the battle was in progress. They could distinctly hear the firing, and,
when the shots became fewer and nearer, hope departed, for they knew the
Americans were dispersed and retreating. At twilight Captain John
Franklin arrived at Forty Fort, with the Hunterdon and Salem company, of
thirty-five men. It was a timely re-enforcement, and revived the hopes
of the little remnant of Denison's force. The night was spent in
sleepless vigilance and alarm by those within the forts, while the
people without were flying to the mountains and the wilderness July 4,
1778 beyond, under cover of the darkness. Early the next morning a
messenger was dispatched to Wilkesbarre Fort, to send up the cannon, and
cause the whole settlement to concentrate for defense at Forty Fort. But
all was confusion. The people were flying in dismay, and leaving their
homes a prey to the invaders. The messenger returned with his melancholy
tidings just as another arrived from Colonel John Butler, demanding a
surrender, and requesting Colonel Denison to come up to head-quarters,
near the still burning ruins of Wintermoot's Fort, to agree on terms of
capitulation. Already the principal stockade at Pittston (Fort Brown)
had surrendered, and, there being no hope of a successful defense,
Colonel Denison complied. Colonel Butler demanded the surrender of all
the forts, and also of Colonel Zebulon Butler and his Continental troops
(numbering only fifteen men) as prisoners of war. Colonel Denison
hastened back, by agreement, to consult with his brother officers. He
conferred with Colonel Zebulon Butler at Wilkesbarre Fort, and it was
agreed that the latter and his men should immediately retire from the
valley. He placed Mrs. Butler behind him upon his horse, and that night
they slept at Conyngham, in the Nescopeek Valley, twenty miles from
Wilkesbarre. Colonel Denison, on returning, reported to the British
leader that the Continentals were beyond his command, and negotiations
were opened without reference to them. The terms were verbally agreed
upon, but, there being no conveniences for writing at hand, the
contracting parties went to Forty Fort, and, upon a table belonging to a
Mr. Bennet, the terms of capitulation were drawn up and signed. *
* The following is a copy of the articles of capitulation, dated
Westmoreland, July 4th, 1778:
"Art. 1st. That the inhabitants of the settlement lay down their arms,
and the garrisons be demolished.
"2d. That the inhabitants occupy their farms peaceably, and the lives of
the inhabitants be preserved entire and unhurt.
"3d. That the Continental stores be delivered up.
"4th. That Major Butler will use his utmost influence that the private
property of the inhabitants shall be preserved entire to them.
"5th. That the prisoners in Forty Fort be delivered up, and that Samuel
Finch, now in Major Butler's possession, be delivered up also.
"6th. That the property taken from the people called Tories, up the
river, be made good, and they to remain in peaceable possession of their
farms, unmolested in a free trade in and throughout the state, as far as
lies in my power.
"7th. That the inhabitants that Colonel Denison now capitulates for,
together with himself, do not take up arms during the present contest.
"Nathan Denison
Signed John Butler.
"Zarah Beech, Samuel Gustin,
John Johnson, William Caldwell."
Surrender of the Fort.--Treaty Table.--Conduct of the Tories.--Bad Faith
of the Indiana.--The Treaty.
359Colonel Butler, ascertaining that there were several casks of whisky
in the fort, ordered them to be rolled to the bank of the river and
emptied, fearing that they might fall into the hands of the Indians and
make them unmanageable.
Every thing being arranged, the two gates of the fort were thrown open.
The arms of the patriots were piled up in the center, and the women and
children retired within the huts that lined the interior of the
stockade. At the appointed time the victors approached, with drums
beating and colors flying. They came in two columns, whites and Indians.
The former were led by Colonel John Butler, who entered the north gate,
and the latter by Queen Esther, the bloody priestess of the midnight
sacrifice. She was followed by Gi-en-gwa-tah, who, with his warriors,
entered the south gate. The Wily chief, fearing treachery, glanced
quickly to the right and left as he entered. The Tories, with their
natural instinct for plunder, immediately seized the piled arms. Butler
ordered them to desist, and presented the muskets to the Indians. The
inhabitants were then marked by the Indians with black paint in their
faces, and ordered to carry a white cloth on a stick. These were badges
which, the savages said, would insure their protection.
The terms of the capitulation were respected by the invaders,
particularly the Indians, for a few hours only. Before night they spread
through the valley, plundering the few people that were left, and
burning the dwellings of those already gone to the wilderness. The
village of Wilkesbarre, containing twenty-three houses, was burned, and
the inhabitants, with others remaining in the valley, fled in dismay
toward the mountains, whither a great number of their friends had gone
during the night. Only one life *** was taken after the surrender
* The table on which the capitulation was drawn up and signed was still
in possession of a daughter of Mr. Bennet (Airs. Myers) when I visited
her in September, 1848. I shall have occasion to mention this venerable
woman presently. The table is of black walnut, small, and of oval form,
and was a pretty piece of furniture when new. It is preserved with much
care by the family. The house of Mr. Bennet was near Forty Fort, and
himself and family, with their most valuable effects, were within the
stockade when it surrendered.
** This was Sergeant Boyd, a deserter from the British army. Standing in
the gateway of the fort after the capitulation, Colonel Butler
recognized him, and said, sternly, "Boyd, go to that tree!" "I hope,"
said Boyd, imploringly, "your honor will consider me a prisoner of war."
"Go to that tree, sir," shouted Butler. The sergeant obeyed, and a
volley from some Indian marksmen laid him dead upon the spot.
* In all accounts of the war John Butler is denominated a colonel, while
here he gives what was doubtless his true title. Lord George Germaine,
in a dispatch to Sir Henry Clinton, gives him the rank of lieutenant
colonel. This capitulation was highly honorable, and certainly affords a
plea in favor of the merciful character of Butler claimed for him by his
friends. In the transactions which subsequently took place he declared
his inability to control the Indians. Thia may have been true. But no
honorable man would have headed such an expedition; and whatever may
have been his efforts to allay the whirlwind of destruction which he had
raised, history holds him responsible, next to his government, for the
dreadful tragedy in Wyoming. The stories of his cruelties, set afloat by
the flying fugitives from the valley, and incorporated in the histories
of Gordon, Ramsay, and other early historians of the war, have been
refuted by ample testimony, and proved to be the offspring of
Imaginations greatly excited by the terrors of the battle and flight.
The story, that when Colonel Denison asked Butler upon what terms he
would accept a surrender, he replied, "The hatchet," and tales of a
kindred nature of cruelties permitted by him, have no foundation in
truth.
Flight of the People over the Pocono.--Incidents of the Flight.--
Providential Aid of Mr. Hollenback.--Preservation of Papers
360of Forty Fort, but numbers of women and children perished in their
flight in the great swamp on the Pocono Mountains, known as the _Shades
of Death_, and along the wilderness paths by the way of the Wind-gap and
Water-gap, to the settlements on the Lehigh and Delaware. So sudden was
their departure, that scarcely a morsel of food was secured. Terrible
indeed were the incidents of that flight, as related by the sufferers
and their friends, and recorded by Chapman and Miner. "Tears gushed from
the eyes of the aged widow of Mr. Cooper," says Mr. Miner, "when she
related that her husband had lain on his face to lap up a little meal
which a companion in their flight had spilled on the earth. Children
were born, and several perished in the 'Dismal Swamp,' or 'Shades of
Death,' as it is called to this day. Mrs. Treusdale was taken in labor;
daring to delay but a few minutes, she was seen with her infant moving
onward upon a horse. Jabez Fish, who was in the battle, escaped; but,
not being able to join his family, was supposed to have fallen; and Mrs.
Fish hastened with her children through the wilderness. Overcome by
fatigue and want, her infant died. Sitting down a moment on a stone, to
see it draw its last breath, she gazed in its face with unutterable
anguish. There were no means to dig a grave, and to leave it to be
devoured by wolves seemed worse than death; so she took the dead babe in
her arms and carried it twenty miles, when she came to a German
settlement. Though poor, they gave her food; made a box for the child,
attended her to the grave-yard, and decently buried it, kindly bidding
her welcome until she should be rested.
"The wife of Ebenezer Marcy was taken in labor in the wilderness. Having
no mode of conveyance, her sufferings were inexpressibly severe. She was
able to drag her fainting steps but about two miles that day. The next,
being overtaken by a neighbor with a horse, she rode, and in a week was
more than a hundred miles with her infant from the place of its birth.
"Mrs. Rogers, from Plymouth, an aged woman, flying with her family,
overcome by fatigue and sorrow, fainted in the wilderness, twenty miles
from human habitation. She could take no nourishment, and soon died.
They made a grave in the best manner they could.... Mrs. Courtwright
relates that she, then a young girl flying with her father's family, saw
sitting by the road side a widow, who had learned the death of her
husband. Six children were on the ground near her--the group the very
image of despair, for they were without food. Just at that moment a man
was seen riding rapidly toward them from the settlements. It was Mr.
Hollenback. * Foreseeing their probable destitution, he had
providentially loaded his horse with bread, and was hastening back, like
an angel of mercy, to their relief. Cries and tears of gratitude and
welcome went up to heaven. He imparted a morsel to each, and hastened on
to the relief of others.
The widow of Anderson Dana, Esq., ** and her widowed daughter, Mrs.
Whiton, did not learn certainly the death of their husbands until they
were at Bullock's, on the mountain, ten miles on their way. Many then
heard the fate of their relatives, and a messenger brought to Mr.
Bullock word that both his sons were dead on the field. Then were heard
mourning and lamentation, with wringing of hands. Mrs. Dana had been
extraordinarily careful. Not only had she provided food, but had taken a
pillow-case of valuable papers (her husband being much engaged in public
business), the preservation of which has thrown much light on our path
of research. Depending chiefly on charity, the family sought their
ancient home in
* Mr. Hollenback survived the battle, and escaped by swimming the river
at Monocasy Island. He crossed the mountains to the settlements in
advance of the fugitives.
** Anderson Dana was from Ashford, Windham county, Connecticut. He was a
lawyer of good attainments; his talents and zeal, in the promotion of
the welfare of the Wyoming settlement, obtained from the people their
unanimous suffrage, and he was elected a member of the Connecticut
Assembly. Returning home when Wyoming was threatened, he mounted his
horse, and, riding from family to family throughout the valley, aroused
the people to action, and, though exempt from military duty, hastened to
the field and fell. His son-in-law, Stephen Whiton, but a few weeks
married, also went into the battle and was slain.
Picture of the Flight.--Story of the Fugitives published at
Poughkeepsie.--Errors of History.--Bad Faith of the Invaders
361Connecticut. These few instances, selected from a hundred, will
present some idea of the dreadful flight."1
What a picture did that flight present! No embellishment of fancy is
needed to give it effect. One hundred women and children, with but a
single man to guide and protect them, are seen, in the wildest terror,
hurrying to the mountains. "Let the mind picture to itself a single
group, flying from the valley to the mountains on the east, and climbing
the steep ascent; hurrying onward, filled with terror, despair, and
sorrow; the affrighted mother, whose husband has fallen, with an infant
on her bosom, a child by the hand, an aged parent slowly climbing the
rugged steep behind them; hunger presses them severely; in the rustling
of every leaf they hear the approaching savage; a deep and dreary
wilderness before them, the valley all in flames behind; their dwellings
and harvests all swept away in this spring flood of ruin, and the star
of hope quenched in this blood shower of savage vengeance." **
From the settlements on the Delaware the fugitives made their way to
Connecticut by various routes, and the tales of horror of a few who
crossed the Hudson at Poughkeepsie were published in a newspaper printed
there. The account of the atrocities therein related was repeated every
where in America and in Europe, and, remaining uncontradicted, formed
the material for the darkest chapter in the annals of the Revolution, as
recorded by the earlier historians. No doubt the fugitives believed they
were telling truths. The battle, the devastation of the valley, and the
flight across the wilderness were matters of their own experience; and
other refugees, joining them in their flight, added their various
recitals to the general narrative of woe. We will not stop to detail
what has been erroneously written. The pages of Gordon, Ramsay, and
Botta will satisfy those who wish to "sup on horrors." The researches of
Mr. Minor have obliterated half the stain which those recitals cast upon
human nature, and we should rejoice at the result, for the honor of the
race. It is but just to the memory of the dead to say, in passing, that
the conduct of Colonels Zebulon Butler and Nathan Denison *** on the
occasion has been falsely represented, and injustice done to their
characters. All that could be done was done by those brave and devoted
men.
Our story of the disaster in Wyoming is almost ended. Although alarm and
distress prevailed there until the close of the war, there were no
hostilities of greater moment than the menaces of savages and a few
skirmishes with marauders. But, before closing the historic tome, let us
briefly glance at the events in the valley which followed the surrender
of the forts and the flight of the people.
