A AN Vine i We i) aig "i 1 = FT HNADA-ALAMO” Dw See a i The Female Spy. ees am ttt > I AL he TRADITIONS AND ROMANGE Or BORDER AND REVOLUTIONARY TIMES. SERG’T CHAMPE’S RECOGNITION. COL, CRAWFORD'S FATE DECIDED. DAVIS FIXING COURT BUSINESS. Miss MONCRIEFFE, the FEMALE SPY. NEW YORE; BEADLE AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 118 WILLIAM STREET. ee St ne ere Re eee + i h, ' ! , ‘ } , ‘ * Entered according to Act of Congress, in the Year 1864, . by BeapLE AND Company, in the Clerk’s Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. oo (T. 11.) j » ¢ \ ea THE FEMALE SPY. Ar the time when General Howe landed upon Staten Island with a well-appointed army under his command, with the ob- ject of wresting from the Americans possession of the city of New York, there was, in a neighboring town of New Jersey, a young lady—a young girl, I might say, for she could not have seen more than sixteen summers—who was eminently distinguished for her beauty, talents, wit, vivacity, and all those striking characteristics which, in a female, please and fascinate the opposite sex, and win her admirers among the old and young. She was the daughter of a Major Moncrieffe, of the British Engineer Corps, and her gifted mind gave eyvi- dence of the lavish expenditure which his affection had in- duced him to make to secure to her a brilliant education. The occupancy of Staten Island necessarily brought the war into her immediate vicinity, and the neighboring towns on the Jersey shore having become unsafe as a place of residence, she adopted the plan of appealirig to General Putnam for protec- tion. The General sent for her, and took her under his own individual guardianship, and while he continued in New York, she continued to be a member of his family.* Here she passed * At the time Margaret Moncrieffe was a guest in Putnam’s family, Aaron Burr was the General’s aid and private secretary. He wasthen young and possessed of qualities likely to win the heart of a romantic girl. That he did win her heart is now admitted, and that he also took advantage of her unguarded and passionate nature to work her moral ruin, is generally conceded by historians. Aaron Burr, with this crime, commenced the career of seducer, which has rendered his name even more infamous as a violator of female purity, than as a murderer and conspirator. Margaret Moncrieffe’s story is only half told when her relations with the aid of her protector, General Putnam, are suppressed. 257 40 / Se LPL RE IIL PAE IESE a pe - eRe ITA B A AE Np EAR Net EGE Pig cme ee ee ee : 6 TALES AND TRADITIONS. the time, in company with Mrs. Putnam and her daughters, in spiuning and weaving clothing for the American soldiers. The battle of Long Island, and the subsequent retreat of Washington and his army from the city, caused a change in the aspect of affairs, and we find her, soon afterward, at the house of a Mr. Wood, near Peekskill, on the Hudson river. The advent of such an accomplished and beautiful creature as Miss Moncriefte, could not be otherwise than a subject of in- terest to the residents of Peekskill and its vicinity, and she soon became the center of attraction of a brilliant circle of beaux, among whom were a number of the officers attached to the American army in the neighborhood. Although at heart a bitter and uncompromising royalist, Miss Moncrieffe managed so admirably to conceal that fact, and lead those about her to believe that she entertained the warmest feelings of interest in, and earnest desire for, the success of the Ameri- can cause, that none hesitated to converse before her regard- ing the plans and operations of the Americans. She took advantage of this fact to get possession of important informa- tion, which she was in the habit of transmitting to General Howe, through the means of a poor wretch who served her as a convenient instrument. Being a splendid eguestrienne, it was customary with her to ride along the banks of the Hudson in pleasant weather, and she seized these opportuni- ties to communicate with ae messenger, and, through him, with the British commander. At regular intervals she would ride down the road, and, at a spot where it passed through a thick wood, she would stop, as though upon some ordinary occasion, and hum.a bar of a tune agreed upon. In a moment after, the head, followed by the shoulders and body of a man, would emerge from the dense underbrush; and, while he pushed back the leaves with one hand, the other was held out to receive the missive which he knew was prepared for him. In this way the English General received much valuable’ information. So secretly and discreetly was her duplicity managed that the Americans never once suspected that their 258 ys i | Se Fh eS TREACHERY EXPOSED. 