KISHICOQUILLAS VALLEY--THE SHAWNEE CHIEF KISHICOKELAS--THE MINGO
CHIEF LOGAN.
Among the many valleys composing the Juniata Valley, or, indeed, among
all the fine and productive valleys of the State, few, if any, can
surpass Kishicoquillas. Its outlet is at Lewistown, from whence it
stretches west a distance of nearly thirty miles, varying in breadth
from two to four miles.
After the treaty of Fort Stanwix, the whites returned to the
neighborhood of Granville, and some of them commenced exploring the
valley. The land was then included in what was termed the new purchase,
and was in the market. The land-office was opened in 1769, and the
first actual settler in the valley was Judge Brown.
Old Kishicokelas was a Shawnee chief, on terms of friendship with the
whites. With the Buchanans he was very intimate, and gave them early
intimation of the impending danger, which enabled them to escape. While
the Delawares and most of his own tribe went over to the French in a
body, Kishicokelas remained loyal to the proprietary government; and,
although they made him splendid offers at the time they corrupted
Jacobs, he rejected them all, and declared that no earthly
consideration could induce him to lift the hatchet against the sons of
Onas.
It is to be regretted that historians never made mention of
Kishicokelas, except incidentally. He was the fast friend of the old
chief Shickalemy, who resided at Fort Augusta, and it is probable that
he was converted by some of the Moravian missionaries. He died in 1756,
as appears by a letter directed to his sons, as follows:--
"_Philadelphia, June 13, 1756._
"I am obliged to you for your letter by our good friend, John
Shickcalamy. Your father's letter and present were received by the
late Governor Hamilton, who acquainted me with it; and I intended,
at a time when less engaged by public business, to have sent you my
acknowledgments and answer.
"I heartily condole with you on the loss of your aged father, and
mingle my tears with yours, which however I would now have you wipe
away with the handkerchief herewith sent.
"As a testimony of love the proprietors and this government retain
for the family of Kishycoquillas, you will be pleased to accept of
the present which is delivered to John Shickcalamy for your use.
"May the Great Spirit confer on you health and every other
blessing. Continue your affection for the English and the good
people of this province, and you will always find them grateful.
"I am your assured friend,
"ROBERT H. MORRIS."
Soon after the treaty at Albany,--probably in 1755,--settlers, who had
heard of the beauty and fertility of Kishicoquillas Valley, flocked
thither for the purpose of locating lands. Few locations, however, were
effected, for the Indians of the valley, with the exception of the
chief Kishicokelas and his immediate followers, were opposed to it, and
threw every obstacle, short of downright murder, in the way of the
new-comers. There is no positive evidence that any murders were
committed in Kishicoquillas at that period, but the savages certainly
did every thing in their power to menace and harass the settlers, in
order to induce them to relinquish the design of settling upon what
they still considered their lands. The following letter from Colonel
Armstrong to Governor Morris gives some information of the trials these
early settlers were subjected to:--
"_Carlisle, May 26, 1755._
"This day I received a letter from my brother, who is laying out
lands for the settlers in the new purchase, giving an account of
three Indians, very much painted, who last week robbed and drove
off several settlers from the Valley of Kishicoquillas. One of the
Indians, by his skulking position, seemed as if he designed
secretly to have shot, but, the white man discovering him, escaped.
They took three horses, three or four guns, and some cash. 'Tis
said they robbed another man up Juniata.
"To-morrow I am to set out for Kishicoquillas, there to decide some
controversies, and thence to proceed to Susquehanna, near Shamokin,
where I expect to meet Conrad Weiser. If he is there, he may, by
the assistance of the Shickcalamies, be of use in regard to those
robberies.
"I am, sir, yours, &c.,
"JOHN ARMSTRONG."
Colonel Armstrong did go to Shamokin, where he met Shickalemy, and
induced him to use his influence in behalf of the settlers in the new
purchase; but Shickalemy's labors were lost, for he could effect
nothing among the savages of Kishicoquillas, and the settlers were
forced to fly for protection to Fort Granville; nor did they or any
other whites venture into the valley until some time in 1765.
