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WILLIAM L.
CLEMENTS
LIBRAR1"
of the
University of Michigan






DEH.HE WA-Mis:
or.
A NARRATIVE OF THE LIFE OF
MARY J E MISON:
OTHERWISE CALLED -
º -
THE WHITE WOMAN,
who was TAKEN CAPTIVE By THE INDIANS IN MDCCLv: ANI)
who continue D WITH THEM SEVENTY EIGHT YEARs.
CONTAINING AN Account of THE MURDER OF-
HER FATHER AND HIS FAMILY: HER
- MARRIAGES AND SUFFERINGS:
INDIAN BARBARITIES, CUSTOM'S AND TRADITIONS.
- - CAREFULLY TAKEN FROM HER OWN WORDS
-
BY JAMES E. SEAVER.
-
THE LIFE or H10KAT00, AND EBENEZER ALLEN: A SKETCH
of GENERAL sullivan’s CAMPAIGN; TRAGEDY OF THE
“DEvils Hole,” Etc.
-
| THE WHOLE REVISED, correcTED AND ENLARGED: WITH
19FSCRIPTIVE AND HISTORICAL SKETCHES OF THE Six
- NATIONS, THE GENESEE COUNTRY, AND OTHER
INTERESTING FACTS CONNECTED WITH
THE NARRATIVE:
- BY EBENEZER MIX. -
º
BATAVIA, N. Y.
PUBLISHED BY WILLIAM SEAVER AND SON,
- 1842.




Entered, according to act of Congress, on the 7th day
of February, in the year 1842, by
WILLIA M S E A V E R & SON,
in the Clerks Office of the District Court of the United States
for the Northern District of New-York.


TA B L E OF CO N T E N T S.
PAGE.
Publisher’s Notice. -. - - - - 7
Preface. - - - - - - - 9
Introduction. * * - - - , 13
CHAPTER I.
Parentage and birth of Mary Jemison—Parents
settle in Pennsylvania. Indian alarms. Her
education. - - - - - • 23
CHAPTER 11.
Fancied omen. Captivity of herself and family.
Start for Fort Du Quesne. Mother’s farewell
address. Murder of her Parents and family.
Preparation of scalps. Indian Caution. Ar-
rival at Fort Du Quesne. - - . 29
CHAPTER III.
Mary is given to two Seneca squaws—is taken
down the Ohio river. She is adopted their
sister—receives the name of DEh-he-wa-Mis.
Ceremony of adoption. White prisoners. Ma-
ry marries She-min-jee, a Delaware—Birth
and death of a child–Her occupation—Birth
of another child. . - - . 38
CHAPTER Iv.
Mary, her husband &c., start for Fort Pitt–In-
dian customs, &c. Shawnees murder three
white men and torture another—Mary &c.,
change their course towards Lake Erie—She-
ninjee returns. Mary &c. start for Genishau–
Upper Sandusky—French Creek—Allegany
River—Arrive at Genishau. . - 49
º
iv. CONTENTs.
CHAPTER V.
Geographical chapter—Indian names &c. Little
Beard's Town and vicinity—Genesee river,
its falls, flats, banks, and adjacent country,
from Pennsylvania line to its mouth–Seneca
Indian villages, &c.—Population. . . .
CHAPTER VI.
Indians march to fight the British. Return with
cattle and prisoners. Sacrifice of prisoners.
An Indian woman’s eloquence. Tragedy of
the Devil’s Hole. Death of Mary’s first hus-
band. Attempt to take her to Niagara by
force. She marries her second husband. Her
children. Loss of a daughter.
CHAPTER VII.
Peace among the Indians. Their happy state.
Celebrations. Religious worship. Exercises.
Their primitive character, manners, customs,
and morals. Join the British to fight the Ame-
ricans. Bounty for scalps. Four female pri-
soners. The wedding ring. Battle at Fort
Stanwix. Indian loss. Butler and Brandt.
CHAPTER VIII.
Approach of Gen. Sullivan’s army. A skirmish.
Two Oneida Indians taken. One sacrificed.
Lieut. Boyd and Parker captured. Boyd's
barbarous execution, and Parker’s death. In-
dians retreat to the woods. Sullivan’s army
lay waste the country. Army returns. In-
dians return but to disperse. Mrs. Jemison
goes to Gardeau flats. Indian expedition to
the Mohawk. John O'Bail and other prison-
ers. Ebenezer Allen. - - -
70






CONTENTS. w
CHAPTER IX.
Mrs. Jemison is offered her freedom. She de-
clines accepting. Her reasons. Her favor-
ite brother dies. Great Council of 1797. A
large tract of land given her by the Chiefs.
Description of land. Indian traditions. . 92
CHAPTER x.
Little Beard's death. Singular superstition. Fa-
mily government. Her sons Thomas and John
quarrel. John murders Thomas. John’s trial
by the chiefs, and acquittal. Thomas’ age,
character, wives and children. Hiokatoo’s
death—Age and funeral—Traits of character, 99
CHAPTER x I.
Mrs. Jemison’s troubles—John's enmity to his
brother Jesse—John murders Jesse—Jesse’s
funeral, age, and character. . - ... 108
CHAPTER xII.
Mrs. Jemison's cousin, George Jemison–His
poverty—Her kindness and assistance—His
ingratitude—He leaves her premises. ... 112
CHAPTER XIII.
Her son John is murdered—His funeral–His
life, disposition and character—His widows
and children—age—His murderers flee–Tall
ºf Chief’s speech—They return—Their fate. 116
CHAPTER XIV.
Mrs. Jemison sells part of her land–Reviews
her past life—Indian frolicks—Use of ardent
spirits—Accusations against her—Executions
for witchcraft–Her descendants—Remarks, 123
vi CONTENTs.
- CHAPTER xv.
Life of Hiokatoo—His birth and lineage—juve-
nile practices—His cruelties and barbarities in
several wars and many battles—Description
of his person, strength, and activity. . 130
CHAPTER XVI.
Life of Ebenezer Allen—Crim.com, with a squaw
—kills a man—marries a squaw and two white
girls—kills a man to get his wife—keeps one
wife’s sister for a mistress—moves to Canada
and dies—his cruelties and barbarities. . 142
CHAPTER xvii.
Government of the Six Nations—Their feasts,
dances, courtships &c.—Female security. 153
CHAPTER XVIII.
Life of Mrs. Jemison continued—moves to Buf-
alo—converted to christianity—Sickness and
Death—Funeral—Death of surviving children
–Jacob Jemison–His character and death. 165
CHAPTER xix.
The present state of Western New-York, com-
pared with the former–Religious edifices. 169
CHAPTER xx. -
Sketch of the history of the Six Nations, or Min-
goes—Emigration west of the Mississippi.
APPENDIx.
Tragedy of the Devil’s Hole. - -
Sketch of Gen. Sullivan's campaign.
Removal of the remains of Lieut. Boyd,







PU B L 1 S H E R Sº NOT ICE.
In presenting to the public this enlarged and re-
vised edition of the life of Mary Jemison, the senior
publisher considers it due to the memory of his de-
ceased brother, the author, to state: that at the time
the work was written, in 1824, he was laboring un-
der a painful chronic disease, which tended greatly
to disqualify him for mental or physical exertion,
and which finally resulted in his death; and it is be-
lieved, that the labor of preparing the work for the
press under such circumstances, contributed in no
small degree, to hasten that event.
To this cause, is to be mainly attributed the de-
fects of the first edition, both in style and arrange-
ment; and for this reason the publishers have felt
at liberty, considering the relation in which they
stand to the author, to make such corrections, revis-
ions, and additions, as seemed necessary and proper,
in order to render it what the author originally in-
tended it should be; a faithful, interesting, and in-
structive history, of the subject and events to which
it relates.
For the purpose of accomplishing this object, they
have availed themselves of the services of Ebenezer
Mix, Esq. who, aside from his other qualifications
for such a task, possesses a knowledge of the geo-
graphical localities of western New-York, from its
earliest settlement to the present time, which is not
surpassed, if equalled, by any person now living.
It will be perceived by those who are familiar
with the original work, that among other alterations
viii PUBLISHERs” Notice.
in the title, the word DEH-HE-wa-Mis, has been pre-
fixed; it being the Indian name given to Mrs. Jemi-
son at the time of her adoption. The reviser has
also transposed, divided, consolidated, and re-arran-
ged, various chapters and parts of chapters, in order
to give a more clear and connected view of the sub-
jects under consideration, and yet carefully preser-
ving all the facts, as originally narrated by Mrs. Je-
mison. The 5th, 18th and 19th chapters, being
entirely original, are introduced for the purpose of
continuing her history, from the time she gave her
narrative to the author, down to the close of her
eventful life; and for the purpose of exhibiting and
contrasting, the past and present state of the country
where most of the scenes transpired which are nar-
rated in the work. An original sketch of the history
of the Mingoes, or Six Nations, is also introduced as
the 20th chapter, being intimately connected with,
and calculated to illustrate the whole subject, and to
increase its general interest.
A portion of the narrative being connected with
Sullivan’s campaign, which was so disastrous to the
Mingoes, and of which the author gave but an im-
perfect sketch, the reviser has taken much pains to
collect from various sources the facts in relation to
it, which he has condensed into an article in the
Appendix. -
In the various additions and amendments which
have been made through the work, strict regard has
been paid to facts; and no extraneous or equivocal
matter has been introduced, for the purpose of ex-
citing the wonder of a visionary imagination, or of
ministering to the cravings of a morbid appetite; on
the contrary, the object has been to make it interes-
ting and instructive to old and young; a volume suit-
able for the parlor as well as the school library.











P. R. E. F. A. C. E.
That to biographical writings we are indebted for
the greatest and best field in which to study man-
kind, or human nature, is a fact duly appreciated
by a well-informed community. In them we can
trace the effects of mental operations to their proper
sources; and by comparing our own composition
with that of those who have excelled in virtue, or
with that of those who have been sunk in the lowest
depths of folly and vice, we are enabled to select a
plan of life that will at least afford self-satisfaction,
and guide us through the world in paths of morality.
Without a knowledge of the lives of the vile and
abandoned, we should be wholly incompetent to set
an appropriate value upon the charms, the excel-
lence, and the worth of those principles which have
produced the finest traits in the character of the
most virtuous. -
Biography is a telescope of life, through which
we can see the extremes and excesses of the varied
properties of the human heart. Wisdom and folly,
refinement and vulgarity, love and hatred, tender-
ness and cruelty, happiness and misery, piety and
infidelity, commingled with every other virtue or
vice, are to be seen on the variegated pages of the
history of human character and human events, and
are eminently deserving the attention of those who
would learn to walk in the “paths of peace.”
The brazen statue and the sculptured marble, can
commemorate the greatness of heroes, statesmen,
philosophers, and blood-stained conquerors, who

x PREFACE.
have risen to the zenith of human glory and popu-
larity, under the influence of the mild sun of pros-
perity: but it is the faithful page of biography that
transmits to future generations the modest virtues,
and social enjoyments, as well as the poverty, pain,
hunger, wretchedness, and torment, and every
nameless misery that has been endured by those who
have lived in obscurity, and groped their lonely
way through a long series of unpropitious events,
with but little help besides the light of nature. While
the gilded monument displays in brightest colors,
the vanity of pomp, and the emptiness of nominal
greatness, the biographical page, that lives in every
line, is giving lessons of fortitude in time of danger,
patience in suffering, hope in distress, invention
in necessity, and resignation to unavoidable evils.
Here also may be learned, pity for the bereaved,
benevolence for the destitute, and compassion for
the helpless; and at the same time all the sympa-
thies of the soul will be naturally excited to sigh at
the unfavorable result, or to smile at the fortunate
relief. - -
Few great men have passed from the stage of ac-
tion, who have not left in the history of their lives,
indelible marks of unhallowed ambition or manifest
folly, which produced insurmountable obstacles,
causing unavoidable reverses, and rendering the
whole a mere caricature, that can be examined only
with disgust and regret. Such pictures, however,
are profitable; for “by others' faults wise men cor-
rect their own.”
The following is a piece of biography, that shows
what changes may be effected in the animal and
mental constitution of man; what trials may be en-
countered and withstood; what difficulties may be
surmounted; what cruelties perpetrated, and what

PREFACE. xi
-
pain endured, when stern necessity holds the reins,
and destiny drives the car of fate.
As books of this kind are sought and read with
avidity, especially by children, and are well calcu-
lated to excite their attention, inform their under-
standing, and improve them in the art of reading,
the greatest care has been observed to render the
style easy, the language comprehensive, and the
description natural. Prolixity has been studiously
avoided. The line of distinction between virtue and
vice, has been rendered distinctly visible; and chas-
tity of expression and sentiment have received due
attention. Strict fidelity has been observed in the
composition: consequently, no circumstance has
been intentionally exaggerated by the paintings of
fancy, nor by the fine flashes of rhetoric: neither
has the picture been rendered more dull than the
original. Without the aid of fiction, what was re-
ceived as matter of fact, only has been recorded.
It will be observed that the subject of this narra-
tive has arrived at least to the advanced age of
eighty years; that she is destitute of education; and
that her journey of life, throughout its texture, has
been interwoven with troubles, which ordinarily are
calculated to impair the faculties of the mind; and
it will be remembered, that there are but few old
people who can recollect with precision, the cir-
cumstances of their lives, particularly those circum-
stances which transpired after middle age; yet she
sustained herself, in relation to the incidents of her
life, with a manifest accuracy and precision, sur-
passing every expectation.
In relation to the language used in this work,
where incidents appear to be related, or speeches
reported in Mrs. Jemison's own words, although
she gave the narrative in the English language, it
xii PREFACE.
cannot be expected to be more than a translation of
her strong, energetic, but somewhat broken lan-
guage. It is however, believed to be a true, and al-
most literal translation of her expressed communi-
cations, not only as to words, but as to the original
idiom. It would appear improbable that a narrative
of such length, expressed in such words, and in an
order so connected, could flow from the lips of an
uneducated female, eighty years of age. Yet it will
be observed, that having a strong mind and reten-
tive memory—and having long been familiarly con-
versant with the most celebrated Mingo chiefs and
orators, she had almost intuitively imbibed their for-
cible manner of expression, and impressive pecu-
liarities of gesture. Her recitals of events and
speeches therefore, were imbued with much of the
figurative eloquence, so universally admitted to be-
long peculiarly to these children of the forest.
The introduction will facilitate the understanding
of what follows; and as it contains matter that
could not be inserted with propriety in any other
place, will be read with interest and satisfaction.
Having finished my undertaking, the subsequent
pages are cheerfully submitted to the perusal and
approbation or animadversion of a candid, generous,
and indulgent public. At the same time it is fondly
hoped, that the lessons of distress that are pour-
trayed, may have a direct tendency to increase our
love of liberty; to enlarge our views of the bles-
sings that are derived from our liberal institutions;
and to excite in our breasts sentiments of devotion
and gratitude, to the great Author and sustainer of
the sources of all our happiness.
THE AUTHOR.
Pembroke, March 1, 1824.







I N T R O DUCTION.
The peace which was concluded and ratified be:
tween the United States and Great Britain, in 1783,
led to a treaty of peace and amnesty between the
United States, and the Indian confederacy called
the Six Nations, which took place at Fort Stanwix,
º Rome, Oneida county, N.Y.) in 1784, con-
ucted by commissioners on the part of the United
States, and the chiefs, warriors, and headmen of the
Six nations, on their part. -
By this treaty all the prisoners who had been ta-
ken, and were at that time retained by the Indians,
were to be set at liberty. On this joyful event,
those prisoners who had escaped the tomahawk, the
gantlet, and the sacrificial fire, were released from
bondage, and restored to their friends, to society, and
to the world. Although the number of prisoners
thus released were few, in proportion to the great
number who had been taken, they were so nume-
rous that their return brought the legends of deeds
of torture and death, to every section of the country.
- These horrid tales required not the aid of fiction, or
the persuasive powers of rhetoric, to heighten their
colorings, or gain credence to their shocking truths.
In those days, Indian barbarities were the constant
topic of the domestic fire-side, the parlor, the hall,
and the forum. It is presumed that at this time,
there are but few native citizens, that have passed

14 INTRODUCTION.
the middle age, who do not distinctly recollect, of
hearing such frightful accounts of Indian barbarities,
oft repeated, in the nursery and in the family circle,
until it almost caused their hair to stand erect, and
deprived them of the power of motion.
Time however, has produced a confusion of inci-
dents in those tales, and enveloped the fidelity of
their transmission to us, in clouds of doubt: to res-
cue from oblivion, and preserve in their primitive
purity, some of those legends, and to exemplify and
record, for the use of posterity, as well as for the
present generation, a faithful delineation of the cha-
racteristic traits of the Mingoes, is the object of these
memoirs.
At the same treaty, the Six Nations or Mingoes,
were left in undisturbed possession of the greater
portion of the state of New-York, and had the right of
possession guarantied to them by the United States,
of all the territory west of a line called the property
line, running nearly parallel with, and less than
eighty miles west of the Hudson river, two small
tracts excepted. At this time Mary Jemison had
been with the Indians twenty-nine years; seven had
transpired during the French war with the British,
in which the Six Nations raised the tomahawk
against the British and Americans; and seven during
the revolutionary war, in which the Indians arrayed
themselves on the side of the British against the
Americans; there being an interval of peace of fif-
teen years between, if peace it could be called, when
they were constantly sending war parties against
other Indian tribes, south and north from the torrid
to the frigid zone, and west to the Rocky Mountains.
During this time Mrs. Jemison had been twice
married to Indian chiefs, and had a husband and
seven children then living. She too, was nearly

INTRODUCTION. 15
two hundred miles from any white settlement, and
knew not that she had a white relative or friend on
earth: she therefore resolved not to accept of her
freedom, but to spend the remainder of her days
with the Indians, where she knew she had affection-
ate relatives, and many kind friends; this resolution
she carried fully into effect, and became their faith-
ful and correct chronicler for more than three-
fourths of a century.
At this time, 1784, and for several years after-
wards, no settlements of white people were made in
the state, west of Cherry Valley, on the head waters
of the Susquehannah; and the German Flats, on the
Mohawk; as those places were situated nearly as
far west as the property line, the boundary of the
Indian lands. So fresh were the wounds which the
whites had received from their savage neighbors,
that the Indians were viewed with a jealous eye, even
when unmolested and unprovoked; under these cir-
cumstances, peaceable citizens were little inclined
to trespass on their lands, or give them the least
pretext for a quarrel, by even travelling into their
country. No white people therefore, visited their
villages, except some half-savage traders, and a few
of the refuse of society, who, to escape the meshes
of civil or criminal law, bade adieu to civilized life,
and took shelter in the recesses of the forest, under
the protection of its lords.
The Indian title to the lands surrounding Mrs.
emison's residence, was not sold to the whites un-
ºl the great council in 1797, when may be dated
the first time of her associating with moral, social,
civilized man, from the time of her childhood; after
a lapse of forty-two years. Still she had retained
her native language with great purity; and had
treasured up, and constantly kept in her own breast,
16 INTRODUCTION.
all those moral and social virtues, by the precepts
of which civilized society profess to be guided, and
by their directions always to be governed.
At length, the richness and fertility of the soil
excited emigration, and here and there a family set-
tled down and commenced improvements in the
country which had recently been the property of the
aborigines. Those who settled near the Genesee
river, soon became acquainted with “The White
Woman,” as Mrs. Jemison was called, whose history
they anxiously sought, both as a matter of interest
and curiosity. Frankness characterized her conduct,
and without reserve she would readily gratify them
by relating some of the most important periods of
her life.
Although her bosom companion was an ancient
warrior, and notwithstanding her children and asso-
ciates were all Indians, yet it was found that she
possessed an uncommon share of hospitality, and
that her friendship was well worth courting and
preserving. Her house was the stranger's home;
from her table the hungry were refreshed;—she
made the naked as comfortble as her means would
admit; and in all her actions, discovered so much
natural goodness of heart, that her admirers increa:
sed in proportion to the extension of her aequaint-
ance, and she became celebrated as the friend of
the distressed. She was the protectress of the home-
less fugitive, and made welcome the weary wande-
rer. Many still live to commemorate her benevor
lence towards them, when prisoners during the war.
and to ascribe their deliverance to the mediation of
“The White Woman.”
The settlements of civilized society increased
around her, and the whole country was inhabited by
a rich and respectable people, principally from













INTRODUCTION. 17
New-England, as much distinguished for their spir
rit of inquisitiveness as for their habits of industry
and honesty, who had all heard from one source
and another a part of her life in detached pieces,
and had obtained an idea that the whole taken in
connexion would afford instruction and amusement.
Many gentlemen of respectability, felt anxiºus
that her narrative might be laid before the public,
with a view not only to perpetuate the remembrance
of the atrocities of the savages in former times, but
to preserve some historical facts which they suppo;
sed to be intimately connected with her life, and
which otherwise must be lost.
Forty years had passed since the close of the Re-
volutionary war, and almost seventy years had seen
Mrs. Jemison with the Indians, when Daniel W.
Banister, Esq. at the instance of several gentlemen,
and prompted by his own ambition to add something
to the accumulating fund of useful knowledge, re-
solved, in the autumn of 1823, to embrace that time,
while she was capable of recollecting and reciting
the scenes through which she had passed, to collect
from herself, and to publish to the world, an accu-
rate account of her life.
I was employed to collect the materials, and pre-
pare the work for the press; and accordingly went
to the house of Mrs. Jennet Whaley, in the town of
Castile, Genesee county, N. Y., in company with
the publisher, who procured the interesting subject
of the following narrative, to come to that place (a
distance of four miles) and there repeat the story of
her eventful life. She came on foot in company
with Mr. Thomas Clute, whom she considers her
protector, and tarried several days, which time was
busily occupied in taking a sketch of her narrative
as she recited it.
B

18 rNTRODUCTION.
In stature she is very short, considerably under
the middle size, but stands tolerably erect, with her
head bent forward, apparently from her having for
a long time been accustomed to carrying heavy bur-
dens supported by a strap placed across her fore-
head. Her complexion is very white for a woman
of her age, and although the wrinkles of fourscore
years are deeply indented in her cheeks, yet the
crimson of youth is distinctly visible. Her eyes are
light blue, a little faded by age, but naturally bril-
liant and sparkling. Her sight is quite dim, though
she is able to perform her necessary labor without
the assistance of glasses. Her cheekbones are high,
and rather prominent, and her front teeth, in the
lower jaw, are sound and good. When she looks
up and is engaged in conversation her countenance
is very expressive; but from her long residence
with the Indians, she has acquired the habit of pee-
ping from under the eye-brows as they do with the
head inclined downwards. Formerly her hair was
of a light chesnut brown—it is now quite grey, a
little curled, of midling length and tied in a bunch
behind. She informed me that she had never worn
a cap or a comb.
She speaks English plainly and distinctly, slightly
tinged with the Irish idiom, and has the use of words
so well as to render herself intelligible on any sub-
ject with which she is acquainted. Her recollection
and memory exceeded my expectation. It cannot
be reasonably supposed, that a person of her age
has kept the events of seventy years in so complete
a chain as to be able to assign to each its proper
time and place; she, however, made her recital
with as few obvious mistakes as might be expected
from a person of fifty. Indeed in every case, where
she attempted to give dates, she was remarkably cor-
-

INTRODUCTION. 19
rect, so uniformly so, that she coincided exactly with
history, except in one instance, which was the sur-
render of Fort Du Quesne by the French to the
English, and this is more to be attributed to her igno-
rance at the time, than to the treachery of her me-
mory, for the fort was always filled with English
or Yankee traders, trappers, hunters and outlaws as
well as Frenchmen; and the Ohio Indians knew lit-
tle and cared less, who commanded the fort, so long
as they could trade there to suit themselves. Under
such circumstances, it is not remarkable that a
young woman, fifteen or sixteen years old, domesti-
cated among the Indians, and residing three or four
hundred miles from the fort, should not know the
precise timethat the French flag was struck and
the English hoisted in its stead, which absolutely took
place in 1758, while she resided in that country.
She walks with a quick step without a staff, and
can yet cross a stream on a log or pole as steadily
as any other person. Her passions are easily exci-
ted. At a number of periods in her narration, tears
trickled down her grief worn cheek, and at the same
time a rising sigh would stop her utterance.
Industry is a virtue which she has uniformly
practiced, from the day of her adoption to the pre-
sent. She pounds her samp, cooks for herself,
gathers and chops her wood, feeds her cattle and
poultry, and performs other laborious services.—
Last season she planted, tended and gathered her
corn—in short, she is always busy.
Her dress at the time I saw her, was made and
worn after the usual Indian fashion. She had on a
brown, undressed flannel short-gown, with long
sleeves, the skirt reaching to the hips, being tied
before in two places with deerskin strings; below
the skirt of the gown, was to be seen three or four

20 INTRODUCTION.
inches of the lower extremity of a cotton shirt,
which was without collar or sleeves, and open be-
fore. Her petticoat, or the Indian substitute for
that garment, was composed of about a yard and a
quarter of blue broadcloth, with the lists on, and
sewed together at the ends. This was tied around
her waist, or rather above her hips, under her shirt,
with a string, in such a manner as to leave one
fourth of a yard or more of the top of the cloth to
be turned over the string, and display the top list
and four or five inches of the cloth below the bot-
tom of the shirt—the main body of the garment and
the other list, reaching down to the calves of her
legs; below which was to be seen her leggins, con-
sisting of pieces of blue broadcloth, wrapped around
her legs, and tied or pinned on, reaching from her
knees to just within the tops of her buckskin mocca-
sins. She wore no footings or socks on her feet at
any season, unless some rags wrapped around her
toes could be considered such. Over her shoulders
was wrapped a common Indian or Dutch blanket,
and on her head she wore an old brown woollen
cloth, somewhat in the shape of a sun bonnet.
Thus attired, and it will be recollected that she
was not caught in her dishabille, as she had come
from home, the distance of four miles, for the ex-
press purpose of meeting us, thus attired, I say, we
met the owner of two square miles of very fertile
and productive land, lying in the midst of a dense
population, and near an excellent market—with an
annuity of three hundred dollars a year, secured to
her, her heirs and assigns forever. Yaº such was
the dress this woman was not only contented to wear,
but delighted in wearing. Habit having rendered it
convenient and comfortable, she wore it as a matter
of choice.

INTRODUCTION. 2]
-
Her house, in which she lives, is 20 by 28 feet;
built of square timber, with a shingled roof, and a
framed stoop. In the centre of the house is a chim-
ney of stones and sticks, in which there are two
fire places. She has a good framed barn, 26 by 36,
well filled, and owns a fine stock of cattle and hor-
ses. Besides the buildings above mentioned, she
owns a number of buildings occupied by tenants,
who work her flats upon shares. -
Her dwelling is on the west side of Genesee river,
about one hundred rods north of the Great Slide, a
curiosity which will hereafter be described.
Mrs. Jemison appeared sensible of her ignorance
of the manners of the white people, and for that
reason, was not familiar, except with those with
whom she was intimately acquainted. In fact she
was, to appearance, so jealous of her rights, or .
afraid that she should say something that would be
injurious to herself or family, that if Mr. Clute had
not been present, we should have been unable to
have obtained her history. She, however, soon be-
came free and unembarrassed in her conversation,
and spoke with a degree of mildness, candor and
simplicity, that is calculated to remove all doubts as
to the veracity of the speaker. The vices of the
Indians she appeared to palliate, or at least not to
aggravate, and seemed to take pride in extoling
their virtues. A kind of family pride inclined her
to withhold whatever would blot the character of
her descendants, and perhaps induced her to keep
back many things that would have been interesting.
For the life of her last husband, we are indebted
to her cousin, Mr. George Jemison, to whom she re-
ferred us for information on that subject generally.
The thoughts of his deeds, probably chilled her old
heart, and made her dread to rehearse them, and at
22 INTRODUCTION.
the same time she well knew they were no Secret,
for she had frequently heard him relate the whole,
not only to her cousin, but to others.
Before she left us she was very sociable, and she
resumed her naturally pleasant countenance, enli-
vened with a smile. -
Her neighbors speak of her as possessing one of
the happiest tempers and dispositions, and give her
the name of never having done a censurable act to
their knowledge.
Her habits are those of the Indians—she sleeps on
skins without a bedstead, sits upon the floor or on a
bench, and when she eats, holds her victuals on her
lap, or in her hands. -
Her ideas of religion, correspond in every respect
with those of the great mass of the Senecas. She
applauds virtue, and condemns vice. She believes
in a future state, in which the good will be happy,
and the bad miserable; and that the acquisition of
that happiness, depends primarily upon human voli-
tion, and the consequent good deeds of the happy
recipient of blessedness. But she is a stranger to
the doctrines of the Christian religion.
Her daughters are said to be active and enterpri:
sing women, and her grandsons, who have arrived
to manhood, are considered able, decent and respec-
table men in their tribe, and many of them are
greeted with respect in civilized society.
Having in this cursory manner, introduced the
principal subject of the following pages, I proceed
to the narration of a life that has been viewed with
attention, for a great number of years by a few.
and which will be read by the public with mixed
sensations of pleasure and pain, joy and sorrow,
and with interest, anxiety and satisfaction.










DEH-H E-W A-M 18;
on a NARRATIVE of the Lººk, or
M. R. S. M A R Y J E M | SO N.
C H A P T E R I.
Although I may have frequently heard the history
of my ancestry, my recollection is too imperfect to:
enable me to trace it further back than to my father
and mother, whom I have often heard mention the
families from whence they originated, as having
possessed wealth and honorable stations under the
government of the country in which they resided.
On account of the great length of time that has
elapsed since I was separated from my parents and
friends, and having heard the story of their nativity
only in the days of my childhood, I am unable to
state positively, which of the two countries, Ireland
or Scotland, was the land of my parents’ birth and
education. It however, is my impression, that they
were born and brought up in Ireland.

24 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
My Father’s name was Thomas Jemison, and my
Mother's, before her marriage, was Jane Erwin. .
Their affection for each other was mutual, and of
that happy kind which tends directly to sweeten the
cup of life; to render connubial sorrows lighter; to
assuage every discontentment; and to promote not
only their own comfort, but that of all who come
within the circle of their acquaintance. Of their
happiness I recollect to have heard them often speak;
and the remembrance I yet retain of their mildness
and perfect agreement in the government of their
children, together with their mutual attention to our
common education, manners, religious instruction
and wants, renders it certain in my mind, that they
were ornaments to the married state, and examples
of connubial love, worthy of imitation. After my
remembrance, they were strict observers of religious
duties; for it was the daily practice of my father,
morning and evening, to attend, in his family, to
the worship of God.
Resolved to leave the land of their nativity, they
removed from their residence to a port in Ireland.
where they lived but a short time before they set
sail for this country, in the year 1742 or 3, on board
the ship William and Mary, bound to Philadelphia.
The intestine divisions, civil wars, and ecclesias:
tical rigidity and domination that prevailed in thºse
days, were the causes of their leaving their mother
country to find a home in the American wilderness
under the mild and temperate government of the
descendants of William Penn; where, they might
worship God, according to the dictates of their ºwn
consciences, and pursue their º avocations
without fear of molestation.
In Europe my parents had two sons and on
daughter; their names were John, Thomas and

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 25
Betsey; with whom, after having put their effects on
board, they embarked, leaving a large connection of
relatives and friends, under all those painful sensa-
tions, which are only felt when kindred souls give
the parting hand and last farewell to those to whom
they are endeared by every friendly tie.
During their voyage I was born, to be the sport
of fortune and almost an outcast to civil society; to
stem the current of adversity through a long chain
of vicissitudes, unsupported by the advice of tender
parents, or the hand of an affectionate friend; and
even without the enjoyment, from others, of any of
those tender sympathies which are calculated to
sweeten the joys of life, except such as naturally
flow from uncultivated minds, that have been render-
ed callous by ferocity.
Excepting my birth, nothing remarkable occurred
to my parents on their passage, and they were safely
landed at Philadelphia. My father being fond of
rural life, and having been bred to agricultural pur-
suits, soon left the city, and removed his family to
a tract of excellent land lying on Marsh Creek on
the frontier settlement of Pennsylvania. At that
place he cleared a large farm, and for seven or eight
years enjoyed the fruits of his industry. Peace
attended their labors; and they had nothing to alarm
them, save the midnight howl of the prowling wolf,
or the terrifying shriek of the ferocious panther,
as they occasionally visited the improvements, to
take a lamb or a calf to satisfy their hunger.
During this period my mother had two sons, be-
tween whose ages there was a difference of about
three years: the oldest was named Matthew, and
the other Robert.
Health presided on every countenance, and vigor
and strength characterized every exertion. Our
26 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
mansion was a little paradise. The morning of my
childish, happy days, will ever stand fresh in my
memory, notwithstanding the many severe trials
through which I have passed, in arriving at my
present situation, at so advanced an age. Even at
this remote period, the recollection of my pleasant
home at my father’s, of my parents, of my brothers
and sister, and of the manner in which I was depri-
ved of them all at once, affects me so powerfully,
that I am almost overwhelmed with grief that is
seemingly insupportable. Frequently I dream of
those happy days: but, alas! they are gone: they
have left me to be carried through a long life, de-
pendent for the little pleasures of nearly seventy
years, upon the tender mercies of the Indians! In
the spring of 1752, and through the succeeding sea-
sons, the stories of Indian barbarities inflicted upon
the whites in those days, frequently excited in my
parents the most serious alarm for our safety.
The next year the storm º faster; many
murders were committed; and many captives were
exposed to meet death in its most frightful form,
by having their bodies stuck full of pine splinters
which were immediately set on fire, while their tor-
mentors were exulting in their distress and rejoicing
in their agony.
In 1754, an army for the protection of the settlers,
and to drive back the French and Indians, was raised
from the militia of the colonial governments, and
placed (secondarily) under the command of Colonel
George Washington. In that army I had an uncle
whose name was John Jemison, who was killed at
the battle of the Great Meadows, or Fort Necessity
His wife had died some time before this, and left a
young child, which my mother nursed in the most
tender manner, till its mother’s sister took it away













prºh-HE-WA-MS. 27.
a few months after my uncle's death. The French
and Indians, after the surrender of Fort Necessity
by Col. Washington, (which happened the same
season, and soon after his victory over them at that
place,) grew more and more terrible. The death
of the whites, and the plundering and burning their
property, was apparently their only object: But as
yet we had not heard the death-yell, nor seen the
smoke of a dwelling that had been lit by an Indian's
hand.
The return of a new-year’s day found us unmo-
tested; and though we knew that the enemy was at
no great distance from us, my father concluded that
he would continue to occupy his land another season:
expecting (probably from the great exertions which
the government was then making) that as soon as
the troops could commence their operations in the
spring, the enemy would be conquered and compelled
to agree to a treaty of peace.
In the preceding autumn my father either moved
to another part of his farm, or to another neighbor-
hood, a short distance from our former abode. I
well recollect moving, and that the barn that was on
the place we moved to was built of logs, though the
house was a good one.
The winter of 1754–5 was as mild as common
fall seasons, and spring presented a pleasant seed
time, and indicated a plenteous harvest. My father,
with the assistance of his oldest sons, repaired his
farm as usual, and was daily preparing the soil for
the reception of seed. His cattle and sheep were
numerous, and according to the best idea of wealth
that I can now form, he was wealthy.
But alas! how transitory are all human affairs!
how fleeting are riches! how brittle the invisible
thread on which all earthly comforts are suspended!