7 - ; fair enchantress was the spy to whose activity and efficiency they owed the frustration of many of their wisest plans. Accident at length unvailed her duplicity and’ crime. On one occasion, as she was taking her accustomed ride down the : road, her horse was startled by the barking of a dog that } ™“ ° . . darted from a farm-yard which she was passing, and shied to ra the opposite side so suddenly as to throw her to the ground with considerable violence. The females in the house, who had witnessed the accident, ran out, took her tenderly up in their arms, and conveyed her within doors, while the man went in pursuit of her horse. The foree with which she had fallen rendered her insensible, and she was laid upon a bed, while every means at the command of her nurses was used for her resuscitation. Anxious to give her a freer respira- tion, one of them opened the front of her riding-habit. As she did so, a letter dropped, from that receptacle, to the floor, _ It was picked up and placed upon the table without having ad excited curiosity. ™ Se At this moment the man returned to the house, and in a few moments the young lady began to recover her conscious- ness. Upon being fully restored, and seeing strange faces ' about her, she started up and seized the open laps of her vest. Horror and dismay were strongly depicted upon her countenance as she discovered that the missive it had held was gone. In tones which gave evidence of the most excited feelings, she asked for the letter. One of the females. took it up, and was about to hand it to her, when the man, whose suspicions were aroused by her manner, took it from her. Finding that it was directed to New York, he refused to let her have it. Her earnest entreaties only served to strengthen his doubts that all was not right, and notwithstanding her threats and offers of reward, he resolutely determined not to deliver up the important document. Finding all her efforts for its recovery unavailing, the young woman readjusted her : dress, mounted her horse, and returned to Mr. Wood’s, where she made immediate preparations to take her departure for ~ the city. 259 TALES AND TRADITIONS. : Fate was against her, however, as the! farmer had hastened : with the suspicious missive to head-quarters. A party of sol- i diers rode up to the house soon after, and the officer in com- rs i mand informed her that she was a prisoner. Without giving «i : her time to destroy or secrete her papers, she was removed ye i to the opposite side of the river. There she was securely i ‘ guarded until her case could receive the attention of higher “o authority. Méanwhile, her trunks and effects were carefully searched, and gave the strongest evidence of her guilt. ‘ Several papers relating to military matters were found, while ‘ the letter which had caused her arrest, proved to contain im- ; portant information. relative to the movements of the Ameri- can army. And, as if to place her conviction beyond perad- i venture, the messenger whom she had employed appeared against her at her examination. Hearing of her arrest, and } fearing that his connection with her might affect the welfare of his family, he resolved to offer his evidence, in hopes that 1 » it might mitigate, ifit did not avert, his own punishment. ° ‘ Her examination presented a scene worthy the pencil of the "t most accomplished artist; and affording, as it does, the sub- ject for a striking and exceedingly graphic picture, it is is earnestly to be desired that it may one day live upon canvas, to depict for future generations an interesting episode in the “Domestic History of the Revolution.” Although her guilt was self-evident, yet the question of her punishment was one difficult of solution. A gibbet and a rope would have been the fate of one of the opposite sex; but, to punish in this manner a delicate and highly accomplished female—and one, % too, possessed of the attainments and accomplishments of Miss Moncrieffe, was too revolting to humanity to be entertained te “oe a ; for a moment. The solution was made easy by the earnest : % appeal in her behalf of her relatives and highly influential f friends in New York. She was carefully conducted under a 7 flay to the British lines, where she was delivered into the a7 hands of her father’s friends. She subsequently went to i England, where she spent the rest of her life, and, although 1 for a time she moved in the first society, yet the qualities of om 260 : Dine A MESSENGER WANTED. 9 her heart were not calculated to make her path in life a happy or pleasant one, and we naturally anticipate the fact that her end was amidst all the surroundings of poverty and disgrace. The treacherous messenger who had aided in her crime, and in the hour of her trial had turnéd upon her in hopes to secure his own escape, was imprisoned, and kept in close confinement for a long period, but whether he suffered a severer punish- ment is not recorded. The part which female spies played in the Revolution was an important one, and perhaps for the very reason given above —that it would be inhuman to hang a wonian as a spy, or to punish her according to the rules of war. This immunity from punishment led those interested to employ her services at all times where they could be available—just as in the war for the Union the Southern cause found hundreds of women engaged as spies and emissaries. It was, in many cases, a deamecons and very trying sistas which the women of ’76 had to assume in advancing the interests of the king or the Colonies. Miss Moncrieffe’s part was one of exceeding du- plicity—not demanding the exercise of noble or stern qualities. These virtues had to be practiced by the American women, however, when they would serve their cause, as the number of instances of female heroism, suffering, fortitude and devo- tion recorded in these pages will testify. To that number we could add many others, well worthy of the records of heroism; but will be content to give here the story of Emily Geiger, the Carolina maid, as a contrast, in its noble self-devotion, to the part played by Margaret Moncrieffe. On the 22d of