stone walls, except at a window opposite the enemy. Unsuspicious of danger, while she was sit- ting on the bed, holding one child by the hand, and with her infant, a soldier shot her dead, who had evi- dently come to the unguarded part of the house, with a design to perpetrate the horrid deed." When the agents of the British government leagued themselves at all with the Indians, they committed a fearful er- ror, but when, after establishing a control over them, which they must have had, as they furnished them with arms and ammunition, they allowed them to torture their prisoners in their presence, it gave to the war a horrible ferocity, and the vengeance that men put forth, fell chiefly on the savages. Emphatic were Jefferson's words. "H e (George the Third) has endeavored to bring on the inhabitants of our frontiers the merciless Indian savages, whose known rule of warfare is an undistinguished destruc- tion of all ages, sexes and conditions; " and he must have alluded to this when he speaks of the Revolu- tion as "begun with circumstances of cruelty and perfidy, scarcely paralleled in the most barbarous ages, and totally unworthy the head of a civilized nation." Jefferson was of those who had been consulted, when Gen. Clarke submitted to the- Governor of Virginia his plan for the protection of the frontier, and it is quite probable that Clarke portrayed to Patrick Hen- 263 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. ry and to Thomas Jefferson what Boone had experi- enced, and what testimony Boone had borne to the per- fidious character of the Indian; for of all those whose evidence had reached Clarke, the information of none had been more accurate than that derived from the great Pioneer. The memory of the cruelties sanctioned by the British government, was one great reason why there remained -and it is not yet entirely obliterated - so long such bitterness of feeling on the part of our people against the English. The fair open fight in battle, with the British soldier, was an honorable warfare, but the savage gave a depth of horror to the war, which had its illustration in some tradition of horror, even yet to be traced in many of those whose fathers found children butchered and house burnt by the wild red man. In the country north-west of the Ohio, a vile rene- gade by the name of Girty, not merely sustained but encouraged the Indian in all his cruelty. He was a Tory, and one of the very bitterest of the foes of the white man. His life was one scene of wretched bar- barities, except that on one occasion, he saved, by a caprice of humanity, the life of the adventurous Kenton. Mr. Peck describes him as " an Indian by adoption, imbibing their ferocious and blood-thirsty temper- having acquired their habits, and inflaming their pas- 264 THE RENEGADE GIRTY. sions to madness by his speeches, and goading them to vengeance; and who delighted in all the refine- ment of Indian torture." Such a man was counte- nanced by the British government, as he professed al- legiance to them. By his conduct he compromised, every hour, his employers, and caused the war of the Revolution to put on features of horror that, with all its evil, do not belong to the struggles of civilized na- tions. Nor was he alone; a man whose education was probably much better, was his principal, and ob- tained a great influence over the Indians. This was Col. Mc Kee. He was avowedly an official agent of the British government. His deeds are attested by the most reliable witnesses. Exciting to murder and torture, he set in motion a train of influences which soon became so wide-spread that even he could not control them. Great Britain, it is almost certain, would not again pursue such policy. The world has grown better and would not tolerate such conduct in a State. Her Indian allies in the Revolution did her no good. The temporary success they gained, followed by all its bitter results of cruelty, only gave new force and strength to those who had been vanquished. The In- dian was prompt to fly, and leave his allies in the field, to struggle as best they might. The savage fought by impulse. If he could strike the blow at once, he gave all his energies to it, but the cool and L 265 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. collected defence was always powerful against him. Far better would it have been for our common hu- manity, if the Indian had been set aside in the con- flict, as one with whom no alliance, by either of the parties to the controversy, could be made. It would have sparred us many a fearful legend. Encouraged by the whites, the Indians kept the settlements around Boonesborough in a state of con- stant alarm. The stations were continually infested with savages, and men were killed, and horses stolen at every opportunity. Again the settlers met with a reverse. A party headed by Capt. Holden was de- feated, and out of his seventeen men, four were killed. Sometimes the savage felt keenly the blow of the set- tler. Boone relates that near Lexington an Indian shot a man, and running to scalp him, was himself shot from the fort, and fell dead upon his enemy. Why he selects this incident to relate, is not appa- rent. If it had been at Boonesborough, it might have been only the record of the unerring aim of his rifle. Again there was a gathering at old Chillicothe - that same place which had witnessed the councils and meetings which led to the siege of Boonesborough. Instigated by the authorities at Detroit, and by the agents scattered about in their country, the Shawa- nese, Cherokees, Wyandots, Tawas, and Delawares, united for another grand demonstration against the 266 ANOTHER INDIAN OONFEDEMCY. settlements. He who led the fight at Boonesborough, and who had there made such efforts to get possession of his adopted son,-we refer to Blackfish-had some time since been killed in Bowman's expedition against Chillicothe. He had borne himself gallantly, and was engaged in following the retreat when he was destroyed. Boone did not feel much regret at the loss. The severe education which he had received to qualify him to take the place of Blackfish's son, who had been killed in battle, did not endear the re- lationship to him. It is quite likely that had Black- fish caught Boone, no ties of adoption would have prevented him from presiding at his torture. Imlay, writing about 1793, thus locates the India' who made this confederated campaign: "The Sbaw- anese in five towns on the Great or Little Miami; Cherokees on the Tennessee River; Wyandots on the Sandusky River; Tawas, eighteen miles up the Mau- mee River; Delawares on the Muskingum River." It is of these people that the historian says, " they are of a very gentle and amiable (I) disposition to those they think their friends, but as implacable in their enmity-their revenge being only completed in the entire destruction of their enemies." Of the former trait, if Mr. Imlay's observations were cor- rect, the settlers saw but little, while they had the most ample reason to know the full truth of the latter. 2,67 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. At old Chillicothe these tribes assembled their choicest warriors. This Indian village was built in the form of a Kentucky station, that is, parallelogram or long square, and some of the houses were shingled. A long council-house extended the whole length of the town; where the chiefs met in consultation. The Indian was not always as artistical in his abode. Some of his huts were built by setting up a frame on forks and placing bark upon it. Some were of reeds, and surrounded with clay. The fire was in the mid- dle of the wigwam, and the smoke passed through a little hole. Their tables and beds were of reeds joined together by cords run through them. The skins of the wild beasts they took in hunting were used for clothing. They had taken European habits enough to use brass kettles and pots for cooking their food; while their pails, cups, and dishes, were, as those of their fathers may have been -for ages, of gourds and calabashes. The Indian, in all this, had traits kindred to all other wild men, such as the Arab and the Esquimaux. Boone says the expedition was got up to destroy the settlers and to depopulate the country; and he properly characterizes it, as in it the utmost force and vengeance of the Indian was concentrated. They hoped to crush the settlement at a blow. The set- tlers, as they came in, in boat and by horse, seemed about to render all subjugation of the country hope- 268 MR. BRYANT KILLED. less. If anything could be done to bring back to them their old hunting ground, it was necessary to do it at once. Indians have no provident care, and their hunting ground must be large. It must extend over a great space, for they could not economize their ef- forts. Mc Clung thinks that the settlers were igno- rant of the storm that was impending; but it does not seem probable that such experienced and saga- cious men as Boone and those with whom he had been longest in company, should at any time be un- prepared for the Indian. He knew their cunning, and could gather by the manner in which their pre- liminary warfare was conducted whether they were in great force or not. The appearance of men of different tribes, or the absence of certain chieftains, would give indication of what was transpiring at Chillicothe. There was 4 station not far from Boonesborough, which was called Bryant's, from the first settler. Its date was as early as 1779, and its founder, William Bryant, had married Boone's sister. This man fell in an attack made by a wandering party of Indians on the twentieth of May. By a want of concerted ac- tion between two parties of the settlers, one of which was led by Bryant, the latter was drawn into an am- buscade, and was fatally wounded. A slight occur- rence led to this sad issue. The associate party had been surprised by Indians, and had abandoned to 269 270 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. them a led horse, on which a bell was hung. Not knowing this, Bryant rode to where he heard the bell, and was killed. Thus was added to the list of the kindred of Boone who fell by the warfare of the sav- age, another; and thus another affliction followed up- on the sad loss of his beloved brother. It was to be but one in a series of personal griefs. CHAPTER XV. THU ATTACK ON BRYANT'S STATION -THE RETREAT OR THU INDIANS-RAL- LY OF ToE SETTLERS - THE COUNCIL - THE PURSUIT - THE AMBUSCADE - RATTLE OF THE BLUE LICKS -TERRIBLE SLAUGHTER AND RETREAT OF THE SETTLERS -ANOTHER OF BOONES SONS SLAIN -TODD, TRIEG, HAR- LAN, AND SIXTY-SEVEN OTHERS SLAIN - BOONIS ACCOUNT - A THRILLING INCIDENT-BOONE'S REPORT OF THE BATTLE-0OL. THOMAS MARSHALL AND GIRTY'S BROTHER. BRYANT's station soon heard the noise of the war- rior again. If Boone's sister remained there, she must have felt that war was pursuing her. It is pro- bable, however, that she sought, after her husband's death, the protection of her brother and the society of his family. On the fifteenth of August a party of Indians and Canadians, of five hundred, led by Girty, who added the vigor of purpose and reflection of the white man to the savage cruelty of the Indian, appeared before Bryant's station; and after a very warm fight, in which Girty was wounded, and in which the Indians were admirably drawn into an ambuscade, the siege was raised. The Indians suffered severely, having thirty killed, while the garrison lost but four. Girty endeavored to alarm the garrison by assuring them LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. that he had a reinforcement near, with whom was artillery. This caused a dread, for the settlers feared nothing so much as the cannon. His talk was treated with contempt. He was told by a young man named Reynolds, that he was known; that he (Reynolds) had a worthless dog to whom he had given the name of Simon Girty, from the great resemblance! Girty professed to be about to destroy the garrison, but it was a feint. He suddenly left, and inviting pursuit by blazing the trees with their tomahawks as they progressed, he and his confederate, Mc Kee, departed by the buffalo trace for the Blue Licks. Boone now appears in the field again. The news of the attack by Girty, flew with all the speed the express messenger (of those days) could give it. Boonesborough immediately sent out its warriors. Some had been sent in order to reach the fort to be present at the siege. By the exertions of the colonel of the Lincoln regi- ment, Col. Todd, Boone, Col. Trigg, and Maj. Har- lan -the troops from Harrodsburgh, Lexington and Boonesborough rapidly assembled at Bryant's station. Boone was accompanied by his son, Israel, and his brother, Samuel. The exigencies of the occasion demanded a council of war; for, as the immediate occasion of the rally had passed away, in the retreat of the savages, the next step to be taken was seriously important. Among 272 A COUNCIL OF WAR. the officers were Harlan, McGary, McBride, and Levi Todd. Maj. Harlan was a soldier to whom this high praise was given, that Gen. Clarke said of him that " he was one of the bravest and most accomplished soldiers that ever fought by his side." In 1778, he built a stockade on Salt River, to which his name was given. He was of superb appearance, and in the commence- ment of the prime of life. Familiar, by having long acted the perilous part of a spy among the Indians, with all Indian warfare, he was invaluable to the gathering forces. Hugh McGary had been one of the earliest settlers of Harrodsburgh, a spot which has disputed the palm of precedence, in the settlement of Kentucky, with Boonesborough. McGary is described by Collins as ardent, impetuous and rash, but a man of daring courage, indomitable energy and untiring perseve- rance. He brought into the country forty horses, but was singularly unsuccessful with them, nearly every one of them being stolen by the Indians. Living as he did so long in the society of James Harrod, who built the first log cabin in Kentucky, he needed to be active, for that brave man was surpassed by none of the settlers in boldness and rapid action. Even when the storm of war was over, and when the land was quiet, he preferred the stirring chase to all other pur- suits, and at last died a hunter's death, in the wilder- LF I R 273 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. ness. McGary had ample occasion in such company, for the exercise of all his zeal. Levi Todd bad made his settlements early in the country, and became, in after life, distinguished among the early settlers. The command was taken by Col. Todd. Of this gentleman the historians speak in high eulogy. He had, in the famous severe win- ter of 1780, manifested his disposition to kindness in an incident which is of interest. The provisions of the fort at Lexington became exhausted, and when the Colonel returned home one night, with his favor- ite body servant, George, a piece of bread about twe inches square and a gill of milk were all that his wife could offer him. He turned the proffer aside, and insisted that George should have it. He had been a representative in the Virginia Legislature of the Ken- tucky district. His visit to Kentucky was owing to the description given of its value and fertility by Boone. He then joined Henderson's party, and after that claim broke up, went into the immediate service of Virginia. Col. Trigg was also an officer in this force. He had come in as a member of the famous Land Com- miwsion, and the exhibit which he heard and saw on every side of the riches of the land, induced him to remain. He was noted for his activity, among the Indians. His memory is preserved as among the noblest of the pioneers. 274 ITS DELIBERATIONS. The fight of the day before, had stirred up the blood of the settlers. The fact that McKee and Girty were with a body of Indians so numerous and powerful, showed that a bold blow was determined upon, as in- deed it was quite likely, was anticipated by Boone. The Indians led by the whites, were more dangerous than when trusting to Indian tactics alone. The threat of artillery had not been overlooked. While it might be but the bravado of Girty, as the Indians were in full alliance with the British, if the latter could furnish the savages with so powerful an arm of attack, there would be no scruple about it. It would be a great movement for the royalists, to break up this new country in the midst of the war. In determining what was to be done, it was a se- rious point in consideration that the force of Colonel Logan had not arrived. The character of Col. Logan was so well established in bravery, that it was not for one moment doubted but that the instant he had heard the alarm he had prepared to join the warriors. Col. Logan was a Virginian - by bravery and chiv- alry a fit representation of the cavaliers. He had, in the colonial service, prepared himself in the duties of a soldier, and when he came to Kentucky, which he did in the famous year, 1776, he was one of those who most successfully dared the fearful perils of the woods, and he experienced them to a terrible degree. His little station was in one series of wild alarms, and the 275 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. Indian seemed never wearied of endeavors to cut him off. Everything was in haste. The Indians were to be pursued -that was certain. But it was equally cer- tain to those who united good judgment with their zeal, that it would be far better to await the coming of Logan, so that the blow struck might be a sure one. In this opinion Boone was, and hie avowed it. Now, of all men gathered there, it was to Boone that a sa- gacious leader would have looked for information. It was at and near the Blue Licks that Boone had hunt- ed, and watched, and traversed, till all its holds and fastnesses were known to him. Boone had conquered the Inidians; had been their captive and their master, and his coolness and courage had never deserted him. There were none, however, of the council of war, who insisted upon going forward at once. A relative of Boone stated to Mr. Peck -and the fact was proba- bly obtained from the Pioneer - that the officer in command, Col. Todd, had estimated that Boone's pru- dential 3ounsels were those of cowardice; and if the arrival of Logan was waited for, Logan would gain all the glory of the pursuit. There are, in every part of the world, those found who seek by artful reports to create dissension and unhappiness among those associated in any high or honorable purpose; and it is quite probable that some tale-bearer invented this story, perverting the words 276 DISAGREEMENT AMONG TIHE OFFICERS. of Col. Todd, and conveying the colored statement to Boone. Brave men do not doubt brave men. Col. Todd had, for too many years, known the noble zeal and determined bravery of the Pioneer -who never stood back from danger of beast or man -to doubt him then. A gentleman who, from his age, may be supposed to have known by the account of the day the facts in the case, informs Collins that he utterly discredits the statement that Todd was disposed to hurry the action, in any fear of Logan's acquisition of fame by being the leader, and this would seem most in consonance with the true bravery of an old warrior like Todd. In the noise and excitement of a siege, men do not make accurate account of their foes. The duty of the present instant is all that mind or sense knows. Girty's boast that his troops far outnumbered the set- tlers was forgotten or despised, in their hatred of him, but these frontier men could not overlook the fact of his blazing his way as he retreated. This seemed like a willingness to be pursued, which the Indian leaders never would have manifested, if they had not been proud in their numbers, for no men were more cautious of exposing themselves than were the In- dians. Every sign reported by the spies taught Boone that this was an hour of danger, and that pru- dence and caution are worth a victory. He knew by his own success against the savage, how much is gain- 277 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. ed in war by being brave enough tu wait. His true soldier mind recognized the same great principle which taught.Wellington to win Waterloo by endu- rance. He was asked his judgment, and he gave it. According to McClung, he told them of the make of the country, and his belief that an ambuscade was in- tended, for he knew that the Indian relies on nothing so much as seizing his enemy at a disadvantage. In our own day, the surprise of the gallant Major Dade, by the Seminoles, was in the same strategy. There the ambuscade was entirely successful. The Indian does not change. A decaying race have little inducement to learn new arts in peace or war. Boone had a solemn destiny connected with this locality. It had been to him a point of the utmost sorrow and peril, and if the incidents of a locality could be forci- bly imprinted on the mind, these must have been. In his account of the battle, Boone observes that he was ignorant of the numbers of the foe. Had his plan of sending out men to learn all this, been pur- sued, the settlers would have neither given or re- ceived a blow in the dark. Had volunteers been called for to undertake the perilous duty of ascertain- ing who and where was the enemy, the experience of his life shows that he would have been among those who would have discharged such duty. While the council was deliberating, the rashness of one man ended the argument. McGary giving 278 RASHNESS OF M' GARY. the war-whoop, in defiance of all discipline, uttered the stinging taunt that all who were not cowards should follow him. He would show where the In- dian was. At the time, such words seem those of b'ravery, but the courage that is sudden and ardent, is of the lesser and lower grade. The calm resolution and thorough action conbined, is the real heroism. Of course, as would be the case in a gathering of frontier-men with rifle in hand, a large part of the de- tachment followed the hasty McGary. Todd and Boone did not, and the fact that Todd remained with Boone would seem to indicate that the two were im- bued with each other's sentiments, and understood the value of deliberate action. The proposition to examine the country was again renewed, and the buffalo trace and its vicinity were, as the scouts supposed, thoroughly examined. There was here a remarkable bend of the Licking River, and Boone knew how likely the ravines adjacent would be chosen as the place for the surprise to be concealed. He knew that the buffalo path would lead the ar- my between the places most likely to afford conceal- ment to the Indians, and when the scouts returned and reported the way to be clear, while it encouraged the impetuous, Boone could not be so easily satisfied. The whole affair looked suspicious, but he took his place in line of battle. The spies had reported that 279 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. they could find no Indians, while in fact the grass by their side was quivering with their movements. They had gone behind the river hills on either side of the horse-shoe; while a few of their number were concealed in the right-hand hollow. To Col. Todd, as belonged to his rank, the command of the centre was assigned, while Col. Trigg took the right, and the left was led by Boone. In full confidence that they were marching towards the Indians, but not among them, Trigg's men moved on. In the grass, with all the exultation of men who were sure of their foe, the Indians lay -rifles ready, and selecting their men. As the settlers came up, suddenly this fire broke out upon them. It was unexpected, and proved to all, in a moment, that they were in an ambuscade, and that their spies had been useless. Following up this first fire, the Indians on the right side poured in their discharge. The effect was most disastrous, for it gave the Indian the belief that his policy of a bold blow at the onset was to be successful. Todd and Harlan with their men, as Trigg's battalion broke, received the fire, and the loss was terrible. The four hundred warriors that were in the ravines, and in the woods, broke forth, like Roderick Dhu's men, and by the carnage of that moment Kentucky mourned for many a year. But tremendous as the attack was, it was met with the courage of warriors. Col. Todd re- rnained on his horse, with the blood flowing from 280 DEFEAT OF THE SETTLEWS. mortal wounds. Boone defended his position, and fought on with all the desperate energy that distin- guished him, while Major Harlan could find but' three of his men spared by the rifle. During all the frenzy of this fearful fifteen minutes, the Indians exhausted all their powers in every de- vice of horror. The yell was raised in all its hide- ousness, while the tomahawk flashed in every instant, in its cruel blows. " From the battle ground to the river the spectacle was terrible. The horsemen generally escaped, but the foot, particularly the men who had ventured far- thest within the wings of the net, were almost en- tirely destroyed. Col. Boone, after witnessing the death of his son and many of his dearest friends, found himself almost entirely surrounded at the very com- mencement of the retreat." Several hundred Indians were between him and the ford, to which the great mass of the fugitives were bending their flight. He, knowing the ground well, dashed into the ravine. Sustaining two or three heavy fires, and escaping pursuit, he crossed the ford by swimming, and as he knew the woods with consummate sagacity, succeeded in the escape. The troops and the Indians mingling in the river, the slaughter was terrible. The Indians, fierce with the belief that they were victors, used their moment of triumph with awful execution. 