As we have seen, the terms of capitulation were broken by the invaders
within a few hours after the treaty was signed, and the houses of the
people and fields of waving grain were plundered and destroyed. The
Indians began by breaking open the trunks and boxes in the huts of the
surrendered fort. The town papers were scattered, and many valuable
records were destroyed. Colonel Denison called upon Butler repeatedly to
enforce the terms of capitulation by restraining the Indians. Butler
did, indeed, attempt to restrain them, but they utterly disregarded his
orders. At length, finding his authority set at naught, doubtless
considering his own life in danger should he attempt harsh measures of
control, and probably fearing greater enormities on the part of the
Indians, Butler withdrew from the July 8, 1778 valley. **** Gi-en-gwa-
tah interposed his authority, and a greater part of the Indians
* History of Wyoming, p. 230.
** The Hazleton Travelers. This is not a volume, but a series of
biographical and historical sketches by Charles Miner, Esq., in the form
of colloquies between two travelers from Hazleton. They were published
in the Wyoming Republican in 1837-8. They are admirably conceived and
written, and contain vivid pictures of the character and sufferings of
the people of Wyoming during the Revolution.
*** Colonel Nathan Denison was a native of New London, Connecticut, and
was one of the early settlers in Wyoming. He was well educated, and was
an active man in the valley. After the close of the war he held several
important offices under the authority of Pennsylvania. He died January
25th, 1809, aged sixty-eight years.
**** Mr. Miner gives Colonel Butler full credit for humane intentions,
and believes that he desired to regard faithfully the terms of the
capitulation, and that he made the most earnest endeavors to prevent the
pillage and murders which ensued. On the authority of a Mr. Finch, a
prisoner at the time, who went over the battle-ground with Mr. Miner in
1838, he says that Colonel Butler received a letter on the 5th, which
hastened his departure from the valley. It probably gave him notice of
the approach of Captain Spalding or some other expected re-enforcements.
Mr. Miner tells an amusing anecdote of Finch. They called together upon
Mrs. Jenkins, an aged lady, more than eighty years old, who was a
prisoner in Forty Fort. She instantly recognized Finch, and said, with
much archness and humor, "Oh, yes, Finch, to be sure I remember you. An
old squaw took you and brought you in. She found you in the bushes, and,
as she drove you along, patted you on the back, saying, 'My son, my
son!'" Finch did not relish the exposure as well as the by-standers. He
had been playing the hero in his account of the battle. Mrs. Jenkins
stripped him of his plumage, and he soon after left the valley.
Departure of the Invaders from the Valley.--Indian Cruelties.--Arrival
at Succor.--Expedition against the Indians.
362followed the leaders, with Queen Esther and her retinue in the van.
The appearance of the retiring enemy was extremely ludicrous, aside from
the melancholy savageism that was presented. Many squaws accompanied the
invaders, and these brought up the rear. Some had belts around their
waists, made of scalps stretched upon small hoops; some had on from four
to six dresses of chintz or silk, one over the other; and others,
mounted on stolen horses, and seated, "not sidewise, but otherwise," had
on their heads four or five bonnets, one within another.
As soon as Butler and the main body of the invaders left the valley, the
Indians that remained, wholly uncontrolled, swept over the plains in
small bands of from five to ten, and wantonly destroyed the crops,
burned houses and barns, and treated the few remaining people most
cruelly. * Several murders were committed, and terror again reigned in
the valley. Colonel Denison, and all who remained at Forty Fort, fled,
some down the river and some to the mountains. Except a few who gathered
about the fort at Wilkesbarre, the whole people abandoned the
settlement. It presented one wide scene of conflagration and ruin.
Captain Spalding was between the Pocono and Blue Mountains, nearly fifty
miles from Wilkesbarre, on the day of the battle. Apprised of the event
by the flying settlers, he hastened forward, and when within twelve
miles of the valley sent two scouts to reconnoiter. From the brow of the
mountain they saw the flames rising in all directions, and the valley in
complete possession of the invaders. The efforts of a single company
would be vain, and Captain Spalding returned to Stroudsburg, to await
the orders of Colonel Zebulon Butler, August 3, 1778 who soon returned
to Wyoming. When the enemy had left the valley, Spalding marched
thither, and took up his quarters at Wilkesbarre Fort, a which he
strengthened. Other means for the defense of the valley were adopted,
and a few of those who had fled returned, with the hope of securing
something that might be left of all their desolated possessions. Some of
them were waylaid and shot by straggling Indians and Tories. There was
no security; throughout that fertile valley fire was the only reaper,
and the luscious fruits fell to the earth ungathered. Even the dead upon
the battle-ground lay unburied until the autumn frosts had come; and
when their mutilated and shriveled bodies were collected and cast into
one common receptacle of earth, but few could be identified, October 22
That sad office was performed by guarded laborers, while parties of the
enemy, like hungry vultures, scented their prey from afar, and hovered
upon the mountains, ready to descend upon the stricken settlers when
opportunity should offer.
Colonel Hartly, of the Pennsylvania line, joined Colonel Zebulon Butler,
and an expedition was arranged to expel the marauders. In September a
detachment of one hundred and thirty men marched to Shesequin, Queen
Esther's plantation, a beautiful plain on the east branch of the
Susquehanna (now in Bradford county), where a battle ensued. Several of
* One illustrative instance I will mention. From the farm of an old man
named Weekes, seven persons, three of whom were his sons, one a
grandson-in-law, two relatives, and the last a boarder, went out to the
battle. At night the whole seven lay dead on the field! After the
capitulation, a band of Indians came to his house and ordered him away.
"How can I?" he said; "my whole family you have killed. How can I with
fourteen grandchildren, all young and helpless." They feasted on the
food in his house; and one of the Indians, taking the hat from the old
man's head, and placing himself in a large rocking-chair which he had
taken to the road, rocked with much glee. They then informed him that he
might have three days allowed him to prepare for departure, and the use
of a pair of oxen and a wagon to carry away his grandchildren. He
departed, and the savages set fire to the building, and destroyed all
that was left. Over the rough country along the Lackawanna Mr. Weekes
made his way to Orange county.--See Miner's Wyoming, p. 238, and
Hazleton Travelers.
Return of Settlers.--Continued Alarm.--Murder of Mr. Slocum.--Sullivan's
Expedition.--Situation of Wyoming.
363the Indians were killed, their settlement was broken up, and a
quantity of plunder that had been taken from Wyoming was recovered.
Returning to Wyoming, Colonel Hartly was called away, but left a
garrison of one hundred men at Wilkesbarre Fort. Thus defended, although
the season was much advanced, a few armed settlers plowed and sowed.
Marauding parties of the enemy still hovered upon the mountains, and
several of the whites were murdered in their fields, among whom was
Jonathan Slocum, a member of the Society of Friends. The interesting
story of the abduction of his little daughter, and her subsequent
discovery among the Indians, will be related in the next chapter.
In March, 1779, the garrison at Wilkesbarre was menaced by a party of
about two hundred and fifty Indians and painted Tories, who surrounded
the fort. The discharge of a field piece drove them away, but, the
garrison being too feeble to attempt a pursuit, the marauders carried
off' much plunder, not, however, without suffering considerably in some
smart skirmishes with the inhabitants. In April a re-enforcement for the
garrison, under Major Powell, while marching toward Wyoming, fell into
an Indian ambuscade. April 30Six of his men were killed, but the Indians
were routed.
Toward the close of June, General Sullivan arrived in the valley, with
his division of the army destined for the invasion of the Seneca
country, the events of which have been narrated in a preceding chapter.
The troops had rendezvoused at Easton, and marched to Wyoming by the way
of the present turnpike. They arrived on the 23d of June, and encamped
on the flats below Wilkesbarre. A large fleet of boats, that had been
prepared in the lower waters of the Susquehanna, arrived, with
provisions and stores, on the 24th. We have seen that Sullivan's
movements were remarkably slow, and that the enemy became perfectly
acquainted with his strength and his plans before he reached Tioga. The
Indians, guided by the mind of Brant, tried to divert the attention of
Sullivan by attacks upon his outposts. * Several of these occurred, but
the American force was too large to be much affected by them, and on the
31st of July the tents were struck, and the whole army, with martial
music and the thunder of cannon, moved up the Susquehanna, proceeding on
the east side. As the fleet of boats approached Monocasy Island and the
battle-ground, the lively music of fife and drum was changed to a solemn
dirge, in honor of the patriot dead. The army encamped the first night a
little above Pittston, near the confluence of the Susquehanna and
Lackawanna Rivers. On the 5th it arrived at Wyalusing, on the 9th at
Queen Esther's Plains (Shesequin), and on the 11th reached Tioga Point.
The remainder of the story of the expedition has already been told.
As soon as the American army was gone, the Indians and Tories came
prowling upon the borders of the valley, and, until peace was
proclaimed, the settlers had no an hour of repose. "Revenge upon
Wyoming," says Stone, "seemed a cherished luxury to the infuriated
savages, hovering upon her outskirts upon every side. It was a scene of
war, blood, and suffering.... In the course of this harassing warfare
there were many severe skirmishes, several heroic risings of prisoners
upon their Indian captors, and many hair-breadth escapes." ** It would
require a volume to detail them, and the reader, desirous of more minute
information, is referred to the works of Chapman, Miner, and Stone. I
have other and broader regions to traverse and explore, and other pages
of our wondrous history to open and recite. Let us close the book for
the present, and ramble a while along the banks of the Susquehanna,
where the tragedy we have been considering was enacted, but where now
the smiles of peace, prosperity, and repose gladden the heart of the
dweller and the stranger.
* The boldness of the Indians was remarkable. Although the Americans in
camp were three thousand strong, they approached within two or three
miles of the tents, and committed murders.
** History of Wyoming p. 206.
Present Scenery in Wyoming.--Allusion to Campbell's Poem--Visit to
Kingston and Forty Fort
364
CHAPTER XVI.
"I then but dream'd: thou art before me now
In life, a vision of the brain no more.
I've stood upon the wooded mountain's brow,
That beetles high fly lovely valley o'er.
Nature hath made thee lovelier than the power
Even of Campbell's pen hath pictured; he
Had woven, had ne gazed one sunny hour
Upon thy smiling vale, its scenery
With more of truth, and made each rock and tree
Known like old friends, and greeted from afar;
And there are tales of sad reality
In the dark legends of thy border war,
With woes of deeper tint than his own Gertrude's are."
Halleck.
MIST still reposed upon the waters, and veiled the fringe of trees along
the Susquehanna, when, late in the morning, I left Wilkesbarre, in
company with Mr. Lord Butler, to visit the celebrities of the valley.
The poetry of the bard and the solemn prose of the historian awakened
thoughts and associations which invested every venerable tree and
antiquated dwelling, the plains, the river, and the mountains, with all
the glowing characteristics of romance. The simple beauty of nature,
though changed in feature, is as attractive as of old.
"But where are they, the beings of the mind,
The bard's creations, molded not of clay,
Hearts to strange bliss and sufferings assign'd--
Young Gertrude, Albert, Waldegrave--where are they?
Waldegrave 'twere in vain
To point out here, unless in yon scarecrow
That stands full uniform'd upon the plain
To frighten flocks of crows and blackbirds from the grain.
"For he would look particularly droll
In his 1 Iberian boot' and ' Spanish plume,'
And be the wonder of each Christian soul,
As of the birds that scarecrow and his broom.
But Gertrude, in her loveliness and bloom,
Hath many a model here; for woman's eye,
In court or cottage, wheresoe'er her home,
Hath a heart-spell too holy and too high
To be o'er-praised, even by her worshiper--Poesy."
Halleck.
We crossed the plain to Kingston, a pretty village about half a mile
westward of Wilkesbarre, and then proceeded to the site of Forty Fort,
three and a half miles above, which is reached by a road diverging
toward the river from the main road to the head of the valley. It stood
near the river bank, at a curve in the stream. Not a single trace of it
is left, the spot having been long a common, perfectly smooth, and
covered with a green sward. Near the site of the fort is a venerable
house, one of the few that escaped the general conflagra-
The "Treaty Table" at Forty Fort.--Site of the Fort.--Visit to the
Monument.--Inscription upon it.
365tion, and close by is the residence of one of Mrs. Myers's family, in
whoso possession I found the _treaty table_, pictured in the last
chapter. The venerable owner was not there, but I afterward saw her at
the house of her son, near Kingston. A cottage and its garden occupy the
bank of the river where the trembling families at Forty Fort stood and
listened to the noise of the battle; and from that point is a charming
river view, bounded on the northwest by the lofty range of the Shawnee
Mountains, through which the Susquehanna makes its way into the valley.