May, 1781, General Greene besieged the British post at Ninety-six, with a force of about one thousand regulars and a few undisciplined militia, and on the 18th of June, having heard of the approach of Lord Rawdon, with an overwhelming force, he determined to assault and carry the works, if possible, before that officer could arrive. The gar- rison within the post consisted of five hundred and fifty loy- alists, under the command of Lieutenant-Colonel Cruger, and made a gallant defense. Finding that it would be impossible 261 “see CIRCE eT erathteaeteraeateme ainrraeneuntaenmemaeninenneeee eee ee 10 TALES AND TRADITIONS. to carry the works before Rawdon’s arrival, and unwilling to meet his superior force, Greene raised the siege, and retreated toward the Enoree. Rawdon, on arriving at Ninety-six, and finding that Greene had decamped, pursued him; but, becom- ing satisfied that pursuit would be useless, returned to that post to rest and recruit his wearied troops. Greene soon learned that’it was Rawdon’s intention to abandon Ninety-six, and join a force under Colonel Stewart, which he had ordered to unite with him at Friday’s Ferry; and having, through the means of an intercepted letter, ascertained that the latter officer had been recalled to Charleston, after he had com- menced his march, he determined to follow Rawdon and at- tack him. To aid this enterprise, Lee was dispatched to take post between the enemy and the Ferry, and it was necessary that Sumter and Marion should be directed to take a similar posi- tion. Greene had prepared a letter to Sumter containing the necessary orders for that purpose; but could find no one willing to carry it toSumter’s camp. There were many brave men in his little army—men who had faced the fiery front of battle, when bullets as thick as rain-drops in a summer shower had scattered wounds and death on every side, and who were ready, at any moment, to brave danger in whatever shape it might appear. But, the effort to reach Sumter’s camp was almost certain death. The intervening country was filled with scouting parties of Tories, outlying in every direction, for the express purpose of intercepting messages; and the Whigs well knew, from sad experience, that a short shrift and a limb of the nearest tree would be the fate of the mes- senger should he be taken. Greene was ina dilemma. He could not order any one upon the hazardous duty; he knew the danger and appreciated it. Undecided how to act, he retired to his marquee, with care upon bis brow and anxiety in his heart. He had sought a volunteer in vain; yet it was necessary the missive should reach its destination, and that right speedily, or the safety of Lee’s party would be compro- mised. —- EMILY GEIGER VOLUNTEERS. 11 While gloomily reflecting upon the dilemma in which he found himself placed—possibly turning over in his mind who he should order upon the dangerous errand, a subaltern en- tered, and announced that a volunteer messenger had been found, in the person of a young girl, who, having heard of the embarrassing strait of the American commander, had freely offered her services to carry the important order. Somewhat surprised at the novelty of the circumstance, Greene stepped to the door of his tent, and confronted a lithe, active and pretty-looking girl, of some eighteen summers, mounted on a handsome gray horse, which pawed the ground restively, as though annoyed at the restraint that kept him from bound- ing freely through the woods and over the plains with his light and graceful rider. Her name, she said, in answer to Gitens’ s question, was Emily Geiger, daughter of a German planter in Fairfield district. ‘“ Any one in camp could vouch for her trustworthiness, as she was well known.” Willing to test her courage, Greene asked her if she knew the danger which attended the enterprise. “I do,” said she; “and that is the reason why I have offered myself, and the strongest ar- gument why my services ‘should be accepted. A young girl, unattended, and apparently riding to visit a friend, or for pleasure, would not be suspected, where a man would be condemned out of hand.” Pleased with the spirit she evinced, and satisfied of her honesty and courage, Greene consented to allow her to undertake the task. Now that a volunteer had been found, and that one, too, a girl, there were enough to offer their services, who blushed to think they had declined to do what she had freely offered to undertake. But Greene Was convinced that no better messenger could be ound, pro- vided she had sufficient tact in the case of an emergency, and this he could not doubt after the exhibition of it evincedby her answers to his various questions. Dismissing the numer- ous applicants, therefore, he delivered into her hands the im- portant missive, after reading over to her its contents, so that should she lose, or find it expedient to destroy it, she could still convey its meaning to Sumter, verbally. Having received 263 or oe 12 TALES AND TRADITIONS. her directions, she started upon her perilous ride, waving a graceful adieu to the General as she took her leave, and re- ceiving in return the plaudits of the soldiers, who were de- lighted with the exhibition of so much courage in one so young. The first day’s journey of the heroic girl presents no inci- dent worthy of record. At night she stopped at the house a of a Whig, who was in Marion’s brigade, where she was warmly welcomed by the