28 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
Peace in a moment can take an immeasurable flight;
health can lose its rosy cheeks; and life will vanish
like a vapor at the appearance of the sun! In one
fatal day our prospects were all blasted; and death,
by cruel hands, inflicted upon almost the whole of
the family. -
My education had received as much attention from
my parents, as their situation in a new country would
admit I had been at school some, where I lear-
ned to read in a book that was about half as large
as a Bible; and in the Bible I had read a little. I
had also learned the Catechism, which I used fre-
quently to repeat to my parents; and every night,
before I went to bed, I was obliged to standup before
my mother and repeat some words that I supposed
was a prayer. -
My reading, catechism, and prayers, I have long
since forgotten; though for a number of the first
years that I lived with the Indians, I repeated the
prayers as often as I had an opportunity. After the
revolutionary war, I remembered the names of some
of the letters when I saw them; but have never read
a word since I was taken prisoner. It is but a few
years since a Missionary kindly gave me a Bible.
which I am very fond of hearing my neighbors read
to me, and should be pleased to learn to read it my-
self; but my sight for a number of years has been
so dim, that I have not been able to distinguish one
letter from another.

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 20
CHA P T E R II.
On a pleasant day in the spring of 1755, when my
father was sowing flax-seed, and my brothers driving
the teams, I was sent to a neighbor’s house, a dis-
tance of perhaps a mile, to procure a horse and
return with it next morning. I went as I was direc-
ted. I went out of the house to which I had been
sent in the beginning of the evening, and saw a
sheet wide spread approaching toward me, in which
I was caught (as I have ever since believed) and
deprived of my senses! The family soon found me
on the ground, almost lifeless (as they said,) took
me in, and made use of every remedy in their power
for my recovery, but without effect till day-break,
when my senses returned, and I soon found myself
in good health, so that I went home with the horse
very early in the morning.
The appearance of that sheet, I have ever consid-
ered as a forerunner of the melancholy catastrophe
that so soon afterwards happened to our family: and
my being caught in it, I believe, was ominous of
my preservation from death at the time we were
captured.
As I before observed, I got home with my horse
very early in the morning, where I found a man
who lived in our neighborhood, and his sister-in-law
who had three children, one son and two daughters.
* I soon learned that they had come there to live a
short time; but for what purpose I cannot say. The
woman’s husband, however, was at that time in
Washington’s army, fighting for his country; and as
her brother-in-law had a house she had lived with
him in his absence. Their names I have forgotten.
Immediately after I got home, the man took the
30 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
horse to go to his own house after a bag of grain, and
took his gun in his hand for the purpose of killing
some game, if he should chance to see any. Our
family as usual, were busily employed about their
common business. Father was shaving an axe-helve
at the side of the house; mother was making prep-
arations for breakfast; my two oldest brothers were
at work near the barn; and the little ones, with
myself, and the woman and her three children,
were in the house.
Breakfast was not yet ready when we were
alarmed by the discharge of a number of guns that
seemed to be near. Mother and the woman before
mentioned, almost fainted at the report, and every
one trembled with fear. On opening the door, the
man and horse lay dead near the house, having just
been shot by the Indians.
I was afterwards informed, that the Indians dis-
covered him at his own house with his gun, and pur-
sued him to father’s where they shot him as I have
related. They first secured my father, and then
rushed into the house, and without the least resis-
tance made prisoners of my mother, brothers and
sister, the woman, her three children and myself,
and then commenced plundering.
My two brothers, Thomas and John, being at the
barn, escaped and went to Virginia, where my
grandfather Erwin then lived, as I was informed by
a Mr. Fields, who was at my house about the close
of the revolutionary war.
The party that took us consisted of six Indians and
four Frenchmen, who immediately commenced plun:
dering, as I just observed, and took what they coº
sidered most valuable; consisting principally of
bread, meal and meat. Having taken as much prº-
vision as they could carry, they set out with the










DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 31
-
prisoners in great haste for fear of detection, and
soon entered the woods. On our march that day,
an Indian went behind us with a whip, with which
he frequently lashed the children to make them keep
up. In this manner we travelled till dark without
a mouthful of food or a drop of water, although we
had not eaten since the night before. Whenever
the little children cried for water, the Indians would
make them drink urine or go thirsty. At night they
encamped in the woods, without fire and without
shelter, where we were watched with the greatest
vigilance. Extremely fatigued, and very hungry,
we were compelled to lie upon the ground, without
supper or a drop of water to satisfy the cravings of
our appetites. As in the day time, so the little
ones were made to drink urine in the night if they
cried for water. Fatigue alone brought us a little
sleep for the refreshment of our weary limbs; and
at the dawn of day we were again started on our
march, in the same order that we had proceeded
the day before. About sunrise we were halted, and
the Indians gave us a full breakfast of provision
that they had brought from my father’s house. Each
of us being very hungry, partook of this bounty of
the Indians, except father, who was so much over-
come with his situation—so much exhausted by anx-
iety and grief, that silent despair seemed fastened
upon his countenance, and he could not be prevailed
upon to refresh his sinking nature by the use of a
morsel of food. Our repast being finished, we again
resumed our march, and before moon passed a small
fort that I heard my father say was called Fort
Canagojigge. -
That was the only time that I heard him speak
from the time we were taken till we were finally
separated the following night.

32 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
-
Towards evening we arrived at the border of a
dark and dismal swamp, which was covered with
small hemlocks or some other evergreen, and vari-
ous kinds of bushes, into which we were conducted;
and having gone a short distance, we stopped to en-
camp for the night.
Here we had some bread and meat for supper;
but the dreariness of our situation, together with the
uncertainty under which we all labored, as to our
future destiny, almost deprived us of the sense of
hunger, and destroyed our relish for food.
Mother, from the time we were taken, had mani.
fested a great degree of fortitude, and encouraged
us to support our troubles without complaining; and
by her conversation, seemed to make the distance
and time shorter, and the way more smooth. But
father lost all his ambition in the beginning of our
trouble, and continued apparently lost to every care
—absorbed in melancholy. Here, as before, she
insisted on the necessity of our eating; and we
obeyed her, but it was done with heavy hearts.
As soon as I had finished my supper, an Indian ,
took of my shoes and stockings, and put a pair of
moccasins on my feet, which my mother observed:
and believing that they would spare my life, even
if they should destroy the other captives, addressed
me as near as I can remember, in the following
words:–
“My dear little Mary, I fear that the time has
arrived when we must be parted for ever. You!"
life, my child, I think will be spared; but we shall
probably be tomahawked here in this lonesom
place by the Indians. Oh! how can I part with
you my º What will become of my sweet it
tle Mary! Oh! how can I think of your being cº-
tinued in captivity without a hope of your being

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 33
rescued! Oh that death had snatched you from my
embraces in your infancy; the pain of parting then
would have been pleasing to what it now is; and I
should have seen the end of your troubles! Alas, my
dear my heart bleeds at the thought of what awaits
you; but, if you leave us, remember my child your
own name, and the name of your father and mother.
Be careful and not forget your English tongue. If
you shall have an opportunity to get away from the
Indians, don’t try to escape; for if you do they will
find and destroy you. Don't forget, my little daugh-
ter, the prayers that I have learned you-say them
often; be a good child, and God will bless you.-
May God bless you, my child, and make you com-
fortable and happy.” -
During this time, the Indians stripped the shoes
and stockings from the little boy that belonged to the
woman who was taken with us, and put moccasins
on his feet, as they had done before on mine. I
was crying. An Indian took the little boy and my-
self by the hand, to lead us off from the company,
when my mother exclaimed, “Don’t cry, Mary–
don’t cry, my child. God will bless you! Farewell
–farewell!”
The Indian ledus some distance into the bushes, or
woods, and there laydown with us to spend the night.
The recollection of parting with my tender mother
kept me awake, while the tears constantly flowed
from my eyes. A number of times in the night the
little boy begged of me earnestly to run away with
him and get clear of the Indians; but remembering
the advice I had so lately received, and knowing the
dangers to which we should be exposed, in travel-
ling without a path and without a guide, through a
wilderness unknown to us, I told him that I would
not go, and º him to lie still till morning.
34 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
Early the next morning the Indians and French-
men that we had left the night before, came to us;
but our friends were left behind. It is impossible
for any one to form a correct idea of what my feel-
ings were at the sight of those savages, whom I sup-
posed had murdered my parents and brothers, sister
and friends, and left them in the swamp to be de-
voured by wild beasts! But what could I do? A poor
little defenceless girl; without the power or means
of escaping; without a home to go to, even if I
could be liberated; without a knowledge of the di-
rection or distance to my former place of residence;
and without a living friend to whom to fly for pro-
tection, I felt a kind of horror, anxiety, and dread,
that, to me, seemed insupportable. I durst not cry
—I durst not complain; and to inquire of them the
fate of my friends (even if I could have mustered
resolution) was beyond my ability, as I could not
speak their language, nor they understand mine-
My only relief was in silent stified sobs.
My suspicions as to the fate of my parents proved
too true; for soon after I left them they were killed
andscaped, together with Robert, Matthew, Betsey
and the woman and her two children, and mangled
in the most shocking manner. -
Having given the little boy and myself some
bread and meat for breakfast, they led us on as
fast as we could travel, and one of them went be:
hind with a long staff, poking up all the grass and
weeds that we trailed down by going over them.
By taking that precaution they avoided detection:
for each weed was so nicely placed in its natural
position that no one would have suspected that wº
had passed that way. It is the custom of Indians,
when scouting, or on private expeditions, to step
carefully and where no impression of their feet ºn














DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 35
be left—shunning wet or muddy ground. They
seldom take hold of a bush or limb, and never break
one; and by observing these precautions and that
of setting up the weeds and grass which they neces.
sarily lop, they completely elude the sagacity of
their pursuers, and escape that punishment which
they are conscious they merit from the hand of jus-
tice.
After a hard day's march we encamped in a
thicket, where the Indians made a shelter of boughs,
and then built a good fire to warm and dry our be-
numbed limbs and clothing; for it had rained some
through the day. Here we were again fed as be-
fore. When the Indians had finished their supper.
they took from their baggage a number of scalps
and went about preparing them for the market, or to
keep without spoiling, by straining them over small
hoops which they prepared for that purpose, and then
drying and scraping them by the fire. Having put
the scalps, yet wet and bloody, upon the hoops, and
stretched them to their full extent, they held them to
the fire till they were partly dried, and then with
their knives commenced scraping off the flesh; and
in that way they continued to work, alternately dry-
ing and scraping them, till they were dry and clean.
That being done they combed the hair in the neat-
est manner, and then painted it and the edges of the
scalps, yet on the hoops, red. Those scalps I knew
at the time must have been taken from our family
by the color of the hair. My mother's hair was
red; and I could easily distinguish my father’s and
the children’s from each other. That sight was
most appaling; yet, I was obliged to endure it with-
out complaining. In the course of the night they
made me to understand that they should not have
killed the family if the whites had not pursued them.

36 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
Mr. Fields, whom I have before mentioned, in-
formed me that at the time we were taken, he lived
in the vicinity of my father; and that on hearing of
our captivity, the whole neighborhood turned out in
pursuit of the enemy, and to deliver us if possible;
but that their efforts were unavailing. They howe-
wer pursued us to the dark swamp, where they
found my father, his family and companions, strip-
ped and mangled in the most inhuman manner: that
from thence the march of the cruel monsters could
not be traced in any direction; and that they retur-
ned to their homes with the melancholy tidings of
our misfortunes, supposing we had all shared in the
massacre.
The next morning we pursued our journey, an
Indian going behind us and setting up the weeds as
on the day before. At night we encamped on the
ground in the open air, without a shelter or fire.
In the morning we again set out early, and tra-
velled as on the two former days, though the weather
was extremely uncomfortable, from the continual
falling of rain and snow.
At night the snow fell fast, and the Indians built
a shelter of boughs, and kindled a fire, where we
rested tolerably dry through that and the two suc-
ceeding nights.
When we stopped, and before the fire was kindled,
I was so much fatigued from running, and so far
benumbed by the wet and cold, that I expected that
I must fail and die before I could get warm a
comfortable. The fire, however, soon restored the
circulation of blood, and after I had taken my sup:
per, I felt so that I rested well through the night
On account of the storm, we were two days at
that place. On one of those days, a party consis:
ing of six Indians who had been to the frontier set
|

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 37
tlements, came to where we were, and brought with
them one prisoner, a young white man who was
very tired and dejected. His name I have forgotten.
Misery certainly loves company. I was extremely
glad to see him, though I knew from his appear-
ance, that his situation was as deplorable as my
own, and that he could afford me no kind of assist-
ance. In the afternoon the Indians killed a deer,
which they dressed, and then roasted whole; which
made them a full meal. We were each allowed a
share of their venison, and some bread, so that we
made a good meal also.
Having spent three nights and two days at that
place, and the storm having ceased, early in the
morning the whole company, consisting of twelve
Indians, four Frenchmen, the young man, the little
boy and myself, moved on at a moderate pace, with-
out taking the previously adopted precautions to
obliterate or hide our trail.
In the afternoon we came in sight of Fort Du
Quesne, (since Fort Pitt, now Pittsburg) where we
halted, while the Indians performed some ceremo-
nies in conformity to their customs on such occa-
sions. That fort was then occupied by the French
and Indians. It stood at the junction of the Monon-
gahela, (Falling-in-Banks,) and Allegany rivers,
where the Ohio river begins to take its name. The
word O-hi-o, signifies bloody.
At the place where we halted, the Indians combed
the hair of the young man, the boy and myself,
and then painted our faces and hair red, in the ſº
nest Indian style. We were then conducted into
the fort, where we received a little bread, and were
then shut up in an uninhabited house, and left to
arry alone through the night.

88 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
C H A P T E R III.
The night was spent in gloomy forebodings—
What the result of our captivity would be, it was
out of our power to determine or even imagine.
At times we could almost realize the approach of
our masters to butcher and scalp us; again we
could nearly see the pile of wood kindled on which
we were to be roasted; and then we would imagine
ourselves at liberty, alone and defenceless in the
forest, surrounded by wild beasts that were ready to
devour us. The anxiety of our minds drove sleep
from our eyelids; and it was with a dreadful hope
and painful impatience that we waited for the morn-
ing to determine our fate.
The morning at length arrived, and our masters
came early and let us out of the house, and gave the
young man and boy to the French, who immediately
took them away. Their fate I never learned, as I
have not seen nor heard of them since.
I was now left alone in the fort, deprived of my
former companions, and of every thing that was
near or dear to me but life. But it was not long
before I was in some measure relieved by the ap-
pearance of two pleasant looking squaws of the Se:
neca tribe, who came and examined me attentively
for a short time, and then went out. After a few
minutes absence they returned in company with my
former masters, who gave me to the squaws to dis-
pose of as they pleased.
The Indians by whom I was taken were a party
of Shawanees, if I remember right, that lived, when
at home, a long distance down the Ohio.
My former Indian masters, and the two squº;
were soon ready to leave the fort, and accordingly
DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 39
embarked; the Indians in a large canoe, and the
two squaws and myself in a small one, and went
down the Ohio. When we set off, an Indian in the
forward canoe took the scalps of my former friends,
strung them on apole that he placed upon his shoul-
der, and in that manner carried them, standing in the
stern of the canoe directly before us as we sailed down
the river, to the town where the two squaws resided.
On the way we passed a Shawanee town, where
I saw a number of heads, arms, legs, and other
fragments of the bodies of some white people who
had just been burned. The parts that remained were
hanging on a pole which was supported at each end
by a crotch stuck in the ground, and were roasted
or burnt black as a coal. The fire was yet burning;
and the whole appearance afforded a spectacle so
shocking, that, even to this day, the blood almost
curdles in my veins when I think of them!
At night we arrived at a small Seneca Indian
town, at the mouth of a small river that was called
by the Indians, in the Seneca language, She-man-jee,
about eighty miles by water from the fort, where
the two squaws to whom I belonged resided. There
we landed, and the Indians went on; which was the
last I ever saw of them.
Having made fast to the shore, the squaws left
me in the canoe while they went to their wigwam
or house in the town, and returned with a suit of
Indian clothing, all new, and very clean and nice.
My clothes, though whole and good when I was
taken, were now torn in pieces, so that I was al-
most naked. They first undressed me and threw
my rags into the river; then washed me clean and
dressed me in the new suit they had just brought, in
complete Indian style; and then led me home and
seated me in the center of their wigwam. -


40 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
I had been in that situation but a few minutes be.
fore all the squaws in the town came in to see me
I was soon surrounded by them, and they immed.
ately set up a most dismal howling, crying bitterly,
and wringing their hands in all the agonies of grief
for a deceased relative.
Their tears flowed freely, and they exhibited all
the signs of real mourning. At the commencement
of this scene, one of their number began, in a voice
somewhat between speaking and singing, to recite
some words to the following purport, and continued
the recitation till the ceremony was ended; the com:
pany at the same time varying the appearance of
their countenances, gestures, and tone of voice, sº
as to correspond with the sentiments expressed by
their leader:
“Oh our brother! alas! he is dead—he has gone:
he will never return! Friendless he died on the field
of the slain, where his bones are yet lying unburied
Oh, who will not mourn his sad fate? Notears drop-
ped around him: oh, no! No tears of his sisters were
There! He fell in his prime, when his arm was mos.
needed to keep us from danger! Alas! he has gone
and left us in sorrow, his loss to bewail: Oh where
is his spirit? His spirit went naked, and hungry iſ
wanders, and thirsty and wounded it groans to rº
turn! Oh helpless and wretched, our brother has
gone! No blanket nor food to nourish and warm
him; nor candles to light him, nor weapons of wº
Oh, none of those comforts had hel But well wº
remember his deeds–The deer he could take on the
chase. The panther shrunk back at the sight of his
strength. His enemies fell at his feet. He was brº
and courageous in war. As the ſawn he was harm
less: his friendship was ardent: his temper ""
gentle; his pity was great! Oh! our friend, our º'

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 41
panion is dead! Our brother, our brother, alas! he
is gone! But why do we grieve for his loss? In the
strength of a warrior, undaunted he left us, to fight
by the side of the Chiefs. His war-whoop was shrill!
His rifle well aimed laid his enemies low: his toma-
hawk drank of their blood: and his knife flayed
their scalps while yet covered with gore! And why
do we mourn! Though he fell on the field of the
slain, with glory he fell, and his spirit went up to
the land of his fathers in war! Then why do we
mourn? With transports of joy they received him,
and fed him, and clothed him, and welcomed him
there! Oh friends, he is happy; then dry up your
tears! His spirit has seen our distress, and sent us a
helper whom with pleasure we greet. Deh-he-wa-
mis has come: then let us receive her with joy!—
she is handsome and pleasant! Oh! she is our sister,
and gladly we welcome her here. In the place of
our brother she stands in our tribe. With care we
will guard her from trouble; and may she be happy
till her spirit shall leave us.”
In the course of that ceremony, from mourning
they became serene—joy sparkled in their counte-
nances, and they seemed to rejoice over me as over
a long lost child I was made welcome amongst
them as a sister to the two squaws before mentioned,
and was called Deh-he-wa-mis; which being inter-
preted, signifies a pretty girl, a handsome girl, or a
pleasant, good thing. That is the name by which
I have ever since been called by the Indians.
I afterwards learned that the ceremony I at that
time passed through, was that of adoption. The two
Equaws had lost a brother in Washington's war,
sometime in the year before, and in consequence of
his death went up to Fort Du Quesne on the day on
which I arrived there, in order to receive a prisoner

42 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
or an enemy’s scalp, to supply their loss. It is a
custom of the Indians, when one of their number
is slain or taken prisoner in battle, to give to the
nearest relative of the dead or absent, a prisoner,
if they have chanced to take one, and if not, to
give him the scalp of an enemy. On the return
of the Indians from conquest, which is always an:
nounced by peculiar shoutings, demonstrations of
joy, and the exhibition of some trophy of victory,
the mourners come forward and make their claims.
If they receive a prisoner it is at their option either
to satiate their vengeance by taking his life in the
most cruel manner they can conceive of, or to re.
ceive and adopt him into the family, in the place of
him whom they have lost. All the prisoners that
are taken in battle and carried to the encampment
or town by the Indians, are given to the bereaved
families, till their number is made good. And un-
less the mourners have but just received the news
of their bereavement and are under the operation of
a paroxysm of grief, anger, or revenge; or, unles
the prisoner is very old, sickly, or homely, they gº
nerally save them and treat them kindly. But it
their mental wound is fresh, their loss so great that
they deem it irreparable, or if their prisoner or prº
soners do not meet their approbation, no torture, le.
it be ever so cruel, seems sufficient to make them
satisfaction. It is family, and not national sacriſ:
ces amongst the Indians, that has given them an in
delible stamp as barbarians, and identified their chº
racter with the idea which is generally formed of un-
feeling ferocity, and the most barbarous cruelty.
It was my happy lot to be accepted for adoptiºn
At the time of the ceremony I was received by the
two squaws to supply the place of their brother ".
the family; and I was ever considered and tº
DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 43
-
by them as a real sister, the same as though I had
been born of their mother.
During the ceremony of my adoption, I sat mo-
tionless, nearly terrified to death at the appearance
and actions of the company, expecting every mor
ment to feel their vengeance, and suffer death on the
spot. I was, however, happily disappointed, when
at the close of the ceremony the company retired,
and my sisters commenced employing every means
for my consolation and comfort.
Being now settled and provided with a home, I
was employed in nursing the children, and doing
light work about the house. Occasionally I was sent
out with the Indian hunters, when they went but a
short distance, to help them carry their game. My
situation was easy; I had no particular hardships to
endure. But still, the recollection of my parents,
my brothers and sisters, my home, and my own cap-
tivity, destroyed my happiness, and made me con-
stantly solitary, lonesome, and gloomy.
My sisters would not allow me to speak English
in their hearing; but remembering the charge that
my dear mother gave me at the time I left her,
whenever I chanced to be alone I made a business
of repeating my prayer, catechism, or something I
had learned in order that I might not forget my own
language. By practising in that "...i retaind it
till I came to Genesee flats, where I soon became
acquainted with English people with whom I have
been almost daily in the habit of conversing.
My sisters were very diligent in teaching me
their language; and to their great satisfaction, I
soon learned so that I could understand it readily,
and speak it fluently. I was very fortunate in fail-
ing into their hands; for they were kind, good na-
tured women; peaceable and mild in their disposi-



44 Deh-hºº-wa-Mis.
tions; temperate and decent in their habits, and
very tender and gentle towards me. I have great
reason to respect them, though they have been dead
a great number of years.
he town where they lived was pleasantly situa.
ted on the Ohio, at the mouth of the Shenanjee.
the land produced good corn; the woods furnished
plenty of game, and the waters abounded with
fish. Another river emptied itself into the Ohio,
directly opposite the mouth of the Shenanjee. We
spent the summer at that place, where we planted,
hoed, and harvested a large crop of corn of excel.
lent quality.
About the time of our corn harvest, Fort Du
Quesne was taken from the French by the English.
and called Fort Pitt.
The corn being harvested, the Indians took it on
horses and in canoes, and with us proceeded down
the Ohio, occasionally stopping to hunt a few days
till we arrived at the mouth of Sciota river; where
they established their winter quarters, and continuº
hunting till the ensuing spring, in the adjacent will
derness. While at that place I went with the other
children to assist the hunters to bring in their game
The forests on the Sciota were well stocked with
elk, deer, and other large animals; and the marshes
contained large numbers of beaver, muskrat, &c.
which made excellent hunting for the Indians: whº
depended, for their meat, upon their successin taking.
elk and deer; and for ammunition and clothing upº
the beaver, muskrat, and other furs that they could
take in addition to their peltry.
The season for hunting being passed. We all tº
turned in the spring to the mouth of the riº
nanjee, to the houses and fields we had left in "
fall before. There we again planted out º

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 45
squashes, and beans, on the fields that we occupied
the preceding Summer. -
About planting time, our Indians all went up to
Fort Pitt, to make peace with the British, and took
me with them. We landed on the opposite side of
the river from the fort, and encamped for the night.
Early the next morning the Indians took me over to
the fort to see the white people who were there. It
was then that my heartbounded to beliberated from
the Indians and to be restored to my friends and my
country. The white people were surprised to see
me with the Indians, enduring the hardships of a
savage life, at so early an age, and with so delicate
a constitution as I appeared to possess. They asked
me my name; where and when I was taken—and
appeared very much interested on my behalf. They
were continuing their enquiries, when my sisters
became alarmed, and believing I should be taken
from them, hurried me into their canoe and recrossed
the river—took their bread out of the fire and fled
with me, without stopping, till they arrived at the
river Shenanjee. So great was their fear of losing
me, or of my being given up in the treaty, that
they never once stopped rowing till they got home.
Shortly after we left the shore opposite the fort,
as I was informed by one of my Indian brothers,
the white people came over to take me back; but
after considerable inquiry, and having made diligent
search to find where I was hid, they returned with
heavy hearts. Although I had then been with the
Indians something over a year, and had become
considerably habituated to their mode of living, and
attached to my sisters, the sight of white people who
could speak English inspired me with an unspeaka-
ble anxiety to go home with them, and share in the
blessings of civilization. My sudden departure and

46 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
escape from them, seemed like a second captivity,
and for a long time I brooded over the thoughts of
my miserable situation with almost as much sorrow
and dejection as I had done over those of my first
sufferings. Time, the destroyer of every affection,
wore away my unpleasant feelings, and I became
as contented as before. We tended our cornfields
through the summer; and after we had harvested the
crop, we again went down the river to the hunting
grounds on the Sciota, where we spent the winter,
as we had done the winter before.
Early in the spring we sailed up the Ohio river
to a place that the Indians called Wi-ish-to, where
one river emptied into the Ohio on one side, and
another on the other, about eighty or ninety miles
above the mouth of the Sciota. At that place the
Indians built a town, and we planted corn.
We lived three summers at Wishto, and spent
each winter on the Sciota.
The first summer of our living at Wishto, a
party of Delaware Indians came up the river, took
up their residence, and lived in common with us
They brought five white prisoners with them, who
by their conversation, made my situation much
more agreeable, as they could all speak English.
have forgotten the names of all of them except one
which was Priscilla Ramsay. She was a very
handsome, good natured girl, and was married soon
after she came to Wiishto to Captain Little Billy's
uncle, who went with her on a visit to her friends.
in the states. Having tarried with them as long tº
she wished to, she returned with her husband to
Can-a-ah-tua, where he died. She, after his death.
married a white man by the name of Nettles, and
now lives with him (if she is living) on Grand River,
Upper Canada. -

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 47
| Not long after the Delawares came to live with
us at Wishto, my sisters told me that I must go and
live with one of them whose name was She-nin-jee.
Not daring to cross them or disobey their commands,
with a great degree of reluctance I went; and
Sheninjee and I were married according to Indian
custom. -
Sheninjee was a noble man; large in stature;
elegant in his appearance; generous in his conduct;
courageous in war; a friend to peace, and a great
lover of justice. He supported a degree of dignity
far above his rank, and merited and received the
confidence and friendship of all the tribes with whom
he was acquainted. Yet, Sheninjee was an Indian.
The idea of my spending my days with him, at first
seemed perfectly irreconcilable to my feelings; but
his good nature, generosity, tenderness, and friend-
ship towards me, soon gained my affection; and,
strange as it may seem, I loved him!—To me he was
ever kind in sickness, and always treated me with
gentleness; in fact, he was an agreeable husband,
and a comfortable companion. We lived happily
together till the time of our final separation, which
happened two or three years after our marriage.
In the second summer of my living at Wishto, I
had a child at the time that the kernels of corn first
appeared on the cob. When I was taken sick,
Sheninjee was absent, and I was sent to a small
shed, on the bank of the river, which was made of
boughs, where I was obliged to stay till my husband
returned. My two sisters, who were my only com-
panions, attended me, and on the second day of my
confinement my child was born; but it lived only
two days. It was a girl: and notwithstanding the
shortness of the time that I possessed it, it was a
great grief to me to lose it.
48 beh-he-wa-Mis.
After the birth of my child, I was very sick, but
was not allowed to go into the house for two weeks.
when, to my great joy, Sheninjee returned, and I
was taken in and as comfortably provided for as our
situation would admit. My disease continued to in-
crease for a number of days; and I became so far
reduced that my recovery was despaired of by my
friends, and I concluded that my troubles would soon
be finished. At length, however, my complaint took
a favorable turn, and by the time the corn was
ripe I was able to get about. I continued to gain
my health, and in the fall was able to go to out
winter quarters, on the Sciota, with the Indians.
From that time, nothing remarkable occurred tº
me till the fourth winter of my captivity, when I
had a son born, while I was at Sciota: I had a quick
recovery, and my child was healthy. To commem:
orate the name of my much lamented father, Icalled
my son Thomas Jemison.


DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 49
CHAPTER IV.
In the spring, when Thomas was three or four
moons [months] old, we returned from Sciota to
Wishto, and soon after set out to go to Fort Pitt,
to dispose of our furs and skins that we had taken in
the winter, and procure some necessary articles for
the use of our family.
I had then been with the Indians four summers
and four winters, and had become so far accustomed
to their mode of living, habits, and dispositions, that
my anxiety to get away, to be set at liberty and
leave them, had almost subsided. With them was
my home; my family was there, and there I had
many friends to whom I was warmly attached in
consideration of the favors, affection, and friendship
with which they had uniformly treated me from the
time of my adoption. Our labor was not severe;
and that of one year was exactly similar in almost
every respect, to that of the others, without that
endless variety that is to be observed in the common
labor of the white people. Notwithstanding the In-
dian women have all the fuel and bread to procure,
and the cooking to perform, their task is probably
not harder than that of white women, who have
those articles provided for them; and their cares.
certainly are not half as numerous, nor as great.
In the summer season, we planted, tended, and har-
vested our corn, and generally had all our children
with us; but had no master to oversee or drive us,
so that we could work as leisurely as we pleased.
We had no ploughs on the Ohio, but performed the
whole process of planting and hoeing with a small
tool that resembled, in some respects, a hoe with a
very short handle.
D
50 DLII-Hº-WA-MIS.
We pursued our fºrming busines according to the
general custom of Indian women, which is as ſo.
lows: In order to expedite their business, and at the
same time enjoy each other's company, they all work
together in one field, or at whatever job they may
have on hand. In the spring they choose an old
active squaw to be their driver and overseer when
at labor, for the ensuing year. She accepts the
honor, and they consider themselves bound to obey
her. -
When the time for planting arrives and the soil
is prepared, the squaws are assembled in the mor-
ning and conducted into a field, where each plants
one row. They then go into the next field and
plant once across, and so on till they have gone
through the tribe. If any remains to be plantº
they again commence where they did at first (in
the same field,) and so keep on till the whole is in:
ished. By this rule they perform their labor of
every kind, and every jealousy of one having done
more or less than another is effectually avoided.
Each squaw cuts her own wood; but it is all
brought to the house under the direction of the
Overseer.
Their method of computing time was by moons
and winters: a moon is a month and the time from
the end of one winter to that of another, a year. |
From sunset till sunrise they say that the sun is
asleep ºn the old of the moon, when it does nº
s' in ºne night, they say it is dead. The ºr
early at the sight of the new moon.
er to commemorate great events and prº
sº the chronology of them, the war Chieſ in
keeps a war post. This post is a peeled tº
tº be ten or twelve feet high, that is erº
ºne town. For a campaign they make, or ºther
-
-
-


-
pºst-wa-mts. 5.
the Chief makes, a perpendicular red mark, about
three inches long and half an inch wide; on the op-
posite side from this, for a scalp. they make a red
cross; thus, --, on another side, for a prisoner taken
alive, they make a red cross in this manner, tº
with a head or dot, and by placing such significant
hieroglyphics in so conspicuous a situation, they
are enabled to ascertain with great certainty the
time and circumstances of past events.
Hiokatoo had a war-post on which was recorded
his military exploits, and other things that he thought
worth preserving. -
Our cooking consisted in pounding our corn into
samp or homminy, boiling the homminy, making
now and then a cake and baking it in the ashes, and
in boiling or roasting our venison. As our cooking
and eating utensils consisted of a homminy block
and pestle, a small kettle, a knife or two, and a few
vessels of bark or wood, it required but little time
to keep them in order for use.
Spinning, weaving, sewing, stocking knitting,
and the like, are arts which have never been prac-
ticed in the Indian tribes generally. After the re-
volutionary war, I learned to sew, so that I could
make my own clothing after a poor fashion; but I
have been wholly ignorant of the application of the
other domestic arts since my captivity. In the sea-
son of hunting, it was our business in addition to our
cooking to bring home the game that was taken by
the Indians, dress it, and carefully preserve the eat-
able meat, and prepare or dress the skins. Our
clothing was fastened together with strings of deer
skin, and tied on with the same.
in that manner we lived, without any of those
jealousies, quartels, and revengeful battles between
families and individuals, which have been common

52 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
in the Indian tribes since the introduction of ardent
spirits amongst them. -
The use of ardent spirits amongst the Indians,
and a majority of the attempts which have been
made to civilize them by the white people, has con-
stantly made them worse and worse; increased their
vices, and robbed them of many of their virtues, and
will ultimately produce their extermination. I have
seen in a number of instances, the effects of educa-
tion upon some of our Indians, who were taken
when young, from their families, and placed at
school before they had had an opportunity to con-
tract many Indian habits, and there kept till they
arrived to manhood; but I have never seen one of
those but what was an Indian in every respect after
he returned. Indians must and will be Indians, in
spite of all the means that can be used to instruct
them in the arts and sciences.
One thing only marred my happiness while !
lived with them on the Ohio, and that was the re-
collection that I once had tender parents, and a
home that I loved. Aside from that recollection
which could not have existed had I been taken in
my infancy, I should have been contented in my
situation. Notwithstanding all that has been said
against the Indians, in consequence of their cruel:
ties to their enemies—cruelties that I have witness-
ed and had abundant proof of it is a fact that they
are naturally kind, tender, and peaceable towards
their friends, and strictly honest; and that those crº-
elties have been practiced only upon their enemies
according to their idea of justice.
At the time we left Wishto, it was impossible for
me to suppress a sigh on parting with thos.
who had truly been my friends—with those whom I
had every reason to respect. On account of a pº

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 53
of our family living at Genishau, or Genesee, we
thought it doubtful whether we should return di-
rectly from Fort Pitt, or go from thence on a visit
to see them. -
Our company consisted of my husband, my two
Indian brothers, my little son, and myself. We em-
barked in a canoe that was large enough to contain
ourselves and our effects, and proceeded up the river.
Nothing remarkable occurred to us on our way,
till we arrived at the mouth of a creek which She-
ninjee and my brothers said was the outlet of San-
dusky lake; where, as they said, two or three Eng-
lish traders in fur and skins had kept a trading
house but a short time before, though they were
then absent. We had passed the trading house but
a short distance when we met three white men float-
ing down the river, with the appearance of having
been recently murdered by the Indians. We sup-
posed them to be the bodies of the traders, whose
store we had passed the same day. Sheninjee being
alarmed for fear of being apprehended as one of the
murderers if he should go on, resolved to put about
immediately, and we accordingly returned to where
the traders had lived, and there landed.
At the trading house we found a party of Shaw-
nee Indians, who had taken a young white man pri-
soner, and had just begun to torture him for the sole
purpose of gratifying their curiosity in exulting at
his distress. They at first made him stand up,
while they slowly pared his ears and split them into
strings; they then made a number of slight inci-
sions in his face, and bound him on the ground,
rolled him in the dirt, and rubbed it in his wounds;
some of them at the same time whipping him with
small rods! The poor fellow cried for *Y and
yelled most piteously.
54 DEH-HC-WA-MIS,
The sight of his distress seemed too much for me
to endure: I begged of them to desist—I entreated
them with tears to release him. At length they
regarded my intercessions, and set him at liberty.
He was shockingly disfigured, bled profusely, and
appeared to be in great pain: but as soon as he was
liberated he made offin haste, which was the last I
saw of him. -
We soon learned that the same party of Shawnees
had, but a few hours before, massacred the three
white traders whom we saw in the river, and had
plundered their store. We however were not mo:
lested by them, and after a short stay at that place,
moved up the creek about forty miles to a Shawnee
town, which the Indians called Gaw-gush-shaw-ga.
(which being interpreted signifies a mask ºr " falsº
face.) The creek that we went up was called Can-
dusky. It was now summer; and having tarried a
few days at Gawgushshawga, we moved on up the
creek to a place that was called Yis-kah-wa-na.
(meaning in English open mouth.)
As I have before observed, the family to which
belonged was part of a tribe of Seneca Indians, whº
lived at that time at a place called Genishau, from
the name of the tribe that was situated on a river of
the same name, which is now called Genesee. The
word Genishau signifies a shining, clear, or 90°
place. Those of us who lived on the Ohio, had tº
quently received invitations from those at Genish"
by one of my brothers who usually went and reº
ned every season, to come and live with them, ºn
my two sisters had been gone almost two years
While we were at Yiskahwana, my brother tº
arrived there from Genishau, and insisted so strºn
ously upon our going home with him, that ºn
brothers concluded to go, and to take me with ti
-








DEn-HE-WA-MIs.
55
By this time the summer was gone, and the time
for harvesting corn had arrived. My brothers, for
fear of the rainy season setting in early, thought it
best to set out immediately that we might have good
travelling. Sheninjee consented to have me go with
my brothers; but concluded to go down the river
himself with some fur and skins which he had on
hand, spend the winter hunting with his friends, and
come to me in the spring following.
That was accordingly agreed upon, and Sheninjee
set out for Wilshto; and my three brothers and my-
self, with my little son on my back, at the same
time set out for Genishau. We came on to Upper
Sandusky, to an Indian town which we found deserted
by its inhabitants, in consequence of their having
recently murdered some English traders, who re-
sided amongst them. That town was owned and
had been occupied by Delaware Indians, who when
they left it, buried their provisions in the earth, in
order to prevent their enemies enjoying it, or to have
a supply for themselves if they should chance to
return. My brothers understood the customs of the
Indians when they were obliged to fly from their
enemies; and suspecting that their corn at least must
have been hid, made diligent search, and at length
found a large quantity of it, together with beans,
sugar and honey, so carefully buried that it was
completely dry and as good as when they left it.
As our stock of provision was scanty, we considered
ourselves extremely fortunate in finding so season-
able a supply, with so little trouble. Having caught
two or three horses that we found there, and fur-
lished ourselves with a good store of food, we
travelled on till we came to the mouth of ºpene
Creek, where we hunted two days, and from thence
came on to Connevango Creek, where we stayed
56 DEH-HE-WA-MS.
eight or ten days, in consequence of our horses
having left us and strayed into the woods. The
horses, however, were found, and we again pre-
pared to resume our journey. During our stay
at that place the rain fell fast, and had raised
the creek to such a height that it was seemingly
impossible for us to cross it. A number of times
weventured in, but were compelled to return, barely
escaping with our lives. At length we succeeded in
swimming our horses and reached the opposite
shore; though I and my little boy but just escaped
from being drowned. From Sandusky the path that
we travelled was crooked and obscure; but was tol-
erably well understood by my oldest brother, who
had travelled it a number of times, when going to
and returning from the Cherokee wars. The fall
by this time was considerably advanced, and the
rains, attended with cold winds, continued daily tº
increase the difficulties of travelling. From Conne.
wango we came to a place, called by the Indians
Che-ua-shung-gau-tau, on the Allegany river, at the
mouth of what is now called Cold-Spring creek, in
the town of Napoli, Cattaraugus County, State of
New-York, and from that to U-na-waum-gwa, or
Tu-ne-un-gwan, º means an eddy, not strong.)
where the early frosts had destroyed the corn so that
the Indians were in danger of starving for the wan
of bread. Having rested ourselves two days at that
place, we came on to Caneadea and stayed one day.
and then continued our march until we arrived a
Little Beards Town, in Gen-ish-a-u, at that time a
large Seneca Town, thickly inhabited.
Those only who have travelled on foot the distance
of five or six hundred miles, through an almos
pathless wilderness can form any idea of the fatigº
and sufferings that I endured on that journey. My





DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 57
clothing was thin and illy calculated to defend me
from the continually drenching rains with which I
was daily completely wet, and at night with nothing
but my wet blanket to cover me, I had to sleep on
the naked ground, and generally without a shelter,
save such as nature provided. In addition to all
that, I had to carry my child, then about nine
months old, every step of the journey on my back,
or in my arms, and provide for his comfort and pre-
vent his suffering, as far as my poverty of means
would admit. Such was the fatigue that I some-
times felt, that I thought it impossible for me to go
through, and I would almost abandon the idea of even ,
trying to proceed. My brothers were attentive, and
at length, as I have stated, we reached our place of
destination, in good health, and without having ex-
perienced a day's sickness from the time we left
Yiskahwana. - -
We were kindly received by my Indian mother
and the other members of the family, who appeared
to make me welcome; and my two sisters, whom I
had not seen in two years, received me with every
expression of love and friendship, and that they re-
ally felt what they expressed, I have never had the
least reason to doubt. The warmth of their feel-
ings, the kind reception which I met with, and the
continued favors that I received at their hands, riv-
etted my affection for them so strongly that I am
constrained to believe that I loved them as I should
have loved my own sister had she lived, and I had
been brought up with her.
-


58 pen-hºº-wa-Mis.
CHA PTE R V.
Having conducted the principal subject of our
narrative to Geº-shºu or Little Beards Town, on
the banks of Genesee River, whereon within the
space of twelve miles along that stream she has
since resided seventy-two years of her life—this
likewise being the ground on which most of the
scenes we are about to relate, whether of joy or sor.
row, pleasure or pain, whether ludicrous or horri-
ble, were enacted, we will give the reader a brief
geographical sketch of the country, and point out
the localities of the places thereon, and those in the
surrounding country, most of which have already
been, or will hereafter be, referred to in this narra-
tive. -
It will be understood that in describing Indian vil-
lages &c., we have relation to their then state, for
some of them have long since been deserted by the
Indians, and demolished by the whites; and at this
time, 1842, all those on the Genesee River have
ceased to exist, scarce leaving a memorial or trace
to point out the spot on which they stood. It will
likewise be observed, that the distances herein given
are according to the Indian trails or paths usually
travelled by them in that early day.
A few remarks on Indian names and the Indian
language, in this place, may be serviceable to the
reader who is unacquainted with the significant ſº
perties of Indian proper names, and the monoto
sounds and full aspirations of the language of the
Iroquois. It has been often observed that a gº
discrepancy exists among writers, not only "
spelling, but in the necessary pronunciation of tº
dian names of the same persons or places. It



nºn-nº-wa-Mis. 59
quires but a short explanation tº elucidate the cause
ºf this difficulty. Among the Six Nations, not only
each nation converses in a different dialect, but each
tribe in the same nation have peculiarities in their
language not common in the other tribes, although
probably not varying more than the dialects in many
of the counties in England. -
All Indian names, whether of persons or places.
are significant of some supposed quality, appear-
ance, or local situation; and the Indians having no
written language originally, denominated persons
and places in conformity to such quality &c., in
their own dialect.
The better to be understood, we will mention a
particular case or two which will give a full expla:
nation to the position assumed: Red Jacket, the ce-
lebrated Indian orator, had six or seven different,
and in some instances, very dissimilar Indian names
as written or spoken; but they all meant in the dia-
lect to which they belonged, “Keeper Awake.”
The same remarks will apply to the name of the
creek which empties into Genesee River near Mount
Morris, generally called Canniskrauga, which has
four or five other quite different Indian names, all
meaning the same in English, to wit, “Among the
slippery Elms,” as the creek bore the name of an
Indian village through which it passed, the village
having been named from its local situation.
These explanations were obtained some years
since, from the late Capt. Horatio Jones, who was
º of the best. iſ not the best Indian linguist in
º country; and his explanation had an influential
bearing in an important land trial, as that creek
had been called by several very different Indian
* in the old title deeds of large tracts of land.
º "... - - -
ºr to have a correct idea of the pronuncia-


60 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
tion of Indian names, they must be divided into as
many monosyllabical words as there are syllables,
for so they originally were, and an h added to al.
most every syllable ending with a vowel. There.
fore, as is the case in the pronunciation of all sen.
tences composed of words of one syllable only, all
difference of accent is destroyed, and the Indians use
very little difference of emphasis. As examples
take the original names of Canandaigua and Seneca
as now spelt and pronounced; in the Seneca lan-
guage they were Cah-nan-dah-gwah and Seh-neh-
kah.
Formerly in using Indian names it was necessary
to pay some attention to the Indian pronunciation,
so as to be understood by the aborigines; but as they
together with their languages are fast fading from
among us, that necessity no longer exists. There:
fore it becomes necessary to Anglicise such names
and make them conform to the English pronuncia.
tion in as soft and smooth sounds as possible, to
which the letters composing the word when written
should be made to correspond. -
Little Beards Town, where Mary Jemison first
resided when she came to Genesee river, was the
most considerable Indian village or town in its viº
nity. We have no means at this time of ascertain
ing or even estimating its extent or population; hº
tradition as well as Mary Jemison, inform us that iſ
covered a large territory for a village, and that it
was thickly populated.
Its Chief or ruler was Little Beard, a strong
minded, ambitious, and cruel man, and an arbitrary
and despotic ruler.
This village stood near the north end of the twelve
miles in length heretofore mentioned, on the Gene-
see Flats on the west side of the river, between the

DEH-HE-WA-M18. 61
present villages of Geneseo and Moscow about mid-
Way, although nearest to Moscow and near the site
of the new village of Cuyler, on the Genesee Valley
Canal. -
The tract of country around its site has the most
delightful appearance imaginable, considering there
are no lofty snow-clad peaks, deafening cataracts, or
unfathomable dells to stamp it with the appellation
of romantic. The alluvial flats through which the
river meanders for four or five miles above and
many miles below, are from one mile to two miles
wide, as level as a placid lake, and as fertile to say
the least as any land in this state. Thousands of
acres of these flats were cleared of their timber when
Indian tradition commences their description. These
flats are encompassed on each side by a rolling
country, gradually rising as it recedes from the ri-
ver, but in no place so abrupt as to merit the cog-
nomen of a hill. This was the terrestrial paradise
of the Senecas, and to this tract they gave the name
of Gen-ish-a-u, Chen-ne-se-co, Gen-ne-se-o, or Gen-
ne-see, as pronounced by the different Indian tribes,
and being interpreted, all meaning substantially the
same, to wit, Shining-Clear-Opening, Pleasant-Clear
Qpening, Clear-Valley, or Pleasant-Open-Valley.
From this favorite spot Genesee river took its name,
and these flats at that early period, assumed and
still continue to retain exclusively the name of
Genesee flats, as a distinction from Gardeau, Can-
neadea, and other flats which bear local names al-
though lying on the same river.
Genesee river rises in Pennsylvania, and after
entering this state pursues its course with some ra-
pidity, a little west of north, through a hilly coun-
try, fºrming little if any alluvial flats, until it ap-
proaches Belvidere, (Judge Church’s Villa near
62. DEIH-HE-WA-MIS.
Angelica,) about twenty miles from Pennsylvania
line. From thence it continues the same general
course with less rapidity, winding its way through
flats of a greater or less width, to a point in Cane.
adea, about thirty-three miles from Pennsylvania
line, following the general course of the river,
where it alters to east of north, which direction
it pursues until it falls into Lake Ontario. From
Belvidere to this bow, or rather angle in the river,
and from the angle to the falls below Portage.
ville, the flats are enclosed on each side by high
lands, although not precipitous or lofty. The river
continues to run with moderate rapidity through flats
from this angle to near Portageville, where the
highlands close in to the river banks. -
At Portageville, about fifteen miles from the angle
at Caneadea, begin the great Portage falls in this
river. From the upper falls to Mount Morris and
Squawkie Hill, a distance of sixteen miles, the
river runs through a chasm, the sides of which are
the greater part of the distance, formed by solid and
almost or quite perpendicular walls of rock, from
two to four hundred feet high. In some place
however these walls diverge so far from each other,
as to allow spots of excellent alluvial flats to be º
med on one side of the river or the other, and in
some places on both. -
Immediately above the upper falls theſe exist
all the appearance of a ridge of rock having "
run across the river, in which case it would hº
raised the water some two hundred feet above ".
present level, and of course formed a lake from on
to two miles wide, and extending back ove t
Caneadea and other flats, to Belvideº "
tance of twenty-eight or thirty miles; but " ".
this was the case, the river has centuries "8" Cl











prº-HE-WA-MIS. 63
- -
- . . .
through this ridge, and formed ºdºlº º
where it stood, above and opposite º
The river, after apparently cutting through his
ridge, precipitates itself into the chasm below - y
somewhat broken, although What would be º
perpendicular fall of sixty-six feet. º º
at this place is about twelve rods wide, after whic
it flows through the chasm on a smooth rock bottom.
Halt a mile below the upper falls, the river,
(where it is about fifteen rods wide,) again precipi-
tates itself, in an unbroken sheet, one hundred and
ten feet perpendicularly into a deeper channel, for-
ming the “Middle Falls.” The magnificence and
beauty of these falls is not exceeded by anything
of the kind in the state, except the cataract of Nia-
ara. On the west side of the river at the top of
the falls, is a small flat piece of land, or rather
rock, on which is a saw mill and several dwelling
houses, which can be approached down a ravine
from the west, with any kind of carriage. The
stream pursues its course in the same direction, pent
within its rock-bound and precipitous shores, about
two miles, where it takes its third and last leap in
this vicinity of ninety-three feet, into a still deeper
chasm: the greater body of water falling on the
eastern side, where a portion of it falls into a kind
of hanging rock basin, about one third of the dis.
tance down, and then takes another leap. This fall
ºn be approached on the east side by pedestrians
with perfect safety.
The river then pursues its northeastern course
through its deep and narrow channel to Gardeau
Flat about five miles from the lower falls. The
bººks of the river, or rather the land borderin 9 on
the chasm the greater portion of this distance, s
ºvered with elegant white and Norway pine. At

64 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
the upper end of the Gardeau flats is the Great
Slide, which has been so often noticed as a great
curiosity.
In the month of May, 1817, a portion of the land
on the west side of the river, thickly covered with
heavy timber, suddenly gave way, and with a tre.
mendous crash slid into the bed of the river, which
it so completely filled that the stream formed a new
channel on the east side of it, where it continues to
run. This slide as it now lies contains twenty-two
acres, and has a considerable share of the timber
that formerly covered it, still standing erect and
growing, although it has suffered the shock produ:
ced by a fall of some two hundred feet below its
former elevation.
The Gardeau Flats are from eighty to one hun-
dred and twenty rods wide, and extend two miles
and a quarter down the river, lying mostly on the
west side of it. There are several ravines and de-
pressions in the high banks on both sides of the ri:
ver at the upper end of these flats, so that a road
has been made which admits the passage of carria-
ges from the highlands on one side of the river to
the highlands on the other, a bridge having been
erected across the river; this place above the slide
is called St. Helena. Some four miles below St.
Helena is Smoky Hollow, containing from two tº
three hundred acres of alluvial flats, approachable
from the west only with safety, and in that direction
through a ravine and down a steep declivity: this
was within Mrs. Jemison’s original reservation.
Below this place three or four miles, the river tº:
ceives the outlet of Silver Lake. This lake or
pond is a beautiful pellucid sheet of water, thrº
and a half miles long, and from half to three-fourths
of a mile in breadth, lying about four miles west of








DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 65
and several hundred feet above the Genesee river,
thereby creating a vast water power for so small a
stream. -
some distance below the entrance of the outlet of
Silver Lake into the river, is from twenty to twen-
ty-five acres of alluvial flats in a perfect dell. It
was purchased many years ago by a man who now
resides on it, although his land extends over the
high bank, and includes handsome level land there.
It is certain that he and his family do go in and out
of this dell, and that he gets in cattle and other do-
mestic animals, but it would test the science of an
engineer to ascertain how he effects it.
At the distance of eleven miles from St. Helena
is Mount Morris, on the right or eastern side of the
river, and Squawkie Hill on the left or western.
These are not mountains or even hills, within the
common acceptance of the words: but merely a
descent of two or three hundred feet, (and that not
abrupt, nor is its existence in any particular line of
demarkation, observable) from the upper plateau of
land through which the depressed channel of Gene-
see river runs, down to Genesee flats.
From Mount Morris and Squawkie Hill, where
the river disgorges itself from the thraldom of its
rocky and precipitous banks, it moves slowly, taking
a serpentine course through the Genesee and other
flats; the high grounds on each side gradually di-
minishing in height, and the alluvial flats decreas-
ing in width in proportion, until the stream merely
ºws in its shallow channel through a champaign
country, before it reaches the great falls at Roches-
ter, near forty miles from Mount Morris, where,
after passing the rapids, it falls ninety-six feet per-
pendicularly into a chasm below, through which it
flows one and º half miles further, and then passes
+
66 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
two more perpendicular falls, within a short dis.
tance of each other, the upper one of twenty-five
feet, and the lower of eighty-four feet. At the foot
of these falls the river becomes navigable for steam.
boats, and runs sluggishly five miles through a deep
ravine a portion of the way to its mouth, where iſ
disembogues itself into Lake Ontario.
Bigtree village, which bore the name of one of its
chiefs, was a small village lying a mile and a half
north of Little Beards Town. Ten miles still fur.
ther down the river was situated Cannewagus village
a place of some note for a sub-village; this was the
residence of the patriarch Hot Bread.
Tonnewanda Indian village, whose inhabitants
have always been remarkable for their peaceable
and quiet disposition, is situated on the Tonnewanda
creek, about forty miles northwest of Little Beards
Town, on the great Indian trail from east to west
passing through this country. The “Great Bend"
of the Tonnewanda creek, between Little Beards
Town and the Tonnewanda village, where the vil:
lage of Batavia now stands, was a noted camping
ground for the Indians while passing to and from
this trail. Still farther northwest, thirty-two miles
from Tonnewanda village is Tuscarora village, inhº
bited by the most civilized, agricultural, mechani-
cal, and commercial tribe of the Six Nations. Lew:
iston is three miles west of Tuscarora village, an
Fort Niagara is seven miles north of Lewiston, mº
king the whole route from Little Beards Town tº
Fort Niagara, following this trail, eighty-two miles
From Lewiston seven miles south, was Fort Schlºs
ser, a mere stockade fort; the “Devil's Hole” bein
about midway between those two points. Fº
Schlosser was at the northern termination of the
navigable waters of the Niagara river above the










DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 67
falls; and this seven miles from Lewiston to Schlos-
ser, was the only place requiring land trasportation
for men, stores, or merchandize from Quebec to
Fort Mackinaw, or indeed from the Atlantic Ocean
to the end of Lake Superior. These forts therefore,
Niagara and Schlosser, were considered very im-
portant by the contending parties in olden times,
the French and the English.
From Tonnewanda village about twenty-five
miles southwesterly, lies the first Indian village, on
the Buffalo creek, along which and its several bran-
ches there are a number of Indian villages and sin-
gle wigwams. Up the shore of Lake Erie in a
southwestern direction, about thirty-five miles from
Buffalo creek, is the village of Cattaraugus, situated
on the creek of the same name, two or three miles
from its mouth, being about one hundred miles from
Little Beards Town following this circuitous trail,
which was the one always travelled by the Indians
unless an experienced runner took a shorter cut at
his own hazard, in a case of emergency.
East of Little Beards Town are Conesus, Hem-
lock, Candice, Honeoye, Canandaigua, and Seneca
Lakes; five miles west of the foot of the latter stood
the famous Indian and tory head quarters called
the “Old Castle.” The foot of Canandaigua lake
is about ten miles west of the Old Castle, and thrity-
four miles east of Little Beards Town.
The Indian village of Can-me-skrau-gah, mean-
ing “among the slippery elms,” was situated about
fourteen miles southeasterly of Mount Morris on a
creek of the same name, which empties into Gene-
see river near the latter place. This village stood
on or near the ground now occupied by the village
of Dansville. East of the junction of Genesee river
and Canneskraugah creek, extending some distance
68 DEH-HE-ºw A-M18.
up the creek and down the river, was a sparsely
settled Indian village or settlement, which appeared
to be a kind of suburb of Geneshau or Little Beards
Town.
Squawkie Hill village, lying about two miles
south of Little Beards Town, was a great resort for
the Indians to enjoy their sportive games, gymnas,
tic feats, and civic festivals.
Canneadea Indian village or rather villages, were
situated up the Genesee river on the Canneadea
flats, beginning at the mouth of Wiscoy, meaning
“Many Fall,” Creek twenty miles from Mount
Morris, and extending up the river at intervals eight
or nine miles, nearly to the great angle in the ri-
ver. From the southern end of Canneadea. Indian
settlement southwesterly about forty-five miles on
the Allegany river, is the small Indian village call.
ed by Mrs. Jemison U-na-waum-gwa, but now
known as Tu-me-un-gwan. Further down the river
is Kill Buck’s town at the mouth of Great Valley
creek, and Buck Tooth’s town at the mouth of Lit:
tle Valley creek. Below these is Che-na-shung
gan-tan or Te-ush-un-ush-un-gau-tau, being at the
mouth of what is now called Cold Spring creek in
the town of Napoli, Cattaraugus county, N. Y.
This village is about eighteen miles below Tu-nº-
un-gwan. Below these are several Indian sett
ments along the river, the most considerable
which is Cornplanter’s settlement, extending sever
ral miles along the river, Cornplanter himself be
ing located near the center.
Of the population of the several Indian villagº
and settlements at the time Mrs. Jemison emigrate
to this section of country, we can make no estimº
and even in latter years, so wandering are the hº
bits of the Indians, that a village may be filled ”










pen-nº-wa-Mis. 69
overflowing apparently with residents one month,
and be almost depopulated the next. Their manner
of lodging, cooking, and eating greatly facilitates
their migratory propensities, as one large cabin
will as well accommodate fifty as five. A deer skin
for a bed, a large kettle for a boiler, hot ashes or
embers for an oven, a bark trough for a soup dish
and platter, a chip for a plate, a knife, (which each
carries.) a sharp stick for a fork, and perhaps a
wooden spoon and tin cup, comprehends a complete
set of household furniture, cooking and eating uten-
sils. Even at this day the only time the number of
individuals who compose a tribe is known or pre-
tended to be known, is when they are about to re-
ceive their annuities; and it is then impossible to
ascertain a “local habitation or a name” for but
few of the individuals for whom annuities are drawn
as belonging to such tribe.
The following statement of the numbers and lo-
cation of the Indians composing the Six Nations
in 1823, is a specimen of the precision adopted in
the transaction of our public business relative to In-
dian affairs. This account was obtained from Capt.
Horatio Jones, who was the United States agent for
paying the annuities to the Six Nations.
The individuals belonging to the Six Nations in
the state of New-York, are located on their reser-
vations from Oneida lake westward to Lake Erie
and Allegany river, and amount to five thousand.
Those located in Ohio on the Sandusky river
amount to six hundred and eighty-eight, to wit,
three hundred and eighty Cayugas, one hundred
Senecas, sixty-four Mohawks, sixty-four Oneidas,
and eighty Onondagas. The bulk of the Mohawks
". with some of each of the other five nations,
reside on the Grand river in Upper Canada.


70 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
C H A P T E R V I.
When we arrived at Genishau, the Indians of
that tribe were making active preparations for join-
ing the French, in order to assist them in retaking
Fort Ne-a-gaw (as Fort Niagara was called in the
Seneca language) from the British, who had taken
it from the French in the month preceding. They
marched off the next day after our arrival, painted
and accoutred in all the habiliments of Indian war-
fare, determined on death or victory; and joined the
army in season to assist in accomplishing a plan
that had been previously concerted for the destruc-
tion of a part of the British army. The British
feeling themselves secure in the possession of Fort
Neagaw, and unwilling that their enemies should
occupy any of the military posts in that quarter,
determined to take Fort Schlosser, lying a few miles
up the river from Neagaw, which they expected to
effect with but little loss. Accordingly a detach-
ment of soldiers, sufficiently numerous as was sup-
posed, was sent out to take it, leaving a strong gar-
rison in the fort, and marched off well prepared to
effect their object. But on their way they were
surrounded by the French and Indians who lay in
ambush to receive them, and were driven back with
great loss. Our Indians were absent but a few days,
and returned in triumph, bringing with them two
white prisoners, and a number of oxen. Those
were the first meat cattle that were ever brought to
Genesee flats.
The next day after their return to Geneshau, was
set apart as a day of feasting and frolicking, at the
expense of the lives of their two unfortunate prº
soners, on whom they purposed to glut their tº:










DEH-RE-WA-MS. 71
venge, and satisfy their love for retaliation upºn
their enemies. My sister was anxious to attend the
execution, and to take me with her to witness the
customs of the warriors, as it was one of the highest
kind of frolicks ever celebrated in their tribe, and
one that was not often attended with so much pomp
and parade as it was expected that would be. I felt
a kind of anxiety to witness the scene, having ºver
attended an execution, and yet I felt a kind of hor:
rid dread that made my heart revolt, and inclined
me to step back rather than support the idea of ad-
vancing. On the morning of the execution, she
made her intention of going to the frolick and taking
me with her, known to our mother, who in the most
feeling terms remonstrated against a step at once so
rash and unbecoming the true dignity of our sex.
“How, my daughter, (said she, addressing my
sister.) how can you even think of attending the
feast and seeing the unspeakable torments that those
poor unfortunate prisoners must inevitably suffer
from the hands of our warriors? How can you stand
and see them writhing in the warrior's fire, in all
the agonies of a slow, a lingering death? How can
you think of enduring the sound of their groanings
and prayers to the Great Spirit for sudden deliver-
ance from their enemies, or from life? And how
can you think of conducting to that melancholy spot
your poor sister Deh-he-wa-mis, (meaning myself.)
who has so lately been a prisoner, who has lost her
parents and brothers by the hands of the bloody
warriors, and who has felt all the horrors of the loss
of her freedom, in lonesome captivity! Oh! how
ºn you think of making her bleed at the wounds
which are now but partially healed. The recollec-
tion of her former troubles would deprive us of Deh-
he-wa-mis, and she would depart to the fields of the
72 DEn-HE-WA-MS.
blessed, where fighting has ceased, and the corn
needs no tending—where hunting is easy, the for-
ests delightful, the summers are pleasant, and the
winters are mild!—Oh! think once, my daughter,
how soon you may have a brave brother made pri-
soner in battle, and sacrificed to feast the ambition
of the enemies of his kindred, and leave us to mourn
for the loss of a friend, a son and a brother, whose
bow brought us venison, and supplied us with blan-
kets!—Our task is quite easy at home, and our bu-
siness needs our attention. With war we have no-
thing to do: our husbands and brothers are proud to
defend us, and their hearts beat with ardor to meet
our proud foes. Oh! stay then, my daughter;
let our warriors alone perform on their victims their
customs of war!”
This speech of our mother had the desired effect;
we stayed at home and attended to our domestic
concerns. The prisoners, however, were executed
by having their heads taken off, their bodies cut in
pieces and shockingly mangled, and then burnt tº
ashes!—They were burnt on the north side of Fall
brook, directly opposite the town which was on the
south side, some time in the month of November,
1759. -
Our Indians were also among those who, layed
in ambush on the Niagara river to intercept a party
of the British who were guarding a quantity of bº
gage from Lewiston to Fort Schlosser. When
the British party arrived at the designated point, the
Indians arose from their ambush and drove the Bii-
tish of the bank of the river, into a place called the
Devil’s Hole, together with their horses, carriº
and loading, and everything belonging to the pºrº
Notaman escaped being driven off and of the whole
number, one only was fortunate enough to es”










pen-nº-wa-Mis. 73
with life. [See Appendix-Tragedy of the Devil's
Hole.]
I spent the winter comfortably, and as agreeably
as I could have expected, in the absence of my
kind husband. Spring at length appeared, but She-
ninjee was yet away; summer came ºn: but my
husband had not found me Fearful forebodings
haunted my imagination; yet I felt confident that
his affection for me was so great that if he was alive
he would follow me and I should again see him. In
the course of the summer, however, I received in-
telligence that soon after he left me at Yishahwana
he was taken sick and died at Wishto. This was
a heavy and an unexpected blow. I was now in
my youthful days left a widow, with one son, and
was entirely dependent on myself for his and my
support. My mother and her family gave me all
the consolation in their power, and in a few months -
my grief wore off and I became contented.
In a year or two after this, according to my best
recollection of the time, the King of England offer-
ed a bounty to those who would bring in the prison-
ers that had been taken in the war, to some n
tary post where they might be redeemed and set at
liberty. -
John Van Sice, a Dutchman, who had frequently
been at our place, and was well acquainted with
every prisoner at Genishau, resolved to take me to
Niagara, that I might there receive my liberty and
he, the offered bounty. I was notified of his inten-
tion; but as I was fully determined not to be re-
deemed at that time, especially with his assistance,
I ºreſully watched his movements in order to avoid
falling into his hands. It so happened, however,
that he saw me alone at work in a cornfield, and
thinking probably that he could secure me easily,
74 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
ran towards me in great haste. I espied him at
some distance, and well knowing the intent of his
errand, run from him with all the speed I was mis-
tress of, and never once stopped till I reached Gar-
deau. He gave up the chase and returned; but I,
fearing that he might be lying in wait for me, stayed
three days and three nights in an old cabin at Gar-
deau, and then went back, trembling at every step,
for fear of being apprehended. I got home without
difficulty; and soon after, the chiefs in council hav-
ing learned the cause of my elopement, gave orders
that I should not be taken to any military post with:
out my consent; and that as it was my choice to
stay, I should live amongst them quietly and undis.
turbed. But notwithstanding the will of the chiefs,
it was but a few days before the old king of our
tribe told one of my Indian brothers that I should
be redeemed, and he would take me to Niagara him:
self. In reply to the old king, my brother said that
I should not be given up; but, that as it was my
wish, I should stay with the tribe as long as I was
pleased to. Upon this a serious quarrel ensued be:
tween them, in which my brother frankly told him
that sooner than I should be taken by force, he
would kill me with his own hands! Highly enrº
ged at the old king, my brother came to my sister's
house where I resided, and informed her of all that
had passed respecting me; and that, if the old king
should attempt to take me, as he firmly believed he
would, he would immediately take my life, and hº
zard the consequences. He returned to the old
king. As soon as I came in, my sister told in
what she had just heard, and what she expected
without doubt would befal me. Full of pity, and
anxious for my preservation, she then directed me
to take my child and go into some high weeds a "


DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 75
great distance from the house, and there hide my-
self and lay still till all was silent in the house, for
my brother, she said, would return at evening and
let her know the final conclusion of the matter, of
which she promised to inform me in the following
manner: If I was to be killed, she said she would
bake a small cake and lay it at the door, on the
outside, in a place that she then pointed out to me.
When all was silent in the house, I was to creep
softly to the door, and if the cake could not be found
in the place specified, I was to go in: but if the
cake was there, I was to take my child and go as
fast as I possibly could to a large spring on the
south side of Samp's Creek, (a place that I had of:
ten seen,) and there wait till I should by some
means hear from her.
Alarmed for my own safety, I instantly followed
her advice, and went into the weeds, where I lay
in a state of the greatest anxiety, till all was silent
in the house, when I crept to the door, and there
found, to my great distress, the little cake! I knew
my fate was fixed, unless I could keep secreted till
the storm was over; and accordingly crept back to
the weeds where my little Thomas lay, took him
ºn my back and laid my course for the spring as
fast as my legs would carry me. Thomas was
nearly three years old, and very large and heavy.
I got to the spring early in the morning, almost
overcome with fatigue, and at the same time fear-
ing that I might be pursued and taken, I felt my
life an almost insupportable burthen. I sat down
with my child at the spring, and he and I made a
breakfast of the little cake, and water of the spring,
which I dipped and supped with the only implement
hich I possessed, my hand. On the morning after
led as was expected, the old king came to our

76 - DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
house in search of me, to take me off; but as I
was not to be found, he gave me up, and went to
Niagara with the prisoners he had already got into
his possession. -
As soon as the old king was fairly out of the
way, my sister told my brother where he could find
me. He immediately set out for the spring, and
found me about noon. The first sight of him
made me tremble with the fear of death; but when
he came near, so that I could discover his counte-
nance, tears of joy flowed down my cheeks, and I
felt a kind of instant relief, such as no one can pos.
sibly experience unless when under the absolute
sentence of death he receives an unlimited pardon.
We were both rejoiced at the failure of the old
king’s project; and after staying at the spring
through the night, set out together for home early
in the morning. When we got to a cornfield near
the town, my brother secreted me till he could go
and ascertain how my case stood; and finding that
the old king was absent, and that all was peaceable
he returned to me and I went home joyfully.
Not long after this my mother went to Johnstown,
on the Mohawk river, with five prisoners, who were
redeemed by Sir William Johnson and set at liberty.
When my son Thomas was three or four years
old, I was married to an Indian whose name was
Hiokatoo, commonly called Gardeau, by whom I
had four daughters and two sons. I named my
children, principally, after my relatives from whom
I was parted, by calling my girls Jane, Nºnº
Betsey, and Polly, and the boys John and Jess".
Jane died about twenty-nine years ago, in the
month of August, a little before the great Council
at Big-Tree, aged about fifteen years. My other
daughters are yet living, and have families.
DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 77
CHA P T E R W II.
After the conclusion of the French war, our
tribe had nothing to do till the commencement of
the American Revolution. For twelve or fifteen
years the use of the implements of war was not
known, nor the war-whoop heard, save on days of
festivity, when the achievements of former times
were commemorated in a kind of mimic warfare,
in which the chiefs and warriors displayed their
prowess, and illustrated their former adroitness, by
laying the ambuscade, º their enemies, and
performing many accurate manoeuvres with the
tomahawk and scalping knife; thereby preserving
and handing to their children, the theory of Indian
warfare. During that period they also pertina-
ciously observed the religious rites of their proge-
nitors, by attending with the most scrupulous exact-
ness and a great degree of enthusiasm to the sacri-
fices, at particular times, to appease the anger of
e evil deity, or to excite the commiseration of the
Great Good Spirit, whom they adored with reve-
rence, as the author, governor, supporter, and dis-
Fº of every good thing of which they participa-
ted.
They also practiced in various athletic games,
such as running, wrestling, leaping, and playing
ball, with a view that their bodies might be more
supple, or rather that they might not become ener-
vated, and that they might be enabled to make a
proper selection of Chiefs for the councils of the
nation and leaders for war.
While the Indians were thus engaged in their
round of traditionary performances, with the addi-
tion of hunting, their women attended to agricul-


78 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
ture, their families, and a few domestic concerns
of small consequence, and attended with but little
labor.
No people can live more happy than the Indians
did in times of peace, before the introduction of
spiritous liquors amongst them. Their lives were
a continual round of pleasures. Their wants were
few and easily satisfied; and their cares were only
for to-day; the bounds of their calculation for ſu-
ture comfort not extending to the incalculable un-
certainties of to-morrow. If peace ever dwelt with
men, it was in former times, in the recess from
war, amongst what are now termed barbarians
The moral character of the Indians was " I may
be allowed the expression) uncontaminated. Their
fidelity was perfect, and became proverbial; they
were strictly honest; they despised deception and
falsehood; and chastity was held in high veneration,
and a violation of it was considered sacrilege. They
were temperate in their desires, moderate in their
passions, and candid and honorable in the expres:
sion of their sentiments on every subject of impor:
tance.
Thus, at peace amongst themselves and with the
neighboring whites, though there were none at that
time very near, our Indians lived quietly and
peaceably at home, till a little before the breaking
out of the revolutionary war, when they were sent
for, together with the Chiefs and members of the
Six Nations generally, by the people of the States
to go to the German Flats, and there hold a general
council, in order that the people of the states migh
ascertain in good season, who they should estº"
and treat as enemies, and who as friends, in the
great war which was then upon the point of break-
ing out between them and the King of England.
-

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 79
Our Indians obeyed the call, and the council was
holden, at which the pipe of peace was smoked, and
a treaty made, in which the Six Nations solemnly
agreed that if a war should eventually break out,
they would not take up arms on either side; but that
they would observe a strict neutrality. With that,
the people of the states were satisfied, as they had
not asked their assistance, nor did they wish it. The
Indians returned to their homes well pleased that
they could live on neutral ground—surrounded by
the din of war, without being engaged in it.
About a year passed off, and we, as usual, were
enjoying ourselves in the employments of peaceable
times, when a messenger arrived from the British
Commissioners, requesting all the Indians of our
tribe to attend a general council which was soon to
be held at Oswego. The council convened, and
being opened, the British Commissioners informed
the Chiefs that the object of calling a council of the
Six Nations, was, to engage their assistance in sub-
duing the rebels, the people of the states, who had
risen up against the good King, their master, and
were about to rob him of a great part of his possess-
ions and wealth, and added that they would amply
reward them for their services.
The Chiefs then arose, and informed the Commis-
sioners of the nature and extent of the treaty which
they had entered into with the people of the states,
the year before, and that they should not violate it
by taking up the hatchet against them. -
The Commissioners continued their entreaties
without success, till they addressed their avarice, by
telling our people that the people of the states were
few in number, and easily subdued; and that on the
account of their disobedience to the King, they justly
merited all the punishment that it was possible for

80 DEH-HE-WA-Mls.
white men and Indians to inflict upon them; and ad.
ded, that the King was rich and powerful, both in
money and subjects: That his rum was as plenty as
the water in lake Ontario: that his men were as nu-
merous as the sands upon the lake shore:–and that
the Indians, if they would assist in the war, and per-
severe in their friendship to the King, till it was
closed, should never want for money or goods. Upon
this the Chiefs concluded a treaty with the Brit-
ish Commissioners, in which they agreed to take up
arms against the rebels, and continue in the service
of his Majesty till they were subdued, in considera-
tion of certain conditions which were stipulated in
the treaty to be performed by the British government
and its agents.
As soon as the treaty was finished, the Commis:
sioners made a present to each Indian of a suit of
clothes, a brass kettle, a gun and tomahawk, a scal-
ping knife, a quantity of powder and lead, a piece
of gold, and promised a bounty on every scalp that
should be brought in. Thus richly clad and equipped.
they returned home, after an absence of about two
weeks, full of the fire of war, and anxious to en-
counter their enemies. Many of the kettles which
the Indians received at that time are now in use on
the Genesee Flats.
Hired to commit depredations upon the whites,
who had given them no offence, they waited impº-
tiently to commence their labor, till sometime in the
spring of 1776, when a convenient opportunity of
fered for them to make an attack. At that time, a
party of our indians were at Cau-te-ga, who shot.”
man that was looking after his horse, for the sole
purpose, as I was informed by my Indian brother
who was present, of commencing hostilities. In May
following, our Indians were in the first battle with

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 81
the Americans; but at what place I am unable to
determine. While they were absent at that time,
my daughter Nancy was born. -
The same year, at Cherry Valley, our Indians
took a woman and her three daughters prisoners,
and brought them on, leaving one at Canandaigua,
one at Honeoye, one at Cattaraugus, and one (the
woman) at Little Beards Town, where I resided.
The woman told me that she and her daughters
might have escaped, but that they expected the Bri-
tish army only, and therefore made no effort. Her
husband and sons got away. After some time, they
were all taken to Fort Niagara, where they were
redeemed by Col. Butler, well clothed and sent
home, except one daughter, who was married to a
British officer at the fort, by the name of Johnson.
Johnson was of the party who captured her, at which
time he very unceremoneously took from her finger
a gold ring and appropriated it to his own use.
When he saw her again at Niagara he recognized
her, restored the ring so impolitely borrowed, cour-
ted and married her; and although the marriage
ceremony was celebrated in a wilderness, far from
the rendezvous of civilized society, and destitute of
the facilities of obtaining the elegancies, convenien-
ces, or even the necessaries of life, they were sin-
gularly provided with a wedding ring.
In the same expedition Joseph Smith was taken
prisoner at or near Cherry Valley, brought to Ge-
nesee, and detained till after the revolutionary war.
He was then liberated, and the Indians made him a
present, in company with Horatio Jones, of 6000
acres of land lying in the present town of Leicester,
in the county of Livingston.
Previous to the battle at Fort Stanwix, the Bri-
tish sent for ".Indians to come and see them whip
82 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
the rebels; and at the same time stated that they did
not wish to have them fight, but wanted to have
them just sit down, smoke their pipes, and look on.
Our Indians went, to a man; but contrary to their
expectation, instead of smoking and looking on,
they were obliged to fight for their lives, and in the
end of the battle were completely beaten, with a
great loss in killed and wounded. Our Indians alone,
had thirty-six killed, and a great number wounded.
Our town exhibited a scene of real sorrow and dis-
tress, when our warriors returned, recounted their
misfortunes, and stated the real loss they had sus-
tained in the engagement. The mourning was ex-
cessive, and was expressed by the most doleful yells,
shrieks, and howlings, and by inimitable gesticula-
tions. -
During the revolution my house was the home of
Col’s Butler and Brandt, whenever they chanced
to come into our neighborhood as they passed to and
from Fort Niagara, which was the seat of their mil-
itary operations. Many and many a night I have
pounded samp for them from sun-set till sun-rise,
and furnished them with the necessary provisions,
and clean clothing for their journey.
-


DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 83
CHAP TER VIII.
For four or five years we sustained no loss in the
war, except in the few who had been killed in dis-
tant battles; and our tribe, because of the remote-
ness of its situation from the enemy, felt secure
from an attack. At length, in the fall of 1779, in:
telligence was received that a large and powerful
army of the rebels, under the command of General
Sullivan, was making rapid progress towards our
settlement, burning and destroying the huts and
corn-fields; killing the cattle, hogs, and horses, and
cutting down the fruit trees belonging to the Indians
throughout the country. [See Appendix-General
Sullivan's Expedition.]
Our Indians immediately became alarmed, and
suffered everything but death, from fear that they
should be taken by surprise, and totally destroyed at
a single blow. But in order to prevent so great a
catastrophe, they sent out a few spies who were to
keep themselves at a short distance in front of the
invading army, in order to watch its operations, and
give information of its advances and success.
Sullivan arrived at Canandaigua lake, and had
finished his work of destruction there, and it was
ascertained that he was about to march to our flats,
when our Indians resolved to give him battle on the
way, and prevent, if possible, the distress to which
they knew we should be subjected if he should suc-
ceed in reaching our town. Accordingly they sent
all their women and children into the woods a little
west of Little Beards Town, in order that we might
make a good retreat if it should be necessary, and
then, well armed, set out to face the conquering en-
emy. The place which they fixed upon for their
84 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
battle ground, lay between Honeoye Creek and the
head of Conesus lake. At length a scouting party
from Sullivan’s army arrived at the spot selected,
when the Indians arose from their ambush with all
the fierceness and terror that it was possible for them
to exercise, and directly put the party upon a re-
treat. Two Oneida Indians were all the prisoners
that were taken in that skirmish. One of them was
a pilot of Gen. Sullivan's, and had been very active
in the war, rendering to the people of the states es:
sential services. At the commencement of the re-
volution he had a brother older than himself, who
resolved to join the British service, and endeavored
by all the art that he was capable of using, to per-
suade his brother to accompany him; but his argu-
ments proved abortive. One went to the British,
and the other to the American army. At this criti-
cal juncture they met, one in the capacity of a con-
queror, the other in that of a prisoner; and as an
Indian seldom forgets a countenance that he has
seen, they recognized each other at sight. Envy
and revenge glared in the features of the conquer-
ing savage, as he advanced to his brother (the pri-
soner) in all the haughtiness of Indian pride, heigh-
tened by a sense of power, and addressed him in the
following manner:
“Brother, you have merited death! The hatchet
or the war-club shall finish your career! When I
begged of you to follow me in the fortunes of war,
you was deaf to my cries—you spurned my entrea-
ties!
“Brother! you have merited death and shall have
your deserts! When the rebels raised their hatches
to fight their good master, you sharpened your knife,
you brightened your rifle and led on our foes to the
fields of our fathers! You have merited death and












DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 85
shall die by our hands. When those rebels had dri-
ven us from the fields of our fathers to seek out new
homes, it was you who could dare to step forth as
their pilot, and conduct them even to the doors of
our wigwams, to butcher our children and to put us
to death! No crime can be greater! But though
you have merited death and shall die on this spot.
my hands shall not be stained in the blood of a bro-
ther! Who will strike?”
Little Beard, who was standing by, as soon as
the speech was ended, struck the prisoner on the
head with his tomahawk, and dispatched him at
once! - -
Little Beard then informed the other Indian pri-
soner that as they were at war with the whites only,
and not with the Indians, they would spare his life,
and after a while give him his liberty in an honora-
ble manner. The Oneida warrior however, was
jealous of Little Beard's fidelity; and suspecting
that he should soon fall by his hands, watched for a
favorable opportunity to make his escape; which he
soon effected. Two Indians were leading him, one
on each side, when he made a violent effort, threw
them upon the ground, and run for his life towards
where the main body of the American army was
encamped. The Indians pursued him without suc-
cess; but in their absence they fell in with a small
detachment of Sullivan's men, with whom they had
a short but severe skirmish, in which they killed a
number of the enemy, took Capt. or Lieut. Thomas
Boyd and one private, prisoners, and brought them
to Little Beards Town, where they were soon after
put to death in the most shocking and cruel manner.
Little Beard in this, as in all other scenes of cruelty
that happened at his town, was master of ceremo-
nies and principal actor. Poor Boyd was stripped
86 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
of his clothing, and then tied to a sapling, where
the Indians menaced his life by throwing their toma-
hawks at the tree directly over his head, brandish-
ing their scalping knives around him in the most
frightful manner, and accompanying their ceremo-
nies with terrific shouts of joy. Having punished -
him sufficiently in this way, they made a small
opening in his abdomen, took out an intestine which
they tied to the sapling, and then unbound him from
the tree, and drove him round it till he had drawn
out the whole of his intestines. He was then be-
headed, his head was stuck upon a pole, and his
body left on the ground unburied. Thus ended the
life of poor Thomas Boyd, who it was said, had
every appearance of being an active and enterpri-
sing officer, of the first talents. [See Appendix-
Removal of the remains of Lieut. Boyd..] The
other was if I remember distinctly, only beheaded
and left near Boyd.
This tragedy being finished, our Indians again
held a short council on the expediency of giving
Sullivan battle, if he should continue to advance,
and finally came to the conclusion that they were
not strong enough to drive him, nor to prevent his
taking possession of their fields; but that if it was
possible, they would escape with their own lives,
preserve their families, and leave their possessions
to be overrun by the invading army.
The women and children were then sent on still
further towards Buffalo, to a large creek that was
called by the Indians Catawba, (Stony creek, which
empties into the Tonnewanda creek at Varysburg.
Wyoming county,) accompanied by a part of the
Indians, while the remainder secreted themselves in
the woods back of Little Beards Town, to watch
the movements of the army. -













DEH-HE-WA-MS. 87
At that time I had three children who went with
me on foot, one who rode on horseback, and one
whom I carried on my back. -
Our corn was good that year; a part of which we
had gathered and secured for winter.
In one or two days after the skirmish at Conesus
lake, Sullivan and his army arrived at Genesee
river, where they destroyed every article of the food
kind that they could lay their hands on. A part of
our corn they burnt, and threw the remainder into
the river. They burnt our houses, killed what few
cattle and horses they could find, destroyed our fruit
trees, and left nothing but the bare soil and timber.
But the Indians had eloped and were not to be
found.
Having crossed and recrossed the river, and fin-
ished the work of destruction, the army marched off
to the east. Our Indians saw them move off, but
suspecting that it was Sullivan's intention to watch
our return, and then to take us by surprise, resol-
ved that the main body of our tribe should hunt
where we then were, till Sullivan had gone so far
that there would be no danger of his returning to
molest us.
This being agreed to, we hunted continually till
the Indians concluded that there could be no risk in
our once more taking possession of our lands. Ac-
cordingly we all returned; but what were our feel-
ings when we found that there was not a mouthful
of any kind of sustenance left, not even enough to
keep a child one day from perishing with hunger.
The weather by this time had become cold and
stormy; and as we were destitute of houses and food
too. 1 immediately resolved to take my children and
look out for myself, without delay. With this in-
tention I took two of my little ones on my back,
88 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
bade the other three follow, and traveled up the ri-
wer to Gardeau flats, where I arrived that night.
At that time, two negroes who had run away
from their masters sometime before, were the only
inhabitants of those flats. They lived in a small
cabin and had planted and raised a large field of
corn, which they had not yet harvested. As they
were in want of help to secure their crop, I hired to
them to husk corn till the whole was harvested.
I have laughed a thousand times to myself, when
I have thought of the good old negro who hired me,
who fearing that I should get taken or injured by the
Indians, stood by me constantly when I was husking,
with a loaded gun in his hand, in order to keep of
the enemy, and thereby lost as much labor of his
own as he received from me, by paying good wages.
I however was not displeased with his attention; for
I knew that I should need all the corn that I could
earn, even if I should husk the whole. I husked
enough for them, to gain for myself, at every tenth
string, one hundred strings of ears, which were
equal to twenty-five bushels of shelled corn. This
seasonable supply made my family comfortable for
samp and cakes through the succeeding winter.
which was the most severe that I have witnessed
since my remembrance. The snow fell about five
feet deep, and remained so for a long time, and the
weather was extremely cold; so much so indeed,
that almost all the game upon which the Indians de-
pended for subsistence, perished, and reduced them
almost to a state of starvation through that and three
or four succeeding years. When the snow melted
in the spring, deer were found dead upon the ground
in vast numbers; and other animals of every de-
scription perished from the cold also, and were
found dead in multitudes. Many of our people














DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 89
barely escaped with their lives, and some actually
died of hunger and freezing. -
Having been completely routed at Little Beards
Town, deprived of a house, and without the means
of building one in season; after I had finished my
husking, and having found from the short acquaint-
ance which I had had with the negroes, that they
were kind and friendly, I concluded, at their re-
quest, to take up my residence with them for a while
in their cabin, till I should be able to provide a hut
for myself. I lived more comfortable than I ex-
pected to, through the winter, and the next season
made a shelter for myself.
The negroes continued on these flats two or three
years after this, and then left them for a place that
they expected would suit them much better. But
as that land became my own in a few years, by vir-
tue of a deed from the Chiefs of the Six Nations, I
have lived there º to the present time.
The next summer after Sullivan's campaign, our
Indians, highly incensed at the whites for the treat-
ment they had received, and the sufferings which
they had consequently endured, determined to ob-
tain some redress by destroying their frontier settle-
ments. Cornplanter, otherwise called John O'Bail,
led the Indians; and an officer by the name of John-
ston, commanded the British in the expedition. The
force was large, and so strongly bent upon exem-
plary retaliation and ample revenge, that appa-
rently nothing could avert its march, or prevent its
depredations. After leaving Genesee they marched
directly to some of the head waters of the Susque-
hannah river and Schoharie creek, went down that
ºreek to the Mohawk river, thence up that river to
Fort Stanwix, and from thence came home. In
their route they burnt a number of places, destroyed

90 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
all the cattle and other property that fell in their
way, killed a number of white people, and brought
home a few prisoners.
In that expedition, when they came to Fort Plain
on the Mohawk river, Cornplanter and a party of
his Indians took old John O'Bail, a white man, and
made him a prisoner. Old John O'Bail, in his
younger days had frequently passed through the In-
dian settlements that lay between the Hudson and
Fort Niagara, and in some of his excursions had be:
come enamored of a squaw, by whom he had a
son that was called Cornplanter.
Cornplanter was a chief of considerable emi-
nence; and having been informed of his parentage
and of the place of his father’s residence, took the
old man at this time, in order that he might make
an introduction leisurely, and become acquainted
with a man to whom, though a stranger, he was
satisfied that he owed his existence.
After he had taken the old man, his father, he
led him as a prisoner ten or twelve miles up the ri-
ver, and then stepped before him, faced about, and
addressed him in the following terms:—
“My name is John O'Bail, commonly called
Cornplanter. I am your son! you are my father
You are now my prisoner, and subject to the cus:
toms of Indian warfare; but you shall not be harmed;
you need not fear. I am a warrior! Many are the
-
scalps which I have taken! Many prisoners I have
tortured to death! I am your son! I am a warrior
I was anxious to see you and to greet you in friend-
ship. I went to your cabin and took you by force
But your life shall be spared. Indians love their
friends and their kindred, and treat them with kind.
ness. If now you choose to follow the fortune º
your yellow son, and to live with our people, I will
DEH-HE-WA-M1S. 91
cherish your old age with plenty of venison, and
you shall live easy; but if it is your choice to return
to your fields and live with your white children, I
will send a party of my trusty young men to Con-
duct you back in safety. I respect you, my father:
you have been friendly to Indians, and they are
our friends.” -
Old John chose to return. Cornplanter, as good
as his word, ordered an escort to attend him home,
which was done with the greatest care.
Amongst the prisoners who were brought to Ge-
nesee, was William Newkirk, a man by the name
of Price, and two Negroes.
Price lived a while with Little Beard, and after-
wards with Jack Berry, an Indian. When he left
Jack Berry he went to Niagara, where he now re-
sides.
Newkirk was brought to Little Beard’s Town, and
lived with Little Beard and at Fort Niagara about
one year, and then enlisted under Butler, and went
with him on an expedition to the Monongahela.
About this time one Ebenezer Allen ran away
from Pennsylvania and came to live among us. He
was much at my house with my son Thomas; he
was always honorable, kind, and even generous
to me, but the history of his life is a tissue of
crimes and baseness of the blackest dye. I have
often heard him relate his inglorious feats, and con-
ſess crimes, the rehearsal of which made my blood
curdle, as much accustomed as I was to hear of
bloody and barbarous deeds. -

92 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
-
CHA P T E R IX.
Soon after the close of the revolutionary war,
my Indian brother, Kau-jises-tau-ge-au (which be.
ing interpreted signifies Black Coals,) offered me
my liberty, and told me that if it was my choice I
might go to my friends. . -
My son Thomas was anxious that I should go;
and offered to go with me and assist me on the jour-
ney, by taking care of the younger children, and
providing food as we traveled through the wilder-
ness. But the Chiefs of our tribe, suspecting from
his appearance, actions, and a few warlike exploits,
that Thomas would be a great warrior, or a good
counsellor, refused to let him leave them on any
account whatever.
To go myself, and leave him, was more than .
felt able to do; for he had been kind to me, and
was one on whom I placed great dependence. The
chiefs refusing to let him go, was one reason for my
resolving to stay; but another, more powerful if
possible, was, that I had got a large family of In:
dian children that I must take with me; and that if
I should be so fortunate as to find my relatives,
they would despise them, if not myself, and treat
us as enemies, or at least, with a degree of cold in-
difference, which I thought I could not endure.
Accordingly, after I had duly considered the
matter, I told my brother that it was my choice to
stay and spend the remainder of my days with my
Indian friends, and live with my family as I hith:
erto had done. He appeared well pleased with
my resolution, and informed me that as that was nº
choice, I should have a piece of land that I could
call my own, where I could live unmolested, and








DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 93
have something at my decease to leave for the be-
nefit of my children. -
In a short time he made himself ready to go to
Upper Canada; but before he leſ: us, he told me
he would speak to some of the chiefs at Buffalo, tº
attend the great Council, which he expected would
convene in a few years at farthest, and convey to
me such a tract of land as I should select. My bro-
ther left us as he had proposed, and soon after died
at Grand river. -
Kaujisestaugeau was an excellent man, and ever
treated me with kindness. Perhaps no one of his
tribe at any time exceeded him in natural mildness
of temper, and warmth and tenderness of affection.
If he had taken my life at the time when the ava-
rice of the old King inclined him to procure my
emancipation, it would have been done with a pure
heart and from good motives. He loved his friends;
and was generally beloved. During the time that I
lived in the family with him, he never offered the
most trifling abuse; on the contrary, his whole con-
duct towards me was strictly honorable. I mourned
his loss as that of a tender brother, and shall recol-
lect him through life with emotions of friendship
and gratitude.
I lived undisturbed, without hearing a word on the
subject of my land, till the great Council was held
at Big Tree, in 1797, when Farmer’s Brother,
whose Indian name is Ho-na-ye-wus, sent for me to
attend the council. When I got there, he told me
that my brother had spoken to him to see that I had
a piece of land reserved for my use; and that then
Was the time for me to receive it. He requested
that I would choose for myself and describe the
bºunds of a piece that would suit me. I accordingly
told him the place of beginning, and then went round

94 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
a tract that I judged would be sufficient for my pur.
pose, (knowing that it would include the Gardeau
Flats,) by stating certain bounds with which I was
acquainted.
When the council was opened, and the busines
afforded a proper opportunity, Farmer’s Brother
presented my claim, and rehearsed the request of
my brother. Red Jacket, whose Indian name is
Sagu-yu-what-hah, which interpreted, is Keeper.
awake, opposed me and my claim with all his influ-
ence and eloquence. Farmer’s Brother insisted
upon the necessity, propriety, and expediency of his
proposition, and got the land granted. The deed
was made and signed, securing to me the title to all
the land I had described; under the same restric-
tions and regulations that other Indian lands are
subject to.
This tract is more than six miles long from east
to west, and nearly four and three-fourth miles wide
from north to south, containing seventeen thousand
nine hundred and twenty-seven acres, with the Ge:
nesee river running centrally through it from south
to north. It has been known ever since as the
Gardeau Tract, or the Gardeau Reservation.
Red Jacket not only opposed my claim at the
council, but he withheld my money two or three
years, on the account of my lands having been
granted without his consent. Jasper Parrish and
Horatio Jones, who had both been taken prisoners
by the Indians, adopted and detained with them
many years, the first being the Indian agent for the
United States, and the other interpreter, interfered
and at length convinced Red Jacket that it was the
white people, and not the Indians, who had gº
me the land, and compelled him to pay over all the
money which he had retained on my account. "
.

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 95
land derived its name, Gardeau, from a hill that is
within its limits, which is called in the Seneca lan-
guage, Kau-tam, Kautam when interpreted Sign-
ſies up and down, or down and up, and ls applied to
a hill that you ascend and descend in passing:
or to a valley. It has been said that Gardeau was
the name of my husband Hiokatoo, and that my
land derived its name from him; that however is
a mistake, for the old man always considered Gar-
deau a nickname, and was uniformly offended when
called by it.
My flats were extremely fertile, but needed more
labor than my daughters and myself were able to
perform, to produce a sufficient quantity of grain
and other necessary productions of the earth, for the
consumption of our family. The land had lain un-
cultivated so long that it was thickly covered with
weeds of almost every description. In order that
we might live more easy, Mr. Parrish, with the con-
sent of the chiefs, gave me liberty to lease or let
my land to white people to till on shares. I accor-
dingly let out the greater part of my improvements,
and have continued to do so, which makes my task
less burthensome, while at the same time I am more
comfortably supplied with the means of support.
About three hundred acres of my land, when I
first saw it, was open flats, lying on the Genesee
river, which it is supposed was cleared by a race of
inhabitants who preceded the first Indian settlements
in this part of the country. The Indians are confi-
dent that many parts of this country were settled
and for a number of years occupied by people of
whom their fathers never had any tradition, as they
ºver had seen them. Whence those people origi-
nated, and whither they went, I have never heard
one of our oldest and wisest Indians pretend to guess.