2 LIFE OF DANIFL BOONE. The courage and coolness of a Mr. Netherlar(d- a name since that time distinguished in Tennessee -- arrested the slaughter, by taking a bold stand and rallying those who were in flight. The time thus gained gave opportunity for the pursued to get from the reach of the enemy. Mr. Netherland had before this been accused of cowardice. The result proves that he had in him the courage of one who, in the hour of extreme danger, becomes a rallying point to retrieve the battle. A young man by the name of Reynolds performed a deed for which Roman annals would have immortalized him. Releasing his chance of escape, he generously saved the life of Capt. Pat- terson, and himself became a captive, and then even from the Indian's grasp, rescued himself. Such pages are found in western history. The battle brought its peculiar blow .to Boone. While his own life a merciful Providence spared, he now found another son a victim to the forest peril, while his brother Samuel was severely wounded. The shot of the savage had been but too certain, to his son, and while using every effort to bear him off, the Pioneer found that the only duty be- fore him was to save himself. He left his son, con- scious that the cruelty of the Indian could only wreak vengeance on his corpse. He felt that he had overy risk of capture himself. A bloody and exulting troop of savages, rejoicing in a terrible victory, was all 282 DEATH OF BOONE'S SON. around him, and the station, was a long distance away. But he knew where every place of conceal- ment was, and he pressed on to be, if possible, in time to defend the settlements; for he thought that the Indian would follow up the blow as rapidly and as boldly as possible. On his way with his son's body-bleeding and dying-he felt the Indians' vengeance, for a very large savage sprang towards him. Up gleamed the tomahawk; but it was a pass- ing triumph, for the heroic man stopped, relinquished for a moment his grasp of his expiring son, and with his unerring rifle shot the Indian. They ventured into the lion's path who came across the purposes of Boone, in such circumstances. He felt the bitter an- guish of losing another son - one, too, who had been fighting in the front when he fell-and remembering, as he did, that if his advice had been taken, and the wise and soldierlike course of awaiting the arrival of Col. Logan had been pursued, this terrible tragedy would not have been enacted. All this grieved him sadly, and during his long life its painful memories did not pass away. Thrice had the Blue Licks been to him a scene of the greatest peril and loss -his own life endangered, and that of those dearest to him suddenly and mournfully terminated. Boone describes the loss of the Americans as sixty- seven, and Todd, Trigg and Harlan were of these. Assuredly, the last blow struck by the Indian for the 283 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. recovery of his huntipg grounds, was a bloody one. It thrilled through Kentucky. The Indians enumer- ated their loss as exceeding that of the whites by four, and " therefore," Boone says, "four of the prisoners they had taken were, by general consent, ordered to be killed in a most barbarous manner by the young warriors, in order to train them up to cruelty, and then they proceeded to-their towns." Such were the bitterresults of the rashness of those who disregarded the advice of Boone. Most proba- ble is it, that of the general great fame of the Pio- neer for consummate knowledge of the Indian and the Indian country, they were jealous, and determin- ed to show him that they could conduct a warfare against the savages, even against his judgment. This battle of the Blue Licks would not have occupied such mournful pages in the history of Kentucky, if he had been the general in command, who had shown himself master of the Indian wherever he had met him. The modesty and the disinterestedness of the true soldier is seen in Boone's narrative. He gives no record to blame of those who pushed on the disastrous and rash movement, but laments.and honors the brave men who took their bold part in the fight. Boone's escape from the Indians added another to the many extraordinary adventures which makes his history like the stories of the deeds of old chivalry. 284 BOONEIS NARRATIVE. He left the river, after he knew that he had lost his son, and was separated from the troops; but, know- ing all the paths, he pushed on, rising over his ca- lamity and his regrets, and indicated his claim to greatness by turning aside from such sorrows to strike another blow for the living. His narrative details that - " On our retreat, we were met by Col. Logan, hastening to join us, with a number of well armed men. This power- ful assistance we unfortunately wanted in the battle; for, notwithstanding the enemy's superiorty of numbers, they acknowledged that, if they had received one more fire from us, they should undoubtedlyhave given way. So valiantly did our small party fight, that, to the memory of those who un- fortunately fell in the battle, enough honor cannot be paid. Had Col. Logan and his party been with us, it is highly probable we should have given the savages a total defeat. I cannot reflect upon this dreadful scene, but sorrow' fills my heart. A zeal for the defence of their country led these he- roes tq the scene of action, though with a few men to attack a powerful army of experienced warriors. When we gave way, they pursued us with the utmost eagerness, and in every quarter spread destruction. The river was difficult to cross, and many were killed in the flight, some just entering the river, some in the water, others after crossing, in ascend- ing the cliffs. Some escaped on horseback, a few on foot; and, being dispersed everywhere in a few hours, brought the melancholy news of this unfortunate battle to Lexington. Many widows were now made. Sorrow, the reader may guess, filled the hearts of the inhabitants, exceeding anything I am able to describe. Being reinforced, we returned to 285 LIFE OF DANIL BOONE. bury the dead, and found the bodies strewed everywhere, cut and mangled in a dreadful manner. This mournful scene exhibited a horror almost unparalleled. Some torn and eaten by wild beasts, those in the river eaten by fishes, all in such a putrified condition that no one could be distin- guished from another." In various traditions are preserved the incidents of this fatal day. It was utterly unexpected to the Ken- tuckians that any of the Indian expeditions, when called to contend against such officers as Todd, and Trigg, and Harlan, could result disastrously. To the different stations and forts, the news of that day brought orphanage and widowhood. The Indian had left his last fatal mark behind him. Judge Robert- son, in an address delivered at a place named in hon- or of one of Kentucky's braves - Gov. George Madi- son -relates the following incident, which is of ex- ceeding interest: "On the long -roll of that day's reported slain, (the fatal battle of the Blue Licks,) were the names of a few who had in fact been captured, and, after surviving the ordeal of the gauntlet, had been permitted to live as captives. Among these an excellent husband and father, with eleven other captives, had been taken by a tribe, and painted black, as the signal of torture and death to all. The night after the bat- tle, these twelve prisoners were stripped and placed in a line on a log; he to whom we have specially alluded, being at one extremity of the devoted row. The cruel captors then beginning at the other end, slaughtered eleven, one by one. 286 AFFECTING INCIDENT. But when they came to the only survivor, though they raised him up also, and drew their bloody knives to strike under each uplifted arm, they paused, and after a long powwow, spared his life -why, he never knew. For about a year none of his friends, except his faithful wife, doubted his death. She, hoping against reason, still insisted that he lived, and would yet return to her. Wooed by another, she, from time to time postponed the nuptials, declaring that she could not di- vest herself of the belief that her husband survived. Her expostulating friends finally succeeding in their efforts to stifle her affectionate instinct, she reluctantly yielded, and the nuptial day was fixed. But just before it dawned, the crack of a rifle was heard near her lonely cabin; at the familiar sound she leaped out, like a liberated fawn, ejaculating, as she sprang, " That's John's gun!" It was John's gun, sure enough, and in an instant she was once more in her lost hus- band's arms. But nine years afterwards that same husband fell in St. Clair's defeat, and the same disappointed, but per- severing lover, renewed his suit, and at last the widow be- came his wife." Boone, as the surviving officer in command of the county regiment, communicated an official report of the battle to Benjamin Harrison, Governor of Vir- ginia, and the father of the illustrious William Henry Harrison, to whose young years the stories of these frontier fights gave quick thought of daring in the same field. In many respects Harrison and Boone had kindred qualities. Both were of the class of men who held their place in public affairs when the war- cry was most immediate and cruel. 287 288 IFE OF rDANIEL BOONE. The report delineates, in few words, the battle - never uttering one word of hio own 8ervices. Pass- ing from the description of the action, he vividly de- lineates the exposed condition of the country-its scattered and limited soldiery -and urges a strong reinforcement. He describes the danger as so press- ing upon the people, under the fearful influences of the recent disastrous fight. He saysj "I have en- couraged the people in this county all I could, but I can no longer justify them or myself in risking our lives here under such extraordinary hazards. If the Indians bring another campaign into the country this fall, it will break up the settlements." Boone spoke his own views in this, for he expressly says that he consulted no person. He dates his report from Boone's station, August 30th, 1782. To such extrem- ities was the frontier reduced, even at the period when, by great emigration, the country had seemed to be passing into the rest and security of the more east- erly towns. The Indian knew the glory and riches of the country for which he was fighting such deadly battles, and crowded all his energies to retake it. Thus was Kentucky, in terrible truth, the Dark and Bloody Ground. "BBOONE's STATION, FAYETTE CO., l August 30th, 1782. 3 Sm, - Present circumstances of affairs cause me to write to your excellencyas follows: On the lth instant, n large 288 BOONE'S REPORT TO GOV. HARRISON. number of Indians, with some white men, attacked one of our frontier stations, known by the name of Bryant's Station. The siege continued from about sunrise till about two o'clock the next day, when they marched off. Notice being given to the neighboring stations, we immediately raised one hundred and eighty-one horsemen, commanded by Colonel John Todd, including' some of the Lincoln county militia, commanded by Colonel Trigg, and pursued about forty miles. " On the 19th instant, we discovered the enemy lying in wait for us. On this discovery, we formed one column into one single line, and marched up in their front, within about forty yards, before there was a gun fired. Col. Trigg com- manded on .the right, myself on the left, Maj. McGary in the centre, and Maj. Harlan the advanced party in front. From the manner in which we had formed, it fell to my lot to bring on the attack. This was done with a very heavy fire on both sides, and extended back of the line to Col. Trigg, where the enemy was so strong they rushed up, and broke the right wing at the first fire. Thus the enemy got in our rear, with the loss of seventy-seven of our men, and twelve wounded. Afterwards, we were reinforced by Col. Logan, which made our force four hundred and sixty men. " We marched again to the battle ground; but, finding the enemy had gone, we proceeded to bury the dead. "' We found forty-three on the ground, and many lay about, which we could no.t stay to find, hungry and weary as we were, and somewhat dubious that the enemy might not have gone off quite. By the sign, we thought that the Indians had exceeded four hundred; while the whole of the militia of the county does not amount to more than one hundred and thirty. From these facts your excellency may form an idea M 19 289 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. of our situation. I know that your own circumstances are critical; but are we to be wholly forgotten I hope not. I trust about five hundred men may be sent to our assist- ance immediately. If these shall be stationed as our county lieutenants shall deem necessary, it may be the means of saving our part of the country: but if they are placed under the direction of Gen. Clarke, they will be of little or no ser- vice to our settlement. The Falls lie one hundred miles west of us, and the Indians north-east; while our men are fre- quently called to protect them. I have encouraged the peo- ple in this county all that I could; but I can no longer jus- tify them or myself to risk our lives here under such extra- ordinary hazards. The inhabitants of this county are very much alarmed at the thoughts of the Indians bringing an- other campaign into our country this fall. If this should be the case, it will break up these settlements. I hope, there- fore, your excellency will take the matter into your consid- eration, and send us some relief as quick as possible. " These are my sentiments, without consulting any person. Col. Logan, will, I expect, immediately send you an express, by whom I humbly request your excellency's answer. In the meanwhile, I remain, c., "DANIEL BOONE." As early as 1785, many families came down the Ohio River in boats, landed at Maysville, and con- tinued their route, to such parts of the country as pleased them. Col. Thomas Marshall, formerly com- mander of the third Virginian regiment, in the Conti- nental establishment, subsequently colonel of the regiment of Virginian artillery, embarked with a nu- merous family on board a flat-boat, and descended 290 COL. MARSHALL AND GIRTY'S BROTHER. the Ohio without any incident of note, until he passed the mouth of the Kenawha. There, about ten o'clock at night, he was hailed from the northern shore by a man who announced himself as James Girty, the brother of the notorious Simon Girty. The boat dropped slowly down within one hundred and fifty yards of the shore, and Girty making a corresponding movement on the beach; and conference was kept up for several minutes. He began by mentioning his name, and enquiring that of the master of the boat. Having been satisfied upon this head, he as- sured him he knew him well, respected him highly, c., c., and concluded with some rather extraordi- nary remarks: "He had been posted there," he said, " by the order of his brother Simon, to warn all boats of the danger of permitting themselves to be decoyed ashore." The Indians had become jeal- ous of him, and he had lost that influence he former- ly held amongst them. He deeply regretted the in- jury he had inflicted upon his countrymen, and wished to be restored to their society, and in order to convince them of the sincerity of his regard, he had directed him to warn all boats of the snares spread for them. Every effort would be made to draw passengers ashore. White men would appear upon the bank; and children would be heard to sup- plicate mercy. But," continued he, "do you keep 291 292 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. the middle of the river, and steel your heart against any mournful application you may receive." The colonel thanked him for his intelligence, and contin- ued his course. CHAPTER XVI. GENERAL CLARKE -HIS CAMPAIGN AGAINST THE INDIANS AT OLD CeILLI. COTlHE - NARRATIVE OF BOONE'S ESCAPE FROM FOUR INDIANS - TEE PA- PER CURRENCY - COURTS OF LAW INSTITUTED - BOONE ERTABLISIES HIMSELF ON A FARM - THE RETURN OF PEACE-INCREASE OF EMIGRATION -THE INDIANS -THEIR LOVE FOR RUM - THEI PETITION-THE INDIANS AT THE PRESENT DAY. GENxERAL CLARlE, the great military leader of Ken- tucky, had been very anxious for some time previous to this, to organize an expedition against Detroit. That city was so much the head-quarters of the Brit- ish forces, and from thence issued so much of its power, that he was determined to take the post, if possible. He was quickened in his zeal by the ser- vice he had seen under Baron Steuben, when that sturdy old officer was counteracting the movements and machinations of the traitor Arnold. Promoted to the rank of brigadier general, he raised at the Falls of the Ohio a large force - about two thousand men -which, in the scattered condition of the popu- lation, was a great army. To his great chagrin his orders were changed, and he was ordered to remain there on the defensive, to guard the frontier; though it appears by Boone's letter to Gov. Harrison, that he LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. (Boone) doubted whether Clarke's forces were of any use to the settlements around Boonesborotigh, as his command was at the distance of one hundred miles. When the terrible news that the Indians had killed Col. Todd and destroyed a large number of the set- tlers at the Blue Lick, reached Gen. Clarke, he forgot his own despondency, and roused to vigorous action. A bold campaign against the Indians was immedi- ately determined upon, and it went forth, extermina- ting in its character, like that of Gen. Sullivan, in New York, in the cause and features of which it was very similar; for Sullivan's march of terror was taken because of the fatal affair at Wyoming. The Indian only brought on himself a speedier and surer retribu- tion for his murderous attack. Boone ever speaks warmly of Gen. Clarke. In ref- erence to this expedition, he says, " he was ever our ready friend, and merits the love and gratitude of all our countrymen." , Of this expedition Boone was a part, and, it cannot be doubted, was a prominent counselor of the general, as the result of the battle of Blue Licks had demon- strated the propriety of hearing Boone's suggestions. The march was a very rapid one, and all the circum- stances show that, learning from their recent severe experience, it was conducted with all the acute cs- tion and vigilance that the old Indian hunters could devise. The Indians, rejoicing in their victory, push- 294 CIIILLICOTIIE DESTROYED. ed on to celebrate it at old Chillicothe. They were at home, and had proceeded in their division of the spoil and the captives. Clarke's army was within two miles, when two of the straggling Indians discov- ered them. There was a change in old Chillicothe in a few moments. These Indians rushed with all the rapidity they could achieve, to give warning of the avenging army. Chillicothe was deserted faster than ever before. Its glory of triumph was over, and wig- wams were silent which but the hour before had been full of exulting savages. It was a great sacrifice to them to leave their towns, but they knew who was behind them, and they escaped for life. The army destroyed the towns - reducing them to ashes - and desolated their country. The blow they struck was fatal and forcible. It was melancholy to know that, maddened by the desolation and destruction at the battle of the Blue Licks, some of the army followed the cruelty of the Indians, by scalping some of their captives. These occurrences are blots on the history, but it was almost impossible to restrain the men. The Chillicothe towns were all destroyed. Boone en- tered the scene of his captivity as a conqueror. This expedition alarmed the savages, and disheartened them; for it showed them that, even after such a dis- .aster as was that of the Blue Licks, the white men rose up in renewed strength and increased numbers. As Boone says, it made them sensible of the superi- 295 LIFE OF DANIERL BOONlF. ority of the whites. It dissolved their dangerous con- nection with each other, and left them to scattered and roving border fights. In this campaign the Kentuckians secured the peace of their country. The disheartened Indian re- turned no more; and Boone turned his attention from war to the arts of peace. The contest with Great Britain was so rapidly proclaiming its probable end, that the time seemed to have come for the quiet set- tlement of the beautiful and broad land to which Boone had led his countrymen. The emigration, en- couraged by the approaching quiet, rushed in in greater numbers, and land and land titles occupied the settlers' attention, and, in many cases, troubled him more than the rifle of the Indian. But the Indian was still more than troublesome- he was destructive. Though the power to organize an army was gone, the midnight assault, the alarm, the murder, were all companions of Kentucky