inmates, and enjoyed a refreshing sleep. In the morning, as soon as it was light enough to see, she was again in her saddle. She was not, however, to reach her destination without adventures, and running great risks. About noon, as she was riding through a dry swamp, she es- pied an officer and two men approaching her, whom she redog- nized as Tories by their dress, which was that of the “ Loyal Americans.” They had discovered her at the same moment, and it was too late to retreat. She pursued her way, there- fore, thinking, perhaps, they would not stop her. In this she * was mistaken. They were scouts from Rawdon’s camp, and, desirous of gaining information, asked her which direction she was from. She told them a different point from the true one, but, at the same time, the blush which mantled her cheek at the falsehood aroused their suspicions ; and, coming from the direction of Greene’s camp, they determined to examine her person. The officer was a man of feeling, and, having too much modesty to do it himself, concluded to take her to the nearest house, where he could find a woman to perform the task for him. Fortune favored the girl in that; the first house they came to was that of a Whig. Here she was locked in a room until a Tory matron could be sent for, Em- ily was not a girl to sit down and wring her hands in useless agony in time of peril; so, as soon as she was alone, she opened her dress, took from it the letter, and, tearing it in pieces, ate it up piecemeal. She had hardly swallowed the last morsel ere the door was opened, and the woman sent for was admitted. A close and severe scrutiny furnished no eyvi- dence against her. The most rigid examination of the room ~ 264 meres s ¥ FERRIS AND KENWNICUT. 13 followed, to see if she had hidden any thing during the time she had been alone. Nothing was found to criminate her, and, after undergoing a severe cross-questioning, for which she was prepared, and nothing appearing to create further suspi- cion, she was allowed to depart on her journey. Taking a somewhat circuitous route, to avoid further detention and risk, she soon struck into a road leading to Sumter’s camp, whete she arrived toward evening without further incident. She related her adventure to Sumter, and delivered her verbal message. The story was too well told to be a ruse, and Sum- ter was soon on his way to join Greene at Orangeburg. Our heroine returned home by a different route from that by which she had come, without further peril. She subsequently married a wealthy planter on the Congaree, and lived to a good old age. The romantic and somewhat intricate region of country surrounding New York city is so full of revolutionary memo- ries as to make for each prominent rock, every ravine, every hill, a history. Had Margaret Moncrieffe been twice as bold and reckless of the halter as she was, she still could have little claim to fame as a spy when her services in that line are compared with those rendered by several Americans now properly well known to fame. The story of the adventures of Thomas Ferris and Luther Kennicut read like a romance— so filled is it with daring deeds and remarkable incidents. The first named was one of the licensed “ general agents” of the military authorities, whose business was one of general rather than specific services, while Kennicut, on the contrary, always was detailed for special duty, as the favorite and most trusted of Washington’s secret-service men. In his celebrated novel, “The Spy,” Cooper has immortalized Kennicut under the name of “ Harvey Birch.” He was all that is said of him by the novelist—brave, devoted to duty, self-sacrificing to an extraordinary degree, and patient in bearing the load of ignominy which his assumed devotion to King George brought upon him. No order was too hazardous for him to execute if it came from Washington; and yet, a the a ‘ Ce oe ay om an —— ee 14 TALES AND TRADITIONS. Commander-in-Chief, he never could be permitted to avow that love for fear of involving the august man in suspicious transactions. Ferris was usually employed as a‘ go-between” for Washington and the spy, and his declarations, after the war, confirm the importance of the services rendered his coun- try by the once despised but now patriotically-exalted peddler. In one of the many interviews between Ferris and Kenni- cut, a bold plan was conceived by them for the surprise ahd capture of one of the principal British officers while in his own camp. The British army was encamped on Throg’s Neck, and the quarters of the officer, whom they designed to capture, were in the house of Mr. Ferris. Two other enter- prising patriots were engaged in the attempt. On the evening fixed upon, Ferris and his two companions—Kennicut appoint- ing to meet them on the Neck—cautiously approached the sentinels. Their manner of passing the guard was inge- nious and bold. It was done by crawling along the shore through the sedge, cautiously advancing as the sentinel’s back was turned toward them, and when he advanced, they would lie close and still in the sedge. By this slow method they at last passed the sentinel, and got on to the Neck, and soon joined Kennicut at the place of meeting. A place of conceal- ment was now found for them, and the plan for the capture arranged, which was to take place at midnight of the next evening. , Young Ferris, who was acquainted with the house, was to conduct the party to the apartment of