96 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
When I first came to Genishau, the bank of Fall
Brook had just slid off and exposed a large number
of human bones, which the Indians said were buried
there long before their fathers ever saw the place,
and that they did not know what kind of people they
were. It however was and is believed by our peo-
ple, that they were not Indians.
The tradition of the Seneca Indians, in regard to
their origin, is that they broke out of the earth from
a large mountain at the head of Canandaigua lake,
and that mountain they still venerate as the place
of their birth; thence they derive their name, “Ge.
nun-de-wah,” or Great Hill, and are called “The
Great Hill People,” which is the true definition of
the word Seneca.
The great hill at the head of Canandaigua lake,
from whence they sprung, is called Genundewah,
and has for a long time past been the place where
the Indians of that nation have met in council, to hold
great talks, and to offer up prayers to the Great
Spirit, on account of its having been their birth
place; and also in consequence of the destruction -
of a serpent at that place in ancient time, in a most
miraculous manner, which threatened the destruct
tion of the whole of the Senecas, and barely spared
enough to commence replenishing the earth.
The Indians say that the fort on the big hill, or
Genundewah, near the head of Canandaigua lake.
was surrounded by a monstrous serpent, whose head .
and tail came together at the gate. A long time."
lay there, confounding the people with its breath.
At length they attempted to make their escape, sº
with their homminy-blocks, and others with differ-
ent implements of household furniture; and in nº
ching out of the fort walked down the throat of the
serpent. Two orphan children, who had escaped

DEH-HE-WA-MIs. 97.
this general destruction by being left sºme time be-
fore on the outside of the fort, were informed by an
oracle, of the means by which they could get rid of
their formidable enemy—which was, to take a small
bow and a poisoned arrow, made of a kind of wil-
low, and with that, shoot the serpent under its scales.
This they did, and the arrow proved effectual; for
on its penetrating the skin, the serpent became sick,
and extending itself rolled down the hill, destroying
all the timber that was in its way, disgorging itself,
and breaking wind greatly as it went. At every
motion, a human head was discharged, and rolled
down the hill into the lake, where they lie at this
day in a petrified state, having the hardness and ap-
pearance of stones; and the pagan Indians of the
Senecas believe, that all the little snakes were made
of the blood of the great serpent after it rolled into
the lake.
To this day the Indians visit that sacred place to
mourn the loss of their friends, and to celebrate
some rites that are peculiar to themselves. To the
knowledge of white people there has been no tim-
ber on the great hill, since it was first discovered
by them, though it lay apparently in a state of na-
ture for a great number of years, without cultiva-
tion. Stones in the shape of Indians' heads may
be seen lying in the lake in great plenty, which
are said to be the same that were deposited there at
the death of the serpent.
The Senecas have a tradition, that previous to,
and for some time after their origin at Genunde-
Wah, this country, especially about the lakes, was
thickly inhabited by a race of civil, enterprising,
and industrious people, who were totally destroyed
by the great serpent that afterwards surrounded the
great hill fort, * the assistance of others of the

98 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
same species; and that they (the Senecas) wentinº
possession of the improvements that were left.
In those days the Indians throughout the whole
country, as the Senecas, say, spoke one language
but having become considerably numerous, the le.
fore mentioned great serpent, by an unknown influ.
ence, confounded their language, so that they could
not understand each other; which was the cause of
their division into nations, as the Mohawks, Oneidas,
&c. At that time, however, the Senecas retained
their original language, and continued to occupy
their mother hill, on which they fortified themselves
against their enemies, and lived peaceably, until
having offended the serpent, they were cut off asl
have before remarked.
-

DEH-HE-WA-MS. 99
on Apte R x.
From the time I secured my land, my life passed
for many years in an unvaried routine of superin-
tending my family and taking care of my property,
without the occurrence of any event relative to me
or my affairs worth noticing, and but few in which
the nation or our villages felt much interest. . .
About the first of June, 1806, Little Beard died,
and was buried after the manner of burying chiefs.
in his life time he had been quite arbitrary, and had
made some enemies whom he hated, probably, and
was not loved by them. The grave, however, de-
prives enmity of its malignity, and revenge of its
keenness.
Little Beard had been dead but a few days when
the great eclipse of the sun took place, on the 16th
of June, which excited in the Indians a great de-
gree of astonishment; for as they were ignorant of
astronomy, they were totally unqualified to account
for so extraordinary a phenomenon. The crisis was
alarming, and something effectual must be done
without delay, to remove, if possible, such coldness
and darkness, which it was expected would increase.
They accordingly ran together in the three towns
near the Genesee river, and after a short consulta-
tion agreed that Little Beard, on the account of
some old grudge which he yet cherished towards
them, had placed himself between them and the sun,
in order that their corn might not grow, and so re-
duce them to a state of starvation. Having thus
found the cause, the next thing was to remove it,
which could only be done by the use of powder and
ball. Upon this, every gun and rifle was loaded,
and a firing commenced, that continued without ces-
100 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
sation, till the old fellow left his seat, and the obscu.
rity was entirely removed, to the great joy of the
ingenious and fortunate Indians.
I have frequently heard it asserted by white pe.
ple, and can truly say from my own experience,
that the time at which parents take most satisfaction
and comfort with their families, is when their chil-
dren are young, incapable of providing for their
own wants, and are about the fireside, where they
can be duly observed and instructed.
In the government of their families among the
Indians, the parents are very mild, the women su-
erintending the children. The word of the father
owever, is law, and must be obeyed by the whole
who are under his authority.
The Indians are very tenacious of their prece:
dence and supremacy over their wives, and the
wives acknowledge it by their actions, with the
greatest subserviency. It is a rule inculcated in all
the Indian tribes, and practiced generation after ge.
neration, that a squaw shall not walk before her
husband, or take the lead in his business. For this
reason we never see a party on the march, in which
the squaws are not directly in the rear of their part-
merS.
Few mothers, perhaps, have had lesstrouble with
their children during their minority than myself. In
general, my children were friendly to each other
and it was very seldom that I knew them to have
the least difference or quarrel: so far indeed were
they from rendering themselves or me uncomfº
ble, that I considered myself happy—more so than
commonly falls to the lot of parents, especially *
women.
My happiness in this respect, however, was nº
without alloy; for my son Thomas, from some *














DEH-HE-WA-MIS. | 101
unknown to me, from the time he was a small lad,
always called his brother John a witch, which was
the cause as they grew towards manhood, of frequent
and severe quarrels between them, and gave me
much trouble and anxiety for their safety. After
Thomas and John had arrived to the age of man-
hood, another source of contention arose between
them, founded on the circumstance of John’s having
two wives. Although polygamy was tolerated in
our tribe, Thomas considered it a violation of good
and wholesome rules in society, and tending directly
to destroy that friendly social intercourse and love,
which ought to be the happy result of matrimony
and chastity. Consequently he frequently repri-
manded John, by telling him that his conduct was
beneath the dignity, and inconsistent with the prin-
ciples of good Indians; indecent and unbecoming a
gentleman; and, as he never could reconcile him-
self to it, he was frequently, almost constantly,
when they were together, talking to him on the sub-
ject. John always resented such reprimand and re-
proof, with a great degree of passion, though they
never quarreled, unless Thomas was intoxicated.
In his fits of drunkenness, Thomas seemed to lose
all his natural reason, and to conduct like a wild or
crazy man, without regard to relatives, decency, or
propriety. At such times he often threatened to take
my life for having raised a witch (as he called John)
and has gone so far as to raise his tomahawk to split
my head. He however never struck me; but on
John's account he struck Hiokatoo, and thereby
excited in John a high degree of indignation, which
was extinguished only by blood.
For a number of years their difficulties, and conse-
quent unhappiness, continued and rather increased,
continually exciting in my breast the most fearful

102 DEH-HE-WA MIs.
apprehensions, and greatest anxiety for their safety.
With tears in my eyes I advised them to become re-
conciled to ...” and to be friendly; told them
the consequences of their continuing to cherish so
much malignity and malice, that it would end in
their destruction, the disgrace of their families, and
bring me down to the grave. No one can conceive
of the constant trouble that I daily endured on their
account—on the account of my two eldest sons,
whom I loved equally, and with all the feelings and
affection of a tender mother, stimulated by an anx-
ious concern for their fate. Parents, mothers es-
pecially, will love their children, though ever soun-
kind and disobedient. Their eyes of compassion,
of real sentimental affection, will be involuntarily
extended after them, in their greatest excesses of
iniquity; and those fine filaments of consanguinity,
which gently entwine themselves around the heart
where filial love and parental care is equal, will be
lengthened, and enlarged to cords seemingly of suff-
cient strength to reach and reclaim the wanderer.
know that such exercises are frequently una-
vailing; but, notwithstanding their ultimate failure,
it still remains true, and ever will, that the love of
a parent for a disobedient child, will increase, and
grow more and more ardent, so long as a hope of
its reformation is capable of stimulating a disap-
pointed breast.
My advice and expostulations with my sons were
abortive; and year after year their disaffection for
each other increased. At length, Thomas came tº
my house on the first day of July, 1811, in my ab-
sence, somewhat intoxicated, where he found John
with whom he immediately commenced a quarrel on
their old subjects of difference. John's anger bº
came desperate. He caught Thomas by the hº

DEH-HE-WA-MIS- 103
of his head, and dragged him out of the door and
there killed him, by a blow which he gave him on
the head with his tomahawk!
I returned soon after, and found my son lifeless
at the door, on the spot where he was killed! No
one can judge of my feelings on seeing this mourn-
ful spectacle; and what greatly added to my distress
was the fact, that he had fallen by the murderous
hand of his brother! I felt my situation insupporta-
ble. Having passed through various scenes of trou.
ble of the most cruel and trying kind, I had hoped
to spend my few remaining days in quietude, and to
die in peace, surrounded by my family. This fatal
event, however, seemed to be a stream of woe
poured into my cup of afflictions, filling it even to
overflowing, and blasting all my prospects.
As soon as I had recovered a little from the shock
which I felt at the sight of my departed son, and
some of the neighbors had come in to help take care
of the corpse, I hired Shanks, an Indian, to go to
Buffalo, and carry the sorrowful news of Thomas’
death, to our friends at that place, and request the
chiefs to hold a council, and dispose of John as they
should think proper. Shanks set out on his errand
immediately, and John, fearing that he should be
apprehended and punished for the crime he had
committed, at the same time went off towards Can-
meadea.
Thomas was decently interred in a style corres-
ponding with his rank. -
The chiefs soon assembled in council on the trial
of John, and after having seriously examined the
matter according to their laws, justified his conduct,
and acquitted him. They considered Thomas to
have been the first transgressor, and that for the
abuses which he had offered, he had merited from

104 DEH-HE-WA-MS.
John the treatment that he had received. John, on
learning the decision of the council, returned to his
family. -
Thomas (except when intoxicated, which was not
frequent) was a kind and tender child, willing to as:
sist me in my labor, and to remove every obstacle
to my comfort. His natural abilities were said to
be of a superior cast, and he soared above the tri-
fling subjects of revenge, which are common
amongst Indians, as being far beneath his attention.
In his childish and boyish days, his natural turn
was to practice in the art of war, though he despi-
sed the cruelties that the warriors inflicted upon
their subjugated enemies. He was manly in his de-
portment, courageous and active; and commanded
respect. Though he appeared well pleased with
peace, he was cunning in Indian warfare, and suc-
ceeded to admiration in the execution of his plans.
At the age of fourteen or fifteen years, he went
into the war with manly fortitude, armed with a
tomahawk and scalping knife; and when he return-
ed, brought one white man a prisoner, whom he
had taken with his own hands, on the west branch
of the Susquehannah river. It so happened, that
as he was looking out for his enemies, he discovered
two men boiling sap in the woods. He watched
them unperceived till dark, when he advanced with
a noiseless step to the place where they were stan:
ding, caught one of them before they were apº
sed of danger, and conducted him to the camp. He
was well treated while a prisoner, and redeemed at
the close of the war. -
At the time Kauisestaugeau gave me liberty
to go to my friends, Thomas was anxious to gº with
me; but as I have before observed, the chiefs would
not suffer him to leave them on the account of his
DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 105
courage and skill in war: expecting that they
should need his assistance. He was a great coun-
sellor and a chief when quite young; and in the
last capacity, went two or three times to Philadel-
phia to assist in making treaties with the people of
the States.
Thomas, at the time of his death, was a few
moons over fifty-two years old. He was then liv-
ing with his fourth wife, having lost three; by whom
he had eight children. As he was naturally good-
natured, and possessed a friendly disposition, he
would not have come to so untimely a death, had it
not been for his intemperance. He fell a victim to
the use of ardent spirits, a poison that will soon exter-
minate the Indian tribes in this part of the country,
and leave their names without root or branch. The
thought is melancholy, but no arguments, no exam-
ples, however persuasive or impressive, are suffi-
cient to deter an Indian for an hour, from taking the
potent draught, which he knows at the time will de-
range his faculties, reduce him to a level with the
brutes, or deprive him of life.
Jacob Jemison, Thomas' second son by his last
wife, who is at this time, 1823, twenty-seven or
twenty-eight years of age, went to Dartmouth col-
lege in the spring of 1816, for the purpose of re-
ceiving an education, where it was said he was an
industrious scholar, and made great proficiency in
the study of the different branches of education to
which he attended. Having spent two years in
that institution, he returned in the winter of 1818,
and is now at Buffalo, where I have understood he
contemplates the study of Medicine as a profession.
In the month of November 1811, my husband Hi-
ckatoo, who had been sick, of consumption, for four
years, died at the advanced age of one hundred







106 DEH-HE-WA-M18.
and three years, as nearly as the time could be esti.
mated. He was the last that remained to me of our
family connexion, or rather of my old friends with
whom I was adopted, except a part of one family,
which now resides at Tonnewanda.
Hiokatoo was buried decently, and had all the in-
signia of a veteran warrior buried with him; con-
sisting of a war-club, tomahawk and scalping knife,
a powder-flask, flint, a piece of spunk, a small cake,
and a cup; and in his best clothing. -
According to the Indian mode of burial, the de-
ceased is laid out in his best clothing, and put into a
coffin of boards or bark, and with him is deposited,
in every instance, a small cup and a cake. Gene-
rally two or three candles are put into the coffin,
and in a few instances, at the burial of a great man,
all his implements of war are buried by the side of
the body. The coffin is then closed and carried to
the grave. On its being let down, the person whº
takes the lead of the solemn transaction, or a chief
addresses the dead in a short speech, in which he
charges him not to be troubled about himself in his
new situation, nor on his journey, and not to trouble
his friends, wife, or children, whom he has left;
tells him that if he meets with strangers on his way.
he must inform them what tribe he belongs to, who
his relatives are, the situation in which he left them.
and that having done this, he must keep on till he
arrives at the good fields in the country of Nauwa-
ne. That when he arrives there, he will see all
his ancestors and personal friends that have sº
before him; who, together with all the chiefs of ce.
lebrity, will receive him joyfully, and furnish him
with every article of perpetual happiness.
The grave is now filled and left till evening
when some of the nearest relatives of the dead, build
-

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 107
a fire at the head of it, near which they sit till mor-
ning. In this way they continue to practice, nine
successive nights, when, believing that their depar-
ted friend has arrived at the end of his journey,
they discontinue their attention. During this time
the relatives of the deceased are not allowed to
dance.
Formerly, frolicks were held for the dead, af-
ter the expiration of nine days, at which all the
squaws got drunk; and those were the only occa-
sions on which they were intoxicated: but lately
those are discontinued, and squaws feel no delicacy
in getting inebriated.
Hiokatoo was an old man when I first saw him;
but he was by no means enervated. During the
term of nearly fifty years that I lived with him, I
received, according to Indian customs, all the kind-
ness and attention that was my due as his wife.
Although war was his trade from his youth till old
age and decrepitude stopt his career, he uniformly
treated me with tenderness, and never offered an
insult.
I have frequently heard him repeat the history of
his life from his childhood; and when he came to
that part which related to his actions, his bravery,
and his valor in war; when he spoke of the ambush,
the combat, the spoiling of his enemies, and the sa-
crifice of his victims, his nerves seemed strung with
youthful ardor, the warmth of the able warrior
seemed to animate his frame, and to produce the
heated gestures which he had practiced in middle
age. He was a man of tender feelings to his friends,
ready and willing to assist them in distress, yet, as a
warrior, his cruelties to his enemies perhaps were
unparalleled, and will not admit a word of pallia-
tion.
108 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
CHA P T E R XI.
Being now left a widow in my old age, to mourn
the loss of a husband, who had treated me well, and
with whom I had raised five children, and having
suffered the loss of an affectionate son, I fondly fos.
tered the hope that my melancholy vicissitudes had
ended, and that the remainder of my time would be
characterized by nothing unpropitious. My children,
dutiful and kind, lived near me, and apparently
nothing obstructed our happiness.
But a short time, however, elapsed after my hus:
band's death, before my troubles were renewed with
redoubled severity. -
John's hands having been once stained in the
blood of a brother, although acquitted of murder by
the chiefs, it was not strange that every person of
his acquaintance should shun him, from a fear of his
repeating upon them, the same ceremony that he had
practiced upon Thomas. My son Jesse, went to Mt.
Morris, a few miles from home, on business, in the .
winter after the death of his father; and it so hap:
pened that his brother John was there, who requested
Jesse to come home with him. Jesse, fearing that
John would commence a quarrel with him on the wº
declined the invitation, and tarried over night.
From that time, John conceived himself despised
by Jesse, and was highly enraged at the treatment
which he had received from him. Very little wº
said, however, and it all passed off apparently, tº
sometime in the month of May, 1812; at which ſº
Mr. Robert Whaley, who lived in the town of Cas-
tile, within four miles of me, came to º house
early on Monday morning, to hire George Choº
my son-in-law, and John and Jesse, to go that day












DEH-HE-WA-MIS- 109
and help him slide a quantity of boards from the top
of the hill to the river, where he calculated to build
a raft of them for market.
They all concluded to go with Mr. Whaley, and
made ready as soon as possible. But before they
set out, I charged them not to drink any whiskey:
for I was confident that if they did, they would surely
have a quarrel in consequence of it. They went
and worked till almost night, when a quarrel ensued
between Chongo and Jesse, in consequence of the
whiskey which they had drank through the day, which
terminated in a battle, and Chongo got whipped.
When Jesse had got through with Chongo, he told
Mr. Whaley that he would go home, and directly
went off. He, however, went but a few rods before
he stopped and lay down by the side of a log to wait,
º was supposed,) for company. John, as soon as
esse was gone, went to Mr. Whaley, with his knife
in his hand, and bade him jogo; (i.e. be gone,) at
the same time telling him that Jesse was a bad man.
Mr. Whaley, seeing that his countenance exhibited
a demon-like malignity, and that he was determined
upon something desperate, was alarmed for his own
safety, and turned towards home, leaving Chongo on
the ground drunk, near to where Jesse had laid, who
by this time had got up, and was advancing towards
John. Mr. Whaley was soon out of hearing of them;
but some of his workmen staid till it was dark. Jesse
came up to John, and said to him, you want more
whiskey, and more fighting, and after a few words
went at him, to try in the first place to get away his
knife. In this he did not succeed, and they parted.
By this time the night had come on, and it was dark.
Again they clenched and at length in their struggle
they both fell. John, having his knife in his hand.
came under, and in that situation gave Jesse a fatal

110 Morº-HE-WA-Mrs.
stab with his knife, and repeated the blows till Jesse
cried out, brother, you have killed me, quit his hold
and settled back upon the ground. Upon hearing
this, John left him, came to Thomas' widow’s
house, told them that he had been fighting with their
uncle, whom he had killed, and showed them his
knife.
Next morning as soon as it was light, Thomas
and John’s children came and told me that Jesse
was dead in the woods, and also informed me how
he came by his death. John soon followed them
and informed me himself of all that had taken place
between him and his brother, and seemed to be
somewhat sorrowful for his conduct. You can bet-
ter imagine what my feelings were than I can de-
scribe them. My darling son, my youngest child,
him on whom I depended, was dead; and I in my
old age left destitute of a helping hand!
As soon as it was consistent for me, I got Mr. Geo.
Jemison, (of whom I shall have occasion to speak)
to go with his sleigh to where Jesse was, and bring
him home, a distance of three or four miles. My
daughter Polly arrived at the fatal spot first: we got
there soon after her; though I went the whole dis-
tance on foot. By this time, Chongo, (who was
left on the ground drunk the night before) had be:
come sober and sensible of the great misfortune
which had happened to our family. -
I was overcome with grief at the sight of my mur
dered son, and so far lost the command of myself as
to be almost frantic; and those who were present
were obliged to hold me from going near him.
On examining the body, it was found that iſ had
received eighteen wounds, so deep and large that it
was believed that either of them would have proved
mortal. The corpse was carried to my house. "

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 111
-
kept till the Thursday following, when it was buried
after the manner of burying white people.
Jesse was twenty-seven or eight years old when
he was killed. His temper had been uniformly
very mild and friendly; and he was inclined to copy
after the white people, both in his manners and dress.
Although he was naturally temperate, he occasion-
ally became intoxicated; but never was quarrelsome
or mischievous. With the white people he was in-
timate, and learned from them their habits of indus-
try, which he was fond of practicing, especially
when my comfort demanded his labor. As I have
observed, it is the custom amongst the Indians for
the women to perform all the labor in and out of
doors, and I had the whole to do, with the help
of my daughters, till Jesse arrived to a sufficient
age to assist us. He was disposed to labor in the
cornfield, to chop my wood, milk my cows, and at-
tend to any kind of business that would make my
task the lighter. On the account of his having been
my youngest child, and so willing to help me, I am
sensible that I loved him better than I did either of
my other children. After he began to understand
my situation, and the means of rendering it more
easy, I never wanted for any thing that was in his
power to bestow; but since his death, as I have had
all my labor to perform alone, I have constantly
seen hard times. -
Jesse shunned the company of his brothers, and
the Indians generally, and never attended their
frolicks; and it was supposed that this, together with
my partiality for him, were the causes which excited
in Johnso great a degree of envy, that nothing short
of death would satisfy it.

112 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
CHA P T E R XII.
A year or two before the death of my husband,
Capt. H. Jones sent me word, that a cousin of mine
was then living on Genesee flats, by the name of
George Jemison, and as he was very poor, thought
it advisable for me to go and see him, and take him
home to live with me on my land. My Indian
friends were pleased to hear that one of my rela-
tives was so near, and also advised me to send for
him and his family immediately. I accordingly had
him and his family moved into one of my houses, in
the month of March, 1810.
He said that he was my father’s brother's son-
that his father did not leave Europe, till after the
French war in America, and that when he did come
over, he settled in Pennsylvania, where he died
George had no personal knowledge of my father:
but from information, was confident that the rela:
tionship which he claimed between himself and me.
actually existed. Although I had never before
heard of my father having had but one brother
(him who was killed at Fort Necessity.) yet I kney.
that he might have had others, and, as the story of
George carried with it a probability that it was tº
I received him as a kinsman, and treated him with
every degree of friendship which his situation de
manded.
found that he was destitute of the means of
subsistence, and in debt to the amount of seven!
dollars, without the ability to pay one cent. He
had no cow, and finally, was completely pºº:
paid his debts to the amount of seventy-two dolº
and bought him a cow, for which I paid twenty doº-
lars; and a sow and pigs, that I paid eight dollars

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 113
for I also paid sixteen dollars for pork which I gave
him, and furnished him with other provisions and
furniture; so that his family was comfortable. As
he was destitute of a team, I furnished him with one,
and also supplied him with tools for farming. In
addition to all this, I let him have one of Thomas’
cows, for two seasons.
My only object in mentioning his poverty, and
the articles with which I supplied him, is to show
how ungrateful a person can be for favors received,
and how soon they will apparently forget charitable
deeds, and conspire against the interest of a bene-
factor. -
Thus furnished with the necessary implements of
husbandry, a good team, and as much land as he
could till, he commenced farming on my flats, and
for some time labored well. At length, however,
he got an idea that if he could become the owner of
a part of my reservation, he could live more easy,
and certainly be more rich, and accordingly set him-
self about laying a plan to obtain it, in the easiest
manner possible. -
I supported Jemison and his family eight years,
and probably should have continued to have done so
to this day, had it not been for the occurrence of the
following circumstance.
When he had lived with me some six or seven
years, a friend of mine told me that as Jemison was
my cousin, and very poor, I ought to give him a
piece of land that he might have something whereon
to live that he could call his own. My friend and
Jemison were then together at my house, prepared
to complete a bargain. I asked how much land he
wanted! Jemison said that he should be glad to re-
ºve his own field (as he called it) containing about
* and a new one that contained twen-
114 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
ty-six. I observed to them that as I was incapable
of transacting business of that nature, I would wait
till Mr. Thomas Clute, (a neighbor on whom Ide.
pended,) should return from Albany, before I should
do any thing about it. To this Jemison replied, that
if I waited till Mr. Clute returned, he should not get
the land at all, and appeared very anxious to have
the business closed without delay. On my part, I
felt disposed to give him some land, but knowing
my ignorance of writing, feared to do it alone, les:
they might include as much land as they pleased,
without my knowledge.
They then read the deed which my friend had
prepared before he came from home, describing a
piece of land by certain bounds that were a speci-
fied number of chains and links from each other,
Not understanding the length of a chain or link, I
described the bounds of a piece of land that I inten-
ded Jemison should have, which they said was just
the same that the deed contained and no more. I
told them that the deed must not include a lot that
was called the Steele place, and they assured me
that it did not. Upon this, putting confidence in
them both, I signed the deed to George Jemison,
containing, and conveying to him, as I supposed,
forty acres of land. The deed being completed, they
charged me never to mention the bargain which
had then made, to any person; because if I did, they
said it would spoil the contract. The whole matter
was afterwards disclosed; when it was found that
that deed, instead of containing only forty acres,
contained four hundred, and that one half of it ac-
tually belonged to my friend, as it had been given
him by Jemison, as a reward for his trouble in prº-
curing the deed, in the fraudulent manner above
mentioned.















DEH-HE-WA-MS. 115
My friend, however, by the advice of some well
disposed people, awhile afterwards gave up his claim;
George Jemison, however, held on to his claim; but
knowing that he had no title to the land, even if I
had then possessed the power of conveying, (which
it since appears that I did not.) as the deed was
void, having been obtained by falsehood and fraud,
he dare not press his claims under it himself, for fear
of being punished for a misdemeanor; he therefore
sold his claim for a mere trifle, to a gentleman in
the south part of Genesee county, who lost that tri-
fle, whatever it was. But had Jemison been con-
tent with getting a deed of the forty acres which I
intended to have given him, and not have underta-
ken to defraud me out of more, I should have made
his title good to that land when I did receive the
power, and the forty acres would have been worth
to him from forty to fifty dollars per acre. This is
another proof that in all cases, “honesty is the best
policy.” - -
Sometime after the death of my son Thomas, one
of his sons went to Jemison to get the cow that I
had let him have for two years; but Jemison refused
to let her go, and struck the boy so violent a blow
as to almost kill him. Jemison then run to Jellis
Clute, Esq. to procure a warrant to take the boy;
but Young King, an Indian Chief, went down to
Squawky Hill to Mr. Clute's, and settled the affair,
by Jemison's agreeing never to use that club again.
Having satisfactorily found out the unfriendly dispo-
sition. of my cousin towards me, I got him off my
premises as soon as possible. -
I am now confident that George Jemison is not
my cousin, but that he claimed relationship only to
obtain assistance.
116 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
C H A P T E R XIII.
Trouble seldom comes single. While George Je-
mison was busily engaged in his pursuit of wealth
at my expence, another event of a much more seri-
ous nature occurred, which added greatly to my aſ:
flictions, and consequently destroyed at least a part
of the happiness which I had anticipated was laid
up in the archives of Providence, to be dispensed on
my old age.
My son John was a Doctor, considerably celebra-
ted amongst the Indians of various tribes, for his
skill in curing their diseases, by the administration
of roots and herbs, which he gathered in the forests,
and other places, where they had been planted by
the hand of nature.
In the month of April, or first of May, 1817, he
was called upon to go to Buffalo, Cattaraugus and
Allegany, to cure some who were sick. He went,
and was absent about two months. When he re-
turned, he observed the Great Slide of the bank of
Genesee river, a short distance above my house,
which had taken place during his absence; and con-
sidering that circumstance to be ominous of his own
death, called at his sister Nancy’s, told her that he
should live but a few days, and wept bitterly at the
near approach of his dissolution. Nancy endeavored
to persuade him that his trouble was imaginary, and
that he ought not to be affected by a fancy which
was visionary. Her arguments were ineffectual,
and afforded no alleviation to his mental sufferings.
From his sister's he went to his own house where
he stayed only two nights, and then went to Squawky
Hill, to procur money, with which to purchase flour
for the use of his family. -














DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 117
While at Squawky Hill he got into the company
of two Squawky Hill Indians, whose names were
Doctor and Jack, with whom he drank freely, and
in the afternoon had a desperate quarrel, in which
his opponents; (as it was afterwards understood,)
agreed to kill him. The quarrel ended, and each
appeared to be friendly. John bought some spirits,
of which they all drank, and then set out for home.
John and an Allegany Indian were on horseback,
and Doctor and Jack were on foot. It was dark
when they set out. They had not proceeded far,
when Doctor and Jack commenced another quarrel
with John, clenched and dragged him of his horse,
and then with a stone gave him so severe a blow on
his head, that some of his brains were discharged
from the wound. The Allegany Indian, fearing
that his turn would come next, fled for safety as fast
as possible.
John recovered a little from the shock he had re-
ceived, and endeavored to get to an old hut that
stood near; but they caught him, and with an axe
cut his throat, and beat out his brains, so that when
he was found, the contents of his skull were lying
on his arms.
Some squaws who heard the uproar, ran to find
out the cause of it; but before they had time to offer
their assistance, the murderers drove them into a
house, and threatened to take their lives if they did
not stay there, or if they made any noise.
Next morning, Mr. Clute sent me word that
John was dead, and also informed me of the means
by which his life was taken A number of people
went from Gardeau to where the body lay, and Doct.
Levi Brundridge brought it home, where the fune-
rºl was attended after the manner of the white peo-
ple. Mr. Benjamin Luther, and Mr. William Wiles,

118 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
preached sermons, and performed the funeral ser-
vices; and myself and family followed the corpse to
the grave as mourners. I had now buried my three
sons, who had been snatched from me by the hands
of violence, when I least expected it.
Although John had taken the life of his two bro-
thers, and caused me unspeakable trouble and grief,
his death made a solemn impression upon my mind,
and seemed, in addition to my former misfortunes,
enough to bring down my grey hairs with sorrow to
the grave. Yet, on a second thought, I could not
mourn for him as I had for my other sons, because
I knew that his death was just, and what he had de-
served for a long time, from the hand of justice.
John’s vices were so great and so aggravated, that
I have nothing to say in his favor: yet, as a mother,
I pitied him while he lived, and have ever felt a
great degree of sorrow for him, because of his bad
conduct.
From his childhood, he carried something in his
features, indicative of an evil disposition, that would
result in the perpetration of enormities of some kind;
and it was the opinion and saying of Ebenezer Al-
len, that he would be a bad man, and be guilty of
some crime deserving of death. There is no doubt
but what the thoughts of murder rankled in his
breast, and disturbed his mind even in his sleep; for
he once dreamed that he had killed Thomas for a
trifling offence, and thereby forfeited his own life.
Alarmed at the revelation, and fearing that he might
in some unguarded moment destroy his brother, he
went to the Black Chief, to whom he told the dream,
and expressed his fears that the vision would be ver
rified. Having related the dream, together with his
feelings on the subject, he asked for the best advice
that his old friend was capable of giving, to prevent

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 119
so sad an event. The Black Chief, with his usual
promptitude, told him, that from the nature of the
dream, he was fearful that something serious would
take place between him and Thomas; and advised
him by all means to govern his temper, and avoid
any quarrel which in future he might see arising:
especially if Thomas was a party. John, however,
did not keep the good counsel of the Chief; for soon
after, he killed Thomas as I have related.
John left two wives with whom he had lived at
the same time, and raised nine children. His wi-
dows are now living at Canneadea, with their father,
and keep their children with and near them. His
children are tolerably white, and have got light
colored hair. John died about the last day of June,
1817, aged 54 years.
Doctor and Jack, having finished their murderous
design, fled before they could be apprehended, and
lay six weeks in the woods back of Canisteo. They
then returned and sent me some warmpum by Chon-
go, (my son-in-law,) and Sun-ge-waw, (that is Big
Kettle,) expecting that I would pardon them, and
suffer them to live as they had done with their tribe.
I however would not accept their wanipum, but re-
quested, that, rather than have them killed, they
would run away and keep out of danger.
On their receiving back the wanpum, they took
my advice, and prepared to leave their country and
people immediately. Their relatives accompanied
them a short distance on their journey, and when
about to part, their old uncle, the Tall Chief, ad-
dressed them in the following pathetic and sentimen-
tal speech:
“Friends, hear my voice! When the Great Spi-
it made Indians, he made them all good, and gave
them good corn-fields; good rivers, well stored with

120 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
fish; good forests, filled with game, and good bows
and arrows. But very soon, each wanted more than
his share, and Indians quarreled with Indians, and
some were killed, and others were wounded. Then
the Great Spirit made a very good word, and put it
in every Indian’s breast, to tell us when we have
done good, or when we have done bad; and that
word has never told a lie.
“Friends! whenever you have stole, or got drunk,
or lied, that good word has told you that you were
bad Indians, and made you afraid of good Indians;
and made you ashamed and look down.
“Friends' your crime is greater than all those
you have killed an indian in a time of peace; and
made the wind hear his groans, and the earth drink
his blood. You are bad Indians! Yes, you are very
bad Indians; and what can you do? If you go into
the woods to live alone, the ghost of John Jemison
will follow you, crying, blood! blood! and will give
you no peace! If you go to the land of your nation,
there that ghost will attend you, and say to your
relatives, see my murderers! If you plant, it will
blast your corn; if you hunt, it will scare your
game; and when you are asleep, its groans, and the
sight of an avenging tomahawk, will awake you
What can you do? Deserving of death, you cannº
live here; and to fly from your country, to leave all
your relatives, and to abandon all that you have
known to be pleasant and dear, must be keene
than an arrow, more bitter than gall, more terrible
than death! And how must we feel? Your path will
be muddy; the woods will be dark; the lightnings
will glance down the trees by your side, and yo"
will start at every sound peace has left you, and
you must be wretched. Friends, hear me, and tº
my advice. Return with us to your homes. Oſlº

DEH-HE-WA-MS. 121
to the Great Spirit your best warmpum, and try to
be good Indians! And, if those whom you have be-
reaved shall claim your lives as their only satisfac:
tion, surrender them cheerfully, and die like good
Indians. And–º Here Jack, highly incensed, in-
terrupted the old man, and bade him stop speaking
or he would take his life. Affrighted at the appear-
ance of so much desperation, the company hastened
towards home, and left Doctor and Jack to consult
their own feelings.
Assoon as they were alone, Jack said to Doctor,
“I had rather die here, than leave my country and
friends! Put the muzzle of your rifle into my mouth,
and I will put the muzzle of mine into yours, and at
a given signal we will discharge them, and rid our-
selves at once of all the troubles under which we
now labor, and satisfy the claims which justice holds
against us.”
Doctor heard the proposition, and after a mo-
ment's pause, made the following reply:-"I am as
sensible as you can be of the unhappy situation in
which we have placed ourselves. We are bad In-
dians. We have forfeited our lives, and must ex-
pect in some way to atone for our crime: but, be-
cause we are bad and miserable, shall we make our-
selves worse? If we were now innocent, and in a
calm reflecting moment should kill ourselves, that
act would make us bad, and deprive us of our share
of the good hunting in the land where our fathers
have gone! What would Little Beard say to us on
our arrival at his cabin? He would say ‘Bad Indians
Cowards! You were afraid to wait till we wanted
your help! Go (jogo) to where snakes will lie in
Your path; where the panthers will starve you by
devouring the venison; and where you will be nº-
ked and suffer with the cold! Jogo, (go) none but
122 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
the brave and good Indians live here!” I cannot thin
of performing an act that will add to my wretchel.
ness. It is hard enough for me to suffer here, and
have good hunting hereafter—worse to lose the
whole.”
Upon this, Jack withdrew his proposal. They
went on about two miles, and then turned about and
came home. Guilty and uneasy, they lurked about
Squawky Hill near a fortnight, and then went tº
Cattaraugus, and were gone six weeks. When they
came back, Jack's wife earnestly requested him tº
remove his family to Tonnewanta; but he remon.
strated against her project, and utterly declined gº
ing. His wife and family, however, tired of the
tumult by which they were surrounded, packed up
their effects in spite of what he could say, and went
off.
Jack deliberated a short time upon the prope:
course for himself to pursue, and finally, rather
than leave his old home, he ate a large quantity of
muskrat root, and died in ten or twelve hours. His
family being immediately notified of his death, re.
turned to attend the burial, and are yet living at
Squawky Hill. -
Nothing was ever done with Doctor, who continº
ued to live quietly at Squawky Hill till sometime
in the year 1819, when he died of Consumption




DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 123
C H A P T E R XIV.
In the year 1816, Micah Brooks, of Bloomfield,
Ontario county, and Jellis Clute, of Leicester, Es-
quires, began to negotiate with me for the purchase
of a part of my land, as it lay in an unproductive
state to me. Many obstacles presented themselves
in the transaction of the business. In the first place,
it was objected that I was not a citizen of the United
States, and could not legally convey land, without
a special act of the legislature: to surmount this diſ-
ficulty Messrs. Brooks and Clute procured a special
act of the legislature of this state to be passed, con-
fering naturalization on me, and confirming my ti-
tle to the land as far as that body could effect it. It
was then discovered that the assent of the chiefs of
the Seneca Nation must be had to the conveyance,
and that the proceedings to obtain such assent
must be in council, under the superintendance of a
commissioner appointed by the President of the Uni-
ted States.
After much delay and vexation in ascertaining
what was necessary to be done to effect the object
in a legal manner, and having consulted my chil-
dren and friends, in the winter of 1822-3, I
agreed with Messrs. Brooks and Clute, that if they
would get the Chiefs of our Nation, and a United
States commissioner of Indian lands, to meet in
Moscow, Livingston county, N. Y., I would sell to
them all my right and title to the Gardeau reserva-
tion, containing 17927 acres, with the exception of
a tract for my own benefit, two miles long and one
mile wide, lying on Genesee river where I should
choose it; and also reserving a lot I had promised to
give to Thomas Clute, as a recompense for his