life. One of his neighbors, and one who came into the country from listening to the glowing descriptions which Boone gave of the land, trusting too much to the defeat of the savages, and presuming upon a state of quiet, carelessly riding out near the fort, was killed and scalped by a party of Indians. Boone warmly pursued them, but their flight was a successful one. All these proceedings kept alive the fears of the set- tlers, and made the men of the frontier feel that there 296 A NARROW ESCAPE. was no furniture in their house quite as necessary as the rifle. Boone was specially obnoxious to the Indians. They could not forget the bold manner in which he had twice made his escape, nor were they likely to forget that he had been one of the most efficient in the great chastisement which Gen. Clarke's expedi- tion inflicted. It became a plan of the Indian to take him, and he knew that he was never safe. Mr. Peck has obtained the following very interesting narrative of a thrilling adventure which Boone experienced: " On one occasion, four Indians came to the farm of Col. Boone, and nearly succeeded in taking him prisoner. The particulars are given, as they were narrated by Boone him- self, at the wedding of a granddaughter, a few months before his decease, and they furnish an illustration of his habitual self-possession and tact with Indians. At a short distance from his cabin, he had raised a small patch of tobacco, to supply his neighbors, (for Boone never used the weed him- self;) the amount, perhaps, of one hundred and fifty hills. " As a shelter for curing it, he had built an enclosure of railsf a dozen feet in height, and covered it with cane and grass. Stalks of tobacco are usually split and strung on sticks about four feet in length. The end of these are laid on poles, placed across the tobacco-house, and in tiers, one above the other, to the roof. Boone had fixed his temporary shelter in such a manner as to have three tiers. He had covered the lower tier, and the tobacco had become dry, when he entered the shelter for the purpose of removing the sticks to the upper tier, preparatory to gathering the remain- M LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. der of the crop. He had hoisted up the sticks from the lower to the second tier, and was standing on the poles that sup- ported it, while raising the sticks to the other tier, when four stout Indians, with guns, entered the low door, and called him by name. '-Now, Boone, we got you. You no get away more. We carry you off to Chillicothe this time. You no cheat us any more.' Boone looked down upon their upturned faces, saw their loaded guns pointed at his breast, and recognizing some of his old friends, the Shawanese, who had made him prisoner near the Blue Licks, in 1778, coolly and pleasantly responded, 'Ah! old friends, glad to see you.' Perceiving that they manifested impatience to have him come down, he told them he was quite willing to go with them, and only begged they would wait where they were, and watch him closely until he could finish removing his tobacco. " Whilp parleying with them, inquiring after old acquaint- ances, and proposing to give them his tobacco when cured, he diverted their attention from his purpose, until he had collected together a number of sticks of dry tobacco, and so turned them as to fall between the poles directly in their faces. At the same instant, he jumped upon them with as much of the dry tobacco as he could gather in his arms, fill- ing their mouths and eyes with its pungent dust, and blind- ing and disabling them from following him, rushed out and hastened to his cabin, where he had the means of defense. Notwithstanding the narrow escape, he could not resist the temptation, after retreating some fifteen or twenty yards, to look round and see the success of his achievement. The In- dians, blinded and suffocated, were stretching out their hands and feeling about in different directions, calling him by name, and cursing him for a rogue, and themselves for fools." 298 ProsPERiTy ov THE sETrLKRB. The arts and circumstances of civilized life now moulded society in Kentucky. The country where Boone had been alone was now teeming with induis- try. Labor was rewarded. Cattle, secure in great measure from pillage by the Indians, were multiplied. The rivers were made channels of transportation, and the West was recognized by the East as some- thing more than a place of savage or half-civilized frontier-men. Security and sustenance were the first objects of the settler, and they therefore deemed it best to live in what were called stations. These were log houses, connected, but with gateways which might be closed when the signal of danger was given. But in secu- ring a place for these stations, the sagacity of the American character did not omit to choose good land. It has been cited as a strange oversight on the part of those who constructed some of these stations, that the spring or water course with which the settlers were supplied, was left outside, so that it was at great personal risk, in a siege, that this indispensable ar- ticle was obtained. The space within shelter was to be large enough to guard the cattle and horses, when pursuit became very close. Better and more peace- able times appearing, the stations were left, and sepa- rate and more detached log houses were built. Each neighbor and settler aided the other in the erection of such residence. Our whole country is not yet so 299 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. tenanted by the more durable order of building, but that in all quarters the idea of what a log house is, may be gathered from the inspection of a survivor, which in its strength still gives shelter to the family who patiently await the year when they shall be able to leave it for some more ambitious structure; for the idea of remaining quiet and contented in any house, excepting such a one as compares with or ex- ceeds all rivals, is not an American one. There was money in the settlements, but much of it was of the paper or Continental stamp, whose value was particularly dubious. It could not have been very precious when the county court fixed the follow- ing rates for the tariff of tavern-keeping, establishing a schedule of prices which if, as in these days, a dol- lar had signified the representative of a "Spanish milled," would far exceed even the highest charges of the most unconscientious city hotel-keeper. "The court doth set the following rates to be ob- served by ordinary keepers in this county: Whisky, fifteen dollars the half pint; rum, ten dollars the gal- lon; a meal, twelve dollars; stabling or pasturage, four dollars the night." This seems like the record of a California reckon- ing; but when a hat was worth five hundred dollars, Genin's purchase of his Jenny Lind ticket would have been excusable. When Congress recommended to the States to pass laws making paper currency a legal 300 ANECDOTE OF WASMNGTON. tender, at its nominal value in coin, it was considered by Washington a procedure unjust in principle, and iniquitous in effect. " When the army was at Morristown, a man of respecta- ble standing lived ir the neighborhood, who was assiduous in his civilities to Washington, which were kindly received and reciprocated. Unluckily, this man paid his debts in the depreciated currency. Sometime afterwards, he called at head-quarters, and was introduced as usual to the general's apartment, where he was then conversing with some of his officers. He bestowed very little attention upon the visitor. The-same thing occurred a second time, when he was more reserved than before. This was so different from his cus- tomary manner, that Lafayette, who was present, on both occasions, could not help remarking it, and he said, after the man was gone, ' General, this man seems to be much devoted to you, and yet you have scarcely noticed him.' Washing- ton replied, smiling, 'I know I have not been cordial; I tried hard to be civil, and attempted to speak to him two or three times, but that Continental money stopped my mouth." In 1782, Virginia gave the district of Kentucky a general court, with all its array of judges and attor- ney-generals, which was a very great convenience, as heretofore the legal business of the country was trans- acted at Richmond, which made the frontier in a prac- tical vassalage; for when the decision of their rights was thus within the control of others, it gave them very little real freedom. Especially was a good home court necessary, when the titles to lands were so in- 301 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. volved. Indeed, a quarrel about land and ownership was the very dispute into which the settlers, the mo- ment the crack of the Indian rifle ceased to be heard in their neighborhood, were most likely to rush. With individuals as with nations, the disposition is to seize. The Indian sachems once asked Mr. Gist where their own lands were, for the French claimed all the land on the one side of the Ohio River, and the English on the other; and out of a land quarrel the war of 1753 began, in which nearly all the Euro- pean continent became involied, and which, in its consequences, gave rise to the American Revolution. The first blow struck on the Ohio began the series, just as the forest pilgrimage of Daniel Boone led to the development of the great Western Empire. The court was at first held at Harrodsburgh. It was afterwards removed to a place which obtained the name of Dansville. Those who first took upon themselves the judicial ermine, did not imagine that in the great State which was to arise out of this new country, one of the largest and most important of all the differences that ever agitated the people of Ken- tucky was to arise out of the old and new courts - words interwoven with the record of a bitter struggle, which soon found its way into and controlled the pol- itics of the State. Boone having now established himself on a farm, and, settled in a log house, gave his family hope that he 302 BOONE A FARMER. had, at last, found a quiet home, where the battle should be known only by the stirring histories which he might give of the dread doings he had witnessed. Boone's character develops itself in the calmness with which he left the bold business of the soldier, to take up his rifle only as a hunter. To the pursuit of hunt- ing Boone owes much of the ordinary reputation his name bears, but he was not one of those to whom hunting was a necessity of existence. He had a vast power in his rifle - his knowledge of woodcraft-his great experience - and he was eminently without a superior, but it was in better enterprises than the chase, that Boone mjade his record in the page of fame; and in the history of a man who proved him- self possessed of the highest qualities which assist in the formation of a State, it is of little importance to narrate the incidents of the amusement or support he received from the woods. Notwithstanding all the fanciful fictions which have been drawn of Boone's desire for solitude, which, except at one period of his life, and then only temporary, are unfounded, he probably supposed that he had fixed in Fayette coun- ty his permanent home. Thus even the grandilo- quent language which Filson makes him use, the idea of rest after a series of fierce contests with the sava- ges, is prominent. " Peace comes to the sylvan shade. I now live in peace and safety, enjoying the sweets of liberty," he says, and he pours out his " thanks - ar- 303 LIFE OF DANIEL BJOONE. dent and ceaseless thanks - to the all superintending Providence which has turned a cruel war into peace." He knew the cost at which the white men had gained his beloved Kentucky. The perils, from the hour he looked out upon the wilderness alone and without face of human being to cheer him, to the moment when he left his dead son to the cruelties of the fierce Indian, were before him. He believed his destiny as " an instrument ordained to settle the wilderness " to be accomplished. The establishment of peace between this country- free and sovereign States-and Great Britain, gave strength to the hope of the settler, and encouraged Boone to believe that Kentucky would rise to all the greatness of his fondest hopes. With his strength of mind and its concentration -for it is evident that he never attempted to tread out of the range of purpose for which he thought himself most competent -he could not but watch all the onward movements of civilization with great interest. It is quite likely that what pleased him least, was to see that the reference by one neighbor of his dispute to the settlement of an- other, was forsaken, for the complicated practice of the courts increased; to notice that, day by day, the law was assuming in its forms and precedents more and more of authority. His early life in North Car- olina had educated him for such opinions, because there the abuses and oppressions of those who wera 304 FIRST JUDGES OF KENTUCKY. sheltered beneath the regulations and rules of law, had convulsed society. His loss of his land papers, and the endless difficulties to which it subjected him, all strengthened this feeling; but as he had, as he thought, a good claim, he went on in its improve- ment, and looked to the agriculture of the country- while lie never forgot the relation in which he stood to the Indians, but kept his good rifle where his hand could, in an instant, be upon it. It had too often shown its value to be neglected. Meanwhile, the luxuries of life began to find their way to this region. In 1780, Virginia had passed a law establishing the town of Louisville, at the Falls of the Ohio, and though the Indian stood ready, if possi- ble, to track every footstep thither with blood, yet the irresistible progress of civilization overcame all dan- gers. In 1783, Daniel Brodhead astonished- the settlers by offering for sale goods -from Philadelphia, having succeeded in freighting thenm from thence to Pittsburgh in wagons, and dozen the river in flat-boats. Even upon those days of simplicity arose the radiance of gaudy calico and overshadowing wool hats. It was a time of serious innovation. John Floyd and Samuel McDowell were the first judges of the Kentucky district. Both these names are of families illustrious in the annals of Virginia, even to our own day. The emigration in the years 1783 and 1784, is com- 20 305 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. puted by Filson to have amounted to not less than twelve thousand; but this seems an exaggerated number. The Indians seemed to let the settlers alone for the time, and that most eulogistic historian of Ken- tucky, Imlay, declares that there appears to be no- thing wanting to make them the happiest people upon earth. He says that the order and quiet which pre- vailed in 1784, was sufficient to have induced a stran- ger to believe he was living under an old settled gov- ernment. le may have so thought, being a surveyor, but the adjustment of the claims of settlement and preemption rights soon, at least in some cases, made this happiness chequered by many proceedings which spread ruin to those who had suffered and done the most to bring about the settlement of the country. The man who knew and practised only the broad rules of fairness, and who, because he knew that his own notions were pure, thought equal justice would be wrought to him, was not the person to cope with the shrewd and cunning speculator, who had a touch of Shylock about him, and was as ready to insist upon every nicety of legal enactment, when it would work in his favor, as was the Jew to exact the fearful pen- alty of his bond. Cooper, in his best story - the Pi- oneer - illustrates this, in the case of the simple- hearted hunter, who found it impossible to see the justice of the procedure of the courts. It is easy to see that our great novelist must have drawn from 306 DALTON'S SPEECH TO THE INDINS. the history of Boone much of the suggestion of his hunter character. Boone was soon to feel that, like the many of earth's benefactors, when his services ceased to be vitally necessary their value was speedily forgotten. Boone's own narrative seems to reach to the year 1784. At the time it was written in his dictation, it was prepared simultaneously with a description of Kentucky by Filson, and to this history, Col. Boone, and Levi Todd, and James Harrod, give their cordial recommendation. Their experience in the way of criticism on books was not as extensive as their ac- quaintance with rougher enterprises. At the close of the sketch of his life, Boone gives, and calls atten- tion to it, a curious document relating to the Indians. It is the speech to them of a Mr. Dalton -who was probably a government agent -and their reply. There are some curious illustrations of the times in its contents. It assigns their poverty as the cause of their alliance with the English. The copartnership left them far poorer than it found them. Their hopes of driving the settler away had all ceased, and the fact that even the great king across the water had not been able to assist them to it, was not longer to be passed by. They profess a claim of friendship with the set- tlers. Boone says, it was their wretchedness which drove them to it. Melancholy it is to notice the ear- nest pleading which these chiefs use, to procure the 307 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. fatal gift of rum; -to be able to make it, seems a knowledge and art they greatly covet. Some of their prisoners astonished them by telling them that they possessed such rare skill. The gift they coveted they doubtless received. It was the curse of the day, and the white man who ought to have gone forth to bless and to civilize, made this passion of the Indian the swift instrument of their destruction. To such fate was the poor Indian early doomed, and his own hor- rible cruelty dismissed all sympathy for him from the frontier. He appeared before them only as a being using power wherever he obtained it, too often under circumstances of cruelty in which, if a white man par- ticipated, it was only when he became the most aban- doned of his race. The Indian could not but have seen that his destiny was to pass away. This memo- rial shows it. "MY CHILDREN :-What I have often told you is now come to pass. This day I received news from my Great Chief, at the Falls of Ohio. Peace is made with the enemies of America. The white flesh, the Americans, French, Spanish, Dutch, and English, this day smoked out of the peace-pipe. The tomahawk is buried and they are now friends. I am told the Shawanese, Delawares, Chickasaws, Cherokees, and all other red flesh, have taken the Long Knife by the hand. They have given up to them the prisoners that were in their nation. "MY CHILDREN ON WABASH:-Open your ears, and let what I tell you sink into your hearts. You know me. Near .308 REPLY OF THE INDIANS. twenty years I have been among you. The Long Knife is my nation. I know their hearts; peace they carry in one hand, and war in the other. I leave you to yourselves to judge. Consider, and now accept the one or the other. We never beg peace of our enemies. If you love your women and children, receive the belt of wampum, I present you. Return me my flesh you have in your villages, and the hor- ses you stole from my people in Kentucky. Your corn fields were never disturbed by the Long Knife. Your women and children, lived quiet in their houses, while your warriors were killing and robbing my people. All this you know is the truth. This is the last time I shall speak to you. I have waited six moons to hear you speak, and to get my people from you. In ten nights I shall leave the Wabash to see my Great Chief at the Falls of Ohio, where he will be glad to hear, from your own lips, what you have to say. " Here is tobacco I give you; smoke, and consider what I have said. Then I delivered one belt of blue and white wampum, and said, Piankashaw, speak, speak to the Ame- ricans." Then the Piankashaw chief answered: " My GREAT FATHER, THE LONG KNIFE:-You have been many years among us. You have suffered by us. We still hope you will have pity and compassion upon us, on our women and children: the day is clear. The sun shines on us, and the good news of peace appears in our faces. This day, my father, this is the day of joy to the Wabash Indians. With one tongue we now speak. We accept your peace- belt. We return God thanks; you are the man that deliv- ered us, what we long wished for, peace with the white flesh. My father, we have many times counseled before you knew us: and you know how some of us suffered before. We re- 309 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. ceived the tomahawk from the English: poverty forced us to it, we were attended by other nations: we are sorry for it: we this day collect the bones of our friends that long ago were scattered upon the earth. We bury them in one grave. We thus plant the tree of peace, that God may spread branches, so that we can all be secured from bad weather. They smoke as brothers out of the peace-pipe we now present to you. Here, my father, is the pipe that gives us joy. Smoke out of it. Our warriors are glad you are the man we present it to. You see, father, we have buried the tomahawk, we now make a great chain of friendship neverto be broken; and now, as one people, smoke out of your pipe. "My father, we know God was angry with us for stealing your horses, and disturbing your people. He has sent us so much snow and cold weather, that God himself killed all your horses with our own. We are now a poor people. God, we hope, will help us; and our father, the Long Knife, have pity and compassion on our women and children. Your flesh, my father, is well, that is among us; we shall collect them all together, when they come in from hunting. Don't be sorry, my father, all the prisoners taken at Kentucky are alive and well; we love them, and so do our young women. Some of your people mend our guns, and others tell us they can make rum out of corn. Those are now the same as we. In one moon after this we will go with them to their friends in Kentucky. Some of your people will now go with Costca, a chief of our nation, to see his great father, the Long Knife, at the Falls of Ohio. "My father, this being the day of joy to the Wabash In- dians, we beg a little drop of your milk, to let our warriors see it came from your own breast. We were born and raise4 in the woods; we could never learn to make rum - 310 EFFECT ON THE INDUNS. God has made the white flesh masters of the world; they make everything; and we all love rum. " Then they delivered three strings of blue and white wampum, and the coronet of peace. "Present in council, "MUSKITO, ANTIA, CAPT. BEAVER, MONTOUR, WOODS BURNING, CASTIA, BADTRIPES, GRAND COURT, with many other chiefs and war captains, and the principal inhabitants of the port of St. Vincents." Strange to say, the effect of the severe lessons im- printed on the minds of the Pinkiashaw Indians seems not to have been effaced even to this hour. The re- port of the commissioner of Indian affairs in 1853, states this tribe - a small remnant- as one of those who, yielding to the forthcoming power of the white man, were willing to sell out their possessions and re- treat still further to the western forests. 