From Forty Fort we rode up to the monument, which is situated in a field
a few rods east of the main road, near the pleasant little village of
Troy, five and a half miles from Wilkesbarre. It is constructed of hewn
blocks of granite, quarried in the neighborhood, is sixty two and a half
feet in height, and stands upon the spot where the dead were buried in
the autumn succeeding the battle. * On two marble tablets are engraved
the names of those who fell, so far as could be ascertained, and also of
those who were in the battle and survived. Another marble tablet
contains an inscription, written by Edward Mallory, Esq. ** This
monument, like many others proposed to be erected to the memory of
Evolutionary men or events, was tardily conceived and more tardily
executed. It remained unfinished nearly forty years after the first
movements were made toward raising money for the purpose. As early as
1809,
Mr. Minor, the historian of the valley, wrote several essays intended to
awaken public attention to the duty of erecting a monument, and in 1810
Charles F. Wells, Esq., wrote a stirring ode, concluding with the
patriotic interrogation,
"O, when shall rise, with chisel'd head,
The tall stone o'er their burial-place,
Where the winds may sigh for the gallant dead,
And the dry grass rustle around its base?"
* Professor Silliman visited many of the Revolutionary grounds about
twenty years ago. In his Journal, vol. xviii., p. 310, in describing his
visit to Wyoming, he says that a Mr. Perrin, one of those who assisted
in the burial of the dead, went over the ground with him, and assured
him that, owing to the intense heat and dryness of the air, the bodies
were shriveled, dry, and quite inoffensive. ** The following is the
inscription upon the monument:
Near this spot was fought,
On the afternoon of Friday, the third day of July, 1778,
THE BATTLE OF WYOMING,
In which a small band of patriot Americans,
Chiefly the undisciplined, the youthful, and the aged,
Spared, by inefficiency, from the distant ranks of the republic,
Led by Colonel Zebulon Butler and Colonel Nathan Denison With a courage
that deserved success,
Boldly met and bravely fought A combined British, Tory, and Indian force
Of thrice their number.
Numerical superiority alone gave success to the invader,
And wide-spread havoc, desolation, and ruin Marked his savage and bloody
footsteps through the valley.
THIS MONUMENT,
Commemorative of these events,
And of the actors in them,
Has been erected Over the bones of the slain,
By their descendants and others, who gratefully appreciate
The services and sacrifices of their patriot ancestors.
Efforts to erect the Wyoming Monument.--Success of the Ladies.--
Incidents of the Battle.--The Inman Family.
366 These appeals caused meetings to be held and resolutions to be
adopted, but little more substantial was done until 1839, when a
committee from Wyoming repaired to Hartford, to solicit pecuniary aid
from the Legislature of Connecticut. The committee set forth the claims
of the Wyoming people upon Connecticut, in consideration of past
allegiance and services. A report was made, proposing a grant of three
thousand dollars, but no further action was taken during that session.
In 1841 another petition was presented, and so ably was the matter
conducted that the lower branch of the Legislature voted the
appropriation asked for, by a large majority. The Senate did not concur,
and another failure was the consequence. The ladies of Wyoming,
doubtless feeling the truth of Dr. Clarke's assertion, that "in all
benevolent or patriotic enterprises the services of one woman are equal
to those of seven men and a half," resolved that the monument should be
erected. They formed a "Luzerne Monumental Association," * solicited
donations, held fairs, and by their energy obtained the necessary funds
and erected a monument, commemorative alike of patriotic deeds and of
female influence. There is a world of philosophy (which solicitors of
subscriptions would do well to observe) in the saying of Judge
Halliburton's clock peddler, "The straight road to the _pockets_ of the
men is through the _hearts_ of the women."
From the monument northward to the site of Wintermoot's Fort, a mile and
a half, the road passes over the battle-ground; but tillage has so
changed the whole scene, that nothing remains as token or landmark of
the fight, except the ancient river bank, and the tangled morass toward
the mountains, through' which the Indians made their way and fell upon
Colonel Denison's rear. The place was pointed out to me, upon the road
side, where, tradition says, one of the Wyoming men, somewhat
intoxicated, lagged behind and fell asleep, when the little band marched
to the attack of the invaders. When the retreat became general, and
Colonel Zebulon Butler saw no other means of safety but flight, he put
spurs to his horse. A swift-footed settler, hotly pursued by savages,
caught the tail of Colonel Butler's horse as he passed by, and, with the
tenacity of the witch that fastened upon the tail of Tam O'Shanter's
mare, held on until he was far beyond danger. As they passed the spot
where the inebriate had just awaked, perfectly sober, the man at the
tail shouted to him to shoot the pursuing savage. He did so, and the
Indian fell dead in the road. Near the same spot Rufus Bennet was
pursued by an Indian. Both had discharged their pieces, and the savage
was chasing with tomahawk and spear. Richard Inman, one of five brothers
who were in the battle, shot the Indian with his rifle, who fell dead
within a few feet of his intended victim.' Passing over the battle-
ground, we visited the site of Wintermoot's Fort, a view of which is
given on page 351, and, going down on the ancient bank of the
Susquehanna, we came to Queen Esther's Rock, noticed and described on
page 357. There is a scow ferry near, by which we crossed to the eastern
side of the river, along whose margin, skirted with lofty-trees, we had
a delightful ride to the ravine opposite Monocasy Island. Here the road
departs from the river bank, and passes among fertile intervales between
that point and Wilkesbarre. The wheat harvests were garnered, but the
corn-fields and orchards were laden with the treas-
* The most active ladies in the association were descendants of those
who suffered at the time of the invasion. The names of the officers of
the society are as follows: Mrs. Chester Butler, President; Mrs. G M.
Hollenback and Mrs. E. Carey, Vice-presidents; Mrs. J. Butler, Mrs.
Nicholson, Mrs. Hollenback, Mrs Lewis, Mrs. Ross, Mrs. Conyngham, Sirs.
Beaumont, Mrs. Drake, Mrs. Bennet, Mrs. Carey, Executive Committee; Miss
Emily Cist, Treasurer; Miss Gertrude Butler, Secretary; Mrs. Donley,
Mrs. L. Butler, Corresponding Committee.
** The Inman family were terrible sufferers. Five brothers went to the
field of battle. Two others (for the father had seven sons) would have
gone forth, but they had no arms. Two were killed on the field, two
escaped without injury, and the fifth, plunging into the waters under
some willows on the river shore while heated by the exertions of the
battle and the flight, took such a cold that in a few weeks he was in
his grave. The remainder of the family fled with the rest of the
settlement. In the fall they ventured to return, and put in some winter
grain. A surviving son, a lad of nineteen years, while in the field,
heard, as he supposed, some wild turkeys in the woods. He went after
them, shots were heard, but the boy never came back. In the spring his
body was found. He had been murdered and scalped by the Indians. Thus
four sons of Elijah Inman perished within a few months. One of the sons,
Colonel Edward Inman, is still living, I believe, upon a fine farm a few
miles below Wilkesbarre.
Residence and Grave of Colonel Zebulon Butler.--Mr. Slocum and his
Family History.--Abduction of his Sister.
367ures of the season, their abundance betokening the extreme fertility
of the soil. We passed the homestead of Colonel Butler, near which,
"On the margin of yon orchard hill,
Are marks where time-worn battlements have been,
And in the tall grass traces linger still.
Of arrowy frieze and wedged ravelin."
Near the entrance to the village we came to the cemetery where repose
many of the patriot dead of Wyoming. There rest the remains of Colonel
Butler and his wife. The rude slab that first marked the bed of the hero
had been removed, and in its place a neat white marble stone is laid,
bearing the following inscription: "In memory of Colonel Zebulon Butler,
of the Revolutionary army, who died July 28th, 1795, in the 64th year of
his age; and also in memory of Mrs. Phoebe H. Butler, his wife, who died
January 19th, 1837, in the 82d year of her age."
It was late in the day when I reached my lodgings, and, wearied by the
rambles of the morning, resolved to pass the remainder of the afternoon
with the _Hazleton Travelers_. Their conversation was exclusively of
those who acted and suffered at the time of the _massacre_, and I
listened with intense interest to the recitals of the "knowing one." I
would gladly give the details here, if my space would allow, for they
furnish one of the most interesting of those chapters in our
Revolutionary history, showing the terrible cost at which our liberties
were purchased. Mr. Minor has made the record, and to it the reader is
referred.
I passed the evening with the venerable Joseph Slocum, whose family was
among the sufferers in the Wyoming Valley. He related to me all the
particulars of the capture and final discovery of his sister Frances,
and other incidents connected with the sufferings of his family. His
father was a Quaker, and was distinguished for his kindness to the
Indians. He remained unharmed at the time of the invasion, and, while
the torch was applied to the dwellings of others, his was left
untouched. But his son Giles was in the battle. This doubtless excited
the ire of the Indians, and they resolved on vengeance. Late in autumn
they were seen prowling about the house, which was situated about one
hundred rods from the Wilkesbarre Fort. A neighbor named Kingsley had
been made a prisoner, and his wife and two sons had a welcome home in
Mr. Slocum's family. One morning the November 2, 1778 two boys were
grinding a knife near the house, when a rifle-shot and a shriek brought
Mrs. Slocum to the door. An Indian was scalping the eldest boy, a lad of
fifteen, with the knife he had been grinding. The savage then went into
the house, and caught up a little son of Mrs. Slocum. "See!" exclaimed
the frightened mother, "he can do thee no good; he is lame." The Indian
released the boy, took up her little daughter Frances, aged five years,
gently in his arms, and, seizing the younger Kingsley, hastened to the
mountains. Two Indians who were with, him carried off a black girl,
about seventeen years old Mr. Slocum's little daughter, aged nine years,
caught up her brother Joseph (my informant) two and a half years old,
and fled in safety to the fort, where an alarm was given, but the
savages were beyond successful pursuit.
About six weeks afterward Mr. Slocum and his father-in-law, Ira Trip,
were December 16 shot and scalped by some Indians while foddering cattle
near the house. Again the savages escaped with their horrid trophies.
Mrs. Slocum, bereft of father, husband, and child, and stripped of all
possessions but the house that sheltered her, could not leave the
valley, for nine helpless children were yet in her household. She
trusted in the God of Elijah, and, if she was not fed by the ravens, she
was spared by the vultures. She mourned not for the dead, for they were
at rest; but little Frances, her lost darling, where was she? The lamp
of hope kept on burning, but years rolled by, and no tidings of the
little one came. When peace returned, and friendly intercourse with
Canada was established, two of the little captive's brothers started in
search of her. They traversed the wilderness to Niagara, offering
rewards for her discovery, but all in vain. They returned to Wyoming,
convinced that the child was dead. But the mother's heart was still the
shrine of hope,
Mrs. Slocum's Presentiments.--A Foundling.--Disappointment.--Singular
Discovery of the "lost Sister."
368and she felt assured that Frances was not in the grave. Her soul
appeared to commune with that of her child, and she often said, "I know
Frances is living." At length the mother's heart was cheered; a woman
(for many years had now passed, and Frances, if living, must be a full-
grown woman) was found among the Indians, answering the description of
the lost one. She only remembered being carried away from the
Susquehanna. Mrs. Slocum took her home and cherished her with a mother's
tenderness. Yet the mysterious link of sympathy which binds the maternal
spirit to its offspring was unfelt, and the bereaved mother was bereaved
still. "It may be Frances, but it does not seem so. Yet the woman shall
be ever welcome," said Mrs. Slocum. The foundling also felt no filial
yearnings, and, both becoming convinced that no consanguinity existed,
the orphan returned to her Indian friends. From time to time the hope of
the mother would be revived, and journeys were made to distant Indian
settlements in search of the lost sister, but in vain. The mother went
"down into the grave mourning," and little Frances was almost forgotten.
Her brothers had become aged men, and their grandchildren were playing
upon the very spot whence she had been taken.
In the summer of 1837, fifty-nine years after her capture, intelligence
of Frances was received. Colonel Ewing, an Indian agent and trader, in a
letter from Logansport, Indiana, to the editor of the Lancaster
Intelligencer, * gave such information that all doubts respecting her
identity were removed, and Joseph Slocum, with the sister who carried
him to the fort, and yet survived, immediately journeyed to Ohio, where
they were joined by their younger brother Isaac. They proceeded to
Logansport, where they found Mr. Ewing, and ascertained that the woman
spoken of by him lived about twelve miles from the village. She was
immediately sent for, and toward evening the next day she came into the
town, riding a spirited young horse, accompanied by her two daughters,
dressed in full Indian costume, and the husband of one of them. An
interpreter was procured (for she could not speak or understand
English), and she listened seriously to what her brothers had to say.