Shickalemy, or Shickellimus, as he was sometimes called, was a Cayuga
chief, of the Six Nations, and for many years resided at Fort Augusta,
on the Susquehanna, where Sunbury now stands. He was converted to
Christianity by the Moravian missionaries about 1742, and was, to the
day of his death, the firm and steadfast friend of the English
colonists. To his exertions, in a great measure, may be traced the
cause why none of the Six Nations on the Susquehanna joined the French,
and why a portion of the Delawares spurned the most tempting offers of
the French agents and remained loyal to the colonists.
Shickalemy attended numerous treaties in Philadelphia, during which he
was kindly entertained by James Logan, the secretary of the province.
The chief esteemed him so highly that he named his second son after
him, on his return from one of these treaties, and immediately had him,
as well as two other sons, baptized with Christian rites by the
Moravians.
In 1755, Shickalemy paid a visit to the old chief Kishicokelas, for the
purpose of adopting some conciliatory measures to prevent the Indians
of the valley from committing depredations upon the settlers. On this
occasion he was accompanied by his sons, John and James Logan. The
latter, probably charmed with the beauty of the valley, soon after the
demise of Kishicokelas settled in the valley which bore the name of his
father's friend. He built himself a cabin (not a wigwam) by the side of
a fine limestone spring, whose pure waters gushed out of a small
hill-side in the very heart of the valley, where his sole pursuit was
hunting. This was Logan, the Mingo chief, whose name is perpetuated by
counties, towns, townships, valleys, paths, mountains, and even hotels,
and which will live in history, probably, to the end of time.
There is no evidence that he had a family at the time he resided in
Kishicoquillas; neither was he a chief at that time, for he lived away
from his tribe, and what little intercourse he held with his fellow-men
was with the whites, to whom he bartered venison and deer-skins for
such articles as he stood in need of. He maintained himself solely by
hunting, and was passionately fond of it. A gentleman who saw Logan at
Standing Stone, in 1771 or 1772, described him to Mr. Maguire as "a
fine-looking, muscular fellow, apparently about twenty-eight years of
age. He weighed about two hundred pounds, had a full chest, and
prominent and expansive features. His complexion was not so dark as
that of the Juniata Indians, and his whole actions showed that he had
had some intercourse with the whites." This noble specimen of the red
men, unfortunately, had the failing common to his kind: he would
indulge in intoxicating liquors to excess on nearly every occasion that
offered. When sober, he was dignified and reserved, but frank and
honest; when intoxicated, he was vain, boastful, and extremely foolish.
Judge Brown, a short time previous to his death, in the course of a
conversation with R. P. Maclay, Esq., about Logan, said:--
"The first time I ever saw that spring, (Logan's,) my brother,
James Reed, and myself, had wandered out of the valley in search of
land, and, finding it very good, we were looking about for springs.
About a mile from this we started a bear, and separated to get a
shot at him. I was travelling along, looking about on the rising
ground for the bear, when I came suddenly upon the spring; and,
being dry, and more rejoiced to find so fine a spring than to have
killed a dozen bears, I set my rifle against a bush, and rushed
down the bank, and laid down to drink. Upon putting my head down, I
saw reflected in the water, on the opposite side, the shadow of a
tall Indian. I sprang to my rifle, when the Indian gave a yell,
whether for peace or war I was not just then sufficiently master of
my faculties to determine; but upon my seizing my rifle and facing
him, he knocked up the pan of his gun, threw out the priming, and
extended his open palm toward me in token of friendship. After
putting down our guns, we again met at the spring, and shook hands.
This was Logan--the best specimen of humanity I ever met with,
either _white_ or _red_. He could speak a little English, and told
me there was another white hunter a little way down the stream, and
offered to guide me to his camp. There I first met your father,
(Samuel Maclay.) We remained together in the valley for a week,
looking for springs and selecting lands, and laid the foundation of
a friendship which never has had the slightest interruption.