311 CHAPTER XVII. INDIAN HOSTILITIES RENEWED - THE NUMEROUS CONVENTIONS RELATIVE TO THE FORMATION OF A STATE-JOHN MARSHALL-KENTUCKY ADMITTED IN THE UNION AS A STATE I 1791 -BOONE'S DIFFICULTIES RELATIVE TO TlE TITLE TO HIS LANDS -HE LOSES IS FARM - NARRATIVE OF THE ESCAPE OF DOWNING AND YATES FROM THE INDIANS -THE BRAVE KENTUCKIANS - ESCAPE OF MR. BOWAN AND FAMILY - BOONE'S VISIT TO IllS BIRTH- PLACE - HIS HARDSHIPS IN THE LOSS OF HIS LANDS. IN 1784, the Indian again made his power to ha- rass the settler known. -The settlers of Kentucky felt that they were overlooked by Virginia; that the seat of government was too far away; and that while peace came to all the rest of the Union, it had omit- ted its gentle reign over a district where it was un- safe to wander out of sight of the stations and forts, without being well armed. Indeed, a rumor spread that there was to be a repetition of the invasions by large forces, which had so desolated the frontier in the battle of the Blue Licks; and a concentration of the settlements was suggested, and a meeting of ma- ny of their- best men was held at Dansville. They looked over the laws which governed their action, and found that if the invasion was to take place, it must be repelled by volunteer effort, as the powers neces- CONVENTION AT DANSVILLE. sary to carry on a war ceased with the declaration of peace. It was a weary distance over to Richmond, and rich as the great State of Virginia was in brave men and good lawyers, the Indian would wait for neither the arms of the one or the opinions of the other. The threatened invasion did not take place: the Indian had his memories of the destruction of his towns too vivid to give him much heart to carry on another campaign. The meeting at Dansville argued whether it were not best -indeed, whether it were not the only true course -to strike their blow in ad- vance, and proceed like Sullivan and Clarke, to a war of extermination. In this condition of opinion, to find themselves without legal power to make this movement, was most embarrassing; and they pro- ceeded to do, what so many public bodies do -to call another convention, which should be somewhat more formal, and possess a more detailed delegated authority. Curiously, the elections for the new convention were held from each militia company; as if Kentilcky was to be carried forward at every stage of her pro- gress by the sword. The delegates again met; and one of the most singular pages in the annals of Ken- tucky is the great number of conventions that were held by a people more familiar with the rifle than with the pen, and far more at home in the stirring N 3713 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. shout of the border fight or forest hunt, than in the parliamentary debate. In the lists of delegates we do not find the name of Col. Boone, and the reason is an obvious one. He was one of those men who, possessing the power to act well the career he should select, sought only that which led him to withdraw from the crowd. He led the way in heroic and noble achievement to lay the foundation of the State. For this he dared death in every shape, and went through a series of adventures more bold and impressive than are found in the life of a vast number of those on whom the world flings its laurels; but in the control of the community he had formed, he took no part. He knew that the convention at Dansville might for- get him in its papers and its talk; but he knew as well, that if the invasion, the fear of which had brought them together, should take place, they would turn to the Pioneer to be of those who should lead them to victory. Of this second meeting at Dansville, a young man was secretary, who prosecuted his studies, to qualify himself for his profession, by fire-light-the hours of the day being occupied in the labors necessary for his support. He commenced the practice when his horse, saddle and bridle, and thirty-seven and a half cents in money, were all his means; and he died a Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States -the as- sociate of John Marshall. He was of those men, 314 MORE CONVENTIONS. whose good sense and integrity were so valuable to Kentucky in the hour when its character as a com- monwealth was forming. This convention was very clear in opinion that the time had come when the State of Kentucky should be organized, and her separation from the govern- ment of Virginia determined. But, as if it was most excellent employment for these hardy sons of the frontier to meet in formal assemblages, the subject was referred to another convention, which met in May, 1'785, at Dansville -as famous for its conven- tions as is, in this day, the city of Syracuse. This one met on the twenty-third of May. Profit- ing by the dignified example set by the Transylvania Legislature, which had been the pioneer of all, its proceedings were conducted with great order. They resolved that Kentucky ought to be taken into union with the United States of America, and enjoy equal privileges in common with the other States; and then they referred the subject over again to another con- vention, to assemble in August. And this, also, met; for the Kentuckians followed their political affairs with all the determination and zeal with which they had conquered the country from the savages. Gen. Wilkinson was a member of this convention, and in its name gave forth an address which, in its power of expression, carried great influence. It was 315 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. quickened by the belief, founded on what they heard from Vincennes, that the Indians had not merely not relinquished the idea of a general war, but were or- ganizingforthe purpose. Theyurged thepeople every- where to organize and prepare for defence. - They ap- pointed deputies to proceed to Virginia, to present their address to the authorities, in whose power its fulfillment existed. These bold pioneers made two law- yers (Muter and Jarvis) their representatives, and awaited calmlythe resultof theirlabors. Howstrange- ly the services of one-of these-Chief Justice Muter- were remunerated, the records of his neglect show. The Legislature of Virginia was composed of men too wise not to see that separation was inevitable. Sep- arated from the parent State by a distance and by difficulties of communication, in those days most for- midable, they saw that Kentuckians would not long submit to be ruled by those whose power was so far removed as to surround every approach to it with the greatest embarrassment. It was,without its wrongs, and tyranny, and misgovernment, the repetition of the circumstances of the Crown and the Colonies; and with good judgment, and, as the beautiful lan- guage used by the Dansville convention expressed it, witk sole intent to bless its people, they agreed to a dismemberment of its parts, to secure the happiness of the whole. But the Kentuckians were called to another con- 316 CIIEF JUSTICE MARSIHALL. vention at Dansville, in September, 1786. To this the delegates were elected, but circumstances conse- quent upon the Indian hostilities, to which reference will be made, prevented the assemblage of a quorum. Those who were in session, with a good sense which might often felicitously be imitated in modern legis- latures, did not assume to act for the whole body; but organizing as a committee, represented the cir- -cumstances to the authorities of Virginia. Their communication was committed to the care and charge of John Marshall, that glorious chief pil- lar in the fabric of American jurisprudence. He gave to young Kentucky the advocacy which he, in his quick and strong mind, saw she deserved; and it will always be a bright record in the history of both States, that his great name is linked with the act that made two great commonwealths of one. But the convention had to meet again I and when it did meet, the determination for independent sove- reignty was unanimous. Surely, after so many, wea- ried nature would seek for some conclusion. It will be well, before returning to where Boone was quietly pursuing his agricultural labors, diversi- fled by the sound of his rifle in the chase and hunt- all the while fearing the craft of the speculator and the land-jobber more than he did the fierce face of the Indian -to thread out this long line of conven- tions. A belief that there existed a disposition in 317 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. Congress to cede away what was to all these settlers -and justly- considered an inestimable right, the navigation of the Mississippi, entered now into the public mind to an extent which seriously embarrassed the question of the independence of the State. The time fixed in which the consent of Congress was to be obtained, was deemed too short, and an ex- tension asked for, and the Virginia Legislature re- vised the act, so as to call another convention to be held at -Danville, in September,1787. January 1st, 1789, was fixed upon as the period when, if the convention agreed, the laws of Virginia should cease, and the agreement of Congress was to be had before July 4th, 1788. But in the mean time, the other convention had found a quorum, and agreed to the former conditions. This state of things brought the affair, after all its vexatious delays, about to its starting point, rather than to a termination. Under a belief that the navigation of the Missis- sippi was really about to be diplomatised away, a spirited letter was issued to the Kentuckians-signed among others by Justice Muter - recommending a convention at Dansville again! and that celebrated place of convocation witnessed another, which, how- ever, dispersed without action. Then, in conformity with the last act of Virginia, another convention was elected - which Dansville again entertained, and who reiterated that tlhey, lily_ 318 FTRST DELEGATE TO CONGRESS. their predecessors, were unanimously in favor of be- ing a sovereign State, and not a dependency even of venerable Virginia. They sent their proceedings to the Virginia Legis- lature, and asked that they might select a delegate to Congress, who should urge that body to agree to the separation. Virginia agreed to the choice of a delegate, and Kentucky, not exactly as a separate organization, but yet not entirely as included in Virginia, first made itself known in that Federal Legislature, where, in after years, her voice was to be heard - of all oth- ers, most eloquently -by Mr. John Brown, a lawyer of great talent, and whose popularity was eminently deserved. It was now decreed that the power of Vir- ginia should cease on the last day of 1788, and-with resistless destiny - the Kentuckians were required to elect delegates to another convention I to be held at Dansville, to form a constitution. But, in the mean time, Congress itself had inter- posed between it and its powers and duties, the action of the great Constitutional Convention of Philadel- phia, over which George Washington presided, and the result of whose labors was that instrument whose design was"to form a more perfect union -establish justice, ensure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare, and secure the blessings of liberty"-and which great work 319 0LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. the experiences of a half century and more, show has been so well performed. Such were the delays in the action of Congress, that the question of the ad- mission of Kentucky was not taken up till the thirti- eth of July, while the law of Virginia required the whole to be consummated by the fourth I It belongs to the history of Kentucky, and not to that of Boone, to trace out the effect which all this delay produced. Whether that bold people did not seriously, by some of their leading minds, debate the question whether, as they had so often been foiled in their attempt to become one of the Union, they had not the strength and energy to go on to greatness with- out it-is for the historian of Kentucky to determine, by a laborious and patient investigation. The ques- tion is now only one of curious history, and the time will soon come when it will be, in all its features, presented to the student, as illustrating the Age. Acting under the law of Virginia, a convention as- sembled to form a constitution for Kentucky. As Congress had passed a resolution for its admission on the fourth of July, 1789, though it was the postpone- ment of a year, yet there seemed a remarkable prob- ability that the end was coming. This convention, however, was most occupied in the discussion of the separate independence questiom, which, fortunately, while it blazed up very lightly for a time, had no en- during strength. 320 ADMITTED AS A STATE. Now Virginia took another act in the drama, and passed a third act, requiring Kentucky to elect dele- gates to another convention in Dansville ! in July, 1789, and it assembled. By this time, the habit of assembling at this famous place must have become familiar. Not yet was the way clear. Virginia had interposed certain conditions to her acquiescence to the separation, to which the Kentuckians declined to accede; and absolutely another convention was called to assemble in 1790. And this, too, assembled, and as Virginia, by subsequent legislation, had removed the obnoxious conditions, the formal act of separation was, at last, after all this weary procedure, establish- ed. Another convention assembled and formed a constitution. On the earnest recommendation of Gen. Washington -on the fourth of February, 1791 - Kentucky, by act of Congress, was admitted as a sovereign State; accomplishing this good purpose by perseverance under a series of vexatious difficulties, the moiety of which would have been resorted to, by less patriotic communities, as cause for finding that independence by the strong arm, which the law refused. Not Boonesborough, in all its nine days' hard fight- ing, sustained a longer siege than did Dansville in her most numerous conventions. It was great in- gratitude to her, after all her experiences, to remove No 21 321 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE-. the seat of government, as was done in 1792, to Lexington. While Dansville was thus witnessing such a pro- cession of conventions, and the pen and the voice were assuming the power which will always vest in them, after strength has prepared their way, the com- mon affairs of life among the frontier inhabitants went on. They had laid the foundation of their fu- ture home in the midst of peril, of difficulty, of dan- ger, of death. How many of those who thus found that their possession of the rich and good land was only accomplished by privation and suffering, as they reflected upon the quiet and prosperity of those homes in the Atlantic States which they had left, but felt sometimes as if they would say with the Jews of old - "No: but we will go into the land of Egypt, where we shall see no war, nor hear the sound of the trumpet, nor have hunger of bread, and there will we dwell." With more firmness than was possessed by the peo- ple of the chosen land, the settlers adhered to their homes, surviving all the horrors of Indian warfare, and every hour becoming more sensible that in Ken- tucky, in its abundant development of all the riches of a luxuriant land, they had found an estate for which it was worth while to endure the perils of the frontier. Boone saw all these conventions come and go, and 322 BOONE IN TROUBLE. it is most probable, with his simple and direct idea of what should constitute the dealing of man to man, thought the country of his settlement no gainer by so much of form. While so much trouble was taken to move on in strict correctness towards sovereignty as a State, Boone felt that the individual did not fare so well. He found that for the possession of land, how much soever different in its acquisition, the counsel of a good lawyer was more valuable than the accura- cy or skill of the hunter; and the quiet of the place which he occupied near Boonesborough, was disturb- ed by the efforts of certain persons to dispossess him of it on. account of some informality in its location. Thispart of Boone's historyis but imperfectlyknown. It is evident by the language of his memorial addressed to the Legislature of Kentucky in 1812, that very soon after the immediate troubles with the Indians had ceased, and he had begun to improve the land to which he thought he had secured possession, legal proceedings were commenced against him. He soon found that his series of troubles which had begun in the disastrous loss of his money, when he had collect- ed it, and was on his way to buy land, that this series of disaster had not finished. Boone felt that he had pointed the way to this noble inheritance. He knew that he had defended it amidst a thousand perils - that for it he had sacrificed lives little less dear to him than his own, and he could not understand the 323 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. justice of making a set of complicated forms superior to an honest occupancy of land, which he had se- lected, as he believed, when and where it was his right. The land title law of Virginia was calculated for the benefit of the acute speculator. It was not a law for Boone, and Kenton, and the pioneers, and they melted away beneath it. They were sued, and they defended as best they could. They resorted to coun- sel, and went to court, but the whole affair was vex- atious. It was not that they could weaken the power or authority of the law, but they could not divest themselves of the belief that the land was theirs by their settlement of it, maintained against the savage so long; and when they found that their fair posses- sions, by reason of defect in the manner of location, were vested in others, it gave them an unhappy feel- ing towards the law itself. Boone lost his farm. Coming to the country, and living in it when the foot of no other white man trod its leaves - daring all the peril of Indian and beast- hunted-captured-fighting and conquering-he found himself in his own beloved Kentucky, without possessions. There was land for the thousands, but no land for him. In his memorial to the Kentucky Legislature, after relating the loss of all his money by robbery, he mournfully says, that the few lands he did locate were swallowed up by better claims. It is 324 A THRILLING RECITAL. difficult for us to understand, at this day, how a com- munity could allow this brave Pioneer to be divested of the land his courage and enterprise had won. Kentucky was not yet free from the Indians, and the story of the numerous adventures that befell her sons, as they have been gathered in Collins' excel- lent history, make a group of recitals, having the in- terest of exciting romance. One of the most curious of these is related by McClung: " In the month of August, 1786, Mr. Francis Downing, then a mere lad, was living in a fort, where subsequently some iron works were erected by Mr. Jacob Myers, which are now known by the name of the State Creek Works, and are now the property of Col. Thomas Dye Owings. About the 16th, a young man belonging to the fort called upon Downing, and requested his assistance in hunting for a horse which had strayed away on the preceding evening. Down- ing readily complied, and the two friends traversed the woods in every direction, until at length, towards evening, they found themselves in a wild valley, at the distance of six or seven miles from the fort.. Here Downing became alarmed, and repeatedly assured his elder companion, (whose name was Yates,) that he heard sticks cracking behind them, and was confident that Indians were dogging them. Yates being an experienced hunter, and from habit grown indiffer- ent to the dangers of the woods, diverted himself freely at the expense of his young companion, often enquiring at what price he rated his scalp, and offering to insure it for a six- pence. Downing, however, was not so easily satisfied. He observed, that in whatever direction they turned the same ominous sounds continued to haunt them, and as Yates still 325 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. treated his fears with the most perfect indifference, he deter- mined to take his measures upon his own responsibility. Gradually slacking his pace, he permitted Yates to advance twenty or thirty steps in front of him, and immediately af- terwards descending a gentle hill, he suddenly sprung aside, and hid himself in a thick cluster of whortleberry bushes. Yates, who at that time was performing some woodland ditty to the full extent of his lungs, was too much pleased with his own voice to attend to either Downing or the In- dians, and was quickly out of sight. " Scarcely had he disappeared, when Downing, to his un- speakable terror, beheld two savages put aside the stalks of a cane-brake, and look out cautiously in the direction Yates had taken. Fearful that they had seen him step aside, he determined to fire upon them, and trust to his heels for safe- ty, but so unsteady was his hand, that in raising the gun to his shoulder, she went off before he had taken aim. IHe lost no time in following her example, and after running fifty yards, he met Yates, who, alarmed at the report, was hastily retracing his steps. It was not necessary to enquire what was the matter. The enemy were in full view, pressing for- ward with great rapidity. Yates would not outstrip Down- ing, but ran by his side, although in so doing he risked both of their lives. The Indians were well acquainted with the country, and soon took a path that diverged from the one the whites followed at one point, and rejoined it at another, bearing the same relation to it that the string does to the bow. The two paths were at no point distant from each other more than one hundred yards, so that Yates and Down- ing could easily see the enemy gaining rapidly upon them. They reached the point of re-union first, however, and quickly cam.e to a deep gully, which it was necessary to cross or re- trace their steps. Yates cleared it without difficulty, but 326 REMARK A3LE ESOAPE. Downing, being much exhausted, fell short; and falling with his breast against the opposite bank, rebounded with vio- lence, and fell at full length upon the bottom. The Indians crossed the ditch a few yards below him, and eager for the capture of Yates, continued the pursuit, without appearing to notice Downing. The latter, who at first had given him- self up for lost, quickly recovered his strength, and began to walk slowly around the ditch, fearing to leave it, lest the enemy should see him. As he advanced, however, the ditch became more shallow, until it ceased to protect him at all. Looking round cautiously, he saw one of the Indians return- ing, apparently in quest of him. Unfortunately he had neg- lected to re-load his gun, while in the ditch, and as the In- dian instantly advanced upon him, he had no recourse but flight. Throwing away his gun, which was now useless, he plied his leggs manfully in ascending the long ridge which stretched before him, but the Indian gained on him so rapidly he lost all hope of escape. Coming, at length, to a large poplar, which had been blown up by the roots, he ran along the body of the tree on one side, while the Indian followed it upon the other, doubtless expecting to intercept him at the root. But here the supreme dominion of fortune