the officer, whom they were to seize, gag, and muffle, and escape with him from the Neck as expeditiously and silently as possible. It Wasa daring plan, but its success would crown them with lasting honor. After the completion of all the arrangements, Kennicut left them. Some little time after his departure, Ferris, becoming very thirsty, incautiously ventured to the well, near the house, for the purpose of procuring water, when he was observed and recognized by one of the negro slaves belonging to the house. In a few minutes after this incident, Kennicut came to them hurriedly, and informed them that their presence on the Neck was known, that the guard was 266 a) > es =e ADVENTURE ON THROG’S NECK. 15 doubled all round the Neck, and that a thorough search was ordered to be made for them, at the first approach of daylight. They were now in a critical position. To escape from the Neck in the same manner they reached it was impossible, as at this point a vigilant watch would doubtless be stationed. Ferris proposed to escape by swimming, but his two com- panions could not swim, and they begged most earnestly not to be abandoned. But the resources of men inured to danger and familiar with stratagem were not exhausted. Toward the lower end of the Neck there was an old stone-wall, which had been built double, and which was surrounded by a thick and tangled mass of plum-bushes. The plan was to remove one side of the wall, and rebuild it in such a manner as to afford hollow places for their concealment. Ferris and Kennicut first built in their two companions, and lastly, Ferris took his place, and Kennicut alone completed the entombment. These singular and ingenious cages having been finished, Kennicut surveyed them closely, and with scrutiny on all sides. The form of the wall was but little altered from its original shape, while the screen-work of bushes effectually curtained it from observation. Assured of the completeness of the concealment, Kennicut, with a few words of caution, left Ferris and his companions in their voluntary imprisonment, with a promise to return to them whenever he might do so with prudence. The situation of our heroes must indeed have been try- ing. It was not long before daylight appeared, and then they could hear the search that was going on all around them. Presently the tramp of soldiers was heard, which grew nearer and nearer, and their hearts sunk despairingly within them, as they could detect their approach directly to the spot where they were concealed. ‘Two files of soldiers, one on each side of the wall, came along close by its side, and so near to them that, with a switch two feet long, the prisoners could have touched them. Suddenly, and to the great terror of the ad- venturers, the word “halt” was given, and our heroes be- lieved their discovery certain. The grass, which had been trampled down by them in the process of erecting their . 267 16 TALES AND TRADITIONS. prisons, arrested the attention of the soldiers, and a brief con- ference as to its cause was held within hearing of the captives. One remarked, that “there the rebels must have lain last night ;” but another was of opinion that it was where the deserters, who had escaped the day previous, had rested. Satisfied with this solution of the cause, the party resumed their march, much to the relief and delight of our incarcerated friends. They remained in their concealment the entire day, ‘and much of the ensuing night, without food, and in a state of unceasing anxiety. Toward morning Kennicut came and released them. They now abandoned the intention of securing the officer, and set about escaping from the Neck in the same manner they had come upon it. A great number of traditions are preserved in the vicinity of White Plains, and along the Hudson up as far as New- burgh, concerning the adventures and exploits of this cele- brated spy. Cooper obtained from the old residents many of his incidents respecting ‘ Harvey Birch,” so thatthe romance is, in many respects, but a transcript of history. The late Abraham Horton, Esq., of White Plains—whose family still reside upon the old revolutionary homestead—had gathered, from actors in the War for Independence, a large store of facts and anecdotes concerning events and persons of those days—among them, not a few of Kennicut. One incident we may repeat: The spy, after a secret conference with one of Washington’s aids, just after the storming of Stony Point (177 79) by “ Mad Anthony ” Wayne, worked his way down the river ‘and en- sconced himself in the high hills on the north side of the Spuyten Duyvel creek. Across this stream, on Manhattan Island, were the British pickets. From his look-out, Kenni- cut could discern what passed on the opposite shore, as well as the movements of the British vessels in the Hudson. He evidently had a confederate on the British side, for he seemed to be waiting. A hut, inhabited by an old man and his de- crepit wife, crowned one of the hills on the island. This hut, early every morning and at sunset, he carefully surveyed with 268 QUEER SIGNALS. 