124 DEH-HE-WA MIS.
faithful guardianship over me and my property for
a long time.
The arrangement was agreed to, and the council
assembled on the third or fourth day of September
last, at the place appointed, consisting of Major Car-
rol, Judge Howel, and N. Gorham, acting for and
in behalf of the United States Government—Jasper
Parish, Indian Agent; Horatio Jones, Interpreter,
and a large number of Seneca chiefs.
The bargain was assented to unanimously, and a
deed was executed and delivered by me and upwards
of twenty chiefs, conveying all my right and title
to the Gardeau reservation, except the reservations
before mentioned, to Henry B. Gibson, Micah
Brooks, and Jellis Clute, their heirs and assigns for
ever.
The tract which I reserved for myself, begins at
the center of the Great Slide, thence running west
one mile, thence north two miles, thence east about
a mile to the river, and thence running southerly
up the river, and bounding on the west bank to the
place of beginning.
In consideration of the before mentioned sale to
Messrs. Gibson, Brooks, and Clute, among other
things, they bound themselves, their heirs, assigns,
&c. to pay to me, my heirs or successors, three
hundred dollars a year for ever.
When I review my life, the privations that I have
suffered, the hardships I have endured, the vicissi-
tudes I have passed, and the complete revolution
that I have experienced in my manner of living:
when I consider my reduction from a civilized to a
savage state, and the various steps by which that
process has been effected, and that my life has been
prolonged, and my health and reason spared, it
seems a miracle that I am unable to account for,
~

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 125
and is a tragical medley that I hope will never be
repeated. The bare loss of liberty is but a mºre
trifle when compared with the circumstances that
necessarily attend, and are inseparably connected
with it. It is the recollection of what we once were,
of the friends, the home we have left, and the plea-
sures that we have lost; the anticipation of misery,
the appearance of wretchedness, the anxiety for
freedom, the hope of release, the devising of means
of escaping, and the vigilance with which we watch
our keepers, that constitute the nauseous dregs of
the bitter cup of slavery. I am sensible, however,
that no one can pass from a state of freedom to that
of slavery, and in the last situation rest perfectly
contented; but as every one knows that great exer-
tions of the mind tend directly to debilitate the body,
it will appear obvious that we ought, when confined,
to exert all our faculties to promote our present
comfort, and let future days provide their own sa-
crifices. In regard to ourselves, just as we feel,
we are.
For the preservation of my life to the present
time I am indebted to an excellent constitution,
with which I have been blessed in as great a degree
as any other person. After I arrived to years of
understanding, the care of my own health was one
of my principal studies; and by avoiding exposures
to wet and cold, by temperance in eating, abstain-
ing from the use of spirits, and shunning the exces-
ses to which I was frequently exposed, I effected
my object beyond what I expected. I have never
ºnce been sick till within a year or two, only as I
have related.
Spirits and tobacco I have never used, and I have
never once attended an Indian frolick. When I was
taken prisoner, and for some time after that, spirits

126 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
was unknown among the Indians; and when it was
first introduced, it was in small quantities, and used
only by the Indians; so that it was along time befor
the Indian women began even to taste it. -
After the French war, for a number of years, it .
was the practice of the Indians of our tribe to send
to Niagara and get two or three kegs of rum, (in all
six or eight gallons,) and hold a frolick as longasi.
lasted. When the rum was brought to the town, all
the Indians collected, and before a drop was drank,
gave all their knives, tomahawks, guns, and other
instruments of war, to one Indian, whose business it
was to bury them in a private place, keep them con-
cealed, and remain perfectly sober till the frolick was
ended. Having thus divested themselves, they com-
menced drinking, and continued their frolick till
every drop was consumed. If any of them became
quarrelsome, or got to fighting, those who were
sober enough bound them upon the ground, where
they were obliged to lie till they got sober, and then
were unbound. When the fumes of the spirits had
left the company, the sober Indian returned to each
the instruments with which they had entrusted him.
and all went home satisfied. A frolick of that kind
was held but once a year, and that at the time the
Indians quit their hunting, and came in with their
deer-skins.
In those frolicks the women never participated.
Soon after the revolutionary war, however, spirits
became common in our tribe, and have been used
indiscriminately by both sexes; though there are not
so frequent instances of intoxication amongst the
squaws as amongst the Indians. -
To the introduction and use of that baneful article.
which has made such devastation in our tribes, and
threatens the extinction of our people, (the Indians)
-

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 127
I can with the greatest propriety impute the whole
of my misfortune in loosing my three sons. But as
have before observed, not even the love of life will
restrain an Indian from sipping the poison that he
knows will destroy him. The voice of nature, the
rebukes of reason, the advice of parents, the expos-
tulations of friends, and the numerous instances of
sudden death, are all insufficient to restrain an Indian
who has once experienced the exhilarating and ine-
briating effects of spirits, from seeking his grave in
the bottom of his bottle!
My strength has been great for a woman of my
size, otherwise I must long ago have died under the
burdens which I was obliged to carry. I learned to
carry loads on my back, supported by a strap placed
across my forehead, soon after my captivity; and
continue to carry in the same way. Upwards of
thirty years ago, and with the help of my young
children, I backed all the boards that were used
about my house from Allen's mill at the outlet of
Silver Lake, a distance of five miles. I have planted,
-hoed, and harvested corn every season but one since
I was taken prisoner. Even this present fall
I have husked my corn and backed it into the house.
The first cow that I ever owned, I bought of a
squaw sometime after the revolution. It had been
stolen from the enemy. I had owned it but a few
days when it fell into a hole, and almost died before
we could get it out. After this, the squaw wanted
to be recanted, but as I would not give up the cow,
I gave her money enough to make, when added to
the sum which I paid her at first, thirty-five dollars.
Cows were plenty on the Ohio, when I lived there,
and of good quality.
For provisions I have never suffered since I came
upon the flats; nor have I ever been indebted to any

128 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
other hands than my own for the plenty that I have
shared.
I have never been accused of many vices. Some
of my children had light brown hair, and tolerable
fair skin, which used to make some people say that
I stole them, yet as I was ever conscious of my own
constancy, I never thought that any one really be:
lieved that I was guilty of adultery. It was believed
for a long time, by some of our people, that I was a
great witch, but they were unable to prove my guilt,
and consequently I escaped the certain doom of those
who are convicted of that crime, which by the
Indians is considered as heinous as murder.
The term in the Seneca language meaning witch,
applies equally to both sexes. They believe that
there are many witches, and that next to the author
of evil, they are the greatest scourge to the people.
The term denotes a person to whom the evil deity
has delegated power to inflict diseases, cause death,
blast corn, bring bad weather, and in short to cause
almost any calamity to which they are liable. With
this impression, and believing that it is their actual.
duty to destroy as far as is in their power, every
source of unhappiness, it has been a custom among
them from time immemorial, to destroy every one
that they could convict of so heinous a crime; and
in fact there is no reprieve from the sentence.
Executions for witchcraft are not an uncommon OC-
currence. More or less, charged with being witches
have been executed in almost every year I have lived
on the Genesee. Many, on being suspected, made
their escape: while others, before they were awaº
of being implicated, have been apprehended and
brought to trial. A number of years agº an Indiº
chased a squaw, near Little Beard's Town, º
caught her; but on account of her great strength

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 129
she got away. The Indian, vexed and disappointed,
went home, and the next day reported that he saw
her have fire in her mouth, and that she was a witch.
Upon this she was apprehended and killed immedi-
ately. She was Bigtree's cousin. I was present at
that execution, and also saw another who had been
convicted of being a witch, killed and thrown into
the river. Thus from the most trifling causes, thou-
sands have lost their lives through the superstitious
fanaticism of the pagan Indians, for they will not
“suffer a witch to live.”
I have been the mother of eight children; three
of whom are now living, and I have at this time
thirty-nine grand children, and fourteen great-
grand children, all living in the neighborhood of
Genesee river, and at Buffalo.
I live in my own house, and on my own land,
with my youngest daughter, Polly, who is married
to George Chongo, and has three children.
My daughter Nancy, who is married to Billy
Green, lives about eighty rods south of my house,
and has seven children.
My other daughter, Betsey, is married to John
Green, has seven children, and resides eighty rods
north of my house.
Thus situated in the midst of my children, I ex-
pect I shall soon leave the world, and make room
for the rising generation, I feel the weight of years
with which I am loaded, and am sensible of my daily
failure in seeing hearing, and strength; but my
ºnly anxiety is for my family. If my family will
live happily, and I can be exempted from trouble
While I have to stay, I feel as though I could lay
down in peace, a life that has been checked in ai.
most every hour, with troubles of a deeper dye than
are commonly * by mortals.

130 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
C. H. A. P. T. E. R. X. V.
Hiokatoo was born on the banks of the Susque-
hannah, in the year 1708, in one of the tribes of the
Senecas, which inhabited that region at the time of
his birth. He was own cousin to Farmer’s Brother,
a chief who had been justly celebrated for his worth.
Their mothers were sisters, and it was through the
influence of Farmer’s Brother, that I became Hio-
katoo’s wife. -
In early life, he showed signs of thirst for blood, by
attending only to the art of war, in the use of the
tomahawk and scalping knife; and in practicing cru-
elties upon every thing that chanced to fall into his
hands, which was susceptible of pain. In that way
he learned to use his implements of war effectually,
and at the same time blunted all those finer feelings
and tender sympathies that are naturally excited, by
hearing or seeing a fellow being in distress. He
could inflict the most excruciating tortures upon his
enemies, and prided himself upon his fortitude, in
having performed the most barbarous ceremonies
and tortures, without the least degree of pity or re-
morse. Thus qualified, when very young, he was
initiated into scenes of carnage, by being engaged
in the wars that prevailed amongst the Indian tribes.
When he was a young man, there lived in the
same tribe with him an old Indian warrior, who was
a great counsellor, by the name of Buck-in-le-hik
lish. Buckinjehillish having, with great fatigue
attended the council when it was deliberating upon
war, declared that none but the ignorant made waſ
and that the wise men and the warriors had to do
the fighting. This speech exasperated his cºuntry
men to such a degree that he was apprehended an
-
-

DEH-HE-WA-MS. 131
tried for being a witch, on the account of his having
lived to so advanced an age; and because he could
not show some reason why he had not died before,
he was sentenced to be tomahawked by a boy on the
spot, which was accordingly done.
In 1731, Hiokatoo was appointed a runner, to
assist in collecting an army to go against the Cataw-
bas, Cherokees, and other southern Indians. A large
army was collected, and after a long and fatiguing
march, met its enemies in what was then called the
“low, dark, and bloody lands,” near the mouth of
Red River, in what is now called the state of Ten-
nessee, at or near the site of the present village of
Clarksville, in the county of Montgomery. The
Catawbas and their associates, had, by some means,
been apprised of their approach, and lay in ambush
to take them at once, when they should come within
their reach, and destroy the whole army. The
northern Indians, with their usual sagacity, discove-
red the situation of their enemies, rushed upon the
ambuscade and massacred 1200 on the spot. The
battle continued for two days and two nights, with
the utmost severity, in which the northern Indians
were victorious, and so far succeeded in destroying
the Catawbas that they at that time ceased to be a
nation. The victors suffered an immense loss in
killed; but gained the hunting ground, which was
their grand object, though the Cherokees would not
ive it up in a treaty, or consent to make peace.
ows and arrows, at that time, were generally used
as the implements of Indian warfare, although a
few guns had been introduced.
From that time he was engaged in a number of
battles in which, as in the Catawba and Cherokee
wºrs. Indians only were engaged, and made fight-
ing his business, till the commencement of the

132 open-Hº-W A-MIs.
French war. In those battles he took a number of
Indians prisoners, whom he killed by tying them to
trees and setting small Indian boys to shooting at
them with arrows, till death finished the misery of
the sufferers; a process that frequently took two
days for its completion!
During the French war he was in every battle
that was fought on the Susquehannah and Ohio
rivers; and was so fortunate as never to have been
taken prisoner.
At Braddock's defeat he took two white prisoners,
and burnt them alive in a fire of his own kindling.
In 1777, he was in the battle at Fort Freeland,
in Northumberland county, Pa. The fort contained
a great number of women and children, and was
... only by a small garrison. The force that
went against it, consisted of 100 British regulars,
commanded by a Col. McDonald, and 300 Indians
under Hiokatoo. After a short but bloody engage-
ment, the fort was surrendered; the women and
children were sent under an escort to the next fort
below, and the men and boys taken off by a party
of British, to the general Indian encampment. As
soon as the fort had capitulated and the firing had
ceased, Hiokatoo with the help of a few Indians,
tomahawked every wounded American, while ear-
nestly begging with uplifted hands for quarters.
The massacre was but just finished when Capts.
Dougherty and Boon arrived with a reinforcement
to assist the garrison. On their arriving in sight of
the fort, they saw that it had surrendered, and that
an Indian was holding the flag. This so much in
flamed Capt. Dougherty that he left his command,
stept forward, and shot the Indian at the first fire
Another took the flag, and had no sooner got it
erected than Dougherty dropt him as he had the

DEH-HE-WA-MIs. 133
first. A third presumed to hold it, who was also
shot down by Dougherty. Hiokatoo, exasperated
at the sight of such bravery, sallied out with a party
of his Indians, and killed Capts. Dougherty, Boon,
and fourteen men, at the first fire. The remainder
of the two companies escaped by taking to flight,
and soon arrived at the fort which they had left but
a few hours before.
In an expedition that went out against Cherry
Valley and the neighboring settlements, Captain
David, a Mohawk Indian, was first, and Hiokatoo
the second in command. The force consisted of se-
veral hundred Indians, who were determined on
mischief, and the destruction of the whites. A con-
tinued series of wanton barbarity characterized their
career, for they plundered and burnt every thing
that came in their way, and killed a number of per-
sons, among whom were a number of infants, whom
Hiokatoo butchered or dashed upon the stones with
his own hands. Besides the instances which have
been mentioned, he was in a number of parties du-
ring the revolutionary war, where he ever acted a
conspicuous part.
The Indians having removed the seat of their
depredations and war to the frontiers of Pennsylva-
nia, Ohio, Kentucky, and the neighboring territo
ries, assembled a large force at Upper Sandusky,
their place of general rendezvous, from whence
they went out to the various places which they de-
signed to sacrifice.
Tired of the desolating scenes that were so often
witnessed, and feeling a confidence that the savages
might be subdued, and an end put to their crimes,
the American government raised a regiment, con-
sisting of 300 volunteers, for the purpose of dislod-
sing them from their cantonment and preventing
134 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
further barbarities. Col. William Crawford, and
Lieut. Col David Williamson, men who had been
thoroughly tried and approved, were commissioned
by Gen. Washington to take the cammand of a ser.
vice that seemed all-important to the welfare of the
country. In the month of July, 1782, well armed,
and provided with a sufficient quantity of provisions,
this regiment made an expeditious march through
the wilderness to Upper Sandusky, where, as had
been anticipated, they found the Indians assembled
in full force at their encampment, prepared to re-
ceive an attack.
As Col. Crawford and his brave men advanced,
and when they had got within a short distance of
the town, they were met by a white man, with a flag
of truce from the Indians, who proposed to Colonel
Crawford that if he would surrender himself and
his men to the Indians, their lives should be spared:
but, that if they persisted in their undertaking, and
attacked the town, they should all be massacred to
a man.
Crawford, while hearing the proposition, atten:
tively surveyed its bearer, and recognized in his
features one of his former schoolmates and compan-
ions, with whom he was perfectly acquainted, by
the name of Simon Gurty. Gurty, but a short time
before this, had been a soldier in the American ar-
my, in the same regiment with Crawford; but on
the account of his not having received the promo:
tion that he expected, he became disaffected—swore
an eternal war with his countrymen, fled to the In-
dians, and joined them, as a leader well qualified to
conduct them to where they could satiate their this
for blood, upon the innocent, unoffending, and de-
fenceless settlers. Crawford sternly inquired of the
traitor if his name was not Simon Gurty; and being















DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 135
answered in the affirmative, he informed him that
he despised the offer which he had made; and that
he should not surrender his army unless he should
be compelled to do so, by a superior force.
Gurly returned, and Crawford immediately com
menced an engagement that lasted till night, with-
out the appearance of victory on either side, when
the firing ceased, and the combatants on both sides,
retired to take refreshment, and to rest through the
night, Crawford encamped in the woods near half
a mile from the town, where, after the sentinels
were placed, and each had taken his ration, they
slept on their arms, that they might be instantly
ready in case they should be attacked. The still-
ness of death hovered over the little army, and sleep
relieved the whole, except the wakeful sentinels
who vigilantly attended to their duty. But what was
their surprise, when they found, late in the night,
that they were surrounded by the Indians on every
side, except a narrow space between them and the
town! Every man was under arms, and the officers
instantly consulted each other on the best method
of escaping; for they saw that to fight would be
useless, and that to surrender would be death.
Crawford proposed to retreat through the ranks
of the enemy in an opposite direction from the town,
as being the most sure course to take. Lieut. Col.
Williamson advised to march directly through the
town, where there appeared to be no Indians, as the
fires were yet burning. -
There was no time or place for debates: Col.
Crawford, with sixty followers, retreated on the
route that he had proposed, by attempting to rush
through the enemy; but they had no sooner got
amongst the Indians than every man was killed or
taken prisoner. Amongst the prisoners were Col.

136 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
Crawford, and Doct. Knight, surgeon of the regi.
ment. Lt. Col. Williamson, with the remainder of
the regiment, together with the wounded, set out at
the same time that Crawford did, went through the
town without losing a man, and by the help of good
guides, arrived at their homes in safety.
The next day after the engagement, the Indians
disposed of all their prisoners to the different tribes,
except Col. Crawford and Dr. Knight; but those
unfortuate men were reserved for a more cruel des.
tiny. A council was immediately held on Sandusky
plains, consisting of all the chiefs and warriors,
ranged in their customary order, in a circular form:
and Crawford and Knight were brought forward and
seated in the center of the circle.
The council being opened, the chiefs began to ex-
amine Crawford on various subjects relative to the
war. At length they enquired who conducted the
military operations of the American army on the
Ohio and Susquehannah rivers, during the year be:
fore; and who had led that army against them with
so much skill, and such uniform success? Crawford
very honestly, and without suspecting any harm
from his reply, promptly answered that he was the
man who had led his countrymen to victory, who
had driven the enemy from the settlements, and by
that means had procured a great degree of happiness
to many of his fellew citizens. Upon hearing this,
a chief, who had lost a son the year before, in a
battle where Col. Crawford commanded, left his stº
tion in the council, stepped to Crawford, blacked his
face, and at the same time told him that the next
day he should be burnt. -
The council was immediately dissolved on its
hearing the sentence from the chief, and the prison-
ers were taken off the ground, and kept in custody

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 137
through the night. Crawford now viewed his fate
as sealed; and despairing of ever returning to his
home or his country, only dreaded the tediousness
of death, as commonly inflicted by the savages, and
earnestly hoped that he might be despatched at a
single blow. -
Early the next morning the Indians assembled at
the place of execution, and Crawford was led to the
post—the goal of savage torture, to which he was
fastened. The post was a stick of timber placed
firmly in the ground, having an arm framed in at
the top, and extending some six or eight feet from
it, like the arm of a sign post. A pile of wood,
containing about two cords, lay about two feet from
the place where he stood, which he was informed
was to be kindled into a fire that would burn him
alive, as many had been burnt on the same spot,
who had been much less deserving than himself.
Gurty stood and composedly looked on the prepa-
rations that were making for the funeral of one of
his former playmates; a hero by whose side he had
fought; of a man whose valor had won laurels
which, if he could have returned, would have been
strewed upon his grave, by his grateful country-
men. Dreading the agony that he saw he was about
to feel, Crawford used every argument which his
perilous situation could suggest, to prevail upon
Gurty to ransom him at any price, and deliver him,
(as it was in his power,) from the savages, and their
torments. Gurty heard his prayers and expostula-
tions, and saw his tears with indifference; and finally
told the forsaken victim that he would not procure
him a moment's respite, nor afford him the most tri-
ling assistance. -
The Col. was then bound, stripped naked, and
tied by his wrists to the arm which extended hori-

138 prº-HE-WA-MIS.
zontally from the post, in such a manner that his
arms were extended over his head, with his feet
just standing upon the ground. This being done,
the savages placed the wood in a circle around him,
at the distance of a few feet, in order that his misery
might be protracted to the greatest length, and then
kindled it in a number of places at the same time.
The flames arose and the scorching heat became al-
most insupportable. Again he prayed to Gurty in
all the anguish of historment, to rescue him from
the fire, or shoot him dead upon the spot. A demo-
niac smile suffused the countenance of Gurty, while
he calmly replied to the dying suppliant, that he
had no pity for his suffering; but that he was then
satisfying that spirit of revenge, which for a long
time he had hoped to have an opportunity to wreak
upon him. Nature being almost exhausted from the
intensity of the heat, he settled down a little, when
a squaw threw coals of fire and embers upon him,
which made him groan most piteously, while the
whole camp rung with exultation. During the ex-
ecution they manifested all the ecstasy of a complete
triumph. Poor Crawford soon died and was entirely
consumed.
Thus ended the life of a patriot and hero, who
had been an intimate with Gen. Washington, and
who shared in an eminent degree, the confidence of
that great, good man, to whom, in the time of revo-
lutionary perils, the sons of legitimate freedom
looked with a degree of faith in his mental resour-
ces, unequalled in the history of the world.
That tragedy being ended, Dr. Knight was infor
med that on the next day he should be burnt in the
same manner that his comrade Crawford had been, at
Lower Sandusky. Hiokatoo, who had been a lead.
ing chief in the battle with, and in the execution of

DEH-HE-WA-MIs. 139
Crawford, painted Dr. Knight's face black, and then
bound him and gave him up to two able bodied In-
dians to conduct to the place of execution.
They set off with him immediately, and travelled
till towards evening, when they halted to encamp
till morning. The afternoon had been very rainy,
and the storm still continued, which rendered it very
difficult for the Indians to kindle a fire. Knight, ob-
serving the difficulty under which they labored;
made them to understand by signs, that if they would
unbind him, he would assist them. They accor-
dingly unloosed him, and he soon succeeded in ma-
king a fire by the application of some dry stuff
which, at considerable trouble, and displaying much
ingenuity, he procured. While the Indians were
warming themselves, the Doct. continued to gather
wood to last through the night, and in doing this,
he found a club which he placed in a situation from
whence he could take it conveniently, whenever an
opportunity should present itself, in which he could-
use it effectually. The Indians continued warming,
till at length the Doct. saw that they had placed
themselves in a favorable position for the execution
of his design, when, stimulated by the love of life,
he cautiously took his club, and at two blows,
knocked them both down. Determined to finish the
work of death which he had so well begun, he drew
one of their scalping knives, with which he beheaded
and scalped them both! He then took a rifle, toma-
hawk, and some ammunition, and directed his
course for home, where he arrived without having
experienced any difficulty on his journey.
The next morning, the Indians took the track of
their victim and his attendants, to go to Lower San-
dusky, and there execute the sentence which they
had pronounced upon him. But what was their

140 DEH-Hº-WA-M18. |
surprise and disappointment, when they arrived a
the place of encampment, where they found their
trusty friends scalped and decapitated, and that their
prisoner had made his escape? Chagrined beyond
measure, they immediately separated, and went in
every direction in pursuit of their prey; but after
having spent a number of days unsuccessfully, they
gave up the chase and retired to their encampment
In the time of the French war, in an engagement
which took place on the Ohio river, Hiokatoo took
a British Colonel, by the name of Simon Canton,
whom he carried to the Indian encampment. A
council was held, and the Colonel was sentenced to
suffer death, by being tied on a wild colt, with his
face towards its tail, and then having the colt turned
loose to run where it pleased. He was accordingly
tied on, and the colt let loose, agreeable to the sen-
tence. The colt run two days and then returned
with its rider yet alive. The Indians, thinking that
he would never die in that way, took him of and
made him run the gauntlet three times; but in the
last race a squaw knocked him down, and he was
supposed to have been dead. He, however, recov-
ered, and was sold for fifty dollars to a Frenchman,
who sent him as a prisoner to Detroit. On the re-
turn of the Frenchman to Detroit, the Col. besought
him either to ransom him, or set him at liberty
with so much warmth, and promised with so much
solemnity to reward him as one of the best of ben-
efactors, if he would let him go, that the Frenchman
took his word, and sent him home to his family-
The Colonel remembered his promise, and in a short
time sent his deliverer one hundred and fifty dollars.
as a reward for his generosity.
Since the commencement of the revolutionary
war, Hiokatoo has been in seventeen campºº

DEH-He-WA-MIs. 141
four of which were in the Cherokee war. He was
so great an enemy to the Cherokees, and so fully
determined upon their subjugation, that on his march
to their country, he raised his own army for those
four campaigns, and commanded it; and also super-
intended its subsistence. In one of those campaigns,
which continued two whole years without intermis-
sion, he attacked his enemies on the Mobile, drove
them to the country of the Creek Nation, where he
continued to harrass them, till being tired of war,
he returned to his family. He brought home a great
number of scalps, which he had taken from the en-
emy, and ever seemed to possess an unconquerable
determination that the Cherokees should be utterly
destroyed. Towards the close of his last fighting in
that country, he took two squaws, whom he sold on
his way home for money to defray the expense of
his journey.
Hiokatoo was about six feet four or five inches
high, large boned, and rather inclined to leanness.
He was very stout and active, for a man of his size;
it was said by himself and others, that he had never
found an Indian who could keep up with him on a
race, or throw him at wrestling. His eye was
quick and penetrating; and his voice was of that
thrilling and powerful kind, which, amongst Indians,
always commands attention. His health was uni-
fºrmly good. He was never confined by sickness,
till he was attacked with the consumption, four
years before his death; and, although he had, from
his earliest days, been inured to almost constant fa.
tigue, and exposed to the inclemency of the weather,
in the open air, he seemed to lose the vigor of the
prime of life only by the natural decay occasioned
by old age.

142 - DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
C H A P T E R XVI.
Sometime near the close of the revolutionary war,
a white man by the name of Ebenezer Allen, left
his people in the state of Pennsylvania on account
of some disaffection towards his countrymen, and
came to the Genesee river, to reside with the Indians
He tarried at Genishua a few days, and came up tº
Gardeau, where I then resided. He was, apparent
ly, without any business that would support him; but
he soon became acquainted with my son Thomas,
with whom he hunted for a long time, and made his
home with him at my house. Winter came on, and
he continued his stay.
When Allen came to my house, I had a white
man living on my land, who had a Nanticoke squaw
for his wife, with whom he had lived very peacea.
bly; for he was a moderate man commonly, and
she was a kind, gentle, cunning creature. It so
happened that he had no hay for his cattle; so that
in the winter he was obliged to drive them every
day, perhaps a mile from his house, to let them feed
on the rushes, which in those days were so numerous
as to nearly cover the ground.
Allen having frequently seen the squaw in the
fall, took the opportunity when her husband was
absent with his cows, daily to make her a visit: and
in return for his kindnesses she made and gave him.
a red cap, finished and decorated in the highest
Indian style.
The husband had for some considerable length of
time felt a degree of jealousy that Allen was tº
passing upon his rights, with the consent of his sº
but when he saw Allen dressed in so fine an Indian
cap, and found that his dear Nanticoke had presented

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 143
it to him, his doubts all left him, and he became so
violently enraged that he caught her by the hair of
her head, dragged her on the ground to my house,
a distance of forty rods, and threw her in at the door.
Hiokatoo, my husband, exasperated at the sight of
so much inhumanity, hastily took down his old tom-
ahawk, which for a while had lain idle, shook it over
the cuckold's head, and bade him jogo (i. e. go off.)
The enraged husband, well knowing that he should
feel a blow if he waited to hear the order repeated,
instantly retreated, and went down the river to his
cattle. We protected the poor Nanticoke woman,
and gave her victuals; and Allen sympathized with
her in her misfortunes till spring, when her husband
came to her, acknowledged his former errors, and
that he had abused her without a cause, promised a
reformation, and she received him with every mark
of a renewal of her affection. They went home
lovingly, and soon after removed to Niagara.
The same spring, Allen commenced working my
flats, and continued to labor there till after the peace
in 1783. He then went to Philadelphia on some
business that detained him but a few days, and re-
turned with a horse and some dry goods, which he
carried to a place that is now called Mount Morris,
where he built or bought a small house.
The British and Indians on the Niagara frontier,
dissatisfied with the treaty of peace, were determined
at all hazards, to continue their depredations upon
the white settlements which lay between them and
Albany. They actually made ready, and were about
setting out on an expedition to that effect, when
Allen (who by this time understood their customs of
war) took a belt of wampum, which he had fraudu.
lently procured, and carried it as a token of peace
frºm the Indians to the commander of the neares.