was manifest. It happened that a large she bear was suckling her cubs in a bed which she had made at the root of the tree, and as the Indian reached that point first, she instantly sprung upon him, and a prodigious uproar took place. The Indian yelled, and stabbed with his knife; the bear growled and saluted him with one of her most endearing "hugs," while Downing fervently wishing her success, ran off through the woods, without waiting to see the event of the struggle. Downing reached the fort in safety, and found Yates repo. sing after a hot chase, having eluded his pursuers, and gained the fort two hours before him. On the next morning, they 327 LIYE OF DANIEL BOONE. collected a party and returned to the poplar tree, but no traces of either Indian or bear were to be found. They both, probably, escaped with their lives, although not without injury." The annals of Kentucky are those of bravery and chivalry - so far as those are concerned by whom the government was made that of the white, rather than the roving dominion of the savage. No country could be settled by such a race of men as those who succeeded in obtaining a foothold in Kentucky, with- out elevating it in the scale of nations, as the land of men who could intelligently understand and bravely maintain their rights. To be brave -to meet with coolness and energy every emergency - became to them a second nature. How forcibly this is illustrated in the life of Boone, our record shows. When, after he had passed safely through all his captivity -had made his escape - had vanquished his captors, first by his successful strategy, and then by his desperate battle at Boones- borough - after all this, to summon to himself at once, as he did in that terrific moment, when four armed Indians stood before him-a lone, unarmed man -to bring himself instantly into the possession of the calm courage by which he could look them in the face, and greet those who he knew had risked their own lives to enable the tribe to glut their ven- geance on him -to do all this, required an heroism 328 ESCAPE OF MR. ROWAN. of the highest order. It was this which bore him through such scenes, and he found in all his experi- ences -so far as the records of him have come down to us -no moment when his courage or his skill for- sook him. He wasted no breath in boasting, but carefully waited for the precise hour when the blow should fall, and then gave it with terrible energy. Men in those days communicated their courage even to gentle woman. The history is full of the deeds of female courage. The interest of the follow- ing will be confessed by all: " In the latter part of April, 1784, the father of the late Judge Rowan, with his family and five other families, set out from Louisville in two flat-bottomed boats, for the Long Falls of Green River. The intention was to descend the Ohio River to the mouth of Green River, and ascend that river to the place of destination. At that time there were no settlements in Kentucky, within one hundred miles of the Long Falls of Green River, (afterwards called Vienna.) The families were in one boat, and their cattle in another. When the boats had descended the Ohio about one hundred miles, and were near the middle of it, gliding along very securely, as it was thought, about ten o'clock of the night, a prodigious yelling of Indians was heard some two or three miles below, on the northern shore; and they had floated but a short distance further down the river, when a number of fires were seen oni that shore. The yelling continued, and it was concluded that they had captured a boat which had passed these two at mid-day, and were massacreing their cap. 329 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. 1ives. The two boats were lashed together, and the best practicable arrangements were made for defending them. The men were distributed by Mr. Rowan to the best advan- tage, in case of an attack. They were seven in number, in- cluding himself. The boats were neared to the Kentucky shore, with as little noise with the oars as possible; but avoided too close an approach to that shore, lest there might be Indians there also. The fires of the Indians were extend- ed along the bank at intervals, for half a mile or more, and as the boats reached a point about opposite the central fire, they were discovered, and ordered to come to. "All on board remained silent, for Mr. Rowan had given strict orders that no one should utter any sound but that of his rifle, and not that, until the Indians should come within powder burning distance. They united in a most terrific yell, rushed to their canoes and gave pursuit. The boats floated on in silence -not an oar was pulled. The Indians approach within less than a hundred yards, with a seeming determination to board. Just at this moment, Mrs. Rowan rose from her seat, collected the axes, placed one by the side of eachgman, where he stood with his guj, touching him on the knee, with the handle of the axe as she leaned it up by him against the side of the boat, to let him know it was there, and retired to her seat, retaining a hatchet for herself. The Indians continued hovering in the rear, and yelling, for nearly three miles, when, awed by the silence observed on board, they relinquished further pursuit. None but those who have a practical acquaintance with Indian warfare, can form a just idea of the terror which their hideous yelling is calculated to inspire. Judge Rowan, who was then ten years old, states that he could never forget the sensations of that night, or cease to admire the fortitude and composure dis- played by his mother on that trying occasion. There were 330 BOONE LEAVES KENTUCKY. seven men and three boys in the boat, with nine guns in all. Mrs. Rowan, in speaking of the incident afterwards, in her calm way, said, ' We made a providential escape, for which we ought to feel grateful."' The land law of Virginia was drawn by one of its most eminent statesmen - George Mason; but it seems that the Legislature undertook to improve upon it, and it was so amended, or rather disfigured, as to make it a chaos -and to bury up the hope of many a hardy frontier-man in its conflicting interpretations or doubtful adjudications. Contested claims were brought up, and contingent fees realized. Boone, in 1790, made a visit to his birth-place. Whether this was just as he was about to leave Ken- tucky, is not known. He was kindly received, and greatly interested his friends by the recital of his for- est adventures. Time had not yet made an old man of him, though Tie was verging towards the years when the active changes to the reflective. He saw in Pennsylvania the progress of a great State, and al- though it was in far greater prosperity than when he left it to seek his fortunes in the Carolinas, the con- trasts were not so great as in the case of his own Kentucky. The hour had come when Boone determined to leave Kentucky. It could not have been to him other than a painful step, for Kentucky had been to him as a child of his own rearing. He remembered well the 331 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. hour when he came back to the settlements from his first long and lonely journey, and the glowing ac- count he had given of the land of beauty. He re- membered his winning, step by step, the company of others, He remembered that he had been a captive in the horrors of the grasp of the savages - taken as a spectacle of triumph to their British allies - and now he felt that the Pioneer, having served his day, was put aside and neglected. Of him it might have been said, as it was of Kenton, " He lost his lands acre by acre -the superior skill of the speculator prevailing over the simplicity and ignorance of the hunter. His land was left to those who had never struck a blow in its defence. Having become too an- tiquated 'or the fashion of the times, he was kicked aside like an old shoe." Poor Kenton was in worse usage than Boone - for he (Kenton) was actually imprisdned. "His body was taken for debt upon the covenants to lands which he had given away, and for twelve months he was imprisoned upon the very spot where he had built his log cabin in 1775,. and where he planted his first corn." It may be that those who took the lead in the go- vernment of Kentucky, were too busy in following up the march of endless cozwentions in their progress to and from Dansville, to give a careful thought to the fate that was overtaking the Pioneer. Certain it 332 RETURNS TO VIRGINIA. is, that the Kentucky of this day would environ such men as Boone with the security of a thousand arms, and pour into his lap the treasures of her wealth, ra- ther than allow him to leave her soil. He went back to Virginia. In early life, the An- cient Dominion had called him into honorable service, and he sought her protection again on the banks of the Kenhawa. Oppressed and impoverished in law- suits, it was an easy task for Daniel Boone to remove. He had accumulated no wealth of household goods. His wife and his children could readily be transport- ed, and it is- quite probable that they were glad to leave, as they could not but be indignant at the treat- ment of neglect with which the father they always loved had been met. When he left the neighborhood of Boonesborough, if vision could be given to inani- mate objects, the old fort shouldhave looked long and sadly on his departing form. He had reared its pro- tecting walls at a place where, when the country was first explored, the buffalo and the deer resorted in great numbers. He had driven them away. He had driven back the savages in their efforts to repossess the soil; and now he himself was driven back by those acts of others who, but for him, might never have seen a leaf of the foliage of the glorious land they had come t, capture by cunning. 333 CHAPTER XVIII. BOONE'S INFLUENCE OVER THE INDIANS- SERVICES IN PROCURING AN EX- CHANGE OF PRISONERS - HE REMOVES TO VIRGINIA - RESUMES HUNTING - HIS HABITS - HIS RESIDENCE IN VIRGINIA - HE CONTEMPLATES RE- MOVING TO UPPER LOUISIANA -GEN. WAYNE S VICTORIES OVER THE IE- DIANS-BOONE LOOKS TO THE WEST. BEFORE following him to Virginia, it is of record that a few years previous, while on the Ohio River, Col. Boone was one of aparty who negotiated an ex- change of prisoners with the Indians. The circum- stances illustrate the extraordinary power which he displayed over the Indians in his intercourse with them, so that he seems to have been, of all other white men, most distinguished among them. In the inter- view, Col. Boone delighted the Indians by his hospi- tality, to such an extent that they made him and those assembled a solemn promise that if in their incursions a citizen of that town where they then were, Mays- ville, should be captured, the utmost lenity should be shown him; and this extraordinary promise, to the profound satisfaction of a citizen of Maysville who tested it with faint hope of success, was kept. In June, 1774, Gov. Dunmore had selected Daniel Boone as the man, of all others, most suitable to ex- RESIDENCE IN VIRGINIA. ecute the bold duty of finding in the great wilderness -as was Kentucky then in the judgment of civiliza- tion -the surveyors who had been, as was feared, lost in its recesses. After a most memorable twentv years, in which a vast change had taken place - ele- vating the wilderness to a State -Boone was sent out by the land of which he had once been - if occupan- cy creates possession - sole possessor; sent out to seek a home in a State from which it might seem he would not be dissevered, for the date of his change of residence seems to be about that in which Ken- tucky was, through a myriad of conventions, joining herself to the Thirteen. Virginia had at that day a great company of distinguished men within her lim- its, but it is doubtful whether she possessed many who had rendered to the cause of the progress of mankind more real, practical service, than he who, with pack-horse and humble retinue, felt himself in her domain a wanderer from the soil he believed he had, of all men, some right to call his own. Removing to Virginia, he settled on the Kenhawa River, near Point Pleasant. Who obtained his land at Boonesborough, it might not be easy to trace out, in the confused condition in which, for a period, land titles in Kentucky were. It has been said that the seat of Henry Clay- Ashland -is part of a property that once belonged to Boone. If this is so, never did land claim in its history more eminent proprietors; 335 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. and Kentucky might well consider those acres of its soil identified with its highest honor. He found in his new home many of the incidents of that which he had held in Kentucky. He pursued the chase with the zest and delight that enabled him at all times to turn from the world to the woods, and the celebrity of which, for a long period, caused his name to be associated only with the exploits of wood- craft, unacquainted as the mass of those who heard of him were, that he had been far more memorable as the founder of a great empire - the domain of civ- ilized man in the west -than for all his accuracy of rifle, or vigor of pursuit, distinguished even as he was in both. It is quite probable that when he found his hope of a rich, and prosperous, and wide-spread home in Kentucky taken from him, and, what was worse, al- lowed to be taken by those who must, by their in- telligence and circumstances, have known Boone's inestimable services, he went back to the woodcraft of his early life with a determination that he would concentrate himself within his family. While in Kentucky - as he had been its first man - he might have cherished the idea that the gratitude of a peo- ple would always surround his home, and give him always an honorable position. This hope was taken away, and he found in his rifle a companion, associate with all his stirring days -the days when be was a 336 BOONE'S HABITS. leader in Kentucky, and not as now an exile from it. Mr. Peck thus sketches some of the habits of the hunter of those days: "I have often seen him get up early in the morning at this season, walk hastily out, and look anxiously to the woods, and snuff the autumnal winds with the highest rap- ture; then return into the house, and cast a quick and atten- tive look at the rifle, which was always suspended to a joist by a couple of buck horns, or little forks. The hunting dog, understanding the intentions of his master, would wag his tail, and by every blandishment in his power, express his readiness to accompany him to the woods. A day was soon appointed for the march of the cavalcade to the camping place. Two or three horses, furnished with pack-saddles, were loaded with flour, Indian meal, blankets, and every- thing requisite for the use of the hunter." We are accustomed to speak of Boone as the old Hunter. He lived, it is pleasant to reflect, to a very old age, but when he left Kentucky, he was yet in middle life; or, at least, only on the verge of what men call late in life. If he left in 1790, lie was fifty- five. His residence in the Kenhawa country has left few memorials; but it appears that his new home was not exempt from the perils of his border life. It would seem as if he was always to be of those whose days are encompassed with peril. A report reached Philadelphia in 1793, that, by an incursion of the In- dians into the Kenhawa country, Col. Boone had been 0 22 337 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. made prisoner or killed. Kenbawa was far away from the best informed newspaper, and the colonel only shared the fate which has occurred to almost every distinguished person, of being killed prema- turely by the types. He, in all probability, taught the Indian that he had not forgotten the aim by which he had carried desolation in their ranks, -while de- fending Boonesborough. Upon the Kenhawa Gen. Washington had a large tract of land. That great man had just estimate of the value of the West, and of those who formed the settlement of man there. He had a sympathy with the Hunter, for he was ever fond of those pursuits which required the development of the man. He had known what were the experiences of those who were compelled to travel the illimitable forest -to watch for their life every hour -to conquer the savage in his own domain, and to stand alone in the land, far away from the haunts of men. Such scenes formed part of the education of George Washington. He and Boone knew what the mountains of Virginia were, and had the modest and unobtrusive Pioneer found his way to the Father of his Country, and told him that the Kentucky he had discovered had denied him a home, he would have taught him that he had found a friend. In many things Virginia had, in her citizen of the Kenhawa, a companion to her own famous Captain 338 BOONE AND SMITH COMPARED. John Smith. Like the bold and adventurous founder of her greatness, Boone had been alone, a negotiator between the Indian and the white man, and had at- tained such mastery over the mind of the savage, as to win him, when other men would have been sacri- ficed at once. Like Boone, Smith dared the perils of the wilderness, relying, under Heaven, on his knowledge of the Indian character, and his bold self- possession. Like him, he at once asserted the superi- ority.of the military character of the civilized man, by placing around the settler the protection of a fort. Both of them were men who were eminently calcula- ted to take the leadership in the daring enterprises by which the savage is made to know the existence and power of the white man. To Boone the task was more difficult, in some respects, than to Smith, because the Indian, in the day of the former, had learned the practice, and the very skillful practice, of the weapons of the whites, while, in the time of Smith, they were unacquainted with the use of iron; and instead of the glittering tomahawk hurled through the air, or the fatal lead, the- clumsy stone hatchet and the rude bow and arrow constituted the armory of the Indian. If the history be a comment on the skill and wisdom of the direction given to the begin- ning of the enterprise, the success of Boone would re- flect even greater honor on his name, than has been shed on that of Smith, for while the colony of John 339 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. Smith in seventeen years was reduced from nine thou- sand to eighteen hundred, in that time Boone found that the woods in which be had walked alone -the one living representation of civilized man-had been changed to the thronged haunts of a busy and a pros- perous people. Virginia did not long retain her illustrious citizen. While pursuing his ordinary routine of life-the pio- neer and the hunter intermingled-there came those to his home who told him of the glories of the 'Upper Louisiana - of the country which was held by Spain - and it seems to have been the destiny of that coun- try to grasp for a time the richest treasures of the New World, only to see them pass from her, just as their noble capacity to be the seat of empire was in development. The visitors to Boone described to him how free and abundant were all in that land, that could attract the settler and the hunter, and he roused to think that there was yet an opportunity left for him, at the age of five and fifty, to reenact, in some measure, the bold forest part in which he had so stirringly entered when the page of life opened to him. Other circumstances tended to give his mind a fa- vorable bias to those who told such glowing stories of the new country on the Missouri. The Mississppi would be between him and the chicanery by which he had been deprived of the home for which he had 340 CONTEMPLATED REMOVAL TO MISSOURT. given his best days in Kentucky. Of his sons - the bright and bold boy that had accompanied him when he first led his neighbors of the Yadkin across the mountain, lay in his rude grave, where he had so strangely and so suddenly finished his career; the next had left an honored name to illustrate the roll of the dead at the fatal battle of the Blue Licks i the next had already gone, in the active destinies of life, to seek a home in the beyond Mississippi lands, to which these travelers now invited his father, nor is it unlikely that the message to come was from this son. Boone, to whom erroneous history has given the character of the misanthrope, was the very man to be influenced by the pleasant hope of meeting and living with those whose ties to him were those of near and dear kindred. Boone was aware that the country to which they invited him was under the control of a foreign power, but he had observed events closely, and he felt as- sured that the time was near, when the inefficient and remote Spanish rule would be exchanged for that of the States. He says "it was the country, not the government, of which he was in pursuit." The fron- tier-men in those days understood the doctrine of "'manifest destiny," as thoroughly as do those of our own time. Indeed, while we think we are discover- ing new scenes of history, it does but turn in a circle, and with different coloring the same grouping is prep 341 LIEM OF DANIEL BOONE. sented. The interval of years between the scenes is so great, that the actors and audience forget the past, and imagine themselves the only ones that have ever raised the curtain. His visitors told him of the simplicity of Spanish lawv. This touched the Pioneer. If there was a coun- try within his reach where the range of land was free - or not within the grasp of such men as had, as he thought, unjustly deprived him of his possessions - he was yet young enough to make his abode there. The hunter spirit within him was roused by the de- scription of the buffalo and the deer. It seemed as if he should see again what he had beheld in Ken- tucky, when he first came to its woods. He had left such trace in its forests that the memory of it is pre- served to this day. Evidently, when Boone was settled in Kentucky, he had no desire to go elsewhere; but having been com- pelled to leave there, he felt no such attachment to the Kenhawa, as to render a sacrifice necessary in quitting it. That Boone did believe himself truly at home, and for life, when in Kentucky, the words show in which he concludes his own narrative. "I now live in peace and safety, enjoying the sweets of liberty, and the bounties of Providence, with my once fellow-a8ufererm, in this delightful coun- try, which I have seen purchased at a vast expense of blood and treasure, delighting in the prospect of 342 FILSON'S ACCOUNT. being, in a short time, one of the opulent and power- ful States on the continent of North America, which, with the love and gratitude of my countrymen, I deemn a sufficient reward for all my toil and danger." That dream soon broke up. The land speculator stepped forward as the representative of "the love and gratitude of his countrymen," and Boone was again a wanderer. That Boone, in determining to remove to the Span- ish territory, deemed his relinquishment of American citizenship but a temporary affair, and calculated clearly the issue of forthcoming events, is proved -by the language of Filson, in his own account of the "Discovery, settlement, and present state of Ken- tucky," published as early as 1784, and which work, it is expressly