She answered but little, and at sunset departed for her home, promising
to return the next morning. The brothers and sister were quite sure that
it was indeed Frances, though in her face nothing but Indian lineaments
were seen, her color alone revealing her origin.
True to her appointment, she appeared the following morning, accompanied
as before. Mr. Joseph Slocum then mentioned a mark of recognition, which
his mother had said would be a sure test. While playing one day with a
hammer in a blacksmith's shop, Joseph, then a child two and a half years
old, gave Frances a blow upon the middle finger of the left hand, which
crushed the bone and deprived the finger of its nail. This test Mr.
Slocum had withheld until others should fail. When he mentioned it, the
aged woman was greatly agitated, and, while tears filled the furrows of
her face, she held out the wounded finger. There was no longer a doubt,
and a scene of great interest ensued. Her affections for her
*This letter was dated January 20th, 1835, a year and a half previous,
and gave the following account: "There is now living near this place,
among the Miami tribe of Indians, an aged white woman, who, a few days
ago, told me that she was taken away from her father's house, on or near
the Susquehanna River, when she was very young. She says her father's
name was Slocum; that he was a Quaker, and wore a large-brimmed hat;
that he lived about half a mile from a town where there was a fort. She
has two daughters living. Her husband is dead. She is old and feeble,
and thinks she shall not live long. These considerations induced her to
give the present history of herself, which she never would before,
fearing her kindred would come and force her away. She has lived long
and happily as an Indian, is very respectable and wealthy, sober and
honest. Her name is without reproach." The cause of the delay in the
publication of the letter, and of its final appearance and effect, was
not a little singular. Mr. Ewing sent it to the postmaster at Lancaster,
with a request that he would have it published in a Pennsylvania paper.
The postmaster, not acquainted with the writer, concluded that it was a
hoax, and cast the letter among other papers, where it remained a year
and a half. One day his wife, while engaged in arranging the office, saw
the letter, and, having her feelings very much interested, sent it to
the editor of the Intelligencer. It so happened that the issue of his
paper in which the letter was published contained an important
temperance document, and a large number of extra copies were printed for
general distribution. One of these was sent to a gentleman in Wyoming,
who, having heard the story of the "lost sister," and knowing Mr. Joseph
Slocum, put the paper into his hands; and thus, by a series of
providential circumstances, a clew to Frances was discovered.
Interview between the "lost Sister" and her white Kindred.--Her
Narrative.--Her Condition.--Children and Grandchildren
369kindred, that had slumbered half a century, were aroused, and she
made earnest inquiries after her father, mother, brothers, and sisters.
Her full heart--full with the cherished secrets of her history--was
opened, and the story of her life freely given.
She said the savages (who were Delawares), after taking her to a rocky
cave in the mountains, departed for the Indian country. The first night
was the unhappiest of her life. She was kindly treated, being carried
tenderly in their arms when she was weary. She was adopted in an Indian
family, and brought up as their daughter. For years she led a roving
life, and loved it. She was taught the use of the bow and arrow, and
became expert in all the employments of savage existence. When she was
grown to womanhood both her Indian parents died, and she soon afterward
married a young chief of the nation, and removed to the Ohio country.
She was treated with more respect than the Indian women generally; and
so happy was she in her domestic relations, that the chance of being
discovered and compelled to return among the whites was the greatest
evil that she feared, for she had been taught that they were the
implacable enemies of the Indians, whom she loved. Her husband died,
and, her people having joined the Miamies, she went with them and
married one of that tribe. The last husband was also dead, and she had
been a widow many years Children and grandchildren were around her, and
her life was passing pleasantly away When she concluded the narrative,
she lifted her right hand in a solemn manner, and said, "All this is as
true as that there is a Great Spirit in the heavens!" She had entirely
forgotten her native language, and was a pagan. To her Christ and the
Christian's Sabbath were unknown.
On the day after the seeond interview, the brothers and sister, with the
interpreter, rode out to her dwelling. It was a well-built log house, in
the midst of cultivation. A large herd of cattle and sixty horses were
grazing in the pastures. Every thing betokened plenty and comfort, for
she was wealthy, when her wants and her means were compared. Her annuity
from government, which she received as one of the Miami tribe, had been
saved, and she had about one thousand dollars in specie. Her white
friends passed several days very agreeably with her; and subsequently
her brother Joseph, with his daughter, the wife of
* This portrait I copied from a painting of life size in the possession
of her brother, Mr. Joseph Slocum, of Wilkesbarre. It was painted for
him by an artist named Winter, residing at Logansport. Her underdress is
scarlet, and the mantle with the large sleeve is black cloth. The
Indians gave her the name of Ma-con-a-qua, a Young Bear. The names of
her children and grandchildren are as follows: Eldest daughter, Kich-ke-
ne-che-quah, Cut Finger; youngest daughter, O-saw-she-quah, Yellow Leaf.
Grandchildren: Kin-pe-no-quah, Corn Tassel; Wap-pa-no-se-a, Blue Corn;
Kim-on-sa-quah, Young Panther.
A Sabbath in Wyoming.--Visit to Mrs. Myers.--Incidents of her Life.--
Escape of her Father and Brother from Indians.
370the Hon. Ziba Bennet of Wyoming, made her another visit, and bade her
a last farewell. She died about four years ago, and was buried with
considerable pomp, for she was regarded as a queen among her tribe. *
September 18, 1848 I passed a Sabbath in Wyoming. It was a dull and
cheerless day. The mountains were hooded with vapor, and all day a
chilly drizzle made the trees weep. But Monday morning dawned clear and
warm, and in the course of the day I revisited Forty Fort and the
battle-ground, ascended the mountain to Prospect Rock, to obtain another
glorious view of the valley, peeped into the black caverns of the coal
mines at the foot of the hills, and at noon took shelter from the hot
sun in the shaded walks of Toby's Eddy, where Zinzendorf pitched his
tent. Thence I rode to the residence of Mr. Myers, a son of the
venerable lady already alluded to, where I passed an interesting hour
with the living chronicle of the woes of Wyoming. I found her sitting in
an easy chair, peeling apples, and her welcome was as cheerful and
cordial as she could have given to a cherished friend. Her memory was
clear, and she related the incidents of her girlhood with a perspicuity
that evinced remarkable mental vigor. Although blindness has shut out
the beautiful, and deprived her of much enjoyment, yet pious
resignation, added to natural vivacity, makes her society extremely
agreeable. "I am like a withered stalk, whose flower hath fallen," she
said; "but," she added, with a pleasant smile, "the fragrance still
lingers." She was sixteen years old at the time of the invasion, and was
in Forty Fort when it surrendered. Every minute circumstance there she
remembered clearly, and her narrative of events was substantially the
same as recorded in the last chapter. Her father's house was near the
fort, and for a week after the surrender it was spared, while others
were plundered and destroyed. Every morning when she arose her first
thought was their house, and she would go early to see if it was safe.
One morning as she looked she saw the flames burst through the roof, and
in an hour it was a heap of embers. She remained two weeks in the valley
after the surrender of the fort. The Indians kept her face painted and a
white fillet around her head, as a protection against the tomahawks of
strange savages, and she was treated very kindly by them. When Colonel
Denison and others fled from the valley, she and her family accompanied
them. After the savages left the valley, her family returned, and for
seventy years she has enjoyed the sweets of peace and domestic
happiness. Her maiden name was Bennet, and her family were conspicuous
in the events at Wyoming during the Revolution.1 2 She has been many
years a widow. One of her sons was high sheriff of Luzerne county,
another was a magistrate, and a daughter is the wife of the Rev. Dr.
Peck, the editor of the Methodist Episcopal Review, published at the
"Book Concern," in New York. She is yet living (November, 1849), at the
ripe age of eighty-eight years, honored and beloved by all.
I returned to Wilkesbarre at sunset. The evening was as pleasant as
June, September 20. the moonlight scene from the upper piazza of the
Phoenix, embracing the quiet-flowing Susquehanna, with its fringe of
noble trees; the sparkling of the lights at
* When the Miamies were removed from Indiana, the "lost sister" and her
Indian relatives were exempted. The affecting story of her life was laid
before Congress, and so eloquently did John Quincy Adams plead her
cause, that he drew tears from the eyes of many members. Congress gave
her a tract of land a mile square, to be held in perpetuity by her
descendants, and there her children and grandchildren still dwell.
** Her brother Solomon was in the battle. In the spring succeeding the
invasion, the father of Mrs. Myers, her brother (a lad), and Lebbeus
Hammond (one of the two who escaped from Queen Esther at the bloody
rock) were captured by a party of Indians while at work in the field,
and hurried away to the north. It was evident that they were destined
for torture, and, while the Indians were drinking at a spring on the
third day of their journey into the wilderness, they concerted a plan
for escape. Mr. Bennet, being old, was allowed to travel unbound, but
the arms of Hammond and the boy were tied. There were six Indians in the
party. At night all were laid down to sleep but Mr. Bennet and an
Indian. The former brought in dry wood for the fire, and kept himself
busy for some time. He then sat down by the fire, and, taking up a
spear, he rolled it playfully on his thigh. The Indian finally began to
nod, and the others were snoring soundly. Watching his opportunity,
Bennet thrust the savage through with the spear, cut the cords that
bound his son and Hammond, and the three attacked the sleeping savages.
Five were killed, the other one escaped. The captives returned home,
bringing, as trophies, the scalps of the slain savages.
Revival of Civil War in Wyoming.--Decree of Trenton.--Its Effect.
Injustice toward the "Yankees."--Inaction of Congress.
371Kingston, and the dark outline of the Shawnee Mountains, all hallowed
by historic associations, was one of great beauty and interest. Let us
employ the quiet hour in reminiscences of some stirring events that
occurred, within trumpet call of our presence, after the Revolution, for
early on the morrow I must leave Wyoming, perhaps forever.
We have considered the civil war that disturbed Wyoming before the
Revolution. That great movement absorbed all lesser topics; but as soon
as the storm had subsided, and private interests again became paramount,
old jealousies and animosities were resuscitated, and struggled into
active life. As soon as all fear of the Indians had subsided,
Connecticut poured hundreds of immigrants into this paradise of the
Susquehanna. The influx was regarded with jealousy by the
Pennsylvanians, and it was not long before all the rancor of the Penny-
mite and Yankee war was reproduced.
The Articles of Confederation, under which the general government of the
United States was carried on, having made provision for the adjustment
of difficulties that might arise between states, and Connecticut
insisting upon the maintenance of its jurisdiction over Wyoming,
Pennsylvania applied to Congress to appoint a commission to hear the
claimants by representatives, and to determine the question in dispute.
The commissioners met at Trenton, in New Jersey, toward the close of
1782, and, after a session of five weeks, decided, unanimously, that
Connecticut had no right to the land in controversy, and that the
jurisdiction and preemption of all lands belonged to Pennsylvania. The
people of Wyoming appeared to be well satisfied with the decision, for,
considering it a question of jurisdiction only, they deemed it a matter
of little moment whether they rendered allegiance to Connecticut or
Pennsylvania. The Pennsylvanians, however, did not so construe the
decision, but contended not only for jurisdiction, but for the soil, and
steps were immediately taken for a sweeping ejectment of the Connecticut
settlers. In March ensuing, two companies were sent to garrison the fort
at Wilkesbarre, under the pretext of affording protection to the people;
and the name of the fort was changed to Dickinson, in honor of the
President of the Council of the State. Pennsylvania had already
appointed three commissioners to repair to Wyoming, to inquire into the
state of affairs, and report proper measures to be adopted toward the
settlers. Their report proposed an entire surrender, on the part of the
Wyoming people, of their tenures, and all claim to the soil then in
their possession, with their improvements; in lieu of which they were to
receive an indefinite compensation, at the option of their oppressors,
in the wild lands of some unknown region. It was a most unjust and
tyrannical measure, for the right to the soil had been purchased, not
only with money, but with the dreadful sufferings of those about to be
driven away. This report of the commissioners, and the quartering of
troops in the valley, now that the war was ended, and the spirit of
tyrannical domination that characterized the soldiers, greatly
exasperated the people, and they were upon the verge of open
insurrection for several months.