"We visited Logan at his camp, at Logan's Spring, and your father
and he shot at a mark, for a dollar a shot. Logan lost four or five
rounds, and acknowledged himself beaten. When we were about to
leave him, he went into his hut and brought out as many deer-skins
as he had lost dollars, and handed them to Mr. Maclay, who refused
to take them, alleging that he had been his guest, and did not come
to rob him; that the shooting had only been a trial of skill, and
the bet merely nominal. Logan drew himself up with great dignity,
and said, 'Me bet to make you shoot your best; me gentleman, and me
take your dollar if me beat.' So he was obliged to take the skins,
or affront our friend, whose nice sense of honor would not permit
him to receive even a horn of powder in return.
"The next year," said Judge Brown, "I brought my wife up, and
camped under a big walnut-tree on the bank of Tea Creek, until I
had built a cabin near where the mill now stands, and I have lived
in the valley ever since. Poor Logan" (and the tears chased each
other down his cheeks) "soon after went into the Alleghany, and I
never saw him again."
Many other characteristic anecdotes are given of Logan, the publication
of which in these pages would answer no very desirable end.
In looking over the few pages of manuscripts left by the late Edward
Bell, Esq., we find mention made of "Captain Logan, an Indian friendly
to the whites." This confirmed us in the belief that there were two
Logans. "Logan, the Mingo chief," left Kishicoquillas Valley in 1771;
while Captain Logan resided in the upper end of Huntingdon county at
that time, and a few years afterward in Logan's Valley, in Blair
county. When the Revolution broke out, he moved toward the mountain, in
the neighborhood of Chickalacamoose, near what is now Clearfield. He
served as a spy for the settlers, and rendered them valuable service.
He was an Iroquois or Mingo Indian, too, and a chief; whereas Logan,
the Mingo, was no chief until he removed to Ohio after his relatives
were murdered and he took up the hatchet against the whites. This
explanation is necessary, because many people of Huntingdon and Blair
counties are under the impression that the Captain Logan who resided in
Tuckahoe as late as 1785, and Logan, the Mingo chief, were one and the
same person.
Logan, in consequence of Kishicoquillas becoming too thickly populated,
and the game becoming proportionately scarce, emigrated to Ohio, where
he settled at the mouth of Yellow Creek, thirty miles above Wheeling.
There he was joined by his surviving relatives and some Cayugas from
Fort Augusta, and a small Indian village of log-huts was built up.
Heckwelder, who must have seen him previous to settling at Yellow
Creek, speaks of him as follows:--
About the year 1772, Logan was introduced to me by an Indian
friend, as son of the late reputable chief Shikelemus, and as a
friend to the white people. In the course of conversation, I
thought him a man of superior talents than Indians generally were.
The subject turning on vice and immorality, he confessed his too
great share of this, especially his fondness for liquor. He
exclaimed against the white people for imposing liquors upon the
Indians. He otherwise admired their ingenuity; spoke of gentlemen,
but observed the Indians unfortunately had but few of these
neighbors, &c. He spoke of his friendship to the white people,
wished always to be a neighbor to them, intended to settle on the
Ohio, below Big Beaver; was (to the best of my recollection) then
encamped at the mouth of this river, (Beaver;) urged me to pay him
a visit. I was then living at the Moravian town on this river, in
the neighborhood of Cuskuskee. In April, 1773, while on my passage
down the Ohio for Muskingum, I called at Logan's settlement, where
I received every civility I could expect from such of the family as
were at home.
Indian reports concerning Logan, after the death of his family, ran
to this: that he exerted himself during the Shawnees war (then so
called) to take all the revenge he could, declaring he had lost all
confidence in the white people. At the time of the negotiation, he
declared his reluctance to lay down the hatchet, not having (in his
opinion) yet taken ample satisfaction; yet, for the sake of the
nation, he would do it. His expression, from time to time, denoted
a deep melancholy. Life, said he, had become a torment to him; he
knew no more what pleasure was; he thought it had been better if he
had never existed. Report further states that he became in some
measure delirious; declared he would kill himself; went to Detroit,
and, on his way between that place and Miami, was murdered. In
October, 1781, while a prisoner, on my way to Detroit, I was shown
the spot where this was said to have happened.