stated, was carefully revised by Boone. Filson says: " New Orleans is in the possession of the Spaniards, who, whenever they please, may make use of that fort, and some others they have on the Mississippi, to prevent the naviga- tion, and ruin the trade. The passage through Iberville is also subject to the Spaniards, and, besides, inconvenient; that stream continuing so short a time, and in the most dis- advantageous seasons. " I grant it will be absurd to expect a free navigation of the Mississippi, whilst the Spaniards are in possession of New Orleans. To suppose it is an idea calculated to impose only upon the weak. They may perhaps trade with us upon their own terms, while they think it consistent with their in- 343 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. terest, but no friendship in trade exists when interest ex- pires; therefore, when the western country becomes popu- lous, and ripe fer trade, sound policy tells us the Floridas must be ours, too. According to the articles of the Defini- tive Treaty, we are to have a free and unmolested navigation of the Mississippi; but experience teaches mankind that treaties are not always to be depended upon, the most sol- emn being broken. Hence, we learn that no one such put much faith in any state; and the trade and commerce of the Mississippi river cannot be so well secured in any other pos- session as our own." Anthony Wayne (Mad Anthony, a title his bold- ness won for him, from a world which usually calls a man mad, when he dares to do more than the indo- lent or cowardly,) had, in his victory over the Indians at the rapids of the Miami, beaten them into a peace. At last the Indian was conquered, and felt, even to despair, that it was in vain to contend with the civil- ized man. Jay's treaty seemed to secure, by the sur- render of the north-western posts, all the advantages to Kentucky which could result from the security of property. Kentucky, wearied by what was fervently believed by her people to be the want of firmness in the federal government, had no question agitating it more deeply than whether it was not her duty independ- ently to take such measures as would lead to the free navigation of the Mississippi. All the signs pointed to the West, beyond the Great 344 THE GREAT WEST. 345 River, as the scene of bold and stirring adventure, and Boone may have had re-illuminated within him, the thought in which he had years before found his guiding influence, that he was an instrument ordained to settle the wilderness. Kentucky had been settled, but there remained even a greater in the broad land beyond the mighty water. O CHAPTER XIX. BOONE EMIGRATES WITH HIS FAMILY TO MISSOURI -TE JOURNEY-SPAN- ISH POSSESSION OF THE TERRITORY - INJUSTICE TO BOONE'S SOCIAL CHAR- ACTER-BOONE IS WELCOMED TO MISSOURI BY THE SPANISH LIEUTENANT GOVERNOR - ARRIVAL AT ST. LOUIS OF LACLEDE AND CHOTEAU - BOONE RECEIVES AN APPOINTMENT FROM THE AUTHORITIES - BE IS PRESENTED WITH A LARGE TRACT OF LAND BY THE LIEUTENANT GOVERNOR- HE NEG- LECTS TO GO TO NEW ORLEANS TO GET HIS GRANT CONFIRMED. I 1795, Daniel Boone made the fourth great re- move of his life. He had sought homes in Carolina, Kentucky, and Virginia, and now determined to es- say the great land of Upper Louisiana. The settler in that day, found neither railway nor canal for the transportation of his goods, and therefore concentra- ted his moveables into the smallest space possible. His admirable wife accompanied him. She had done so when he left for the wilderness of Kentucky, and there was no remove now where she would not be at his side. She could not be called to greater perils than had encompassed her at Boonesborough. It was a long, long journey. It would be a journey of some magnitude in this day of easy transit. How much more in that time, when almost all modern con- veniences were unknown; for, at the close of the last BOONE EMIGRATES TO MISSOURI. century, the arrangements for the road had but faint approach to their present luxury. The railroad was only doing duty in some cavernous coal mine in Eng- land; and the canal system was but in the specula- tions of Morris, and Troup, and Watson. Boone had traveled long journeys, when every step of the way was in immediate danger of the rifle of a murderous savage; when the day brought the Indian, and the night the wild beast. He therefore had no fear of his present journeying, but having determined on making this bold step - this new beginning of life - he left Virginia, leaving behind him one son, It does not appear that during his residence in Veir- ginia he experienced any unkind treatment in relation to the land upon which he was living. As has been sta- ted, the Indians would not remain quiet; but to dwell in the midst of such alarms, had become to the Pio- neer as a habit of life, and it was a danger for which he was prepared. But Virginia was an old State, and in her no new country was to be found. He went to where much broader scale of action could be his. Voltaire wrote a poem to which he gave the glit- tering title of the Temple of Glory. It was written to celebrate the triumphs of the battle of Fontenay, and to pour fulsome adulation before the monarch, Louis XV. That temple, if it exhibited the achieve- ments of the luxurious king, was sadly marred from 347 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. its fair proportions by the treaty -the family compact of 1762, which ceded Louisiana to Spain. In that day the world had not learned the great lesson the first page of which opened to their study, when the American Declaration recognized the principle of the government of the people. Countries were yet the playthings of kings; and although war followed with all its horror in the consequences, the caprice of a despot rather than the will of a nation, swayed public affairs. Spain took possession in the same year, 1769, in which Boone lef. the Yadkin, to display the West to the domain of civilized man. The two events, how- ever great the one and humble the other, were con- nected in their results. It was the same year in which that man was born, by whose masterly move- ment the great land, of which Spain took such feeble guardianship, was thrown into the hands of the States - not from love to them, but that they might the better rival England. Charles III. became the monarch of Louisiana, and the Spanish law was introduced, and the Spanish rule recognized. That monarch was, however, in those days, too busy with his great measure of the expul- sion of the Jesuits, to trouble himself much about a country which, as it sent him no gold, was not likely to be popular at court; and yet it cannot be but that the explorations of the men to whom he was then ap- 348 HIS REASONS. plying a measure of rigor that filled Europe with as- tonishment, must have taught him, that in the pos- session of the control of the Mississippi River, he held' a dominion of vast consequence, and one which re- vived the glories of the day of Columbus. Flint says, that on the journey, Boone was asked his reason for leaving the country that had become settled, and proceeding to the wilds of Missouri, and that his answer was-" Too much crowded-too crowded: I want more elbow room." This remark has been often quoted, as an evidence that he was displeased at the society of his fellow-men, and plunged into the forest to avoid them. Mr. Willis, in a poem published in 1827, the pur- port of which is the delineation of the Pioneer, as an American Alexander Selkirk, represents him as saying - "I've hated men - I hate them now." And for many years it was believed that such was the feeling of Daniel Boone towards his race! while in the midst of the open hatred of the savage, and the sharp cunning and oppression of the land-jobber, the Pioneer moved on, kind and pleasant, and loving his kindred; and, although contending for his life among the savages, so truthful and wise in his conduct to- wards them, as to exercise over them an influence like Corlear. 349 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. It was for small men and small minds to hate their fellow-beings. Boone, when men injured him, step- ped out of their way, and sought the new friendships of distant territory. The remark which Flint quotes may have been, and it is likely that it was, the cheer- fnl jocularity of the Hunter, who chose thus to an- swer, rather than to tell the inquirer, that the Ken- tucky he had reared, had neglected and driven him forth. Such men as was Boone, too well knew the priceless value of the kindred of humanity, to cherish hate or dread of their fellow-beings. The travel of the Pioneer led him through a long succession of those lands which, by the wise policy of the government, are now so filled up with all that gives a country a prosperous population. Boone saw that when he had called his fellow-citizens to Ken- tucky, he had but welcomed them to the threshold of the great domain, and with all the vicissitudes which had fallen to his lot, it was his glory to know that he had opened the way, and that while his claim to a home had been set aside for deviation froth some conventional line, his right of discovery actually 11)gave him a title to all, such as, had he been a ziionarch, the world would not have disputed. He crossed the Mississippi, and soon found himself at the house of his son, Daniel M. Boone, who had so much of his father's strong-hearted enterprise, that he had 350 IlIS ARRIVAL IN MISSOURI. placed himself in this new country successfully, some time previous. Charles IV. probably never heard in the midst of the pleasures of his palace, or his perplexities, at Mad- rid, of the accession to his subjects of the great Pioneer of the West. That there had come to his dominions the man, who, emulating on land what Columbus had achieved at sea, had pushed his way beyond all oth- ers into a wilderness, more frightful in its dangers than the wild ocean itself, dtd not reach the king, and it is scarcely probable that the name of Boone had ever been uttered within the royal walls. And yet Time writes fair histories. In the years that have elapsed, this Fourth Charles has a very im- material grasp on the recollections of mankind. Per- haps he is oftenest recollected, if at all, by those who spell out his half-effaced superscription - the legend which surrounds his effigy - on the " Spanish quar- ter," that still circulates in the community, while the name of him who, for a time, owed him allegiance, is a household word - the name that rises quickest to our lips when we are to speak of those whose courage and enterprise opened the way to the West -the great heart of the country. If the monarch had no thought of Boone, his fame was not unknown to the representative of his power. Don Charles D. Delorne, the lieutenant governor, welcomed him to the territory. He knew very well 351 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. who the Pioneer was, and he knew that when it became known that this eminent man had sought an home in this territory, it would be the means of encouraging others and the presence of the American was desi- rable. It was feared that the British and Indians, having made peace with the United States, might con- sider it advisable to commence hostilities against the Spanish possessions. To such a foe, the Spaniard could interpose no guard so powerful as that of the bold men who had learned the art of Indian war in the settlements of Kentucky. The military force of the province was mostly at New Orleans. It was a far, far way to that city. It was somewhat easy to go down thither, for the strong current of the Missis- sippi is not an invention of modern times, but to re- turn was almost the impossibility, and long before as- sistance against the foe could be brought thence, the Indian, reeking with his bloody trophies, might have accomplished his foray and returned to the shelter of Quebec. So Boone, and men of his education in bor- der warfare, were the very visitors and residents that Don Charles desired to see; and when Boone came to St. Louis - even then recognized as the great key of the West- the lieutenant governor assured him of a generous landed provision at once, for himself and family. The government officer knew that others would follow when Boone led, and that his counsel and experience in the case of difficulty with 352 HE IS KINDLY RECEIVED. the Indians, would be worth more than the theories of a legion of those who might be sent by the crown to try, in the forests of Missouri, the old-fashioned tactics which had been successful at Goret, and An- daga, and Truillas. When, in 1754, Laclede landed at the point, where St. Louis now spreads it long array of commerce - of wealth - of architectural elegance - of long ave- nues, teeming with life and vigor - he could not have thought that there was by his side, one whose age would be extended to a period when that locality, passing alternately from France to Spain, and thence to the control of the Man of Destiny, and from him to the plain republican, Jefferson, would take rank among the great cities of the earth. Pierre Choteau, a name honored to this day, and in this day, by the close relation it bears to the prosperity of the west, came with Laclede, and survived to take part in an immense procession in which the strength of the pop- ulation of St. Louis united. In Mr. Choteau's remi- niscences the incidents and strange events which cha- racterized the history of a country passing peaceably through so many masteries, were embodied, and Mis- souri can never hold that page in her annals value- less, which bears record of the welcome her authori- ties gave to the great Pioneer. Col. Boone placed his residence in the Femme Osage district where he found his son, and looking 23 353 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. around him, in his new home, felt that he had come where the pathway to justice was less perplexed than his experience had proved it to be in the land he once called his own. The quiet simplicity of the habits of the people soon attracted the notice of the Pio- neer, and they coincided with his own. They were a "frank, open-hearted, unsuspecting, joyous people." The Spanish authorities gave to Boone the position of commandant of the district. It was an office of civil and military power. It was such an one as the lieu- tenant governor knew was well bestowed, for the mili- tary knowledge possessed by Boone was peculiarly that which in the guardianship of such a district, was most desirable; and in the management of land titles the Pioneer was likely of all men to be most direct and fair. His commission is dated July 11th, 1800. His du- ties did not, in a country where there were but few laws, absorb all his time. The old Syndic -for he was now sixty-five years of age-could promptly settle such differences as came before him. The hun- ters could not appeal from a decision made by a man who had, in their judgment, a reputation equal to that of, the proudest in the land; for he had 'con- quered the savage, and was, perhaps, of all the men in the country, the first hunter himself. The emigra- tion had poured into the Upper Missouri by its thou- sands, and those who came brought with them those 354 APPOINTED TO OFFICE. recollections of the achievements of Boone which by this time had, through the work of I Imlay, and the intercourse of an augmented population, invested him with an heroic reputation. And now it seemed as if, in his advancing years, such an estate would at least be his, as was somewhat commensurate with the value of his services to the west, or at least in recognition of them. Generally once in life, what we call good fortune approaches to every man. Any one who will closely and accurately bring before him the events of his term on earth, will remember some period when he might have been the possessor of property. Of course he will, with the recollection, have its companion memory that his folly, or his ignorance, or his negligence, put aside the opportunity. Sometimes, without his own act, the violence, or oppression, or perfidy of another has turned the hand past the golden moment. Once before Boone had been the possessor of land -land which of all must have been most prized by him; for it was in sight of the gem of complete con quest - the little fort, with which his courage as a soldier was so intimately connected, and which was in the midst of Kentucky, to whose development he had given his best years. And this he had lost -lost by the nieglect of those who had built themselves up in the foundation he had made. A new possession was now before him. DOD 355 LIFE OF DAML BOONE. Charles marked out and gave to him eight thousand five hundred acres of land, on the north side of the Missouri River. If Flint's anecdote is correct, -that he stated that he desired elbow room, he had it in this noble tract. By the simple law of the province, the possessor of land, to complete his title, was to build on some part of it, in a year and a day, a house. It was a wise provision, for it secured that the land should be put in use, and the evils of a great uncultivated ter- ritory were guarded against. But Don Charles did not require this of Boone, because his official duty might seem to require his presence elsewhere. A further step was, however, necessary. At the city of the province, New Orleans, was the authority that immediately represented the crown, and applica- tion there was necessary to make the grant complete. Boone did not make the journey necessary to pre- sent this application, and he has been blamed for this, as an act of negligence. Even at this date, with all the facility that Fulton has furnished, a journey from St. Louis to New Orleans, is something to be consid- ered by an old man; or if from the extraordinary fleetness and superb arrangements of the great stea- mers now on the route, the comparison can not be made, in the beginning of this century Fulton and Fitch were enduring the scorn of a wise world for even - in words easy to say - expressing their beliel' 356 NEGLECTS TO SECURE MIIS GRANT. of the possibility of the future triumphs of steam. The Peytona and Capt. Shalleross were unknown at St. Louis. The language of the memorial subsequently pre- sented by the Pioneer to the Legislature of Kentucky, indicated that before he left Virginia, the Spanish au- thorities had held out assurances that, if he came to dwell in their country, he should have " ample por- tions of land for himself and his family." Indeed, it shows that Don Lefion Trudeau invited him thith- er - knowing, as he did, what would be his value as a citizen. He knew the friendly feeling of the lieutenant go- vernor towards him, and he may have thought that, as there had been a readiness to overlook the techni- cality of a personal residence, his grant would be good in any event, even though he did not undertake the formidable journey. And to him it was such. It was a distance of thousands of miles, and into a coun- try to which his habits had not led him. He thought the friendship of Don Charles sufficient, without un- dertaking at his age a further mission to Governor Carondelet. More than this: he awaited, as a sure result, the forthcoming power of the United States to be extended over his new home, and he could not but believe that his grant would be undisturbed. So he did not go to New Orleans, but remained dischar- 357 358 LEM OF DANIEL BOONE. ging his duties as syndic or commandant to the last moment of Spanish power. The easy French people around him must have liked the dynasty of the Pioneer. Like themselves, plain and simple hearted, he had achieved " glory," and this would awaken their enthusiasm. He was contented, and found his pleasure in the quiet hori- zon which bounded their hopes and desires - and all this assimilated to them. That must have been a quiet and an orderly peo- ple when in their closest population, (St. Louis,) Mr. Peck relates " but two locks were necessary - the one on the calabozo, (known to modern police annals as the calaboose,) and the other on the government house." CHAPTER XX. THE VICISITUDES OF BOONE'S LIFE - SALE OF LOUISIANA TO THE UNITED STATES-BOONE REVISITS KENTUCKY -HE PAYS OFF HIS CREDITORS - RETURNS HOME - THE SOLITARY HUNTER - EXPOSURE TO DANGER AS A TRAPPER-HIS HUNTING EXCURSION TO THE OSAGE RIVER-HE IS AGAIN DEPRIVED OF HIS LAND BY LAND COMMISSIONERS-HIS EDUCATION-HIS CHILDREN. IN 1800, the Emperor Napoleon obtained possession of the province of Louisiana. Boone thus added to his experiences that, after having been a subject of George IL and George Il.- a citizen of the United States, (including a citizenship of Transylvania, of somewhat doubtful nationality,)-an adopted son and citizen of the Shawanese - a subject of Charles IV. of Spain -he now found himself one of the many who, in all civilization, augmented the " glory of the Empire." The hour had come when he was to find himself again enfolded in the protection of the States, some of whose most desperate battles he had fought. The sale of a great country like that of Louisiana - including the noblest river that rolls beneath the sun-by the will of one man, has magnificence about it. It is supremacy and sovereignty in its high es- LIME OF DANIEL BOONE. tate. Napoleon foresaw that his true dominion was on the land, and that Europe, and such portion of Asih as his armies could readily reach, was to be the seat of empire for his acquisition and grasp. The prowess of the English at sea he knew well, for he was not the man to be dazzled or misled by the pre- tensions of those who could not perform. Louisiana lay too far off to be protected by any force except such as should derive its support from a naval power, and he appreciated that the commerce of the Missis- sippi was a prize which, in England's hands, would be used vastly to augment her wealth and power. What he planned was rapidly done, and when he had delighted and astonished the American commissioners by a sale of Louisiana to the United States, he exult- ingly and prophetically said, he had given England a rival; and every hour his prophecy is building up into truth. But for such motive, he would not have thus lightly sold a territory more extensive than some of the most powerful European kingdoms. He truly gave to the world a rival to England. The country he sold is now rapidly fulfilling the duty he assigned to it, and the years are but few in advance, when the great wealth of the East will traverse it, and England real- ize the full consequences involved in the movement of the emperor. Boone, in 1804, found himself once more a citizen 360 SALE OF LOUISIANA. of the Republic. The lower province had undergone a rapid change of masters in 1803, somewhat after the fashion of the nursery song - "Out of Spain, into France" - and in the subsequent year, the upper province was placed under the command of Maj. Stoddard, of the United States army, and in a short time the laws of the Union were in force. It is the attribute of true greatness to know, and to be in the regulation of, the small affairs of his life, as well as the larger movements on which the eye of so- ciety is fixed. There never was a man so attentive to all his concerns -whether it was the sharpening of an axe on his farm, or the execution of a treaty - as George Washington. Boone was reduced and impoverished when he left Kentucky, by being deprived of his property-by numberless expenses of litigation-by feeing law- yers -by the thousand items of expenditure which wait upon a failing and falling house. He felt this burthen. He was away -so far away from his cre- ditors that it was very doubtful whether they.wonld ever mention his indebtedness again to him. The merchants were not exactly of that class, whose busi- ness would afford their absence on a " collecting tour." Boone cared not for their silence or their disability P 361 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. to enforce their claims. He took his rifle - the for- ests of Missouri were full of game. He hunted long and far, and at last realized such a stock as would bring him the money he needed. At this day, the hunter comes into St. Louis -looks about him at the busy and crowded streets -sees in the city only a convenience, and strikes off for his free forest again. The old Pioneer revisited Kentucky. It had great- ly changed since he felled the trees to erect Boones- borough. Transylvania was forgotten or only remem- bered as a curious piece of history. Within a short distance of his old home, in Lexington, was a young man-slow, delicate, feeble, languid-and giving but faint promise of his possession of that tremendous energy by which, irn after years, he bore the name Of CLAY to all languages where the statesman and the orator could be known. Other great men had made Kentucky their home. Her wars over, all the glories of the land that Boone had eulogized were in rapid exhibition. Men talked about banks and inter- nal improvements. Luxury was pressing its velvet foot on the wilds where it had been unknown. The lawyer had settled the titles of the land of the Ken- tons and Boones, and as their claim had been set aside, that of the more successful and shrewder opera- tor had all certainty accorded it. Kenton's land the State took for taxes; Boone's was gone before even that later civilization reached it. 362 RETURNS TO KENTUCKY AND PAYS HIS DEBTS. 