Early in the autumn two special justices of the peace were appointed,
who, in concert with the military, formed a tribunal for the
adjudication of all questions arising under the civil law. The real
object of constituting this tribunal, sustained by military force, was
obvious; it was to dispossess the Connecticut people of their farms. The
tribunal became an instrument of cruelty and oppression, and a disgrace
to the character of civilization. The next year, according to Chapman,
"the people were not only subject to insult, but their crops were
destroyed in their fields, their cattle were seized and driven away, and
1783 in some instances their houses were destroyed by fire and the
females rendered victims of licentiousness." But why this rigorous
treatment? "It was," says Pickering, "not only to strip the people of
their possessions, but, by wearying them of their 'promised land,' drive
them from the valley." Although the inhabitants were greatly excited,
they loved peace and order, and appealed to the Legislature of
Pennsylvania for justice. Their appeal was unnoticed, and they sent a
memorial to Congress. That body resolved (a) that a a January 23, 1784
committee of the states should hear both parties on the first Monday in
June following; but neither Congress nor a committee of the states were
in session at the time designated, and the people were left without
redress.
Great Deluge in Wyoming.--Danger and Distress of the Inhabitants.--
Reappearance of the Soldiers.--Renewal of Hostilities.
372In the mean while a terrible scourge swept over the valley. The
winter had been intensely cold; snow fell to a great depth, and the
Susquehanna was bridged by ice of uncommon thickness. The mountains,
covered with forests, treasured up vast beds of snow among their rocks
and in their deep ravines, from the action of the sun. In March, a warm
rain fell for nearly three days in succession. The snow melted, and
every mountain rivulet became a sweeping torrent, pouring its volume
into the Susquehanna. The ice in the river was broken up, and the huge
masses, borne upon the flood, obstructed by trees, formed immense dams,
spreading the waters of the swollen river over the plains. At length the
narrow Nanticoke pass at the lower end of the valley became blocked with
the ice, and the water, flowing back, submerged the river flats, and
filled all the lower intervales. Houses and barns were uplifted on the
bosom of the waters. The people fled to the higher points in the valley,
some to the mountains. For several hours the waters continued to rise,
until suddenly a dam in the mountain gorge, at the upper end of the
valley, gave way, and down came the flood with fearful strength. All the
ice barriers in the valley were broken up, and the ponderous masses of
ice, mingled with floating houses, barns, fences, drowned cattle and
sheep, stacks of hay, furniture, and agricultural implements, were
scattered over the plains, * or hurried forward to the broader expanse
of the river below. It was a scene of fearful grandeur, and to the poor
settlers, shivering in the mountains, or huddled upon the little hills
in the midst of the roaring floods, the star of hope seemed forever set.
The present was utter desolation--the future would unveil injustice and
oppression.
As soon as the floods subsided the inhabitants returned, and with them
came the soldiers, who snatched from them nearly all of the little food
that had been saved, for they were "quartered upon the people." Their
rapacity and oppression were greater than ever, and the settlers,
anxious to retrieve their farms from the ruin of the flood, were not
allowed to work in peace, but were tormented by them continually. At
length the people resolved to oppose their oppressors by force, and
armed for the purpose. The magistracy, indignant at their presumption,
sent out the soldiers to disarm them; and in the process one hundred and
fifty families, many of whom had lost portions of their household in the
battle of Wyoming, were turned out of their newly-constructed dwellings,
and compelled to fly on foot through the wilderness to the Delaware, a
distance of eighty miles. Houses were burned, and other atrocities were
committed. Ashamed of such conduct, the Legislature of Pennsylvania
(which had refused to vote supplies to the sufferers by the flood), when
the naked facts were known, endeavored to heal the wounds which, under
its sanction, had been inflicted, and, in a measure, to wipe out the
stain that rested upon the state authorities. The troops were
discharged, except a small guard left at Fort Dickinson, and a
proclamation was issued, inviting the people who had been driven away to
return. Some of them did so, but the valley was allowed but a short
season of repose.
So many of the discharged soldiers joined the guard at the Wilkesbarre
Fort, that the people, alarmed, garrisoned Forty Fort. A party of them,
having occasion to visit their July 20, 1784 grain-fields below, were
fired upon by a detachment of thirty from the other fort, and two
promising young men were killed. The people resolved on retaliation, and
about midnight marched to Wilkesbarre Fort, to take the garrison by
surprise. The latter, informed of the movement, were prepared to receive
them, and the settlers returned to Forty Fort with a stock of
provisions. On the 27th, the people, led by Colonel John Franklin, a
native of Connecticut, invested the Wilkesbarre Fort, and made a formal
summons for surrender. Two hours were allowed the besieged for an
answer. Before one hour had elapsed information was received that a
considerable re-enforcement for the garrison was approaching. The siege
was raised, and the besiegers returned to Forty Fort. It was a false
alarm; the strangers, who were supposed to be the pioneers of a large
number who were approaching,
* It is said that so huge were many of the masses of ice that were
lodged in different portions of the valley, that it was the last of July
before they were melted away.
Armstrong's Expedition.--Stratagem.--Change in Publie Sentiment--The
Censors.--Appeal for Relief.
a September 17. 373were a committee appointed by the state council to
proceed to Wyoming and disarm both parties. A conference was held, and
such was the state of feeling that neither party would listen to the
commissioners.
Stronger measures were now deemed necessary, and Colonel John Armstrong
was sent with a considerable force to establish order in the valley.
From Easton he sent forward a detachment, which was captured among the
mountains on its way to Wyoming, by a party of Connecticut people.
Armstrong pushed forward, and on the 4th of August 2, 1784
August reached Wyoming, where his whole force numbered about four
hundred men, including the garrison in Wilkesbarre or Dickinson Fort. He
found Forty Fort too strong for successful attack, and resorted to
stratagem. He professed pacific intentions, and proposed to the people
of all parties to deliver up their arms at Fort Dickinson, and there
reclaim any property which they might identify as their own. Numbers of
the Connecticut people believed him sincere, went to the fort, delivered
up their arms, and were captured. Forty of them were sent to the prison
at Sunbury, and nearly as many to Easton. The jailer of the latter place
was knocked down by a young man named Inman, and the whole party
escaped. (a) They returned to the valley in company with about forty
Vermonters, and, finding Armstrong and the few men left with him (for a
large portion of his men had been discharged when the prisoners were
sent to jail) harvesting the crops, they attacked them and drove them
into Fort Dickinson. Forty Fort was again garrisoned by the people, and
a plan was arranged for recovering the arms which they had surrendered.
A blockhouse in which they were stored was attacked, and the arms
recovered. Two men in the block-house were mortally wounded.
On hearing of this latter event, the executive council sent another
expedition to Wyoming, under Armstrong, who was at the same time
promoted to the office of adjutant general of the state. But the
sympathies of the people of Pennsylvania began to be enlisted in favor
of the Wyoming settlers, and they were regarded as a persecuted party.
President Dickinson also remonstrated with the Council and General
Assembly, but to no purpose. * It so happened that about this time the
Board of Censors held their septennial meeting. They called upon the
Assembly for papers relative to Wyoming. The Assembly refused
acquiescence. A mandamus was issued, but the Assembly treated it with
contempt. Thus treated, and viewing affairs justly, the Censors openly
espoused the cause of the Connecticut people, condemned all of the
military proceedings, and passed a vote of censure upon the government
of the state. This strengthened the hands and hearts of the Wyoming
people. They defied Armstrong and his troops; and as winter was
approaching, food scarce, and not a recruit could be obtained, that
officer discharged the garrison and returned to Philadelphia Though
relieved of the presence of the military, the condition of the settlers
was indeed deplorable. What the spring flood had spared was small, and
the presence of the troops had prevented sowing and reaping. They
appealed to Congress and to Connecticut for aid, ** but they received
little more than the cold charity of words--"Be ye clothed, and be ye
fed"--without contributing to their necessities. The last military
expedition against Wyoming had been accomplished, yet the question of
possession was unsettled, and they had but little heart to improve their
lands, not knowing how soon other efforts might be made to dispossess
them. The population, however, increased rapidly, and for two years
quiet prevailed
* Pennsylvania, under its first independent state Constitution, had no
officer bearing the title of governor. The government of the
commonwealth was vested in a House of Representatives, a president, and
council. There was also a Board of Censors, elected by the people, who
were to meet once in seven years, to inquire whether the Constitution
had, in the mean while, been violated, and to transact other general
supervisory business, such as trying impeachments, recommending the
repeal of unwholesome laws, &c.
** In their appeal to the Connecticut Assembly they set forth that their
"numbers were reduced to about two thousand souls, most of whom were
women and children, driven, in many cases, from their proper
habitations, and living in huts of bark in the woods, without provisions
for the approaching winter, while the Pennsylvania troops and land
claimants were in possession of their houses and farms, and wasting and
destroying their cattle and subsistence."
Luzerne.--Timothy Pickering in Wyoming.--Organization of the County.--
Memoir of Pickering
1786 in 374Wyoming. On the petition of the people, the district of
Wyoming and vicinity were formed into a new county, which they named
Luzerne. *
About this time Colonel Timothy Pickering, ** of Massachusetts, but then
a resident of Pennsylvania, visited Wyoming, and made himself thoroughly
acquainted with the affairs of the valley. He became convinced that the
settlers were satisfied with the political system of the state, and were
ready to become obedient citizens of the commonwealth if they could be
quieted in the possession of their farms. These views he communicated to
Dr. Rush and other eminent men in Philadelphia, who, anxious to have an
amicable adjustment of the difficulties, proposed to Mr. Pickering to
accept of the five principal county offices, and remove to Wyoming; for
he, being a New England man, would doubtless exercise great influence
over the people. He accepted the proposition and went to Wyoming,
hearing to the Connecticut people the full assurance that the
Pennsylvania Legislature would pass a law quieting them in their
possessions.
Clothed with the necessary power, Colonel Pickering proceeded to hold
elections and to organize the county. He succeeded in persuading the
people to memorialize the Legislature for a compromise law, the chief
provisions of which should be, that, in case the
* So called in honor of the Chevalier de Luzerne, the distinguished
ambassador from France to the United States during the latter years of
the Revolution.
** Timothy Pickering was born in Salem, Massachusetts, on the 17th of
July, 1745. He entered Harvard University at the age of fourteen years,
and received collegiate honors in 1763. He was elected register of deeds
in the county of Essex; and before the Revolution he was a colonel of
the Essex militia, and acquired a thorough knowledge of military
tactics. When the town meeting was held at Salem in 1774, and an address
voted to General Gage on the subject of the Boston Port Bill, Colonel
Pickering was appointed to write the address and deliver it in person to
the governor. For him is claimed the distinction of conducting the first
resistance, in arms, to the power of the mother country. On Sunday, the
26th of February, 1775, an express arrived at Salem from Marblehead with
the intelligence that British troops were landing from a transport, with
the intention of marching through Salem to seize some military stores in
the interior. The people were dismissed from their churches, and, led by
Colonel Pickering, they opposed the progress of the British at a draw-
bridge. A compromise was effected, the British were compelled to march
back to Marblehead, and bloodshed was avoided. * When he heard of the
battle of Lexington, Colonel Pickering marched, with his regiment, to
intercept the enemy. In 1775 he was appointed a judge of the Court of
Common Pleas for Essex. In the fall of 1776, with seven hundred Essex
men, he performed duty under Washington, and was with the chief in his
retreat across the Jerseys. He was engaged in the battles of Brandywine
and Germantown, holding the office and rank of adjutant general.
Congress appointed him a member of the Board of War with Gates and
Mifflin; and in 1780 he succeeded General Green as quartermaster
general. At the close of the war he fixed his residence in Philadelphia,
soon after which he was deputed to attempt the settlement of the
troubles in Wyoming. He was a member of the convention called to revise
the Constitution of Pennsylvania in 1790. Washington appointed him
postmaster general in 1791, which office he held nearly four years,
when, on the resignation of General Knox, he was appointed Secretary of
War. In 1795 Washington made him his Secretary of State, which position
he held until 1800, when he was removed by President Adams on political
grounds. He was poor on leaving office, and, building a log house for
his family upon some wild land that he owned in Pennsylvania, he
commenced the arduous duties of clearing it for cultivation. Through the
liberality of his friends, he was induced to return to his native state,
out of debt, and a comfortable living in prospect. He was a United
States senator in 1803, and again in 1805. He was a member of the Board
of War in Massachusetts in 1812, and in 1814 was elected a member of the
United States House of Representatives. He retired from public life in
1817, and died in Salem on the 29th of January, 1829, aged eighty-four
years.
* Of this exploit, Trumbull, in his M'Fingal, wrote: "Through Salem
straight, without delay, The bold battalion took its way; March'd o'er a
bridge, in open sight Of several Yankees arm'd for fight; Then, without
loss of time or men, Veer'd round for Boston back again, And found so
well their projects thrive, That every soul got back alive!"