17 his long, slender spy-glass, which was usually carried in the back of his coat for secrecy and safety. Evidently there was intelligence conveyed. Thus, in the morning, smoke would arise from the hut chimney, first in a steady white color, as if a fire was just built. Then it would come out in puffs, forming white balls, only to be distinguished by a close and steady observer. These balls assumed many combinations, as, for instance, one followed by two, by three, by four, ete. ; then two followed by two, or three, or four, etc. All this, to the spy, was perfectly intelligible, and he made careful notes, wholly in figures, however, in a small pocket “* account-book,” which, as a peddler, had been many a time inspected by the enemy. ‘The sunset signals consisted in the hanging of clothes on a line before the house, as if tw air or dry. These were red, yellow, white, blue, and black garments, which would be hung for a moment in a certain order, then, as if the line had broken, would all fall down, and soon be rearranged in a new combination. For three days Kennicut watched these signals, but no reply was made, save that every morning it could have been _ observed that a half-dozen small cone-pine trees, on the ex- * ~— treme crest of the hill, had mysteriously changed attitudes during the night. These were signs that all was right, and orders for further news. During the night of the third day the spy retired, having learned from the smoke and clothes- line every movement and purpose of the enemy then in pos- session of New York city—information of the most important character to Washington, since new dispositions of his army were made at once, which so confounded Sir Henry Clinton that he was constrained to abandon a carefully-prepared movement up the Hudson. The confederate here referred to was a patriot of the stamp of true heroes. Daily he visited the city with his little cart, to sell his fruits and vegetables, and to bring back articles to’ wash belonging to thg British officers. It was these vari- colored garments which were made to do such good duty. His name has not been preserved, but rumor has it that he 11 2 269 18 TALES AND TRADITIONS. was aman of high stature, who, too old to take up arms, sought that locality to serve his country, and did serye it with a devotion worthy of all honor. This incident, we ke- lieve, has never before been published. WINGEMUND REFUSING TO SAVE CRAWFORD, Tur massacre of the Moravian Indians by the force under Colonel Williamson, was a most cold-blooded, cruel, and das- tardly act. True, the settlers had become violently enraged at the numerous outrages and murders by the Indians, and were burning to revenge their slaughtered countrymen and friends ; but this affords no excuse for killing, in cold blood, ninety unarmed, peaceful, unoffending Christian men, women, and children, who had been withdrawn from the savage life of their brethren of the woods by their missionaries, and taught to adopt the habits and customs of civilized society. A more exemplary and truly Christian community did not vxist on this continent. Yet they were deliberately butch- ered hy their white friends, while they knelt in prayer to the white man’s God! It is not surprising that this cruel act aroused all the vindictive hatred of the various tribes who were connected by ties of consanguinity with the sufferers, and that, when the opportunity occurred, they should take the most ample revenge upon those who had been concerned in the work. In the month of May following, a similar expedition was organized at the old Mingo towns, on the west side of the Ohio river, for the purpose of completing the work which had been begun by Williamson, of ‘exterminating the Christian Indians for supposed treachery and murder, and destroying the Wyandot towns on the Sandusky river. This expedition was composed mostly of volunteers from the immediate 270 ‘ f } ; ena eeEOTE—a sf ~~. a CRAWFORD’S EXPEDITION. 19 vicinity of the Ohio, and numbered four hundred and eighty men, The command was given to Colonel William Crawford. As it was intended to surprise the Indians, the mustering of the men, and all the arrangements for the expedition, were conducted with the utmost secrecy, and a great proportion of the men were mounted—each one furnishing his own outfit. ‘ >. . The Indians were on the alert, however. Every movement of the expedition was watched by spies, and its numbers, ob- jects, and the determination of its members well known. Some of the Indian scouts, in visiting the camp after the army had departed, discovered writing upon the trees, which they carefully copied and preserved until they could find some one to interpret it. Its translation proved that “no quarter was to be given to an Indian, whether man, woman, or child.” This naturally exasperated the savages, and they prepared, to meet their bloodthirsty invaders in the samesspirit. The march, which was first conducted with secrecy, from the insubordination of its composition soon beeame rather a tumultuous mob. They followed “ Williamson’s trail,” until they reached the Moravian town where the massacre had oc-. curred. At first, finding no enemy, the invaders were clam- orous to return, and a council determined that, should no In- dians be met in another day’s march, a retreat should be or- dered. The council had scarcely broken up, when one of the picket guard came rushing in, with the tidings that the In- dians were in force in the prairie and woods in front. Upon this intelligence the army was formed with alacrity, and moved forward to support the picket. A struggle ensued, in which, for a time, the whites were successful; but, reénforcements coming up, the Indians were enabled to maintain the conflict. until night, when it ceased, and both parties