363 The Pioneer moved about securely, and without grasping his rifle. lie slept, and no yell of horror awoke him. They had harvested well what he had ploughed. He felt that Kentucky had ceased to be his home. Like a true-hearted man, he sought out his creditors, and taking their word for the statement, paid what was demanded, and returned. He had fully cleared the neighborhood from any unkind mem- ories of the man who had defended them, at the risk of all there was in life. Returning home -though his journey and its ex- penses had nearly left him without a coin - he ex- pressed the utmost satisfaction that he had rendered it impossible for any one to reproach his memory with dishonesty. While residing in Missouri, and before age had so impaired his sight as to make the chase impracti- cable, he hunted with a boldness that was kindred to the day when he dared to remain five hundred miles away from the abodes of white men, alone, and no other near him. Far away-far off -even in that wild Missouri, which, itself, was deemed almost be- yond the reach of civilization, and which to the At- lantic States, is even now a remote region, Boone, now on the verge of three score years and ten, hunted alone. In his solitary canoe, he seemed, as he caused it to dart over the surface of that great river the Missouri-as if he was the embodiment of the forth- LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. coming power of the white man. The Indian that saw the old Hunter, did not realize that he was the man whose name had been a word of the wigwam, when as yet the Indian refused to believe that his empire over the forest was at an end. The beaver trap led him to great exposure. As if it was his destiny-to the very end of his life to feel the power of the savage, he was compelled to use the utmost vigilance to prevent his camp from being dis- covered by the Indians of the North-west, who, had they found him, might either abruptly have finished his earthly career, or have taken him into a captivity so remote that the Pioneer's strange disappearance from among men would have formed fertile theme for legend and story. The Indian of the North-west had a far, far country, in which to hide from the eye of the keenest white, the object of their cap- tivities. He concealed his camp by never kindling a fire in the day, but reserving all use of it till night. The man who had studied the Indians and the woods for sixty years, had no lack of expedients and stratagem. In this beaver trapping he was for a long time en- tirely alone. It was renewing the scenes of thirty years before. When he was disturbed at other times by the Indian, he so thoroughly offered resistance that the savage found that old age had not crushed the soldier of Boonesborough. We quote Mr. Peck's de- 364 SICK IN THE WILDERNESS. scription of another scene in his old age's hunting experiences: "On another occasion, he took pack-horses, and went to the country on the Osage River, taking for a camp-keeper. a negro boy, about twelve or fourteen years of age. Soon af- ter preparing his camp and laying in his supplies for the winter, he was taken sick and lay a long time in camp. The horses were hobbled out on the range. After a period of stormy weather, there came a pleasant and delightful day, and Boone felt able to walk out. With his staff (for he was quite feeble) he took the boy to the summit of a small eminence, and marked out the ground in shape and size of a grave, and then gave the following directions. He instructed the boy, in case of his death, to wash and lay his body straight, wrap- ped up in one of the cleanest blankets. He was then to con- struct a kind of shovel, and with that instrument and the hatchet, to dig a grave exactly as he had marked it out. He was then to drag the body to the place, and put it in the grave, which he was directed to cover up, putting posts at the head and foot. Poles were to be placed around and above the surface; the trees to be marked, so that it could be easily found by his friends; the horses were to be caught, the blankets and skins gathered up; with some special in- structions about the old rifle, and various messages to his family. All these directions were given, as the boy after- terwards declared, with entire calmness, and as if he was giving instructions about ordinary business. He soon re- covered, broke up his camp, and returned homeward, with- aut the usual signs of a winter's hunt." He was soon destined to receive what to him was another confirmation of the great injustice of apply- 365 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. ing to every individual case the severities of a legal rule. The United States directed an able commission - John B. C. Lucas, Clement Penrose, Frederick Bates -to investigate into the validity of the claims to land granted by the action of the Spanish govern- ment. To many of the settlers, this seemed like a revival of the troubles they had experienced under the Kentucky, or rather the Virginia, land laws. To Boone it proved so, for his claim was declared invalid. The commissioners were bound to regulate their ac- tion by the rules laid down in the law of Congress, and, in those days, Congress held the policy which governed the framing of the first pension laws, where- by a revolutionary soldier had to prove himself a most decayed and bankrupt pauper, before he became en- titled to the bounty of his country. The laws were rigid updn the settler; while the true policy would have been to have so prepared their language that no real settler in the State, by his acts showing that he was absolutely a settler, desiring either for himself or his family to make use of his land, should be exclu- ded. The Congress that passed the law ought to have reflected that the most worthy of the frontier-men, were just those who would be least likely to know the niceties of the law. When Boone was sustaining the horrors, night and day, of forest fight and siege, he had no leisure to study the nice provisions of the laws which Virginia 366 AGAIN LOSES HIS LAND. was preparing with which to turn him out of the farm, which he could scarcely visit in peace, lest the ferce grasp of the Indian should lead him off to tor- ture and to death. As Boone had not occupied the land, and had not gone to New Orleans to perfect this noble donation which the Spanish government had given him, the United States determined that his claim was not good. Worn and harassed by wars as Spain was, if it had been represented to the pow- ers that ruled the land that sent Columbus out to dis- cover a new world, that he who had imitated the great discoverer, was compelled to relinquish, for a mere informality, the rich gift which Spanish liberality had bestowed, the treasury of Madrid would have been as low as that of its revolted province of Mexi- co, or it would have been decreed that the great Hun- ter and Pioneer should not forfeit Spanish generosity. Poor Boone I Seventy-four years old, and the sec- ond grasp you have made upon the West has been powerless. You have risked life, and lost the life next dearest to your own, for the West. In all its fearful forms, death has looked you in the face, and you have moved on to conquer the soil, which you did but conquer that it might be denied to you. You have been the architect of the prosperity of oth- ers, but your own crumbles each time as you are about to occupy. He had defrauded no man. He had oppressed none. 367 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. He had submitted to every fortune which had present- ed itself, and had gone on rising above -every ill fate. When his child was killed, he waited patiently till a better day should rise. When the cruel Indian held him in bitter bondage, he checked every disposition to rebel, and awaited his true time.. When he lost his farm at Boonesborough, he did not linger around in complainings, but went quietly away, returning only to fulfill the obligations he had incurred; and now this last decision came -even at old age -to leave Daniel Boone, the Pioneer of the West, unable to give a title deed to a solitary acre I Some time previous to the date (December 1st, 1810,) of the rendering of this decision, he had been negoti- ating in respect to his land, and Mr. Collins preserves, in fac simile, a curious letter. It is very simple and very plain, and while it states the meaning of what he intends to say, with sufficient clearness, neither the style nor the orthography are to be considered as coming within the range of the scholar's acquire- ments. A bright man in public life in the State of New York once said-My language may not be grammatical, but my facts are ! And in relation to the virtue of spelling it is not very uncommon, as must be known to all who honor this volume with a perusal, that it is not necessary in the character of a great man, that he should spell with entire correct- ness. If it be, many are those who must descend 368 LETTER TO JUDGE COBURN. from greatness. When Queen Mary was crowned in Westminster Abbey, a superb Bible was given her. It is yet in the library at the Hague, and her majesty has written this line in the title page - "This Cook was given the king and I, at our croronatwn." The handwriting of this letter is vigorous, and very intelligible, for which a little bad orthography at any time may be forgiven. It indicates that at the time it was written, this old hunter was captive to the physician and the calomel, as he says he is " deep in markury." Notwithstand- ing all this evidence that the regular faculty at that time extended, either in person or by doctrine, down to that far region of St. Charles, he still says that he is well and in health. His own constitution was not to be put down by a drug. This letter is addressed to Judge John Coburn, who was a warm friend of Col. Boone, and deserves grate- ful record. He was a thorough friend, and gave per- severing evidence of it. He had migrated to Ken- tucky in 1784, and had been engaged in business at Lexington. He was a writer of great ability, and held responsible and honorable stations from Presi- dents Jefferson and Madison. How little they know the real character of Boone who think he loved the life of the woods because he desired to be alone. His pleasant thought, amidst all his troubles it was, that his children were all now pa 24 369 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. near him, and what lustre it reflects on the kindly old man, that his old age was so attractive to his chil- dren that they all clustered around him -bold and adventurous men that they were. Major Nathan Boone came to Missouri in 1800. He has since held commission in the dragoons, and is living at the date of this memoir, a fine representative of his noble- hearted father -like him, fond of the stirring forest life, and, in many respects, keenly allied in taste and habit to that which distinguished his sire. What if all governments denied him a possession in land; he was in the society of those who could minister to his wants, and by whose side he felt that, whoever else forgot him, they would not. But there was a duty which he owed to them, for his day of enjoyment of great posssessions was gone. No farm that the State could give him would suffice for his range in the chase. He must have for that the open and free forest uncircumscribed, but for the children and children's children that were coming into the business of life, another effort was to be made. 370 CHAPTER XXI. KENTUCKY AS A COMMONWEALTH- BOONE S MEMORIAL TO THM LEGISLATURE AND TO CONGRESS - THE JUST RESPONSE OF KENTUCKY - DEATH OF MRS. BOONE-BOONE'S TREATMENT AT THE HANDS OF CONGRESS-GENERAL LAFAYETTE'S RECEPTION-TTHE CONTRAST-TTHE OLD AGE OF BOONE- HIS CHILDREN - BOONE A HUNTER AT EIGHTY-TWO - ANECDOTE - HABD- ING S PORTRAIT - SICKNESS OF BOONE - IS TEMPORARY RECOVERY AND DEATH - A RETROSPECT. AND what was Kentucky now From being the abode of one white man, surrounded by hordes of savages, it had grown to be the happy residence of more than a half million of civilized men, and the In- dian had become a stranger and a wonder in his old accustomed haunts. The war of the Revolution had passed into history, and the powers that had been in war had cemented in peace, and were just about to break the bond again. The voice of Henry Clay had been heard in the Senate, teaching the States of the Atlantic, that Kentucky had come to dispute intel- lectual superiority with them. The State that could scarcely form herself into independency from Virgin- ia, had assumed a position in the National Councils, to which the old States paid marked deference. Boone did not, would not believe that Kentucky would entirely forget the man that had given such LIFE OF DANIEL IOONE. vast impetus to her progress. He had prepared for him a memorial to the Legislature of Kentucky. It recites in simple language -the dictation and ex- pression of his thoughts, though it might not have been his composition - his history in connection with Kentucky-a brief but earnest word. It came to Kentucky at a period when her people were pre- paring to do battle against England, not now as a line of scattered log huts - of frontier forts, which might have been reduced by a six-pounder -but in all the strength of a great commonwealth, rich in resources, and rich indeed, in the strength and courage of her sons. It was the right time for the Defender of Boonesborough to address a word to Kentucky. In the hour of war, the soldier is recognised. He appealed to Kentucky. It was the voice of the old man, standing in the midst of the broad and rich land, and pointing to all he had won for those who were now in its enjoyment. The memorial was re- ferred to a committee of the Senate -that being the body to which it had been presented. This commit- tee consisted of Messrs. Ewing, Hopkins, Caldwell, Bullock, and Walker. While he appealed to Ken- tucky, he memorialized Congress-so that his own appeal might be seconded and sustained by the pow- erful voice of a State which was seldom heard in vain; and that State, in a manner which showed that the lapse of years had wrought a great change in the 372 RESOLUTION OF THE KENTUCKY LEGISLATURE. 373 feeling of the people, as to their duty towards the Pioneer, by the unanimous vote of her Legislature passed the following preamble and resolution: "The Legislature of Kentucky taking into view the many eminent services rendered by Col. Boone, in exploring and settling the western country, from which great advantages have resulted, not only to this State, but to his country in general, and that from circumstances over which he had no control, he is now reduced to poverty; not having, so far as appears, an acre of land out of the vast territory he has been a great instrument in peopling; believing, also, that it is as unjust as it is impolitic, that useful enterprise and eminent services should go unrewarded by a government where merit confers the only distinction; and having sufficient reason to believe that a grant of ten thousand acres of land, which he claims in Upper Louisiana, would have been confirmed by the Spanish government, had not said territory passed, by cession, into the hands of the general government: wherefore, "Resolved, by the General Assembly of the Common- wealth of Kentucky, That our Senators in Congress be re- quested to make use of their exertions to procure a grant of land in said territory, to said Boone, either the ten thousand acres, to which he appears to have an equitable claim, from the grounds set forth to this Legislature, by way of comfirm- ation, or to such quantity in such place as shall be deemed most advisable, by way of donation." The language of the preamble is just in Kentucky. It was grateful to the old man. It effaced many ideas of neglect; though it does not appear that in all his life Col. Boone ever complained of his country. He LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. had too much native dignity of character to fall into that error. This declaration by Kentucky recites that not only the State, but the whole country in general, had derived great advantages from his acts. They who were then representing the people of Kentucky -a great and powerful State-realized by the differ- ent scenes that surrounded them, to those that en- compassed the little legislature of Transylvania, when it met beneath the great tree at Boonesborough, what Boone had done for them. When such an illustrious authority as Gov. Morehead-one who has in the na- tion borne the highest legislative honors, and in his own State the highest honor the people of Kentucky could bestow-when he says that " it is not assuming too much to say, that without him, in all probability, the settlernent8 could not have been zpheld, and the conquest of Kentucky might have been re8erved for the emigrant8 of the nineteenth century "- when such tribute is uttered, it gives the clearest testimony to the returning gratitude of Kentucky. The action of Kentucky was prompt - Congress lingered; When did it not linger While his claim was pending, he was'called to bewail a loss which to him was a most severe one. She who had followed him from a father's home to a scene of danger, of which the parallel is not now to be found -who had mourned him as dead while the gloomy shadows of a captivity were about him-who had been near to him 374 DEATH OF MRS. BOONE. in all his varying fortunes-who had faithfully and lovingly brought up sons and daughters to cherish and to love him-who had been by his side when the murderous blow of the savage had laid their first-born in a bloody grave-she who had thus fulfilled the af- fection and duty of a faithful wife, in a good old age went to her last home. She died in the month of March, 1813, having attained the age of seventy-six years. Far, very far, from the home of her own kin- dred, she was buried on the summit of a ridge, on a spot selected by Boone, and when she filled the nar- row house, he designated the place by her side where his own remains were to be laid. His memorial to Congress was ably supported by the exertions of Judge Coburn, who greatly interested himself in his behalf, and whose able pen told effect- ively on the subject; and in Congress, by Joseph Vance, afterwards governor of Ohio, and himself a fine specimen of the old-fashioned men, who blended a knowledge of the trials and experiences of the pio- neer life with educated statesmanship, and by Judge Burnett, the persevering and efficient friend of Gen. Harrison. These gerntlemen summoned the attention of Congress to the condition of the man who had been the foremost man of the West -a name that even then influenced Congress, as it soon will rule it. Mr. McKee, from the committee on public lands, made a report on Col. Boone's memorial, on the twen 375 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. ty-fourth day of December, 1813. Just at that time, the Canadians and Indians were renewing the inci- dents of Boone's day of action, by their vigorous at- tack on the frontier. The committee themselves re- ported in favor of confirming his title to eight hun- dred and fifty acres. This was all out of the untold millions of. acres of the public domain, which the United States could spare to Daniel Boone ! It made no mention of the eight thousand five hundred which the Spanish commandant-though a stranger-fully appreciating the services of Boone, had set apart to him. Throughout the length and breadth of the pub- lic lands, there lived no man whose claim should have been so eagerly sustained as that of Boone. The re- port states that " the petitioner is in old age, and had in early life rendered to his country arduous and use- ful services." This is about as little as could decently be said. Contrast it with the swords voted and the thanks be- stowed on those who have flourished in some brilliant engagement, not worthy to be named for real endu- rance and danger with the siege of Boonesborough, when horrid tortures awaited defeat. Contrast the eight hundred acres with the tens of thousands lav- ished on some scheme of favorite partisans ! "By reason of strength, he had arrived at four score," and in this, the very last days of his life, Con- gress, after less mention of his name than they would 376 GR'ANT FROM CONGRESS. liav-e i4vcn to a successful banker, from its wealth of land -a wealth so great that the ingenuity (and pa- triotism) of men is tasked to find avenues of gift- confirms the lemser grant of the Spanish government I Never mind-they have perpetuated in marble in the great dome of the Capitol, a scene in his life that never existed I "Seven cities claim old Homer dead, Through which the living Homer asked his bread." Boone had never before solicited his country. From it, as from individuals, he had only sought to pass along through life, rendering service to his day and to his people. Spain could not have done less for the Pioneer, if he had applied at the court at Mad- rid for the confirmation of its kindness, and in all probability it would have done more. When Lafay- ette returned to our shores, in 1824, like a messenger from the army of the Revolution, the Congress has- tened (and it was one of those acts, so rare in its his- tory, to which the whole Union