New Difficulties in Wyoming.--John Franklin.--Arrest of Franklin.--Ethan
Allen.
1787. 375commonwealth would grant them the seventeen townships * which
had been laid out, and on which settlements had been commenced previous
to the decree of Trenton, they would, on their part, relinquish all
their claims to any other lands within the limits of the Susquehanna
purchase. The law was enacted, but new difficulties arose. Many of the
best lands in these townships had been granted by the government of
Pennsylvania to its own citizens, in the face of the claims of the
Connecticut people. These proprietors must be satisfied.
Commissioners were accordingly appointed, under the law, to go to
Wyoming to examine and adjust claims on both sides. ** They met in May,
arranged the preliminaries, and adjourned until August. The law
satisfied those within the seventeen townships, but the Connecticut
people had extended settlements beyond these limits, and these, excluded
from the benefits of the law, were much dissatisfied. It was also said
that, pending the negotiations, the Susquehanna Company had been using
great exertions to increase the number of settlers in the unincluded
districts, and Colonel Pickering positively asserted that gratuitous
offers of land were made to such as would come _armed_, "to man their
rights." *** The most active man in this alleged movement was John
Franklin, whose great popularity enabled him to stir up a violent
commotion among the "out-siders"--so violent that the commissioners were
obliged to flee from the valley for personal safety. Chief-justice
M'Kean issued a warrant for the arrest of Franklin, on the charge of
high treason. But how should they catch him? They could not trust the
proper officer, the sheriff of Luzerne county, who was living in the
midst of the _insurgents,_ as they were called. Four strong, bold men,
two of whom had served in the Revolutionary army, were selected for the
purpose, and they repaired to Wyoming. ****
Franklin was then thirty-five miles distant, exciting the people to
armed resistance. Preparations were made for his safe-conduct to
Philadelphia, and, on his return, he was arrested at the "Red House,"
near the river. It was with great difficulty that he was secured, and,
as the people were assembling for his rescue, he would doubtless have
escaped, had not Colonel Pickering interfered. Observing the commotion
from the window of his house, he sallied out with his pistols, and,
presenting one to the breast of Franklin, kept him quiet while he was
securely bound to a horse. Franklin was carried to Philadelphia and cast
into prison.
The interference of Colonel Pickering greatly exasperated the people,
and retaliatory measures were immediately adopted. He was informed of
the fact that a party was about to seize him,
* These townships were Salem, Newport, Hanover, Wilkesbarre, Pittston,
Westmoreland, Putnam, Braintree, Springfield, Claverack, Ulster, Exeter,
Kingston, Plymouth, Bedford, Huntington, and Providence. These towns
were represented as nearly square as circumstances would permit, and to
be about five miles on a side, and severally divided into lots of three
hundred acres eaeh. Some of these lots were set apart as glebes, some
for schools, and others for various town purposes.
** The commissioners were Timothy Pickering, William Montgomery, and
Stephen Balliott.
***About this time "no little sensation was produced in the valley,"
says Minor, "by the appearance of the far-famed General Ethan Allen,
from Vermont, arrayed in cocked hat and regimentals. The purpose of his
visit was as well understood by Pickering as by Franklin and his
associates. A grant of several thousand acres was made to him by the
Susquehanna Company. How many men he was pledged to lead from the Green
Mountains we have no means of ascertaining; but it was not doubted that
his object was to re-connoiter, and concert measures for early and
decisive action."
**** Three of these were Captain Lawrence Erbe, Captain Brady, and
Lieutenant M'Cormick. The other name is not known.
the river, and about seventy-five rods below the bridge. It is the place
where John Franklin was arrested. On his return from a political tour
down the valley, he came up by the way of Hanover to Wilkesbarre. While
standing near the ferry, an acquaintance came up to him and said, "A
friend at the Red House wishes to speak to you." Franklin walked to the
house, where a person caught him from behind, and attempted to pinion
his hands. He was a powerful man. and shook off his captors; but, a
noose being thrown over his head, he was secured. They then attempted to
get him on horseback, when he cried out, "Help, help! William Slocum!
where is William Slocum?" and, drawing his pistols, discharged one, but
without effect. He was felled by a blow, and laid almost senseless. It
was seeding time, and nearly all the men were in the fields. But the
Yankee blood of Mrs. Slocum (the mother of the "lost sister") was up,
and, seizing a gun, she ran to the door, exclaiming, "William! Who will
call William? Is there no man here? Will nobody rescue him?"--Miner.
Colonel Pickering's dwelling was near the "Red House." It is still
standing, but so modernized what its original character is lost.
Pickering's Escape to Philadelphia.--His Return. Abduction and
Treatment--Wyoming quieted.--Departure from Wyoming.
376and he fled to the mountains, whence he made his way to Philadelphia.
The partisans of Franklin now became alarmed. They acknowledged their
offense to the council, and prayed for pardon. Under these
circumstances, Pickering thought it safe for him to return to his
family, particularly as the very people whose acts had driven him away
had chosen him a delegate to the General Assembly during his exile! He
returned, but found many of the people still much exasperated against
him, and he was often menaced. Finally, one night in June, fifteen
ruffians, with painted faces, burst open the door of the room where 1778
himself and wife were sleeping, bound him with cords, and in the
darkness of the night carried him up the valley. For twenty days he was
kept by them in the forest, and subjected to ill treatment in various
forms. Sometimes they threatened him with death; then he was manacled
and chained, and in this way the miscreants tormented him, and tried to
wring from him a letter to the executive council recommending the
discharge of Franklin. When this requirement was first proposed, and his
own release promised on his compliance, Pickering promptly replied, "The
executive council better understand their duty than to discharge a
traitor to procure the release of an innocent man." This determined tone
and manner he preserved throughout. They finally released him, and he
found his way back to Wilkesbarre, where his death was considered a
matter of certainty. Haggard and unshaven, his wife regarded him with
consternation, and his children fled from him affrighted.
This was the last scene in the drama of violence so long enacted in
Wyoming. Franklin was liberated on bail, and finally discharged; and he
and Pickering often met as friends in public life afterward. The
disputes about land titles and possessions in Wyoming remained unsettled
for nearly fifteen years, while the population rapidly increased.
Ultimately the claims were all quieted by law, and for the last forty
years the sweet vale of Wyoming has presented a beautiful picture of
repose and prosperity. * We will close the record and retire, for the
moon has gone down behind the western hills, and chilly vapors are
coming up from the bosom of the river.
September 20, 1848 I left Wilkesbarre on the mail-coach early on Tuesday
morning, for the Lackawanna Valley and the coal regions of Luzerne. The
whole of Wyoming was wrapped in a dense fog, and from the driver's box,
where I had secured a seat, it was with difficulty that we could observe
objects beyond the leaders. The coveted pleasure of another view of the
beautiful scenery as we passed along the uplands was denied; but when we
arrived at Pittston, the cool breeze that came through the mountain
gateway of the Susquehanna, and from the valley of the Lackawanna, swept
away the vapor, and revealed the rich plains at the head of the valley,
the majestic curve of the river where it receives its tributary, and the
grandeur of its rocky margins toward the north. At the junction of the
rivers we turned eastward, and in a few moments Wyoming and all its
attractions were left behind, and scenery and associations of a far
different cast were around us.
The Lackawanna River flows in a deep bed, and its valley, wider than
Wyoming, is very rough and hilly, but thickly strewn with fertile spots.
Iron and anthracite every where abound; and the latter is so near the
surface in many places, that the farmers in autumn quarry out their
winter's stock of fuel upon their own plantations with very little
labor. Several iron manufactories are seated upon the river between its
mouth and Carbondale, and little villages, brought forth and fostered by
these industrial establishments, enliven the otherwise ungenial features
of the route. At one of these, called Hyde Park, we lunched and changed
horses, receiving an addition to our company in the person of a tall,
cadaverous Yankee lumberman, who, with a huge musk-melon and jack-knife
in his hand, took a seat
* Chapman. Gordon, Miner, Stone.
A Yankee Lumberman.--Carbondale.--The Coal Mines.--Fatal Accident.--
Heroic Benevolence of Mr. Bryden.
377beside me on the driver's box. Having satisfied his own appetite with
the melon, he generously handed the small remainder to the driver and
myself; and the moment his jaws ceased mastication, his tongue began to
wag like a "mill-tail." He discoursed fluently, if not wisely, upon the
general demerits of fever and ague, whose subject he had been for nearly
a year, and upon the particular productiveness of "Varmount."
"It's a garden of flowers," he said, while York state, and all 'tother
side on't, is wild land, raisin' nothin' but snakes and agers."
"Compared to New England, our horses are colts,
Our oxen are goats, and a sheep but a lamb;
The people poor blockheads and pitiful dolts--
Mere Hottentot children, contrasted with them."
He was a capital specimen of the genus "brag," refined by superb
Munchausen polish. His voice was a shrill falsetto, and, every word
being audible to the passengers, we soon had a laughing chorus within
the coach that awoke the echoes of the hills.
Approaching Carbondale, the road gently ascends a mountain ridge until
all traces of cultivation disappear, and pines and cedars compose the
forest. From this rugged height it winds along the steep acclivities;
and the mining village, in the bosom of a deep, rocky intervale, may be
seen below, at a distance of more than a mile. It was about two o'clock
when we arrived at Carbondale. Having two hours leisure before the
departure of the mail-coach for Honesdale and the Delaware, I applied to
Mr. James Clarkson, the chief surveyor at the mines, for permission to
enter one of them. It was cordially granted, and, in company with his
assistant, Mr. Alexander Bryden, as guide, I entered the one wherein an
appalling circumstance, resulting in the death of several miners,
occurred on the morning of the 12th of January, 1846. Indications of
danger were observed several months previously in one of the chambers.
The pillars of coal and pine logs that supported the roof seemed to be
crushing beneath the superincumbent weight, and the chamber was
abandoned. Other portions of the mine appeared to be safe, although in
some cases the roof of slate was cracked. Suddenly, at about eight
o'clock on the morning in question, nearly sixty acres of the hill
covering the mines sunk about two feet, crushing every thing beneath it,
and producing a powerful concussion. The fall was accompanied by a sound
similar to distant thunder, and a shock which was perceptible throughout
the village. Fortunately, a large portion of the workmen were at
breakfast. Under or beyond the fallen body were about sixty men. The
intelligence of the disaster rapidly spread, and general alarm pervaded
the town. There were few who did not fear that some relative or friend
was buried in the mine. The scene was exceedingly painful, and not
easily described. There were daughters, wives, and mothers at the mouth
of the mine, in an agony of expectation that a loved one was lost, and
for a while it was difficult to enter to attempt a rescue of those
within. The superintendents and others proceeded immediately, and at the
risk of their own lives, to examine the bounds of the destruction. It
was soon perceived that some, whose station must be within the limits of
the fall, were probably killed.
Beyond the point where the roof was secure, some thirty or more of the
men had escaped immediate death, but their situation was truly horrible,
having lost their lights, the roof still cracking and breaking around
them, and scarcely a hope left of escape from the spot. Mr. Bryden, with
courage sustained by love for his fellow-men, boldly entered the mine,
and endeavored to reach the point where the men were imprisoned. He
succeeded, after much labor, and released them. Informed that a man who
had met with a serious accident had been left in another chamber, Mr.
Bryden directed his steps thitherward. He found the wounded man, and
carried him upon his back to his companions. Within five minutes after
Mr. Bryden left the chamber with his burden of life, the passage he had
traversed was entirely closed by the crushed pillars of coal.
Among those known to have been at about the center of the fall a short
time before the occurrence, was a young Scotchman named Hosea, another
of the superintendents. Diligent search was made for him on that and the
succeeding day without success. On the third day, while a party were in
search of him, he emerged from the mines unaided, having
Escape of Mr. Hosea.--Effects of the Concussion. Entrance and
Exploration of the Mine.--Interior Appearance
378dug his way out through fallen masses with his hands! The excitement
relative to him had been extreme, and his sudden appearance, under the
circumstances, produced great joy. He had been recently married. His
young bride, having lost all hope of his recovery alive, was in a store
purchasing mourning materials, when he was carried by homeward in a
sleigh. The people flocked to his house, and saluted him as one risen
from the dead.
The hours he had spent entangled in the passages of the mines were
horrible indeed. At one time he saw the glimmer of lights. He tried to
make himself heard by the party carrying them, but was unsuccessful. He
ran toward them, but, stumbling against a car, he fell senseless. When
he revived, the lights had disappeared, and all was intense gloom. He
scrambled over broken rocks and through narrow apertures', and finally
reached one of the rail-roads and made his way out, having been forty-
eight hours laboring, without food or drink, in removing the fallen
masses. Fourteen perished by the disaster; the bodies of nine have been
recovered, the remainder are still in the chambers--to them the
"chambers of death." The air was expelled from the mine, when the
superincumbent mass settled, with great force.