144 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
American military post. The Indians were soon
answered by the American officer, that the wanpum
was cordially accepted; and, that a continuance of
peace was ardently wished for. The Indians, a
this, were chagrined and disappointed beyond meas.
ure; but as they held the warmpum to be a sacred
thing, they dared not go against the import of its
meaning, and immediately buried the hatchet as it
respected the people of the United States; and smo.
ked the pipe of peace. They, however, resolved tº
punish Allen for his officiousness in meddling with
their national affairs, by presenting the sacred wan.
pum without their knowledge, and went about devi.
sing means for his detection. A party was accord.
ingly despatched from Fort Niagara to apprehend
him; with orders to conduct him to that post for
trial, or for safe keeping, till such time as his fate
should be determined upon in a legal manner.
The party came on; but before it arrived at Gar
deau, Allen got news of its approach, and fled ſo
safety, leaving the horse and goods that he had
brought from Philadelphia, an easy prey to his ene:
mies. He had not been long absent when they aſ
rived at Gardeau, where they made diligent search
for him till they were satisfied that they could no
find him, and then seized the effects which he had
left, and returned to Niagara. My son Thomas
went with them, with Allen's horse, and carried the
oods.
Allen, on finding that his enemies had gºn*
came back to my house, where he lived as before
but of his return they were soon notified at Niagº
and Nettles (who married Priscilla Ramsay) with a
small party of Indians, came on to take him. "
however, by some means found that they were nº
and gave me his box of money and trinkets tº keep

DEH-HE-WA-MIs. 145
safely, till he called for it, and again took to the
woods, Nettles came on, determined at all events to
take him before he went back; and, in order to ac-
complish his design, he, with his Indians, hunted in
the day time and lay by at night at my house, and
in that way they practiced for a number of days. Al-
len watched the motion of his pursuers, and every
night after they had gone to rest, came home and
got some food, and then returned to his retreat. It
was in the fall, and the weather was cold and rainy,
so that he suffered extremely. Some nights he sat
in my chamber till nearly day-break, while his ene-
mies were below, and when the time arrived, I as-
sisted him to escape unnoticed.
Nettles at length abandoned the chase—went
home, and Allen, all in tatters, came in. By run-
ning in the woods his clothing had become torn into
rags, so that he was in a suffering condition, almost
naked. Hiokatoo gave him a blanket, and a piece
of broadcloth for a pair of trousers. Allen made
his trousers himself, and then built a raft, on which
he went down the river to his own place at Mount
Morris.
About that time he married a squaw, whose name
was Sally.
The Niagara people finding that he was at his
own house, came and took him by surprise, and car-
ried him to Niagara. Fortunately for him, it so
happened that just as they arrived at the fort, a
house took fire, and his keepers all left him to save
the building, if possible. Allen had supposed his
doom to be nearly sealed; but finding himself at
liberty, he took to his heels, left his escort to put
out the fire, and ran to Tonnewanda. There an In-
dian gave him some refreshment, and a good gun,
with which he hastened on to Little Beards Town,

146 den-Hºº-ºw A-MIS.
where he found his squaw. Not daring to risk him.
self at that place for fear of being given up, he
made her but a short visit, and came immediately tº
Gardeau. -
Just as he got to the top of the hill above the Gaº
deau flats, he discovered a party of British soldies
and Indians in pursuit of him; and in fact they were
so near that he was satisfied that they saw him, an
concluded that it would be impossible for him to es
cape. The love of liberty, however, added to his
natural swiftness, gave him sufficient strength º
make his escape to his former castle of safety. His
pursuers came immediately to my house, where the
expected to have found him secreted, and under my
protection. They told me where they had seen him
but a few moments before, and that they were con
fident that it was within my power to put him intº
their hands. As I was perfectly clear of having
had any hand in his escape, I told them plainly that
I had not seen him since he was taken to Niagara
and that I could give them no information at all
respecting him. Still unsatisfied, and doubting my
veracity, they advised my Indian brother to use his
influence to draw from me the secret of his conceal.
ment, which they had an idea that I consideredº
great importance, not only to him, but to myself I
persisted in my ignorance of his situation, and fl-
nally they left me.
Although I had not seen Allen, I knew his place
of security, and was well aware that if I told them
the place where he had formerly hid himself they
would have no difficulty in making him a prisºn*
He came to my house in the night, and awokº
with the greatest caution, fearing that some of
enemies might be watching to take him at a tº
when, and in a place where it would be impossible

Den-HE-WA-Mrs- 147
for him to make his escape. I got up and assured
him that he was then safe; but that his enemies
would return early in the morning and search him
out if it should be possible. Having given him some
victuals, which he received thankfully, I told him to
o, but to return the next night to a certain corner
ºf the fence near my house, where he would find a
quantity of meal that I would have prepared and de-
posited there for his use.
Early the next morning, Nettles and his company
came in while I was pounding the meal for Allen,
and insisted upon my giving him up. I again told
them that I did not know where he was, and that I
could not, neither would I, tell them anything about
him. I well knew that Allen considered his life in
my hands; and although it was my intention not to
lie, I was fully determined to keep his situation a pro-
found secret. They continued their labor, and ex-
amined, as they supposed, every crevice, gully, tree,
and hollow log in the neighboring woods, and at last
concluded that he had left the country, gave him up
for lost, and went home. -
At that time Allen lay in a secret place in the
gulf, a short distance above my flats, in a hole that
he accidentally found in the rock near the river. At
night he came and got the meal at the corner of the
fence as I had directed him, and afterwards lived in
the gulf two weeks. Each night he came to the
pasture and milked one of my cows, without any
other vessel in which to receive the milk than his
hat, out of which he drank it. I supplied him with
meal, but fearing to build a fire, he was obliged to
eat it raw, and wash it down with the milk. Net-
tles having left our neighborhood, and Allen consi-
dering himself safe, left his little cave and came
home. I gave him his box of money and trinkets,

148 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
and he went to his own house at Mount Morris
was generally considered by the Indians of .
tribe, that Allen was an innocent man; and that
Niagara people were persecuting him without al.
cause. Little Beard, then about to go to the ºl.
ward on public business, charged his Indians nº
meddle with Allen, but to let him live amongs tº
peaceably, and enjoy himself with his family ºn
property if he could. Having the protection of
chief, he felt himself safe, and let his situation.
known to the whites, from whom he suspected
harm. They, however, were more inimical tº
our Indians, and were easily bribed by Nettles
assist in bringing him to justice. Nettles cameº
and the whites, as they had agreed, gave poor All-
up to him. He was bound and carried to Niagº
where he was confined in prison through the wintº
In the spring he was taken to Montreal or Quº
for trial, and was honorably acquitted. The crim
for which he was tried was, for having carried tº
wampum to the Americans, and thereby putting"
sudden a stop to their war.
From the place of his trial he went directly"
Philadelphia, and purchased on credit, a boºt load
of goods, which he brought by water to Conhº
where he left them and came to Mount Morrisº
assistance to get them brought on. The nº
readily went with horses and brought them " º
house, where he disposed of his dry goods; hº
daring to let the Indians begin to drink strong º
for fear of the quarrels which would naturally ºl.
low, he sent his spirits to my place, and wº
them. For his goods he received ginseº º
principally, and a few skins. Ginseng at tº º
was plenty, and commanded a high price. We
pared the whole that he received for the "
_
DEH-HE-WA-MI5. 149
expecting that he would carry them to Philadelphia.
in that I was disappointed; for when he had dispo-
sºd of, and got pay for all his goods, he took the gin:
seng and skins to Niagara, and there sold them and
came home.
Tired of dealing in goods, he planted a large field
of corn on or near his own land, attended to it faith-
fully, and succeeded in raising a large crop, which
he harvested, loaded into canoes, and carried down
the river to the mouth of Allen's creek, then called
by the Indians Gin-is-a-ga, where he unloaded it,
built him a house, and lived with his family.
The next season he planted corn at that place,
and built a grist and saw mill on Genesee falls, now
called Rochester.
At the time Allen built the mills, he had an old
German living with him by the name of Andrews,
whom he sent in a canoe down the river with his
mill irons. Allen went down at the same time;
but before they got to the mills, Allen threw the old
man overboard, as it was then generally believed,
for he was never seen or heard of afterwards.
In the course of the season in which Allen built
his mills, he became acquainted with the daughter
of a white man, who was moving to Niagara. She
was handsome, and Allen soon got into her good gra-
ces, so that he married and took her home, to be a
joint partner with Sally, the squaw, whom she had
never head of, till she got home and found her in full
possession; but it was too late to retrace the hasty
steps she had taken, for her father had left her in
the care of a tender husband, and gone on. She,
however, found that she enjoyed at least an equal
half of her husband's affections, and made herself
contented. Her father's name I have forgotten, but
her's was Lucy.
-








150 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
Allen was not contented with two wives, for in
short time after he had married Lucy, he came
to my house, where he found a young woman whº
had an old husband with her. They had been on
long journey, and called at my place to recruit an
rest themselves. She filled Allen's eye, and heat.
cordingly fixed upon a plan to get her into his nº
session. He praised his situation, enumerated his
advantages, and finally persuaded them to go hom
and tarry with him a few days at least, and partal:
of a part of his comforts. They accepted his gene
rous invitation, and went home with him. But they
had been there but two or three days, when Allen
took the old gentleman out to view his flats; and as
they were deliberately walking on the bank of the
river, pushed him into the water. The old man
almost strangled, succeeded in getting out; but his
fall and exertions had so powerful an effect upon his
system, that he died in two or three days, andle
his young widow to the protection of his murderer
She lived with him about one year in a state of colº
cubinage, and then left him.
How long Allen lived at Allen's creek, I am unº
ble to state; but soon after the young widow le.
him, he removed to his old place at Mount Morris
and built a house, where he made Sally, his squaw.
by whom he had two daughters, a slave to Luº
by whom he had had one son; still, however, he
considered Sally to be his wife. After Allen.cº.
to Mount Morris at that time, he married a girl by
the name of Morilla Gregory, whose father tº hº
time, lived on Genesee flats. The ceremony. being
over, he took her home to live in common with his
other wives, but his house was too small for tº
family; for Sally and Lucy conceiving that the
lawful privileges would be abridged if they receive
DEH-HE-WA-MIS- 151
a partner, united their strength and whipped poor
Morilla so cruelly, that he was obliged to keep her
in a small Indian house a short distance from his
own, or lose her entirely. Morilla, before she left
Mount Morris, had four children.
one of Morilla's sisters lived with Allen about a
year after Morilla was married, and then quit him.
A short time after they all got to living at Mount
Morris, Allen prevailed upon the chiefs to give to
his Indian children, a tract of land two miles square,
where he then resided. The chiefs gave them the
land, but he so artfully contrived the conveyance,
that he could apply it to his own use, and by alien-
aling his right, destroy the claim of his children.
Having secured the land in that way, to himself,
he sent his two Indian girls to Trenton, N.J., and
his white son to Philadelphia, for the purpose of gº-
wing each of them a respectable English education.
While his children were at school, he went to
Philadelphia, and sold his right to the land which
he had begged of the Indians for his children, to
Robert Morris. After that, he sent for his daugh-
ters to come home, which they did.
Having disposed of the whole of his property on
the Genesee river, he took his two white wives and
their children, together with his effects, and remo-
ved to a Delaware town on the river De Trench, in
Upper Canada. When he left Mount Morris, Sally,
his squaw, insisted upon going with him, and actu-
ally followed him, crying bitterly, and praying for
his protection, some two or three miles, till he ab-
solutely bade her leave him, or he would punish
her with severity. At length, finding her case hope-
less, she returned to the Indians.
At the great treaty in 1797, one of Allen's daugh-
ters claimed the Mt. Morris tract which her father
-






152 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
had sold to Robert Morris. The claim was examined
and decided against her, in favor of Morris’ creditors.
He died at the Delaware town, on the River De
Trench in the year 1814 or 15, and left two white
widows and one squaw, with a number of children,
to lament his loss.
By his last will, he gave all his property to his
last wife, Morilla, and her children, without provi-
ding in the least for the support of Lucy, or any of
the other members of his family. Lucy, soon after
his death, went with her children down the Ohio
river, to receive assistance from her friends.
In the revolutionary war, Allen was a tory, and
by that means became acquainted with our Indians,
when they were in the neighborhood of his native
place, desolating the settlements on the Susquehan-
nah. In those predatory battles he joined them, and
for cruelty was not exceeded by his Indian comrades.
At one time, when he was scouting with the Indi-
ans, he entered a house very early in the morning,
where he found a man, his wife, and one child, in
bed. The man instantly sprang on the floor, for
the purpose of defending himself and little family;
but Allen despatched him at one blow. He then cut
off his head, and threw it bleeding, into the bed with
the terrified woman; took the little infant from its
mother’s breast, dashed its head against the jamb,
and left the unhappy widow and mother, to mourn
alone over her murdered family. It has been said
by some, that after he had killed the child, he
opened the fire and buried it under the coals and
embers: But of that I am not certain. I have often
heard him speak of that transaction with a great de-
gree of sorrow, and as the foulest crime he had
ºver committed—one for which I have no doubt he
repented.












DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 153
CHA PTE R XVII.
The government of the Six Nations, when they
were in the zenith of their prosperity and power,
was an oligarchy, composed of a mixture of elec-
tive and hereditary power, and to the skeleton of
such a government the remnant of the race still ad-
here. Their government was administered by chiefs
—each tribe having two; one of whom was heredi-
tary, and the other elective; the term of whose office
was during good behavior, and might be removed
for any real or supposed sufficient cause, which
however was seldom put in execution. The elective
Sachem was the military chieftain, whose duty it
was, to attend to all the military concerns of the
tribe, and command the warriors in battle. They
were both members of the General Council of the
Confederacy, as well as of the National Council,
which met as often as necessity required, and set-
tled all questions, involving matters in which their
own nation only, had an interest; but the general
council of the confederacy met but once a year, ex-
cept in cases of emergency. It then met at Onon-
daga, being the head quarters of the most central
nation; where all great questions of general interest,
such as peace and war—the concerns of tributary
nations, and all negociations with the French and
lºnglish were debated, deliberated upon, and deci-
ded All decisions made by the chiefs of a tribe,
which affected the members of that tribe only—all
decisions of the national council, solely relative to
the affairs of that nation, (a majority of Chiefs con-
curring) and all decisions of the general council of
the confederacy, were laws and decrees from which
there was no appeal. There is also a class of coun-

154 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
sellors in the several tribes, who have great influ-
ence over, but no direct voice in the decision of any
question.
Perhaps no people are more exact observers of
religious duties than those Indians among the Sene-
cas, who are denominated pagans, in contradistinc-
tion from those, who, having renounced some of
their former superstitious notions, have obtained the
name of Christians. The traditionary faith of their
fathers having been orally transmitted to them from
time immemorial, is implicitly believed, scrupu-
lously adhered to, and rigidly practiced. They are
agreed in their sentiments—are all of one order;
individual and public good, especially among them-
selves, being the great motive which excites them
to attend to those moral virtues that are directed and
explained by all their rules, and in all their cere-
monies.
Many years have elapsed since the introduction,
of Christian Missionaries among them, whom they
have heard, and very generally understand the pur-
port of the message they were sent to deliver. They
say that it is highly probable that Jesus Christ came
into the world in old times, to establish a religion
that would promote the happiness of the white peo-
ple on the other side of the great water; (meaning
the sea,) and that he died for the sins of his people,
as the Missionaries have informed them. But, they
say that Jesus Christ had nothing to do with them;
and that the Christian religion was not designed for
their benefit; but rather, should they embrace it.
they are confident it would make them worse, and
consequently do them an injury. They say also
that the Great Good Spirit gave them their religion;
and that it is better adapted to their circumstances,
situation and habits, and to the promotion of their

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 155
present comfort and ultimate happiness, than any
system that ever has or can be devised. They, how-
ever, believe that the Christian religion is better
calculated for the good of white people than theirs
is; and wonder that those who have embraced it,
do not attend more strictly to its precepts, and feel
more engaged for its support and diffusion among
themselves. At the present time, they are opposed
to preachers or schoolmasters being sent or coming
among them; and appear determined by all means
to adhere to their ancient customs.
They believe in a Great Good Spirit, whom they
call in the Seneca language Nau-wah-ne-u, as the
Creator of the world, and of every good thing—that
he made men, and all inoffensive animals; that he
supplies men with all the comforts of life; and that
he is particularly partial to the Indians, whom they
say are his peculiar people. They also believe
that he is pleased in giving them (the Indians) good
gifts; and that he is highly gratified with their good
conduct—that he abhors their vices, and that he is
willing to punish them for their bad conduct, not
only in this world, but in a future state of existence.
His residence, they suppose, lies at a great distance
from them, in a country that is perfectly pleasant,
where plenty abounds, even to profusion. That
there the soil is completely fertile, and the seasons
so mild that the corn never fails to be good—that
the deer, elk, buffalo, turkies, and other useful ani-
mals, are numerous, and that the forests are well
calculated to facilitate their hunting them with suc-
cess—that the streams are pure, and abound with
fish; and that nothing is wanting, to render fruition
complete. Over this territory they say Nau-wah-
ne-u presides as an all-powerful king; and that
without counsel he admits to his pleasures all whom
156 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
he considers to be worthy of enjoying so great a
state of blessedness. To this being they address
prayers, offer sacrifices, give thanks for favors, and
perform many acts of devotion and reverence.
They likewise believe that Nau-wah-ne-u has a
brother that is less powerful than himself, and who
is opposed to him, and to every one that is or wishes
to be good; that this bad Spirit made all evil things,
snakes, wolves, catamounts, and all other poisonous
or noxious animals and beasts of prey, except the
bear, which, on the account of the excellence of its
meat for food, and skin for clothing, they say was
made by Nau-wah-ne-u. Besides all this, they say
he makes and sends them their diseases, bad wea-
ther, and bad crops; and that he makes and supports
witches. He owns a large country adjoining that
of his brother, with whom he is continually at vari-
ance. His fields are unproductive; thick clouds
intercept the rays of the sun, and consequently de-
structive frosts are frequent; game is very scarce,
and not easily taken; ravenous beasts are numerous;
reptiles of every poisoned tooth lie in the path of
the traveller; the streams are muddy; and hunger,
nakedness, and general misery, are severely felt by
those who unfortunately become his tenants. He
takes pleasure in afflicting the Indians here, and aſ-
ter their death, receives all those into his dreary
dominions, who, in their life time, have been so vile
as to be rejected by Nau-wah-ne-u, under whose eye
they are continued in an uncomfortable state for
ever. To this source of evil they offer some obla-
tions to abate his vengeance, and render him propi-
tious. They, however, believe him to be, in a de-
gree, under subjection to his brother, and incapable
of executing his plans only by his high permission.
Public religious duties are attended to in the cele-












DEH-HE-WA-MIs. 157
bration of particular festivals and sacrifices, which
are observed with circumspection, and attended with
decorum. In each year they have five feasts, or sta-
ted times for assembling in their tribes, and giving
thanks to Nau-wah-ne-u, for the blessings which they
have received from his kind, liberal and provident
hand; and also to converse upon the best means of
meriting a continuance of his favors. The first of
these feasts is immediately after they have finished
sugaring; at which time they give thanks for the
favorable weather, and great quantity of sap they
have had, and for the sugar that they have been al-
lowed to make for the benefit of their families. At
this, as at all the succeeding feasts, the Chiefs arise
singly, and address the audience in a kind of exhor-
tation, in which they express their own thankful-
ness, urge the necessity and propriety of general
gratitude, and point out the course which ought to
be pursued by each individual, in order that Nau-
wah-ne-u may continue to bless them, and that the
evil spirit may be defeated.
On these occasions the chiefs describe a perfectly
straight line, half an inch wide, and perhaps ten
miles long, which they direct their people to travel
upon, by placing one foot before the other, with
the heel of one foot to the toe of the other, and so
on, till they arrive at the end. The meaning of
which is that they must not turn aside to the right
hand or to the left into the paths of vice, but keep
straight ahead in the way of well doing, that will
lead them to the paradise of Nau-wah-ne-u.
The second feast is after planting; when they
render thanks for the pleasantness of the season—
for the good time they have had for preparing their
ground and planting their corn; and are instructed by
their Chiefs, by what means to merit a good harvest.

158 DEH-He-wa-MIS.
When the green corn becomes fit for use, they
hold their third, or green corn feast. Their fourth
is celebrated after corn harvest; and the fifth at the
close of their year, and is always celebrated at the
time of the old moon in the last of January or first of
February. This last deserves particular description.
The Indians having returned from hunting, and
having brought in all the venison and skins that
they have taken, a committee is appointed, con-
sisting of from ten to twenty active men, to su-
perintend the festivities of the great sacrifice and
thanksgiving that is to be immediately celebrated.
This being done, preparations are made at the
council-house, or place of meeting, for the re-
ception and accommodation of the whole tribe; and
then the ceremonies are commenced, and the whole
is conducted with a great degree of order and har-
mony, under the direction of the committee.
Two white dogs, without spot or blemish, are se-
lected (if such can be found, and if not, two that
have the fewest spots) from those belonging to the
tribe, and killed near the door of the council-house,
by being strangled. A wound on the animal, or an
effusion of blood, would spoil the victim, and render
the sacrifice useless. The dogs are then painted red
on their faces, edges of their ears, and on various
parts of their bodies, and are curiously decorated
with ribbons of different colors, and fine feathers,
which are tied and fastened on in such a manner as
to make the most elegant appearance. They are
then hung on a post near the door of the council-
house, at the height of twenty feet from the ground.
The practice of sacrificing two dogs, was formerly
strictly adhered to, but at present they sacrifice only
one. This being done, the frolick is commenced by
those who are present, while the committee run

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 159
through the tribe, and hurry the people to assemble,
by knocking on their houses. At this time the com:
mittee are naked, (wearing only a breech-clout.)
and each carries a paddle, with which he takes up
ashes and scatters them about the house in every
direction. In the course of the ceremonies, all the
fire is extinguished in every hut throughout the
tribe, and new fire, struck from the flint on each
hearth, is kindled, after having removed the whole
of the ashes, old coals, &c. Having done this, and
discharged one or two guns, they go on, and in this
manner they proceed till they have visited every
house in the tribe. This finishes the business of the
first day.
On the second day the committee dance, gothrough
the town with bears-skin on their legs, and at every
time they start they fire a gun. They also beg
through the tribe, each carrying a basket in which
to receive whatever may be bestowed. The alms
consist of Indian tobacco, and other articles that are
used for incense or sacrifice. Each manager at this
time carries a dried tortoise or turtle shell, contain-
ing a few beans, which he frequently rubs on the
walls of the houses, both inside and out. This kind
of manoeuvreing by the committee continues two or
three days, during which time the people at the
council-house recreate themselves by dancing.
On the fourth or fifth day, the committee make
false faces of the husks, in which they run about,
making a frightful but ludicrous appearance. In
this dress, (still wearing the bears-skin,) they run to
the council-house, smearing themselves with dirt,
and bedaub every one who refuses to contribute
something towards filling the basket of incense,
which they continue to carry, soliciting alms–
During all this time they collect the evil spirit, or

160 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
drive it offentirely, for the present, and also con-
centrate within themselves all the sins of their tribe,
however numerous or heinous.
On the eighth or ninth day, the committee hav-
ing received all their sins, as before observed, into
their own bodies, they take down the dogs; and after
having transfused the whole of them into one of their
own number, he, by a peculiar slight of hand, or
kind of magic, works them all out of himself into the
dogs. The dogs, thus loaded with all the sins of the
people, are placed upon a pile of wood that is directly
set on fire. Here they are burnt, together with the
sins with which they were loaded, surrounded by
the multitude, who throw incense of tobacco, or the
like, into the fire, the scent of which, they say, goes
up to Nau-wah-ne-u, to whom it is pleasant and ac-
ceptable. -
This feast formerly continued nine days, but at
present it is not usually held more than from five to
seven, although until within a few years, nine days
were strictly observed; and during that time the
chiefs review the national affairs of the year past;
agree upon the best plan to be pursued through the
next year, and attend to all internal regulations.
On the last day, the whole company partake of an
elegant dinner, consisting of meat, corn, and beans,
boiled together in large kettles, and stirred till the
whole is completely mixed and soft. This mess is
devoured without much ceremony—some eat with a
spoon, by dipping out of the kettles; others serve
themselves in small dippers; some in one way, and
some in another, till the whole is consumed. After
this, they perform the war dance, the peace dance,
and smoke the pipe of peace; and then, free from
iniquity, each repairs to his place of abode, prepa-
red to commence a new year. In this feast tempe-

DEH-HE-WA-MIs. 161
rance is observed, and commonly, order prevails in
a greater degree than would naturally be expected.
They are fond of the company of spectators who
are disposed to be decent, and treat them politely in
their way; but having been frequently imposed upon
by the whites, they treat them generally with indif-
ference. -
Even their dances appear to be religious rites, es-
pecially their war and peace dances. The war
dance is said to have originated about the time that
the Six Nations, or Northern Indians, commenced
the old war with the Cherokees and other Southern
Indian Nations, about one hundred years ago.
When a tribe, or number of tribes of the Six Na-
tions, had assembled for the purpose of going to bat-
tle with their enemies, the chiefs sung this song,
and accompanied the music with dancing, and ges-
tures that corresponded with the sentiments expres-
sed, as a kind of stimulant to increase their courage
and anxiety, to march forward to the place of car-
nage.
Those days having passed away, the Indians at
this day, sing the “war song,” to commemorate the
achievements of their fathers, and as a kind of
amusement. When they perform it, they arm
themselves with a war-club, tomahawk, and knife,
and commence singing with a firm voice, and a stern,
resolute countenance: but before they get through,
they exhibit in their features and actions, the most
shocking appearance of anger, fury, and vengeance,
that can be imagined: No exhibition of the kind,
can be more terrifying to a stranger.
The peace dance is performed to a tune without
words, by both sexes. The Indians stand erect in
one place, and strike the floor with the heel and
oes of one foot, and then of the other, (the heels
162 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
and toes all the while nearly level,) without chan-
ging their position in the least. The squaws at the
same time perform it, by keeping the feet close to-
gether, and without raising them from the ground,
move a short distance to the right, and then to the
left, by first moving their toes and then their heels.
This dance is beautiful, and is generally attended
with decency.
No people on earth appear to be so strictly mo-
ral (in conformity to their laws and customs) as the
North American Indians generally, in their inter-
course between the sexes. The several nations have
different forms of approaching to courtship and mar-
riage, which however, are all very similar: most of
the tribes tolerate and practice polygamy and di-
vorce; some, however, do not. Among the Sene-
cas, both are tolerated, and practiced to some extent.
For neither marriage nor divorce, is there any
particular form or ceremony, other than when an
Indian sees a squaw whom he fancies, he sends a
present to her mother or parents, who, on recei-
ving it, consult with his parents, his friends, and
each other, on the propriety and expediency of the
proposed connexion. If it is not agreeable, the pre-
sent is returned; but if it is, the lover is informed
of his good fortune, and immediately goes to live
with her, or takes her to a hut of his own preparing.
If a difficulty of importance arises between a
married couple, they agree to separate. They di-
vide their property and children; the squaw takes
the girls, the Indian the boys, and both are at liberty
to marry again.
From all history and tradition, it would appear
that neither seduction, prostitution, nor rape, was
known in the calendar of crimes of this rude savage
race, until their females were contaminated by the










DEH-He-WA-MIS. 163
embrace of civilized man. And it is a remarkable
fact, that among the great number of women and
girls, who have been taken prisoners by the Indians
during the last two centuries, although they have
often been tomahawked and scalped, their bodies
ripped open while alive, and otherwise barbarously
tortured, not a single instance is on record, or has
ever found currency in the great stock of gossip and
story, which civilized society is so prone to circu-
late, that a female prisoner has ever been ill treated,
abused, or her modesty insulted, by an Indian, with
reference to her sex. This universal trait in the
Indian character, cannot be wholly, if in the least,
attributed to the cold temperament of their constitu-
tions—the paucity of their animal functions, or want
of natural propensities; for polygamy is not only
tolerated, but extensively indulged in, among nearly
all the North American tribes: of this we have the
most abundant proof, not relying solely on the tes-
timony of Mrs. Jemison, who states, that it was tol-
erated and practiced in the Seneca Nation, but on
the statements of all writers on that subject, and of
all travelers and sojourners in the Indian countries.
Major Marston, commanding officer at the U. S.
Fort Armstrong, in the Northwestern Territory, in
1820, in an official report to our government, rela-
tive to the condition, customs, religion, &c. of the
various tribes of the Northwestern Indians, states,
that “many of these Indians have two or three wives;
the greatest number that I have known any man to
have at one time, was five. When an Indian wants
more than one wife, he generally prefers that they
be sisters, as they are more likely to agree, and live
together in harmony. A man of fifty or sixty years
old, who has two or three wives, will frequently
marry a girl of sixteen.”
164 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
On the other hand, this abstemiousness cannot be
attributed to the dictates of moral virtue, as that
would be in direct opposition to all their other traits
of character. And, again, no society or race of
men exists, so purely moral, but that, if there was
any crime within their power to perpetrate, to which
they were prompted by their passions, some one or
more would be guilty of committing it if restrain-
ed by moral virtue only.
Therefore we are driven to the conclusion, that
the young warrior has been taught and trained up
from his infancy, to subdue this passion; and to eſ-
fect that object, he has been operated upon by some
direful superstitious awe, and appalling fear of the
consequences of the violation of female chastity;
and with the same anathema held to his view, taught
to avoid temptation, by demeaning himself perfectly
uninguisitive and modest, in the presence of fe-
males, and especially female prisoners. It is not
supposed, however, that great exertions are made,
at the present day, to instil those prejudices, if I may
be allowed so to apply the word, into the Indian
youth, for those dicta have been so long promulga-
ted, and obedience thereto so rigidly enforced,
through so many generations, that they have become
an inborn characteristic of the race.
We can easily perceive the policy of the ancient
ºfounders of this precautionary branch of savage edu-
cation, and it is worthy of the paternity of a Solon.
By this precaution, jealousy, feuds, strife, and blood-
shed, are ayoided among the warriors, while they
are out on their predatory excursions, stealthily sei-
zing prisoners, scalps, or plunder by night, or wa-
rily and noiselessly winding their course through
the forests by day.










DEH-HE-WA-MIs. 165
C H A P T E R XVIII.
More than eighteen years have elapsed since
Mary Jemison related the preceding narrative of
her life and most of its appendages, to our deceased
friend, the author of the first edition; during which
period many important incidents have transpired,
and material changes taken place, involving the
destiny of the principal subject of this memoir, her
family and friends, although none very remarkable
or unexpected.
Mary Jemison continued to reside on her flats,
plant, hoe, and harvest her corn, beans, squashes,
&c. annually, in the same routine of laborious actiº
vity and undisturbed tranquillity, which she had al-
ways pursued and enjoyed, in times of peace in the
nation, and concord in her familiy. But the evening
of her eventful life, was not suffered thus smoothly
to pass away. The Senecas having sold all their
reservations on the Genesee river in 1825, and gi-
ven possession to the whites soon after, they remo-
ved with their families, to Tonnewanda, Buffalo
creek, and Cattaraugus reservations, leaving Mrs.
Jemison, her daughters and their husbands, on her
two square miles, surrounded by the whites in every
direction. Thus situated, she and her children grew
as discontented and uneasy, as Alexander Selkirk
was on the Island of Juan Fernandez.
They determined to leave their solitary and isola-
ted abode among the whites, and again join their
tribe, mix in the society, and partake of the joys
and the sorrows of their kindred and friends. With
this in view, Mrs. Jemison sold her annuity of three
hundred dollars per annum, or rather, received of
the obligors a commutation therefor, in ready mo-
166 DEH-HE-WA-MIS,
ney. She likewise sold her remaining two square
miles of land, including her “flats,” to Messrs. Hen-
ry B. Gibson and Jellis Clute. In the summer of
1831, she removed to the Buffalo creek reservation,
where she purchased the Indian possessory right to
a good farm on the Buffalo flats, on which she resi-
ded in a state of peace and quietude, until the time
of her decease. -
Mrs. Jemison’s good traits of character were not
wholly of the negative kind; she exhibited a rare
example of unostentatious charity and true benevo-
lence. She appeared to take great pleasure and
self-satisfaction, in relieving the distress, and sup-
plying the wants of her fellow creatures, whether
white or red; any thing she possessed, however
much labor it might have cost her, was freely gi-
ven, when she thought the necessities of others re-
quired it. It would redound much to the honor of
the Christian religion, if some of its members would
pattern, in some measure, after this pagan woman,
in practicing this most exalted of Christian virtues,
charity, in feelings as well as in actions.
The bodily infirmities of old age gradually in-
creased in Mrs. Jemison, and enervated her frame;
yet she retained her reason and mental faculties to
an uncommon extent, for a person of her age; and
her society was not only endurable, but rendered
highly interesting and desirable, by her natural ex-
uberant flow of animal spirits and good nature. In
the summer of 1833, she, in a peaceable and
friendly manner, seceded from the pagan party of
her nation, and joined the Christian party, having
in her own view, and to the satisfaction of her spi-
ritual instructor, the Rev. Asher Wright, missionary
at that station, repudiated paganism, and embraced
the Christian religion. In the autumn succeeding,








DEH-HE-WA-M18. 167
she was attacked by disease for almost the first time
in her protracted pilgrimage, and dropped away
suddenly from the scenes of this life, on the 19th
day of September, 1838, at her own dwelling on
the Buffalo creek reservation, aged about ninety-one
years. Her funeral was conducted after the man-
her, and with the usual ceremonies practiced at
Christian burials; and was attended by a large con-
course of people. A marble slab now marks the
spot where her earthly remains rest, in the grave
yard near the Seneca Mission church, with the
following inscription:
In
Memory of
Triº, WHITE Womax
MARY JEMISON
Daughter of
Thomas JEMison & JANE IR win
Born on the ocean between Ireland & Phila, in 1742
or 3. Taken captive at Marsh Creek Pa. in 1755
carried down the Ohio, Adopted into an Indian
family. In 1759 removed to Genesee River. Was
naturalized in 1817.
Removed to this place in 1831.
And having survived two husbands and five children
leaving three still alive;
She Died Sept 19th 1833 aged about ninety one years
Having a few weeks before expressed a hope of pardon
through JESUS CHRIST
“The counsel of the Lord that shall stand.”
Mrs. Jemison’s three children, Betsey, Nancy,
and Polly, who survived her, all lived respected,
and died regretted, at their several places of resi-
dence on the Seneca reservations, in the short space
of three months, in the autumn of 1839, aged res-
_

168 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
pectively 69, 63, and 58 years, leaving a large
number of children and grand children to lament
their loss. -
Jacob Jemison, the grand-son of Mrs. Jemison,
mentioned by her in Chapter 10, as having received
a liberal education, and having commenced the stu-
dy of medicine; passed through a regular course of
medical studies, with great success, and was appoin-
ted an assistant Surgeon in the United States Navy;
in which capacity he sustained an excellent moral,
social, and professional character, which requires
no stronger confirmation, than the laconic eulogium
pronounced by Capt. E., the commander of the ves-
sel on board of which he performed duty. Capt. E.
being asked by a gentleman who had known Jemi-
son when a boy, how he sustained the character of
his situation, promptly replied, “there is no person
on board the ship so generally esteemed as Mr. Je-
mison, nor a better surgeon in the navy.” Dr. Je-
mison died five or six years ago, on board his ship
in the Mediterranean squadron, when about forty
years of age.
Several of the grand-children of Mrs. Jemison,
now living, are highly respected in their nation;
while their talents and moral standing is duly ap-
preciated, and their civilities reciprocated among
the whites. They have acquired the use of the
English language sufficiently to speak it fluently,
and have adopted the dress, habits, and manners of
civilized society. Her grand-children and great
grand-children, are numerous: they reside on the re-
maining Seneca reservations in this state at present,
but will, undoubtedly, ere long, take their departure
from the land of their fathers, and assume important
positions in legislative and judicial stations in the
new Indian Territory west of the Mississippi.
DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 169
C. H. A P T E R XIX.
Having finished our biographical labors, it may
not be uninteresting to the reader, to compare the
state of the “Genesee country” as it was eighty-
two years ago, when our narrative first introduced
us into that region, with what it now is, and view
the contrast. -
Along the northern border of the district refered
to, then too rude and desolate, even for an Indian
residence, the Erie canal now winds its way, float-
ing the products of the fertile regions of the west,
to the great commercial emporium of the nation;
and returning to the western agriculturists, contri-
butions from the manufacturing establishments of
every nation, and the productions of the soil of
every clime.
The Genesee Valley canal, now being construc-
ted, is in a forward and progressive state, being
now navigable from Rochester to Mount Morris.
This canal extends from the Erie canal at Roches-
ter, up the west bank of Genesee river, and on the
western margin of its flats, past Scottsville—near
Fowlersville and Geneseo—through the village of
Cuyler, and past Moscow, to Squawkie Hill and
Mount Morris, having passed through the ancient
sites of Cannewagus, Bigtree, Little Beard’s and
Squawkie Hill villages. At Squawkie Hill, it crosses
Genesee river in a pond, where it diverges from
the river, and pursues its course through the village
of Mount Morris, and up the valley of the Canne-
skraugah creek, to the Shaker settlement, in the
town of Groveland; from which place a branch ca-
mal extends along the valley of the Canneskraugah
to Dansville—the main canal here taking the val-



170 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
ley of the Cushaqua creek, converging again to-
wards the river, passing through the villages of
Nunda Valley and Messenger’s Hollow, reaches
Genesee river again at Portageville, after having
been carried through the “deep cut,” necessary to
disengage it from the valley of the Cushaqua; and the
Tunnel upwards of sixty rods in length, through the
ridge of rock, mentioned in Chapter 5, page 62, as
having, according to conjecture, once extended
across the river, and filled its present channel above
the upper falls.
At Portageville the canal is taken across the river
in an aqueduct; it then traverses the western bank
of the river, and the western margin of the flats,
passing Mixville within half a mile of its center,
from which is constructing a navigable feeder into
the canal; from thence it continues along the west-
tern margin of Canneadea flats, to Black creek,
which approaches the river from the south-west.
The canal then passes up the valley of Black creek,
to the summit level, in the town of Cuba; thence
across the summit level, about two miles through a
marsh, to the waters of Oil creek; thence down its
valley, through the village of Cuba to Hinsdale, at
the junction of Oil and Ischua creeks, whence the
stream assumes the name of Olean creek; thence
down the Olean valley to the village of Olean, on
the Allegany river, which is about fourteen miles
above the Indian village of Unawaumgwa or Tune-
unguan, introduced to our readers in the fourth and
fifth chapters. It is a fact, however unimportant it
may appear, that this canal, from Olean to Little
Beard’s Town, follows, with no material deviation,
the old Indian path or trail which Mary Jemison tra-
veled nearly a century ago, when she first came to
Genishau.