slept on their arms on the field. In the morning a consultation of officers was held, and a retreat was resolved upon, The numbers of - the Indians increased every moment, although neither of the belligerent armies seemed disposed to attack the other. Craw- ford occupied the day in burying the bodies of those who had 271 20 TALES AND TRADITIONS. fallen, and burning fires over their graves to prevext their discovery. hes The retreat was to commence at dusk; but the Indians be- coming aware of such an intention, attacked the camp with the utmost fury late in the afternoon, completely surrounding the little army, except in the direction of Sandusky, bad man he must be. Nothing now remains for you but to meet your fate like a brave man. Farewell, Colonel Crawford, they are coming. I will retire to a solitary spot. The chief, it is said, shed tears when he retired, and was sensibly affected whenever the circumstances were alluded to in his presence. Captain Pipe, the Delaware chief, now came forward and addressed an inflammatory speech to the surrounding warriors, at the close of which they uttered a loud shout, and, rushing upon the colonel, they cut off his ears, and commenced tor- turing him in every conceivable form. During the conversa- tion with Wingemund, the fagots had been lighted, and, having been burnt through, the women and boys seized the burning sticks and applied them to his naked flesh, while the warriors shot charges of powder into all parts of his body, from his head to his feet, and he soon became black and blistered under this horrid treatment. As lie ran around the pole to avoid one party of his tormentors, he was met by another, who, with burning sticks, red-hot irons, and charges of powder, drove him back. The squaws took up burning coals and hot ashes, and threw them upon his blistered flesh, and in a short time he had nothing but fire to walk upon. In the extremity of his agony, the unfortunate colonel called upon Girty to put an end to his misery by shooting him. “ Don’t you see that I have no gun, colonel?” replied the stony-hearted fiend, bursting into a loud laugh, at the same time addressing some exulting remark to an Indian near him. He then rode up to Dr. Knight, who had been bound to the foot of a large tree, and compelled to witness the io of Zi 28 TALES AND TRADITIONS. . his friend, and taunted him with his situation, telling him that - he now had a foretaste of what would be lis fate when he arrived at the Shawnee towns—adding, with an oath, that he need not expect to escape, for he should suffer the utmost ex- treme of torture. The Doctor made no reply to his remarks, and after abusing him to his heart’s content, the wretch left him. But why continue the narrative of a scene the details of which would harrow the soul of every reader. Suffice it to say, that after many hours of the most cruel tortures, the colonel was released from his sufferings by death, and his body burnt to ashes. Dr. Knight was placed in charge of a young Shawnee warrior, to conduct bim to another town; but, on the way he managed to escape, by killing his guard, and at the end of twenty-one days’ wandering, he reached © Fort McIntosh, barely alive. We have in our possession a narrative written long ago by one who resided for many years in Washington, Pennsylva- nia—the section of country inhabited by the Moravian In- dians at the time of their massacre. From the testimony of actors in the event, and of those who resided in that region, in the year 1782, the narrator became possessed of the facts of the murder alluded to, and of the sueceeding expedition of Colonel Crawford ; and he’has given them publicity in the form of a story, which we take pleasure in reproducing in this immediate connection, It will be perused with interest and profit : “Jn Kurope, my friends, among many other societies of Christians, arose one, ‘the United Brothers.’ Some of’ these men came to America, not to bring a sword, but the glad tidings of peace. Their persuasive~voice reached into the deepest recesses of these woods of which I have spoken, and entered the hearts of many natives, who embraced, not in name but in reality, the doctrines of Christ. Of these red- men and their families, many settled on the Muskingum. The messengers of Christianity were Germans, and in memory of their native places, German names were given to three vil- lages, Salem, Gnattenhutten, and Schenbrun. During the 280 ” THE THREE MORAVIAN VILLAGES. 29 a. twelve or thirteen years which passed between the ‘ Old French War’ to the beginning of that of the Revolution, peace reigned over these solitary settlements; they were. spots, and pleasing ones, on the beautiful Tuscarawas, where the children of nature learned to lisp the name of Him whose power brought them into existence. They were spots on which the eye of benevolence delighted to dwell, but over which the prophetic eye would have wept tears of bitterness. In many of my hunting excursions, (for then we were all hunters,) I strayed to the creeks of Tuscarawas; and many is the night my weary limbs found rest at Schenbrun. But those days of peace were to be succeeded by a storm—a sweeping destruction—the American Revolutionary War. That great period gave a republic to the earth, and. humbled the proud oppressor. Such benefits were purchased with blood, and not in every case sustained with blood. If a few native Indians planted the olive, the much