A train of empty cars, drawn by a horse driven by a boy, was just
entering when the event occurred. The boy and horse were instantly
killed, and the train was shattered in pieces. The horse appeared to
have been rolled over several times by the blast, and pieces of the
harness were found thirty feet from his body.
It was into this mine, now considered perfectly safe, that Mr. Bryden
conducted me. Seated upon a square block of wood on the bottom of one of
a train of mine cars, in the attitude of a toad, each with a torch in
his hand, we entered an aperture at the base of the mountain, by the
side of the canal. The cars (five in a train), running upon iron rails,
and drawn by a horse, are three feet long and two feet wide at top,
tapering to the bottom. Thus boxed up, and our heads bowed in meek
submission to the menaces of the low roof, of the passage, we penetrated
the mountain nearly half a mile, when we came to an inclined plane.
There the horse that took us in was attached to a loaded train that had
just descended, and went back to the entrance. The darkness was so
profound, that objects could be seen by the light of our torches only a
few feet from us, and on all sides were the black walls of anthracite,
glistening in some places with water that trickled through the crevices.
At the foot of the inclined plane we were one hundred and seventy feet
beneath the surface of the earth. Up the rough steep, seven hundred and
fifty feet, we clambered on foot, and, when half way to the summit, we
saw the cables moving and heard the rumble of a descending train. * The
passage is so narrow that there is very little space on each side of the
cars. We were, therefore, obliged, for our safety, to seek out one of
the slippery ledges of anthracite wide enough to sustain us, and, while
thus "laid upon a shelf," the vehicles, with their burden, thundered by.
A little beyond the inclined plane is the region of the fall. Here the
roof is lower than in other parts. Crushed timbers and pulverized
anthracite, the remains of the supporters of the chambers, are seen for
some distance; and the filled-up avenues that led to other chambers,
where some of the bodies remain buried, were pointed out to me. We at
length reached the chambers where men were working, each with a lamp
suspended by a hook from the front of his cap. So intense was the
darkness, that, when a little distance from a workman, nothing of him
could be seen but his head and shoulders below the lamp. The coal is
quarried by blasting with powder; and the sulphurous vapor that filled
the vaults, and the dull lights, with hideous-looking heads, apparently
trunkless, beneath them, moving in the gloom, gave imagination free
license to
* There is a double track upon the inclined plane, and, by means of
cables and pulleys, the loaded train hauls up the empty one by force of
gravity. From the main entrance many avenues are seen that extended to
other chambers now exhausted. As fast as these avenues become useless,
the rails are taken up and they are filled with the slate or other
impurities of the mines.
Fossils--. Ascent from the Mine.--Night Ride.--A Grumbler.--Change in
the Coal Region.
379draw a picture of the palace of Pluto. Added to the sight was the
feeling of awe which the apparent dangers of the place engendered, as
the recollection of the tragedy just recorded was kept alive by the
identification of localities connected with the event, by my guide.
After collecting a few fossils, * we sought the "wind entrance," and,
ascending a flight of steps about twenty-five feet, we stood high upon
the mountain overlooking Carbondale, three quarters of a mile from the
place of our entrance. Notwithstanding the air is comparatively pure
within, except in the working chambers at the time of blasting, I
breathed much freer when standing in the sunlight, and removed from all
danger. Hastening down the mountain to the canal, I washed my fossils
and hurried to the stage-office in the village, where I arrived just in
time to hear the provoking rattle of the coach-wheels half a mile
distant, on the road to Honesdale, leaving me to decide the question
whether to remain over a day, or, departing at nine in the evening, ride
all night. I chose the latter alternative, and passed the remainder of
the afternoon among the mines and miners.
I left Carbondale at nine in the evening, and arrived at Cherry Hill,
thirteen miles distant, at one in the morning. The road was exceedingly
rough and the coach rickety. I had but a single fellow-passenger, and he
was as deaf as a post. He was a grumbler of the first water, and his
loud thoughts so amused me that I had no inclination to sleep. At Cherry
Hill we awaited the coach from Honesdale. Informed that its arrival
would be two hours later, we took beds; but the first dream had scarcely
begun, when the wooden voice
* The coal is covered by a layer of slate, so even on its under surface
that the roofs of the passages, when the coal has been removed, are
quite smooth and flat. Upon this flat surface are impressions of stalks
and leaves of plants of immense size, intermingled with those of the
fern, of the size which now grow on the borders of marshes. Some of
these fossil stalks found between the slate and the coal measure from
ten to sixteens inches across (for they are all flattened, as if by
pressure), and were evidently at least thirty feet long. They lie across
each other in every direction, and in all cases the stalks are
flattened. Many theories have been conceived to account for the origin
of the coal and of the appearance of these fossils. The most plausible
seems to be that the bed of coal was once a vast bed of peat, over
whieh, in ages past, grew these mammoth ferns; that the slate that
covers the upper stratum of coal was thrown up, in a semi-fluid state,
from the bowels of the earth by volcanic action, and flowed over the
fields of peat, easting down the ferns and other vegetables flat beneath
the whelming mass, which, in time, became indurated, and was formed into
slate. The huge stalks that have been found may have belonged to a
species of water-lily that abounded when the mastodon and megatherium
browsed in the marshes that now form the coal beds of the Lackawanna
Valley.
** The miners, when they branch off from the main shaft or avenue, leave
pillars of coal about eighteen feet square, to support the roof or mass
above. These huge pillars were crushed by the great weight upon them, in
the accident recorded.
* Note.--The change whieh the Delaware and Hudson Canal and Mining
Company has wrought in the physical features of this region is
wonderful. Twenty years ago the whole country in the vicinity of
Carbondale was an uninhabited wilderness; now fertile farms and thriving
villages are there. * When Maurice Wurts, of Philadelphia, after
spending years in exploring the country between the Lackawanna and the
Hudson, presented his plan for the gigantic work now in progress, his
friends looked upon him as nearly crazed, and, like Fulton, he was
doomed to have hope long deferred. But there were some who comprehended
the feasibility of the undertaking, and estimated correctly its golden
promises of profit. The work was begun, and in 1829 seven thousand tons
of anthracite coal were forwarded to New York. Wonderfully has the
business increased. The company now employs between five and six
thousand men and boys, over one thousand horses, and nearly nine hundred
canal-boats, independent of the vessels at Rondout. Last year (1848) the
company forwarded to market four hundred and fifty thousand tons of
coal, and its monthly disbursements are about one hundred and fifty
thousand dollars. At Carbondale there are nine mines or entrances; and
about seven hundred men, chiefly Irish and Welsh, are employed under
ground there. The coal is sent from Carbondale to Honesdale, a distance
of sixteen miles, in cars upon an inclined plane, and there it is
shipped for market upon the Delaware and Hudson Canal, the termination
of which is upon the Hudson River, at Rondout, Ulster county.
* Carbondale contained about seven thousand Inhabitants, and Housedale
about four thousand.
A Coach Load.--Result of Politeness.--Bad Coach and Driver.--Milford.--
The Sawkill
380of a Dutch hostler broke our slumbers with the cry of "Stage!" We
were charged a quarter each for the privilege of warming a cold bed,
which made the deaf grumbler swear like a pirate. A young woman, unused
to crowds, occupied a place by the side of the driver, and I was obliged
to shrink into proper dimensions to share a seat within, with two
elderly women who were by no means diminutive. "I can't be squeezed, I
can't be squeezed!" cried one of them, as I opened the coach-door to get
in. My size was magnified in the darkness to very improper dimensions,
but the lady was pacified by a solemn assurance that what she saw was
more than half overcoat. Thus packed, we were trundled over one of the
roughest roads in Pike county, and at six o'clock were set down at
Decker's, among the Lackawanna Mountains, where we breakfasted. Before
reaching there, rain began to fall, and the delicate young lady, who
occupied a seat with the driver for the sake of fresh air, implored
shelter within. Of course her petition was granted, but she proved a
destroyer of the comfort of two of the passengers. She was a plump Dutch
girl, weighing nearly two hundred, and the two old gentlemen, who, in
the plenitude of their good will and politeness, had offered her a seat
upon their knees before she alighted from above, "worked their passage"
down the rough mountain roads, for the horses were allowed a loose rein
while the shower lasted. One of the victims, whose obesity was
conspicuous, declared that his gallantry could not have extended another
rood, and that the announcement of the appearance of Decker's sign-post
was as grateful to him as the "land ho!" is to the returning mariner.
At Decker's we changed coaches, horses, and drivers. The former, like
the morals of the latter, were very dilapidated. A worse vehicle and
more wicked driver than we were in the custody of I never encountered.
The rain fell copiously for two hours, and every passenger was subjected
to the filthy drippings through the leaky roof of the coach, and the
more filthy drippings of profanity and low slang from the lips of the
driver, who was within speaking distance of a companion upon another
stage.
Toward noon the clouds broke, and I escaped from my damp prison to the
driver's box just as we reached the brow of the loftiest hill over which
the road passes before descending to the Delaware Valley. Twenty miles
eastward loomed up the dark range of the Shawangunk Mountains; on our
right, far below, sparkled a beautiful bell-shaped lake fringed with
evergreens, and, as far as the eye could reach, wooded hills stood
"peeping over each others shoulders." The scenery was as wild and more
diversified than that of the Pocono. Suddenly we came upon the brow of
the mountain that overlooks the beautiful plain of Milford, on the
Delaware, and in a few minutes we were rattling through the pretty
village. Milford is remarkable for the picturesque beauty of its own
location and surrounding country, and for the size of one of its
publicans, who died in 1841. * Near it are the beautiful falls of the
Sawkill, where,
"Swift as an arrow from the bow,
Headlong the torrent leaps,
Then tumbling round in dazzling snow
And dizzy whirls it sweeps.
.
Then shooting through the narrow aisle
Of this sublime cathedral pile,
Amid its vastness, dark and grim,
It peals its everlasting hymn."
Street.
* Milford has been settled about fifty years. The chief business of the
place is the lumber trade. It is quite a large village, and, since 1814,
has been the county seat of Pike. In 1800 there were but two houses and
a blacksmith's shop upon its site. The plain was then covered with
pines, hemlocks, and bushes. The wadding of a hunter's gun set the brush
on fire, and the plain was cleared for a great distance. The buildings,
however, remained untouched. Some wag published an account of the fire,
and said that it had "ravaged the town of Milford, and had left but two
houses and a blacksmith's shop standing!" The publican referred to was a
tavern-keeper named Lewis Cornelius, whose dimensions were nearly as
great as those of the famous Daniel Lambert. His height was six feet; in
circumference at the waist, six feet two and a half inches;
circumference below the waist, eight feet two inches; circumference of
arm above the elbow, two feet two inches; below the elbow, one foot nine
inches; at the wrist, one foot three inches; of the thigh, four feet
three inches; of the calf of the leg, two feet seven inches; weight, six
hundred and forty-five and a half pounds, without any clothes.
Delaware River and Valley.--Port Jervis.--The Neversink Valley.--
Shawangunk Mountains.--Orange and Rockland.
381But the pleasure of a visit thither were denied us by the urgent beck
of time. It was after me o'clock, and we must be at Port Jervis, eight
miles distant, at three, to enter the ears or the Hudson River, our
point of destination.
The road from Milford to Port Jervise * passes along the margin of the
Delaware Valley, sometimes beneath steep acclivities that seem ready to
topple down. We crossed the river upon a bateau propelled by two strong
men with poles, and guided by a rope stretched over the stream, and
reached the rail-way station just as the last bell was ringing and a
dark cloud began to pour out its contents. In a few minutes we were
sweeping along the slopes of the Neversink Valley, and ascending, by a
circuitous route, to the lofty passes among the shawangunk Mountains.
The scenery here was indescribably grand. On the right the hills towered
far above, and on the left, a thousand feet below, was the fertile
valley of the Neversink lying in the shadows of the lofty hills on the
west. The table-land upon the summit inclines gently to the eastward;
and a little before sunset we passed through the fine grazing lands of
Orange, lying between Middletown and Goshen, where the cow-herds furnish
the materials for the far-famed _Goshen butter_. Westward of Middletown
we passed near the historic ground of Minisink, and at twilight,
descending the rugged slopes of Rockland along the winding course of a
mountain stream, we passed by Ramapo and Tappan, places famous in our
Revolutionary history. A visit there was reserved for another occasion,
and, proceeding to Piermont, on the Hudson, the termination of the rail-
road, I embarked for New York, and reached home at nine in the evening.