That Logan's temper should have soured on the murder of his relatives
and friends, after the friendship he had always extended to the whites,
is not at all strange. These murders changed his nature from a
peaceable Indian to a most cruel and bloodthirsty savage. Revenge
stimulated him to the most daring deeds; and how many innocent white
men, women, and children, he ushered into eternity to appease his
wrath, is only known to Him "whose eye seeth all things."
His people--some say his family, but it never was ascertained that he
had any--were murdered in May, 1774. Some roving Indians had committed
depredations in the neighborhood, and the settlers, highly incensed,
determined to drive them out of the neighborhood. To this end, about
thirty men, completely armed, and under the command of Daniel
Greathouse, without knowing the character and disposition of Logan and
his friends, made a descent upon the village and destroyed it, and
killed twelve and wounded six or eight of the Indians. Among the former
was Logan's sister and a son of Kishicokelas. Logan was absent, at the
time of the occurrence, on a hunting expedition. On his return, as soon
as he saw the extent of the injury done him, he buried the dead, cared
for the wounded, and, with the remnant of his band, went into Ohio,
joined the Shawnees, and fought during their war against the whites
with the most bitter and relentless fury.
In the autumn of 1774, the Indians, getting some very rough usage, and
fearing that the powerful army of Lord Dunmore would march upon and
exterminate them, sued for peace. Lord Dunmore sent a belt of wampum to
all the principal chiefs, and, among the rest, one to Logan, inviting
them to a treaty. Logan refused to attend the council, but sent the
following speech by an interpreter, in a belt of wampum. The treaty was
held under an oak-tree, near Circleville, Ohio, and it was there that
the eloquent and purely Indian speech which rendered Logan's name
immortal was read, and brought tears to the eyes of many of the sturdy
pioneers assembled:--
"I appeal," says Logan, "to any white man to say if he ever entered
Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not meat; if he came naked
and cold, and I clothed him not. During the last long and bloody
war, Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate of peace. Such
was my love for the whites that my countrymen, as they passed,
said, 'Logan is the friend of the whites.' I had thought of living
among you, but for the injuries of one man. Captain Cressap, last
spring, in cold blood, and unprovoked, murdered all the relations
of Logan, not sparing even my women and children. There runs not
one drop of my blood in any living creature. This called on me for
revenge. I have sought it; I have killed many; I have fully glutted
my vengeance. For my country, I rejoice in the beams of peace. But
do not harbor the thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never
felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is
there to mourn for Logan? Not one!"
The authorship of this speech was attributed to Thomas Jefferson, but
he most emphatically denied it, as did others who were present at the
treaty.
With respect to Captain Cressap, Logan was doubtless misinformed. It is
true Captain Cressap was a daring frontier-man, who considered it an
obligation imposed upon him by the Creator to slay Indians, but he was
altogether innocent of the charge made against him by Logan. The
massacre in question, when the facts were known after Dunmore's treaty,
was deeply deplored, and the wanton butchery of Cressap execrated.
Cressap's friends, however, would not suffer the stigma of an inhuman
act, of which he was not guilty, to be fixed upon him; so they procured
all the evidence to be had in the case, and fixed the disreputable deed
upon Daniel Greathouse and his followers. A number of affidavits to
that effect were made by men who accompanied Greathouse, and published
a year or two after the treaty; others in 1799, when the subject was
revived and freely discussed.
Seeing the great disadvantages the Indians labored under in trying to
cope with well-armed and disciplined troops, and believing that his
revenge was far from being satiated, it is quite likely that Logan
became partially insane, as Heckwelder avers; but it is quite certain
that he became a misanthrope, and for a long time refused to mingle
with human beings. At length he plunged into deep excesses, and all he
could earn, by the most skilful use of the rifle, went to gratify his
inordinate thirst for strong drink. The once proud and noble Mingo
chief gradually descended the scale of dignified manhood, outlived his
greatness, and was killed in a drunken brawl. Sorry are we to say this,
in the face of the _romance_ of history; nevertheless it is true.
We had the statement from an old Ohio pioneer, nearly twenty years ago.