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 171
Although the whole of the Genesee country is
now chequered with groves, orchards, and fields;
studded with villages, country seats, farm houses,
barns, and granaries, it will not be thought invidious
-to particularize the present situation of the localities
especially referred to in the preceding pages.
The ground on which stood the great metropolis
of the Senecas, Little Beard's Town; is now con-
verted into fruitful corn and wheat fields, but ad-
joining is the village of Cuyler, which has Nº.
up as it were by magic, since the Genesee Valley
canal became navigable to Mount Morris. The vil-
lage of Geneseo, with its court house and other
county buildings, churches, academies, and elegant
private mansions, lies about three miles to the north-
east, while Moscow, with its spacious public square,
churches, academy, &c., lies two miles to the
south-west. The sites of Bigtree and Cannewagus
villages, are known only as fertile fields, yielding
abundant harvests; while on the east side of the
Genesee, near Cannewagus, is the pleasant village
of West Avon, and the Avon mineral springs, the
medical properties of whose waters, and the roman-
tic scenery displayed in its location and environs,
renders it of late years, a desirable retreat for in-
valids and the infirm, and a fashionable resort for
health and beauty. The old encamping ground at
the “Big Bend,” is now occupied by the staid bu-
siness village of Batavia, with its county buildings,
five churches, female seminary, &c.
The Tonnewanda, Tuscarora, Cattaraugus, and
Buffalo creek villages, are still occupied by the
remnant of the Senecas; but Tonnewanda has its
neighboring villages of Akron and Caryville–Tus-
carora its Lewiston, Cattaraugus its Lagrange, and
the Buffalo creek villages are closely bordered by
172 DEFſ-HE-WA-MIS. |
the city of Buffalo, with its immense commerce,
and all the various component parts, with the useful
and ornamental appendages which constitutes a city.
Geneva occupies the ground on which Gen. Sullivan
captured a village containing one pappoose, and the
site of the “Old Castle,” is now flanked by Castle.
ton. The sabbatical and wealthy village of Canan.
daigua, with its elegant public and private edifices,
stands in bold contrast with the midnight pow-wows
of Cah-nan-dah-gwa, with its cluster of wigwams
Dansville takes its station “among the Slippery
Elms,” and improves with commendable zeal, its ma-
nufacturing facilities. Although the site of Squaw-
kie Hill village is used for agricultural purposes
only; in its vicinity, on the ground where stood one
of Ebenezer or Indian Allen's harems, now stands
the lively and pleasant village of Mount Morris.
Above the Portage falls is the village of Portage-
ville, with its great water power, and numerous
factories. Near the site of the lower Canneadea
Indian village, is the village of Mixville, with its
church and other public buildings—its unrivaled ſº
cilities for using its permanent water power and its
present machinery propelled thereby. The Allega-
my river villages are still occupied by the Indians.
Near the mouth of Allen's creek, between Mount
Morris and Rochester, where stood Indian Allen's
other harem, stands the village of Scottsville, a flour
rishing business place; and at the northern succes
sion of great fails on the Genesee, where Allen
built the first apology for a grist mill in the west.
now stands the city of Rochester, with all its superb
public and private edifices, its commerce and manº
factures, together with its hundred run of stonesinº
flouring mills, manufacturing more flour annually,
than is produced at any other place on the globe.


DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 173
Some idea of the improvements in a social and
religious point of view, which have taken place on
this territory within less than thirty years, may be
drawn from the following fact:
In the year 1811, there was standing near the
-Caledonia springs, a wood colored house, without
porch, steeple, dome, or tower, to denote its use.
This building was occupied as a Scotch Presbyterian
meeting house; and it was at that time, the only
building erected, or exclusively used for Divine
worship, in the state of New-York, on, or west of
Genesee river, although the territory then contained
at least twenty-five thousand inhabitants.
During the three following years, this territory
was the scene of a border warfare, in which no age
or sex was exempt from slaughter; and no edifice
too sacred for the application of the torch. The
observance of the Sabbath was merged in the tu-
mults of the camp; and the din of battle, with its
martial music, usurped the place of the deep toned
organ and the harmonious choir; whilst the full
voice of the commanding chief silenced the persua-
sive eloquence of the apostolic minister—the mes-
senger of peace.
This territory now contains two large cities, and
is thickly interspersed with thriving villages: the
cities contain numerous houses for public worship;
each village is provided with from one to five; and
in the back farming towns, where there is no
compact settlement deserving the name of a village,
the eye of the traveller will scarcely lose sight of
one or more of those spires, cupolas, or towers,
ointing towards the skies, emphatically proclaim-
ing to his mental ear, as from the surrounding habi-
tations, “We too worship God.”
174 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
chapter xx.
History and tradition alike inform us, that the
Mohawks, the Oneidas, the Cayugas, and the Sene.
cas, had, from time immemorial, formed themselves
into a great Confederacy; strictly adhering to an
offensive and defensive alliance. They occupied
for their dwelling grounds, a wide spread territory,
extending from near the banks of the Hudson, to
the shores of Lake Erie, and from the mouth of the
Allegany to the confines of the St. Lawrence. This
tract comprises a greater body of more fertile land.
combinded with a temperate and healthy climate—
great facilities of water communication, not only
within the territory, but extending from it in all di-
rections—with extensive hunting grounds and fishe-
ries, than any other tract of the same extent in
North America.
This territory is admirably adapted to the occupa.
tion of a roving and migratory people, who depend
more on the chase, and the spontaneous productions
of nature for sustenance, than on agriculture and
the regular productions of labor. Besides this vast
domain for a residence, they claimed an exclusive
right to all that region of country between the Ohio
river and Lake Erie, (now the state of Ohio,) for a
spacious hunting ground; and the martial prowess
of that mighty confederacy, enabled them promptly
to repel any intrusion from other tribes. They
were indeed a mighty people—whose forces could
be seen, and whose powers could be felt, and often
were felt, from the banks of the St. Lawrence to the
Gulf of Mexico, and from the tides of the Hudson to
the banks of the Mississippi. Until the year 11%
this people were called by the English, “The Five














DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 175
Nations” or “The Confederates”—by the French,
“The Iroquois,”—by the Dutch, “The Maquas,”
and by themselves “The Mingoes.” During that
year, the Tuscaroras, whose habitation had been in
the west part of North Carolina, after some distur-
*bances with the whites in that region, evacuated their
possessions in that colony—removed to Western
New York, and were adopted by the Mingoes as a
sixth Nation. They lived between the Oneidas and
Onondagas, on lands assigned them for a residence
by the former. After which, the English usually
denominated the confederates “The Six Nations.”
In 1784, soon after peace had been ratified between
the United States and Great Britain, a treaty of peace
and amnesty was concluded between the United
States and the Six Nations, in which their territorial
limits were defined, to wit, they were to possess all
the State of New York west of what was called the
*Property Line,” with the exception of two reserva-
tions, one of six miles square lncluding Fort Oswego;
and the other, along the Niagara river, about thirty-
five miles long and four miles wide, including Forts
Niagara and Schlosser and the Portage road from
Lake Ontario to Lake Erie. The Property Line
here refered to, was a line commencing at the north-
east corner of Pennsylvania, and running in its
general course a little east of north, crossing the
Mohawk river, at or near the place where the divi-
sion line of the counties of Herkimer and Oneida
now crosses the same. They were likewise to retain
a part of Pennsylvania, but were required to cede to
the United States their extensive hunting grounds
north of the Ohio, which met with violent opposi-
tion by many of the Indian chiefs and orators, but
was finally acquiesced in by the Council. It was on
this occasion that the celebrated Red Jacket, then a

176 DEH-HE-WA-MIs.
youth, opened the flood-gates of his eloquence; and
poured forth its magic powers, to sustain the then
gradually declining, yet still lofty elevation of his
people; and to check the encroachments of the whites
on their territorial demesnes, which his prophetic
mind clearly saw would at no distant day, if not
effectually opposed, prostrate their empire, and
eradicate their race as a distinct people.
At different periods, from that time to the present,
the several nations have ceded large portions of their
lands to this state, and to persons holding the pre-
emption right under the Government; out of which,
in most cases they retained for themselves, small
reservations. In 1797 the last great sale was made
by the Senecas to Robert Morris, being the extreme
western part of the State—reducing the once exten-
sive possessions of the Mingoes, to a few small,
detached reservations. The Senecas in this sale
reserved the following tracts: the Cannewagus, Big
tree, Little Beard's, Squawkie Hill, Gardeau and
Canneadea (all lying on the Genesee river) the Ol
Spring, Allegany, Cattaraugus, Buffalo Creek, Toñ-
newanda and Tuscarora Reservations, contain.
ing in the whole about 337 square miles. The
Tuscaroras had a donation from the Holland Land
Company of two square miles, and in 1804 they
purchased of the same Company 4,329 acres, for
which they paid 13,752 dollars in cash.
In 1825 the Senecas held a council, at which they
sold and ceded to the persons claiming the pre-empº
tion right to the same, all their Reservations on
Genesee River (the Gardeau Reservation excepted,
that being a special concern) the Oil-Spring Reser-
vation, and portions of the Cattaraugus, Buffalo
Creek, and Tonnewanda Reservations, leaving less
than one hundred and ninety square miles in All-

DEH-HE-WA-MIS. 177
ny, Cattaraugus, Buffalo creek, Tonnewanda, and
5. reservations.
In 1838 another treaty was held by the Senecas
and Tuscaroras, at which the Senecas, (or a portion
of their chiefs,) and the Tuscaroras, agreed to sell
to the pre-emption right owners, called the Ogden
Land Company, the residue of their reservations in
western New-York, and emigrate within five years,
to other lands, which they were to receive in ex-
change, lying in the Indian territory west of the
Mississippi. Since which, a violent warfare has
been carried on, not only orally, but through peri-
odicals and pamphlets, using petitions, memorials,
and remonstrances to the United States govern-
ment, for their heavy artillery; by a portion of the
Senecas—and probably a majority—a few restless
spirits among the whites, who always hang around
the borders of Indian settlements, and the New-
York, Pennsylvania, and Maryland quakers, on the
one hand; who insist that, although the grossest
bribery and corruption has been resorted to, the
treaty has not been executed in council, according
to the usages and customs of the Indians, nor has it
been confirmed according to the laws of the United
States; while on the other hand, the Ogden Land
Company, their retainers, and a portion of the Se-
necas, backed by another class of worthless whites,
insist that the treaty has been formally executed by
all the parties, and that as few bribes have been dis-
tributed, as is usual on such occasions.
If the only object of the nullifiers, was to procure
for the Indians an equivalent for their trouble and
privations, in making the exchange of lands, their
proceedings might be justifiable; but they insist that
the poor Indians shall not emigrate. It certainly
can not be of any great importance to the individu-
M

178 DEH-HE-WA-MIS.
als of this remnant of the race, whether they are
removed by the government, or whether they re-
main where they now are; provided, that in adopt-
ing either course, they do it willingly and cheerfully;
and it cannot be doubted but that, if they had been
left to the unbiassed volition of their own minds, the
Senecas, as a body, would have accepted with joy,
the proposition of the government for their removal.
The Indians should be honestly and honorably
dealt with, and their rights should be guarded with
vigilance, and protected with firmness and effect;
but as the United States government has adopted the
policy of inducing all the Indians within the terri-
tory of the several states, to leave their present
abodes, and retire, with the aid, and under the fos-
tering care and protection of that government, to a
country peculiarly adapted to their wants, habits,
and modes of life, where no state jurisdiction can
ever interfere with their laws, customs, and pecu-
liarities; it is the duty of the citizens to assist the
government in carrying its measures into effect, as
far as they can do so, honestly and honorably; or
at least, to remain neutral in relation thereto, and
not undertake to thwart the measures of govern:
ment, and at the same time render the pretended
objects of their care, more miserable than they oth-
wise would be; for we will venture to predict, that,
notwithstanding the most vigorous exertions of such
philanthropists to the contrary, the time is not ſº
distant, when the Genius of the Empire State will
behold the last of the Mingoes, wending his way tº
wards the setting sun.
A P P E N ID IX.
TRAGEDY OF THE DEVIL’S HOLE.
The author and compiler of the first edition of
this work, took much pains to procure a correct
statement of this transaction, as its details had never
before been published. He procured the statement
of Jesse Ware, then a resident at Fort Schlosser—
an aged man, who, after the occurrence, had been
for a long time, an intimate friend and boon com-
panion of William Stedman, the principal, if not
the only person of the English party, who escaped
this horrible massacre with life. This statement ap-
pears to have awakened enquiry, by which some er-
rors have been detected, and some new information
obtained; therefore we give a remodeled statement
of the affair, from all the materials now in our pos-
session.
After Forts Niagara and Schlosser were taken
from the French by the British, in July, 1759, Sir
William Johnson, the British commander, made a
contract with William Stedman, to construct a por-
tage road from Lewiston landing to Fort Schlosser,
the distance of eight miles, to facilitate the transpor-
tation of provisions and military stores from one
place to the other, and superintend the transporta-
tion of the same. -
On the 20th of June, 1763, Mr. Stedman, in con-
formity to his agreement, having finished the road,
started, for the first time, with twenty-five loaded
wagons, from Lewiston to Fort Schlosser.
Sir William Johnson, being suspicious of the in-
tegrity of the Seneca Indians, although the French
war was then ended, and amnesty between all par-
ties, the Six Nations included, reciprocally declared;



180 APPENDIX.
detached a party of fifty soldiers with their officers,
to escort Mr. Stedman’s party. The Seneca Indians,
who, from their late allies the French, had imbi-
bed an inveterate hatred against the English, watch-
ed the progress of the construction of the road, and
were determined to nip in the bud, the first attempt
to use it, as they considered it a trespass on their
premises, and an infringement on their rights. By
means of their friendly intercourse with the English,
they easily ascertained the time the first attempt
would be made to cross the portage with teams.
They accordingly congregated their whole force at
that time, and lay in ambush on the Niagara river,
about half way between Lewiston and Fort Schlos-
ser. At this place the road approaches within a few
feet of the edge of a precipice, at an acute angle in
the eastern bank of the river, which descends
from eighty to a hundred feet almost perpendicularly,
into a hideous looking dell, called the Devil's Hole.
As soon as the British transportation party arrived
at this place, the Indians sallied from their ambus-
cade, enclosed the whole body of the English, and
either killed on the spot, or drove off the banks, ev-
ery soldier, officer, teamster and assistant, amount-
ing to near one hundred men, together with their
horses, carriages, loading, and everything else per-
taining to the expedition, except Mr. Stedman, the
superintendant, who was on horseback.
A robust and gigantic Indian seized Mr. Stedman's
horse by the bridle reins, and was leading him east
to the woods, through the scene of deadly strife,
probably for the purpose of devoting him to the
more excrutiating forments of a sacrifice; but while
the captor's attention was drawn in another direc-
tion for a moment, Stedman, with his knife, cut the
bridle reins near the bits, at the same time thrusting

APPENDIX. 181
his spurs into the flanks of his well trained char-
er, rode east into the forest, being the target of
É. of Indian rifles aimed at his person and
flying steed, from which he nor his horse received
the least injury. He continued his course east about
two miles, where he struck Gill creek, which he fol-
lowed down to its mouth, and then down the bank
of the Niagara river, to Fort Schlosser.
From all the accounts of this barbarous transaction,
Mr. Stedman was the only person belonging to his
party, who was not either driven or thrown off into
the Devil’s Hole. Tradition has transmitted to us
various accounts of the fate of some few others of
the party, that is, that one, two, or three others
escaped with life, after being driven off the bank,
although badly wounded and maimed by the fall.
most of the accounts agree in the escape of a little
drummer, who was caught while falling, in the limb
of a tree, by his drum strap, from which he extri-
cated himself, and descended the body of the tree to
the ground. The account of this escape is the most
to be relied on, because the most probable. Pieces
of the wreck of this expedition, are to be found at
the bottom of the Devil’s Hole at the present day.
As no attempt was made by the Indians, in this
affair, except in the case of Stedman, to take pri-
soners, scalp the dead, or procure plunder, it appears
that those minor objects were entirely merged in the
more exalted pursuit, (according to their views,) of
destruction, blood, and carnage.
The escape of Mr. Stedman, not only from the
iron grasp of one of their most athletic and power-
ful warriors, but from the shower of rifle balls dis-
charged at him from the rifles of their best and most
unerring marksmen, confounded the Indians with
wonder and fear, furnishing a subject whereon to
182 APPENDIx.
feed their most absurd superstitious whims. They
at once pronounced him a favorite of the Great Spi-
rit, and to appease its wrath, made Stedman a pre-
sent of the tract of land he had encompassed, in his
retreat to Fort Schlosser, to wit—beginning at the
Devil’s Hole, thence running east, to Gill creek;
thence southerly, down the creek, to the Niagara
river; thence west, down the river, to Niagara
Falls; and thence northerly, still bounding on the
river, to the place of beginning; being a tract about
two miles wide, and three and a half miles long.
But neither the British government, nor the United
States, or either of the states, has ratified or confir-
med that gift; although Jesse Ware, claiming under
Stedman, has, for a number of years in succession,
assailed our legislative halls for the land, or some
remuneration therefor. Nor does it appear that
even the Indians themselves, after the excitement
produced by the transaction had subsided, recogni-
zed any validity in Stedman’s title; for the next
year, 1764, they ceded the same tract, together
with other lands, extending north to Lake Ontario,
to the king of Great Britain, for a carrying place
around the Falls of Niagara.
GENERAL SULLIVAN'S EXPEDITION TO
WESTERN NEW - YORK.
During the years 1777 and 78, the warriors of
the Six Nations, the greater portion of the Oneidas
excepted, bribed by British gold, clothing, rum,
and gewgaws, and impelled by their natural thirst
for blood–entirely disregarding all former treaties
and pledges—attacked and laid waste, the north-
western frontier settlements of New-York and Penn-





APPENDIx. 183
sylvania. Their footsteps were indelibly marked
with the tomahawk and scalping knife, without re-
gard to age, sex or condition; and the destruction
of all property on which the fire-brand or rifle ball
could be made to take effect—as the valley of Wy-
oming, the fields of Cherry Valley, and the banks of
the Mohawk, bore melancholy testimony.
It became necessary for the safety, if not for the
very existence of our border settlements, that these
hired plunderers, incendiaries, and assassins, should
receive a signal chastisement for their predatory and
barbarous incursions; not only as an act of retribu-
tive justice, but to deprive them of the means of re-
peating these atrocities. To effect this grand desi-
deratum, in the spring of 1779, measures were ta-
ken to destroy their abodes, and their means of sub-
sistence—drive them from their retreats to more re-
mote regions, and strike them with terror at the ex-
terminating principles of the mode of warfare adop-
ted; this being decided to be the only means of sub-
duing, or even crippling the strength of a faithless
foe, whose treaties are made only to be broken,
and who are seldom to be caught or found, except
when for motives of advantage, they choose to stay
or to reveal themselves. - -
As no connected account of this transaction in
detail, has ever been published, to our knowledge,
we are under the necessity of culling from all the
sources now accessible, the most authentic materials
to form a connected narrative, For these materials,
we acknowledge ourselves indebted to Marshall’s
Life of Washington, the British Annual Register,
the Encyclopedia Americana, the Researches of De
Witt Clinton, Washington’s Letters, the statement
of John Salmon. Esq., late of Groveland, Livingston
county, N. Y., who was orderly sergeant in the rifle

184 APPENDIx.
company commanded by Capt. Michael Simpson,
and Lieut. Thomas Boyd, forming part of Sullivan's
army; and last, although not least, the statements of
our worthy friend Major Moses Van Campen, who
bore a conspicuous part in the battle which took
place on the Tioga, and now resides as a retired
gentleman, in the valley of the Genesee.
The original plan of this important campaign,
was, that the country of the Six Nations should be
entered by three divisions of the army at the same
time. The principal body, composed of Generals
Maxwell, Hand, and Poor’s brigades, together with
a train of artillery, the whole consisting of about
three thousand men, to rendezvous at Wyoming,
under the immediate command of Major General
Sullivan; from whence to march up the Susquehan-
nah, and enter the heart of the territory of the Six
Nations, occupied by the Senecas and the Cayugas.
The second division, composed of Gen. Clinton's
command of about fifteen hundred, who had winter-
ed at Schoharie, were to ascend the valley of the
Mohawk, pass through the territories of the Oneidas,
as they had adhered to the treaty of neutrality, and
attack and lay waste the settlements of the Tuscaro-
ras and Onondagas; after which they were to join
Gen. Sullivan in the Genesee country; and the third
division, consisting of between five and six hundred
men, under the command of Col. Brodhead, to
march from Pittsburg up the Allegany, and after
laying waste the Seneca villages and settlements on
that river, likewise to join General Sullivan, if ne-
cessary.
Before the troops destined for the grand expedi-
tion had been put in motion, owing to some unfor-
tunate circumstances, an enterprize of less extent
was projected by Gen. Schuyler, and its execution
APPENDIX. 185
carried into effect with complete success. On the
19th of April, Col. Van Schaick, assisted by Lieut.
Col. Willett and Maj. Cochran, at the head of be-
tween five and six hundred men, marched from
Fort Schuyler, º and on the third day, reach-
ed and surprised the Onondaga Indian settlements.
In the first village which they attacked, they killed
twelve Indians, and made thirty-four prisoners, in-
cluding one white man; this giving the alarm, the
Indians deserted the other villages, extending over
a large territory, and fled to the woods. The party
then, without molestation, burned all their buildings,
provisions, and other combustible property in the
several villages—killed their horses, cattle, and
other stock, and utterly destroyed the whole settle-
ment. With such precipitancy had the Indians fled
from their villages, that they left about a hundred
rifles and guns in their houses. The party having
finished their work of destruction, returned to Fort
Schuyler on the sixth day, without the loss of a man.
The eastern division of the army under the
command of General Clinton, marched to Sche-
nectada in the month of May, and proceeded up the
Mohawk in boats, overawing and putting to flight,
the remnant of the Mohawks, who were still hang-
ing around their native valley. But in consequence
of the principal object of their being assigned to
that route, the destruction of the Onondaga settle-
ments having been accomplished by the enterprise
of Col. Van Schaick and his party, on their arrival
at Canajoharie, Gen. Clinton received orders from
Maj. Gen. Sullivan under whose command he was,
to march his division to Otsego Lake, provide boats,
and make other preparations to descend the eastern
branch of the Susquehannah river, and meet him at
Tioga Point, when afterwards directed. Agreeable








186 APPENDIx.
to orders, Gen. Clinton marched his division to Ot.
sego Lake, provided two hundred and eight boats,
and necessary provisions, threw a dam across the
outlet, thereby raising the water in the lake two feet
or over, to enable him, when he pleased, to cause a
freshet in the river, to float his boats down with the
greater rapidity and safety. He then waited for
further orders. .
The main army, which rendezvoused at Wyo-
ming, under command of Gen. Sullivan, for the
want of supplies, and by reason of other adverse
circumstances, did not leave that place until the last
of July, when it marched to Tioga Point, where, on
the 22d of August, it was joined by the eastern di-
vision, under Gen. Clinton. After the junction of
the two divisions, Gen. Sullivan assumed the com-
mand in chief, having for his immediate subordin-
ates, Generals Clinton, Maxwell, Poor, and Hand,
and Maj. Par, of the rifle corps.
Gen. Sullivan then marched up the Tioga river
in search of the enemy, who he had ascertained,
were in some force, at no great distance on that
route. On the 29th of August, at 11 o’clock A. M.
the enemy was discovered by the van guard, about
one mile below Newtown, (now Elmira.) The
whole force that the enemy were able to collect,
amounting, according to Sullivan's account, to fiſ-
teen hundred, of whom two hundred were white to-
ries, known as Butler's Rangers, and the residue
Indians, commanded by Brandt, the two Butlers,
Grey, Guy Johnson, and McDonald, were here as:
sembled, covered by a lengthy breastwork, rudely
constructed of logs and felled trees, masked with
pine and shrub-oak bushes stuck in the ground. The
right flank of this work, was covered by the river.
and on their left, and in front, were two sharp rid-
-

APPENDIX. 187
es, parallel to each other, covered with parties of
Indians, ready to fall on the right flank and rear of
Sullivan's army, when it had progressed a sufficient
distance within the ambuscade. But the whole was
| liscovered in time to guard against any disastrous
results. Gen. Poor was ordered to take possession
of the outer ridge, turn the enemy’s left flank, and
attack him in the rear; whilst Gen. Hand, aided by
the artillery, attacked him in front. Gen. Poor,
assisted by Gen. Clinton, pushed his column up the
hill, the van guard of which was led by Maj. Van
Campen, driving the Indians at the point of the
bayonet; during which time a sharp conflict along
the whole line of the breastwork, was supported well
on both sides. But the enemy observing that their
left flank was entirely exposed, and that they were
in danger of being surrounded, as Gen. Poor was
proceeding with great rapidity, the savages, red
and white, abandoned their breastwork, and cross-
ing the river, fled with the utmost precipitation.
This victory cost the Americans about thirty men.
The ascertained loss of the Indians was also incon-
siderable; but they were so intimidated, that they
fled to, and deserted their villages, and abandoned
the idea of further resistance.
From Newtown, the army marched north, between
the lakes, to the Seneca river, and detached parties
were sent from their encampment in every direction
overrunning and laying waste the Indian settlements,
cutting down their orchards, destroying their pro-
visions and crops, killing their hogs, cattle and hor-
ses—in short, applying the besom of destruction to
every thing that could afford shelter or sustenance
to man or beast. If indeed the humane feelings of
- - -
the Americans employed in this work of destruction,
sometimes prompted them to relent their own des-
- - -

188 APPENDIX.
tructiveness—the watch-word—Wyoming, Cherry-
valley, or the Mohawk, would add a fresh impulse
to the arm, and force the respiration of a fanning
breeze to the faggot. -
After finishing their labors in the East, the army.*
proceeded West, for the purpose of closing its unop.
posed career of destruction at the chief village of the
Senecas, Little Beard's Town, lying on the Genesee
river. They passed the foot of Canandaigua Lake,
meteing out a full measure of destruction and desola-
tion on the village and settlement at that place, as
well as on the village at the outlet of the Honeoy.—
On their arrival at the head of Conesus Lake within
eight or nine miles of Little Beard's Town, they en-
camped on the ground now known as Henderson's
Flats.
Early in the evening, a party of twenty-one men,
was detached and sent out under the command of
Lieut. Boyd, accompanied by a faithful Oneida In-
dian as a guide, for the purpose of reconnoitering
in the vicinity of Little Beard’s Town. Their first
point of destination was an Indian village on the East
side of Genesee river nearly opposite the capital of
the Senecas, to which it was a kind of suburb. On
the arrival of the party at the village, they found
that it had been lately deserted, as the fires in the
huts were still burning. Being much fatigued, and
the night being far spent, they encamped for the
residue of the night in a secluded place near the vil-
lage, sending two of their number back to the main
army to report. In the morning they crept from
their place of concealment, and discovered two Indi-
ans hovering about the settlement, one of whom was
immediately shot and scalped by one of the riflemen
by the name of Murphy. Having thus exposed their
presence in the place, Lieut. Boyd, concluding that
APPENDIX. 189
any further attempts to gain information, would not
only be useless, but rashly hazardous, ordered a re-
treat to the main army.
This little band retraced their steps until they arri-
red within a mile and a half of the camp, when they
Here intercepted by a party of observation from the
enemy's camp. They fought desperately and rashly,
for there was no chance to retreat. The result was,
that twelve were killed including their faithful guide.
Lieut. Boyd, and a private by the name of Parker
were taken prisoners, and the remaining seven made
their escape by flight through the enemy’s ranks,
among whom was the brave but incautious Murphy.
The dead of this little heroic band were left on the
ground by the Indians, and Lieut. Boyd and Parker
were immediately conducted to Little Beard's Town.
When Lieut. Boyd began to realize his situation
as a prisoner of the Indians, he solicited an inter-
view with Brandt, who, he knew commanded his cap-
tors, and of whose character he had received some
| information. This chief immediately presented him-
self, when Lieut. Boyd by one of those appeals, which
are known only to those, who have been initiated
and duly instructed in certain mysteries, and which
will never fail, to bring succor to a “distressed broth-
er,” addressed him as the only source, from which
he could expect a respite from cruel punishment or
a lingering and painful death. The appeal was re-
cognized, and Brandt immediately, and in the strong-
estlanguage, assured him that his life should be spa-
red. Brandt, however being called on to perform
some particular service which required a few hours
absence, left the prisoners in the charge of the Bri-
sh Colonel–Butler, of the Rangers.
As soon as Brandt had left, Butler commenced his
interrogatories to obtain from the prisoners a state-










190 APPENDIX.
ment of the number, situation and intentions of the
army under Gen. Sullivan, and threatened in case
they hesitated or prevaricated in their answers, to de-
liver them up immediately to be massacred by the
Indians, who in Brandt’s absence, and with the en-
couragement of their more savage commander,
Butler, were ready to commit the greatest cruelties.
Relying probably on the promises which Brandt had
made them, and which undoubtedly he intended to
fulfil, they refused to give Butler the desired infor-
mation. Butler upon this, hastened to put his threat
into execution. They were delivered to some of
their most ferocious enemies, who after having put
them to the most severe torture, killed them by sev-
ering their heads from their bodies. [See Mrs. Jem-
ison’s account page 85.]
The main army immediately after hearing of the
disaster which befell Lieut. Boyd’s detachment, mo-
ved on towards Genesee river, and finding the bodies
of those who fell in Boyd's heroic attempt to break
through the enemy’s ranks, buried them on the battle
ground which is now in the town of Groveland-
Upon their arrival at the Genesee river, they crossed
over and found Little Beard’s Town and all the adja-
cent villages deserted. The bodies of Lieut. Boyd
and Parker were found and buried in one grave, neal
the bank of Little Beard's Creek, under a clump of
wild plum-trees. Mr. Salmon was one who assisted
in committing to the earth, the remains of his friend
and companion in arms, the gallant Boyd.
The army having scoured the country for many
miles up and down the river, burning all the Indian
villages, and destroying all their corn, hogs, cattle
and other means of subsistence: finally to close
their labors of destruction, applied the torch to the
ancient metropolis of the Seneca Nation, Little
APPENDIX. 191
Beard's Town, which contained one hundred and
twenty-eight houses.
While Gen. Sullivan had been laying waste the
Cayuga and part of the Seneca settlements—the
western division under Col. Brodhead, marched up
he Allegany river and French creek. Here too,
the Indians were totally unable to resist the force
with which they were invaded; after one unsuccess-
ful skirmish, they abandoned their villages and prop-
erty, and fled to the woods for personal safety, Col.
Brodhead having visited the settlements on French
creek, ascended the Allegany to Olean Point, des-
troying all the Indian villages and property on French
creek and on the Allegany river, and ascertººning
that it was not necessary for him to join the main ar-
my, he returned with his division to Pittsburg, leaving
Cattaraugus, Buffalo Creek, and Tonnewanda settle-
ments exempt from this general destruction.
Gen. Sullivan with the main army and the east-
ern division, having destroyed forty Indian villages,
(including those destroyed by Col. Van Schaick's
party, and the western division under Col. Brodhead)
one hundred and sixty thousand bushels of corn—
vast quantities of beans and other vegetables, a great
number of horses, hogs, cattle, farming utensils &c.
and everything that was the result of labor or pro-
duce of cultivation; being the sanguinary achieve-
ments of three weeks unmolested and unremitting
employment of between four and five thousand men;
countermarched to Newtown, having been absent
five weeks; thence past Tioga Point, Wyoming, and
Easton, to New Jersey, where he went into winter
quarters; having lost but about forty men during the
whole campaign, either by sickness or the fortunes
of war.







192 APPENDIx.
REMOVAL OF THE REMAINS OF BOYD,
In the year 1841, some gentlemen in Rochester,
and along the Genesee Valley, determined to pay a
tribute of respect to the memory of Lieut. Boyd and
his companions, who fell or were sacrificed at Little
Beard's Town and its vicinity, during Gen. Sullivan's
campaign; by removing their remains to Rochester
and re-intering them with appropriate solemnities in
the new cemetery at Mount Hope.
The necessary preparations were made, by dis-
intering the remains, depositing them in a capa-
cious urn, and raising a large mound of earth over
the grave of Lieut. Boyd, for a memorial. On the
twentieth of August 1841, a large concourse of peo-
ple assembled at the village of Cuyler, among whom
were several revolutionary patriots, and in particu-
lar Maj. Moses Van Campen, and two other fellow
soldiers who were with Boyd and his unfortunate
companions, in Sullivan's army; when the urn con-
taining the remains, was removed from the top of
the mound, under convoy of a military escort com -
posed of several independent companies, and a band
of music from Rochester, to Col. Cuyler's grove
near the village of Cuyler, where a pertinent and |
lucid, historical and biographical discourse, was
pronounced by — Treat Esq., after which, the re-
mains were escorted to Rochester, by the military,
music, citizens, &c., in several canal boats.
The next day the remains were removed from the
City of Rochester, to Mount Hope, escorted as be-
fore, and attended by his Excellency Gov. Seward,
his military suite, and an immense concourse of
citizens. After an appropriate address by his Excel-
lency and an appeal to the throne of Grace by the .
Rev. Mr. E. Tucker, the remains were re-intered
by the military with the honors of war.




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