* Port Jervis was then (1848) the western terminus of travel on the New
York and Erie Railroad. It s situated on the eastern side of the
Delaware, upon a small triangular plain at the mouth of the Neversink
Creek, within the state of New York.
Poughkeepsie.--Origin of its Name.--Condition of the State in 1777.
382
CHAPTER XVII.
"I glory in the sages
Who, in the days of yore,
In combat met the foemen,
And drove them from the shore;
Who flung our banner's starry field
In triumph to the breeze,
And spread broad maps of cities where
Once waved the forest trees.
Hurrah!
I glory in the spirit.
Which goaded them to rise,
And form a mighty nation
Beneath the western skies.
No clime so bright and beautiful
As that where sets the sun;
No land so fertile, fair, and free
As that of Washington.
Hurrah!"
George P. Morris.
O New England, the nursery of the revolutionary spirit, I next turned my
attention, and to that interesting field of research I proceeded, after
visiting the battle-ground of Bennington, upon the Walloomscoick. I went
up the Hudson on the morning of the 25th of September as far as
Poughkeepsie, * where I passed the afternoon, 1848 and in the evening
proceeded to Kingston, or Esopus, memorable in our Revolutionary annals
for its destruction by the British.
Poughkeepsie is one of the finest villages in New York. It lies
principally upon an elevated plain, half a mile from the east bank of
the river, and in the midst of a region remarkable for its beauty and
fertility. Although an old town, having been founded by the Dutch more
than one hundred and fifty years ago, and lying directly in the path of
travel between New York and Canada, it was spared the infliction of
miseries which other places far more isolated suffered during the
Revolution; and it has but little history of general interest beyond the
fact that a session of the state Legislature was held there in 1778, and
that, ten years afterward, the state Convention to consider the Federal
Constitution assembled there.
When the state government was organized, in 1777, by the adoption of a
Constitution, the city of New York was in the possession of the enemy,
and the first session of the Legislature under the new order of things
was appointed to be held at Kingston, in July of that year. But the
invasion of the state at several points--by Burgoyne on the north, by
St. Leger and his Tory and Indian associates on the west, and by Sir
Henry Clinton on the south--compelled Governor Clinton to prorogue that
body until the 1st of September. Greater still, however, was the
excitement in the state at that time, for Burgoyne was pressing
triumphantly toward Albany, and General Clinton was making active
preparations to form a junction with him. No quorum was present until
the 9th, and early in October, before any
* Poughkeepsie is a corruption of the Iroquois word Ap-o-keep-sinek,
which signifies safe harbor. On an old map of the Hudson River in my
possession it is spelled Pocapsey; and I have heard many of the old
inhabitants of Dutchess pronounce it as if so spelled, the a in the
penultimate having the long sound, as in ape.
Meeting of tbo Legislature at Kingston and Poughkeepsle--State
Convention.--Federal Constitution.--Ann Lee.
383 laws could be matured, the session was broken up, on the rapid
approach of the enemy up the Hudson, after the fall of the forts in the
Highlands. Kingston was laid in ashes, and all was confusion.
About the same time Burgoyne was conquered and captured, and Sir Henry
Clinton retired to New York. As soon as the alarm had subsided, Governor
Clinton called a meeting of the Legislature at Poughkeepsie. It
assembled in the old stone building known as the Van Kleek House (then a
tavern), early in January, 1778. Various acts, to complete the
organization of the state government, were passed; provisions were made
for strengthening the civil and military powers of the state; and it was
during that session that the state gave its assent to the February 6,
1778 Articles of Confederation, the organic law of the Federal Union
until our present Constitution was formed and adopted. This building was
the meeting-place of the inhabitants to consult upon the public welfare,
when the Boston Port Bill and kindred measures awakened a spirit of
resistance throughout the country." There the Committee of
Correspondence of Dutchess held their meetings, and there the pledge to
sustain the Continental Congress and the Provincial Assembly was signed
by the inhabitants of Poughkeepsie, in June and July, 1775. ***
* This is from a sketch which I made in 1835, a few weeks before the
venerable building was demolished by the hand of improvement. It stood
upon Mill Street, on the land of Matthew Vassar, Jr., a short distance
from the Congregational Church. It was built by Myndert Vankleek, one of
the first settlers in Dutch-oss county, in 1702, and was the first
substantial house erected upon the site of Poughkeepsie. Its walls were
very thick, and near the eaves they were pierced with lancet loop-holes
for musketry. It was here that Ann Lee, the founder of the sect called
Shaking Quakers, in this country, was lodged the night previous to her
commitment to the Poughkeepsie jail, in 1776. She was a native of
Manchester, England. During her youth she was employed in a cotton
factory, and afterward as a cook in the Manchester Infirmary. She
married a blacksmith named Stanley; became acquainted with James and
Jane Wardley, the originators of the sect in England, and in 1758 joined
the small society they had formed. In 1770 she pretended to have
received a revelation, while confined in prison on account of her
religious fanaticism; and so great were the spiritual gifts she was
believed to possess, that she was soon acknowledged a spiritual mother
in Christ. Hence her name of Mother Ann. Sho and her husband came to New
York in 1774. He soon afterward abandoned her and her faith, and married
another woman. She collected a few followers, and in 1776 took up her
abode in the woods of Watervliet, near Niskayuna, in the neighborhood of
Troy. By some she was charged with witchcraft; and, because she was
opposed to war, she was accused of secret correspondence with the
British. A charge of high treason was preferred against her, and she was
imprisoned in Albany during the summer. In the fall it was concluded to
send her to New York, and banish her to the British army, but
circumstances prevented the accomplishment of the design, and she was
imprisoned in the Poughkeepsie jail until Governor Clinton, in 1777,
hearing of her situation, released her. She returned to Watervliet, and
her followers greatly increased. Sho died there in 1784, aged eighty-
four years. Her followers sincerely believe that she now occupies that
form or figure which John saw in his vision, standing beside the Savior.
In a poem entitled "A Memorial to Mother Ann," contained in a book
called "Christ's Second Appearing," the following stanza occurs:
"How much they are mistaken who think that mother's dead, When through
her ministrations so many souls are saved. In union with the Father, she
is the second, Dispensing full salvation to all who do believe."
** The city of New York elected James Duane, John Jay, Philip
Livingston, Isaac Low, and John Alsop delegates to the first Continental
Congress, in 1774. The Dutchess county committee, whoso meetings upon
the subject were held in the Van Kleek House, adopted those delegates as
representatives for their district.--See Journals of Congress, i., 7.
*** On the 29th of April, 1775, ten days after the skirmish at
Lexington, a meeting of the inhabitants of the city of New York, called
to consider the alarming state of public affairs, formed a general
Association, or fraternized, to use a popular term, and adopted a
pledge. The Association and pledge were approved by the Provincial
Assembly, and copies of the latter were sent to every county in the
state for signatures. The following was the form of the pledge:
*** "Persuaded that the salvation of the rights and liberties of America
depend, under God, on the firm union of its inhabitants in a rigorous
prosecution of the measures necessary for its safety; and convinced of
the necessity of preventing anarchy and confusion, which attend the
dissolution of the powers of government, we, the freemen, freeholders,
inhabitants of-----------, being greatly alarmed at the avowed design of
the ministry to raise a revenue in America, and shocked by the bloody
scene now acting in Massachusetts Bay, do, in the most solemn manner,
resolve never to become slaves; and do associate, under all the ties of
religion, honor, and love to our country, to adopt, and endeavor to
carry into execution, whatever measures may be recommended by the
Continental Congress, or resolved upon by our Provincial Convention for
the purpose of preserving our Constitution, and opposing the execution
of the several arbitrary Acts of the British Parliament, until a
reconciliation between Great Britain and America, on constitutional
principles (which we most ardently desire), can be obtained; and that we
will in all things follow the advice of our General Committee respecting
the purposes aforesaid, the preservation of peace and good order, and
the safety of individuals and property."
The list of signers, and the names of those who refused to sign in
Poughkeepsie, have been preserved. The number of signers was two hundred
and thirteen; the number who refused to sign was eighty-two. A list of
the names of the signers, and those who refused to sign, in the various
precincts in the county, may be found in Blake's History of Putnam
County, p. 102-143 inclusive.
Huddlestone.--State Convention at Poughkeepsie.--Patriot Pledge.--
Federal Constitution.--The Federalist
384Huddlestone, the famous spy, who was captured upon Wild Boar Hill,
near Yonkers, in West Chester county, was tried, condemned, and hung at
Poughkeepsie in April, 1780. The place of his execution was upon a verge
of the plain on which the town stands, known as Forbus's Hill. I have
heard the late venerable Abel Gunn, of Poughkeepsie, who was a drum
major in the Continental army, speak of Huddlestone and of his
execution. He described him as a small man, with a large head and thick
neck. He was accompanied to the scaffold by the county officers and a
small guard of militia enrolled for the purpose.
The state Convention to consider the Federal Constitution assembled at
the Vankleek House, in Poughkeepsie, on the 17th of June, 1788. There
were fifty-seven delegates present, and Governor George Clinton was
chosen the president of the Convention. In that Assembly were some of
the most distinguished men of the Revolution, and the debates were of
the most interesting character. In no state in the Union was hostility
to the Federal Constitution more extensive and violent than in the state
of New York. Forty-six of the fifty-seven delegates, including the
governor, were anti-Federalists, or opposed to the Constitution. The
principal advocates of the instrument were John Jay, Alexander Hamilton,
and Robert Livingston. Mr. Hamilton had been a leading member of the
National Convention that framed the Constitution, and also one of the
principal writers of the _Federalist_. * He felt the responsibility of
his situation, and the Convention readily acknowledged the value of his
judgment. He was perfectly familiar with every topic included in the
wide range which the debates embraced, and he was nobly sustained by his
colleagues, Jay and Livingston. The hostile feelings of many of the
anti-Federalists gradually yielded, and on the 26 th of July the final
question of ratification was carried in the affirmative by a majority of
three votes.
A little more than a mile below Poughkeepsie, on the bank of the Hudson,
is the residence of the late Colonel Henry A. Livingston, a grandson of
Philip Livingston, one of the
* When the Constitution, adopted by the National Convention, was
submitted to the consideration of the people, extensive and violent
opposition was observed, founded principally upon the undue jealousy
with which the doctrine of state rights was regarded. The friends of the
Constitution saw that general public enlightenment upon the subject was
necessary to secure the ratification of the instrument by the requisite
number of states to make it the organic law of the republic. To this end
Jay, Hamilton, and Madison commenced a series of essays in explanation
and vindication of the principles of government. They appeared
successively every week in the New York papers, between October, 1787,
and the spring of 1788. The whole work, which is called The Federalist,
consists of eighty-five numbers. Mr. Jay wrote six numbers, * Mr.
Madison twenty-five, and Mr. Hamilton the residue. They had a powerful
effect upon the public mind and contributed largely to the success which
finally crowned the efforts of the friends of the Constitution.
* Mr. Jay and other gentlemen armed and placed themselves under the
command of Colonel Hamilton, to suppress a riot it New York known as The
Doctors' Mob. He was nearly killed by a stone thrown by one of the
rioters, and was confined to his bed for some time. He had written the
fifth number of the Federalist essays when that event occurred. He
recovered in time to write the sixty-fourth.
The Livingston Mansion.--Henry A. Livingston, Esq.--Kingston, or
Esopua.--Its Dutch Name
385signers of the Declaration of Independence, and son of the late John
H. Livingston, D.D., president of the College of Now Brunswick. It was
built by his paternal grandfather, Henry Livingston, in 1714, and is a
fine specimen of a country mansion of that period.
The situation is delightful, completely imbosomed in venerable trees,
and far removed from the bustle of the highway. * The late occupant, in
the exercise of his good taste and patriotism, preserved the old mansion
from the invasion of modern improvements, and kept up that generous
hospitality which marked the character of the "gentleman of the old
school." Even the orifice in the side of the house, under the piazza,
which was made by a cannon-ball fired from one of the British ships that
conveyed the troops up the river, who burned Kingston, seventy-two years
ago, is preserved with care, and shown to visitors as a token of the
spite of the enemy against active Whigs. The last time I visited the
mansion the late proprietor was living, possessing apparently all the
vigor and cheerfulness of a man of fifty, though then past three score
and ten years. ** In the room which contained his valuable library I
passed several hours, copying the portraits of John and Mary Livingston,
the parents of Robert Livingston, the first emigrant of that name to
America; and also an interesting _genealogical tree_, illustrative of
the family growth and connections, which Colonel Livingston kindly
placed at my disposal. I have referred to these before, and they will be
found in another part of this work.