proclaimed a glad as- sent) to bestow upon him a quarter of a million of dollars and a township. The noble-hearted French- man had left his home to bear our standard in all its fortunes, and so had Boone. He had been exposed to dangers which the chivalrous Marquis never knew. He had, without the inspiriting voice of Fame to cheer him on, pushed on his column into a country 377 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. where all around him was the worst of foes. He had been a soldier, on whose shield courage wrote its brightest legend. He had been faithful in all his trusts, and, as Gov. Morehead witnesses, " upheld the settlements." And what were those settlements They were the advance guard of the great march of civilization, which by the bravery of those who com- posed their front, were enabled to win and clothe with beauty one of the greatest and fairest inher- itances which ever gave man the field for his mind and his strength to show their capacities. The great lesson that Boone taught the country, was that the white man could rise superior to the sav- age, even when all nature seemed to be on the side of the latter. For this he braved solitude, hunger, captivity, torture, death; and in this he set an exam- ple, whose consequences, we who feel the might of the West, realize. Since his country waited till he was seventy-nine years old, before she rewarded him, it might, at least, have been as generous as was the crown of Spain, to whom he was but the citizen of a few days. At last Boone was awarded his eight hundred and fifty acres, and he rejoiced in it. His country had remembered him, and he had something to leave to those who were his own. The incidents of man's life, when eighty years tell the story of decay, are few. He is happy who does BOONE'S LATEST YEARS. not become a burden to the kindred among whom he dwells. Boone did not. When he could no longer hunt, he found in the society of his children, and grand-children, an affectionate circle, who delighted in his conversation and rejoiced in every little ser- vice of kindness they could render him. Such is the testimony borne by Mr. Peck, who was so fortunate as to visit him in December, 1818, while he was re- siding with his son-in-law - Mr. Callaway - a name which the reader may recollect, associated with the capture of the young ladies from the fort at Boones- borough. His personal appearance was that of a re- spectable old man -plainly clad in fabric made in the family - his log cabin room in order - his coun- tenance was pleasant, calm and fair-his forehead high and bold, and the soft silver of his hair in uni- son with his length of days. Such was not the coarse, rough hunter which men expected to find, replete with savage stories of Indian murders or border out- rages. It was the quiet evening of a life that had been passed in as much of stirring incident as is often written on the page of existence. He could repair a rifle or carve a powder horn, to be treasured up as relics, when the hunt and the chase were no longer for him; and yet he continued a bold and daring hun- ter to the verge of his days; for in his eighty-second year, he proceeded as far as fort Osage, near the mouth of Kansas River, and was there for two weeks. Such 379 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. was his desire to be buried among his kindred-by the side of the wife he loved so many years -that when he went out on his semi-annual hunting expe- ditions, and age rendered a companion necessary, a written agreement was made that, die where he would, his body should be brought to the mound that over- looked the Missouri -that great bond of the far west and the sea. While he lived in this remote settlement, the sto- ries that were told of him by those who described his life and character at the east, were just what imagina- tion portrayed. All that occurred to the fancy of the strange and solitary, was associated with Daniel Boone. He seldom heard of his delineators -but on one oc- casion, when it was told him that a paper had narra- ted his death as occurring while watching the deer at a salt lick, to which all the particulars were given that the rifle was at his shoulder, and he died while in the act of taking sight - the old Pioneer, " with his customary pleasant smile," said, " I would not be- lieve that tale if I told it myself. My eyesight is too far gone to hunt." Mr. Harding, the eminent artist, visited him just previous to his death. His recollections of immediate occurrences were loose and vague. It is the history of the mind of almost all old men; but he could yet re- late the tales of old Indian skirmishes. Those events had become fixed in memory. The people in his vi- 380 cinity were ignorant of him, but he had a kind family around him, and, cooking his venison on a ramrod, as he was while Mr. Harding was at his cabin, the old man, " after life's fitful fever," rested easily. The portrait which Mr. Harding made is undoubt- edly the best, if it be not the only portrait of this ex- traordinary man. Not long after this he was quite ill, but his strong frame bowed to the disease and recovered. He then visited Maj. Boone, his youngest son, and while at his house, a little indiscretion in diet finished the work of life. He died on the twenty-sixth day of September, 1820- eighty-six years old - a citizen of the State of Missouri -having passed a life extended far be- yond the ordinary days of man, and leaving to his- tory the fame of having served his country long and faithfully, by such service as to which the wealth, and power, and prosperity of a great Nation now rejoices to bear testimony. Such incidents of life attach to but few, very few, among the millions, as were those which formed the thread of Bdoone's life. The solitudes and the crowds of the west were around him. He moved along, sus- pecting danger, and with strong cause, in every sha- dow on his path; and he found the savage that had pursued him a stranger in that highway. The wing 381 IRIS DEATIT. LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. of the bird that flew over his half hidden hut would tire before it found human being like himself; and great cities rose up in that wilderness. The toma- hawk, the scalping-knife, glittered in threatening over him; the cruelty of the Indian awaited him; the wild men watched day and night to fulfill their ven- geance on him; and an assemblage of statesmen ren- dered honor to his name, on the track of the savage. He went forth, as he believed, an instrument of Hea- ven ordained to settle the wilderness, and he saw sove- reign States rise from that forest. There is a sublimity in the daring, the quiet dig- nity of bravery, with which this man went forth. The danger that had deterred a great company of men, organized into the frontier settlements of the Yadkin, failed to alarm him. He had seen how rich and glorious a land lay beyond the mountain, and he had the courage to tread its fastnesses alone. For months the empire of the west was concentrated in that lonely man -having neither fortress nor food, ex- cept that which he won by his own daring. When contending, brave, cool, determined; but quiet in victory. He struck to conquer, not to revenge. Hunt- ed like a wild beast, he seems never to have cher- ished the hatred and sought the vengeance which the Indian fighter pursues: benevolent, kind-hearted, liberal, honest -so that his old age felt no quiet till forgotten obligations were extinguished - winning all 382 MS CHTARACTR. 383 and losing all - bold to do - quiet in possession - Daniel Boone stands out in the sculpture of history, the Great Pioneer;-the man whose wild life, out of the verge of law-with power absolute-with the hate of the Indian fierce towards him-is re- membered in the kind memories of a good and great career, unstained by crime. CHAPTER XXII. KENTUCKY THEN AND NOW-WASHINGTON, LA FAYETTE, BOONE AND HAR- RISON - THE LEGISLATURE CAUSE THE REMAINS OF BOONE TO BE RE- MOVED TO FRANKFORT - THE PUBLIC HONORS - JOHN J. CRITTENDEN - CONCLUSION. WHEN for twenty-five years the remains of Boone had slumbered in the grave which he had chosen - when the Missouri had swept past for a quarter of a century - its waters hasting from the almost un- known recesses of the western forests to join the great Mississippi-that bond of the Union, into whose swift flow north and south commingle, so that none can separate - there came those from his own Ken- tucky who were charged with the holy mission of bearing back to the land he had loved so well, and sustained so long, all that was left of the Great Pioneer. Kentucky summons her chosen sons each year to Frankfort to deliberate on the measures necessary to the government of a vigorous and enterprising peo- ple. This capital has a beautiful position. There is much of the romantic in the scenery that distinguishes the Kentucky River. Upon it, almost sixty miles THE MEN KENTUCKY HONORS. from its mouth, the city is built; and it has around it the mingled beauty of a gentle river, a rich plain, and a bold surrounding of picturesque heights. The State has gathered within the walls of the go- vernment house the portraits of four men - each of whom have been identified with the struggle of our Nation to rescue itself from the dominion of the sa- vage and the crown - and each of whom were of those who drew the sword only for their country, and of whom it will be said in the truth of history, that they labored, and suffered, and conquered, not to elevate themselves, but to give to the people a happy and a free home. The men to whom Kentucky has assigned this spe- cial honor, are Washington, La Fayette, Boone, and Harrison. This is, indeed, a gallery to which those who seek to find the semblance of those who be- queathed to their country the fame of a bravery with- out a fear, and an integrity without a reproach, may resort, and be grateful that it is in the history of these States that such names are found. In 1845, the Legislature of Kentucky, realizing the vast obligations which the great people they repre- sented were under to Daniel Boone, who had taught the world the way to their glorious land, resolved that they would place the remains of the Pioneer in the public cemetery, at Frankfort; so that none could visit those living men to whom Kentucky in the suc- 385 Q 25 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. cession of years bestows her confidence, without be- ing near the grave of the man, of all others, most prominent in the foundation of the State. Mr. Col- lins eloquently says: " There seemed to be a peculiar propriety in this testimonial of the veneration borne by the commonwealth for the memory of its illustrious dead; and it was fitting that the soil of Kentucky should afford the final resting place for his remains, whose blood in life had been so often shed to protect it from the fury of savage hostility. It was as the beautiful and touching manifestation of filial affec- tion shown by children to the memory of a beloved parent, and it was right that the generation who were reaping in peace the fruits of his toils and dangers, should desire to have in their midst, and decorate with the tokens of their love, the sepulchre of this Primeval Patriarch, whose stout heart watched by the cradle of this now powerful commonwealth." The family having consented, proper persons were appointed to superintend the removal. The grave was opened, and the remains brought from the Mis- souri to Frankfort. On the thirteenth of September, 1845, the ceremo- nies of the re-interment took place. The occasion aroused the deepest feeling. Dead though he was, it was yet Daniel Boone once more in the midst of Ken- tucky; and those whose childhood had been familiar with the deeds of his strength -those who in their 386 HIS REMAINS REMOVED TO KENTUCKY. own kindred had known his companions-all who knew the " dark and bloody " history of Kentucky, were stirred in emotion. The man who walked the forest alone - the only civilized man in all the vast area - with every danger that could appal the heart from savage men and savage beast around him, in all the thought that silence and solitude evoked, never anticipated the hour when a proud and powerful State would thus heap honors on his dust. The pall-bearers were of the most distinguished of Kentuckians. There was Col. Richard Mli. John- son,,to whom a grateful country conferred the high honor of the Vice-Presidency, and who had known the fierceness of the struggles of the frontier, and made his name famous by his participation in them; and there was Gen. James Taylor, who, born in that memorable year, 1769, in which so many of the no- blest of earth first saw the light, had seen Kentucky emerge from the condition of savage life to all its greatness, and who knew well the illustrious career of the old man, by the side of whose coffin he walked; and then came Capt. James Ward, whose encounters with and escapes from the Indians are of the most re- mnarkable that the annals of Kentucky, almost every page of which is the recital of boldness and bravery, furnish. He was fittingly chosen to follow to his grave the defender of Boonesborough. Gen. Robert B. IMcAfee was another. He was born and grew up 387 LIFE OF DANIEL BOONE. amidst the wild alarms of Indian warfare, and in the military and civil service of the State sustained a dis- tinguished part. Peter Jordan, of Mercer; Walter Bullock, of Fayette; Thomas Joyce, of Louisville; Landon Sneed, of Franklin; Major T. Williams, of Kenton; William Boone, of Shelby; John Johnston, of Ohio, also officiated as pall-bearers. It was such a gathering of brave and valuable men, as indicated that Kentucky had endeavored to render all possible honor to the memory of her founder. The pageant was most impressive. The gathering of the people gave a vast length to the procession, and in its midst the coffins (for Kentucky did not sep- arate in death those whom peril and suffering could not dissever in life) of Daniel Boone and his faithful wife, garlanded in flowers, (the only phase of beauty ap- propriate to the tomb,) were borne to their last abi- ding place in the capital of Kentucky. This great State chose well the Orator. It has written its name beneath no other in modern States, in the volume of eloquence. The men of Kentucky have been welcomed wherever the grandeur and mu- sic of the human voice has found admirers. John J. Crittenden is the son of an officer of the Revolution, who, when he had faithfully served his country in that struggle, followed in the path of Daniel Boone, and emigrated to Kentucky, and reared up a family distinguished for the qualities which elicited the admi- 388 CONCLUSION. ration and the confidence of their fellow men, and each of whom were men winning and deserving honor. The name of John J. Crittenden is interwoven with our history as a nation, and the records of statesmen and orators would be incomplete without it. At the date of which this volume is written, he has been five times elected to the Senate of the United States. The highest honors of his own State have been bestowed upon him, and when the conqueror of Buena Vista assumed the first office in the country, he chose Mr. Crittenden as his most intimate counselor. To such a man Kentucky committed the duty of pronouncing the funeral oration over the grave of Daniel Boone. A nation claimed the guardianship of his dust -brave men attended him to his tomb- and an illustrious orator uttered his eulogy. Such was the honor Kentucky poured out upon the memory of her pioneer. His were the services to the value of which the passing years bear tribute, and his the name which will be associated with her existence. And thus Boone passed away. A quiet and an honorable man-his bold and strong course has made his name part of that bright record to which our country appeals, when older lands ask for her heroes. The West, in which he stood, is growing with more than giant strength; the visions of its luxuriance and of its wealth that his forest dreams formed, are made 389 390 LEM OF DANIEL BOONE. realities; there is an empire where he walked alone. Famous, as the simple-hearted hunter never ima- gined, this great Republic knows him as one of its Fathers, while throughout the Old World he is re- garded (the great poet moulded the thought) as having -- "left behind a name, Simple, serene, the antipodes of shame, Which Hate or Envy could not tinge with wrong." THE END. LIFE OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS, BY P. C. HEADLEY, AUTHOR OF 'JOSEPHINE,' SKOS9UTH,' 'WOMEN OF THE BIBLE,' ETC. .0 Portrait on Steel. Muslin, 448 pp. 12mo. Price 1,25. EXTRACTS FROM THE REVIEWERS. The universal interest that has always been felt in the romantic and tragical career of this unfortunate and beautiful queen, will render this biography one of living Interest.- Olive BrandA. Tbe sale of three editions of this work attests its popularity.-N. Y. Timem The style In which the present volume rehearses the story, will secure for it an extensive circulation.-NI Y. Or rn. It is a full and corrected history of this remarkable personage.-N. Y. Evangelist. Our author throws a chain around his subject that will insure for it a success equal to the "Josepbiine."-Neuwport Mereury. It is an affecting story, however told, and it Is probably a near historic accuracy as any other life of the beautiful Scotch Queen that we have.-Lutherass Obeerver. We commend this work to our readers who are Inclined to tQl study of history in biography, of the most interesting character.- Weslean, Syracu. An old theme, but handled with the masterly style which characterizes everything HEADLEY attempts.-Ohio Stateemam. He has consulted the best English authors and snch a book compiled as seemed best adapted to the popular mind of the American public.-Dearoit Advertiser. This is a fine library volume, and the universal Interest felt in the fate of the ro- mnatic and tragical career of Mary Stuart, will, no doubt, cause this American version of her life to be sought for.-Dollar Newspaper. Mr. Headley has performed his task faithfully and well.-Ravenna Mar. We think the author has done full justice to his heroine, and has taken a more correct view of Mary as a woman, and as a Queen, than we have seen elsewhere.-LoweaU Christ- ian era. - The value of the work is enhanced by the light it throws upon the history of some of the must important kingdoms of Europe.-J.Dee Record. All historical and biographical readers will find it an acceptable volume.- Yatse Whig. The life of the lovely. unhappy and unfortunate Queen of Scotland is in this volume delineated with rare faithfulness.-RaSPS Advocate. The work is full of excitinginterest, and its influence is good on the young.-Gale mAdv This account of her life and character seems well adapted to popular use.-New England Farmer. The publishers have done well in bringlna out this work at this time, when there is crying need that the corruptions of political conduct be warned, by the strongest testi- mony, that retributive justice will not forever sleep-Iome Jouriwi. This is a beautiful volume of 448 pazes, by a popular writer, embracing a subject of deeply romantic and melancholy interest.-PitbsWgh Christian Adeocate. Published by MILLER, ORTON MULLIGAN, Auburr and Buffalo. MINNIE HERMON, Wkoe Landc1lo),rds7 DaughJ3te3rs, The great Temperance Tale. Br T. W. BROWN, Editor of the "Cayuga Chief," and author of "Temperance Tales." Portrait and four illustrations. Muslin, 472 pp. 12mo. Price 1,25. Brief Extracts from Notices of the Press. rhis work bears the impress of life-like scenes.-Boston Olive Brandh. The story is dramatically worked up, Involving a great variety of moving scenes--N. Y. nr(an qelit. This is a powerfully written and absorbingly interesting volume.-Rural New Yorker. Tills is a freshly, boldly written story, free from fanaticism, and advocating the cause of temperance by argumentative incidents taken from real life.-Dodge's Lit. luseum. Mr. Brown Is a vigorous and agreeable writer, and never forgets the object he has in view,-the correction of a great public evil.-Bumfalo Republic. Its incidents are life-like, and are thrillingly related-terrible pictures of the misfor- tune and scandal of fallen man.-Buffilo Christian Advocate. It is smoothly and strongly written-full of Incident-and makes eloquent appeals to the heart and the conscience.-Bsqfalo Evpress It appeals eloquently to the better feelings of humanity, and we predict that it will be- come the " Uncle Tom" of teetotalism- Yankee Blade. Its matter is drawn from life, " written with a throbbing nib, and its truth scaled with the endorsement of a scalding tear."-Spracuse Journai. Among the many works which the Temperance Reform has of late years produced, few will rank as high as Minnie Hermon.-Syracuse Religious Recorder. Mr. Brown has attained considerable reputation as a writer of Temperance stories. His works of that description have had a wide circulation.-Cincinnati Cnnmercial. This is a thrilling Temperance narrative.-Pittsnburg Chritian Advocate. The characters are all drawn from life, and are sketched with a vigorous and fearless pen-Mfaine Farmer. There are many passages of surpassing power and beauty, the effect of which the reader will flnd it dificult to resist.-A uburn Adverttmer. Mr. Brown narrates scenes wlich are strikingly true to nature, which stir the blood and provoke scalding tears.-Detroit Ch. Iferald. The evils of the License system are drawn outwith fearful distinctness.-Toledo Blade. The work will be found a powerful ally by the friends of the Temperance Reform, and should be circulated far and wide-N. Y. Tribune. Minnie Hermon is a story of thrilling interest, and of the highest moral tendencies. It Is truly a "'iale for the Times.'-Phreno. Journal. A beautiful volume, and though called a tale, yet every chapter is drawn from life.- Baltimwore Lutheran Observer. Minnie Hermon is a book that will make Its mark in a book making age. It is wor- thy ot a wide circulation.-iorthern Chritian Advocate. All of it sweet toned and pure, and some scenes really powerful.-Sat. Eve. Poat. Some of its passages have a beauty and lolce rivaling the great masters of fiction.- Richmond Christian Advocate. This excellent story should be read by both old and young.-Star Spangled Banner. It is a Temperance Tale, told attractively, and printed and bound in first-rate style.- Alto. Ere. Journal. Minnie Hermon is a vivid delineation, in the form of a romance, of the evils of Intem- perance.-N. Y. Eve. Post. A valuable adjunct in the great moral movement of the age.-American Courier. This book must become very popular, and obtain a large circulation.-Mriwauekid Sent. A valuable addition to the Temperance literature of our country.-N. Y. Alliance. It is written in a forcible and graphic style.-Tempera,"e Banner. This Life-Tale, we are sure, will command the best commendation in the reading.- Lancaster Express. As an addition to the Temperance literature of the day, It has its mission, and con- tains elements of power that cannot fail to execute that mission successfally.-Chicago Christ. Advocate. The author has succeeded In producing a work of rare merit. We hope It will be widely circulated.-Christian Ambassador. Published by MILLER, ORTON d; MULLIGAN, Auburn and Buffalo.