greater number cherished the laurel, and remained ready to dig up the tomahawk or hatchet of war. With an improvidence which has cost our lengthened frontier so much of blood and misery, these warriors were left to our enemy. Every art was used to excite them against us. Slow and constant was the stream of white emigration ; and, with superior arms and other means, every rising young man became a natural enemy of the Indians, and the Indians felt that their inheritance was passing to the white race. Be- tween these warlike bodies stood the three defenseless villages of Gnattenhutten, Schceenbrun and Salem. Threats from the east, at first slight, but yearly becoming more fierce and loud, reached the Moravian Indians on Tuscarawas, in accents of death. The sounds from the west were not less appalling ;~ the Christian Indians stood between two hostile. nations, sus- pected by and exposed to the vengeance of both—ho Goy- ernment to offer an arm to these unprotected and.unsuspect- ing people; and the whirlwind of destruction reached their dwellings. They perished, but not alone. Let us return some years, and fix our eyes upon the early 2 30 TALES AND TRADITIONS. settlements along the Monongahela. Even before_the ill-di- rected and ill-fated expedition of British and provincials under General Braddock, some few habitations of whites had begun to appear along our streams; and in one of those rude cabins appeared and smiled Ellen Aylworth. Like a rose in the desert did I see this beauteous flower bloom. At that early time, what little of society was to be seen, presented, with much of kindness, a stern inflexibility of purpose, and with that tenacity, a promptness of action, which crowded events upon events. As the thunders of the Revolutionary war began to be heard beyond our mountains, Ellen rose to womanhood, but with her rose another, Saul Garvin. This young man was light of form, and fleet as the deer on the hills. In person and in natural manners, never have I since beheld the equal of Saul Garvin. Ellen Aylworth was life and beauty personified—Garvin personated the times ; he was serious, but his heart was warm. In other regions and sta- tions, Ellen would have shone among the gay, the gifted, and the great. They were two whom nature placed together and forced to love, yet their hearts were not alike molded—they were not destined to tread happily over the rough paths before them. It always makes me smile when I hear the pride of wealth named, for never have I seen any rank—for I have seen all ranks—where this spirit was not -equally active; and Saul and Ellen felt its malign influence. Saul was under the care of an aged uncle, and was pet and heir. The wealth he was heir to would not have been sufficient to fit out one of our modern dandies to pay a visit to the lady of his choice; but it was the most extensive fortune in the woods of Chartier, and no man ever prided himself more on his superior wealth than did old Hall Kent. With the nephew the lovely Ellen was worth all the money on the earth; but with his uncle, her beauty and innocence were just worth nothing. The op- position of his uncle was only one of Saul’s vexations. Another poor young man, besides Saul, saw and sought Ellen. If Saul sighed, Tielman Wells laughed, and Ellen, in the gayety of. her young heart, laughed with Tielman, 282 ¢ THE RIVAL SUITORS. 31 and the poison of jealousy rankled. Saul was deceived, and so were the neighbors, and so was the joyful old Hall Kent. So went affairs for some days, and even weeks, and all the folly, passion, and extravagance of the world was acted on Chartier. Tielman Wells owned two horses, a saddle, bridle, watch, two rifles, and had by him ten old Spanish dollars,and had, also, the full approbation of Kent. Ellen smiled when his natne was mentioned, and looked grave at the sound of that of Saul Garvin. Some wise one remarked, ‘“‘ How won- derful it was Ellen could choose such a skipping raccoon as Tielman Wells, and reject Saul Garvin.” Such a preference would have been wonderful if made, but, though then young, I thought I could see as far into a mountain as any one, and if no one else did, I saw the true state of the case. On a snowy winter morning, about ten miles from where the fine city of Pittsburg now stands, with my rifle on my shoulder, I was traversing the Chartier hills in pursuit of game. Amid the loaded branches and falling flakes, I dimly saw the figure of another hunter, crossing the slope of the hill before me, and quickly perceived it was Saul Garvin. Though in the untrodden woods, he was slowly bending his steps toward the house of the father of Ellen. He was ar- rested by, “Saul, holloa! You are too late; Ellen has gone ‘to Pitt with Tielman.” “Gone to Pitt with Tielman Wells ?” replied the young man, as he approached where I was standing. “Gone! yes,” rejoined 1; “and do you turn your course and flirt with Jane Sparkle, and Ellen will come to her senses.” He looked me steadily in the face, and with a visage no man but a hunter or an Indian could ever assume, pronounced, as he cordially shook me by the hand, “ Farewell! I have a longer walk to make than to Jonathan Sparkle’s.” I was rather puzzled to know whether to laugh or be seri- ous, but the latter mood prevailed, as I was in a moment alone in the forest. The look of Saul fixed on my mind and made an impression J could neither account for nor for a 283 ao Se ITY Eg! Nes a x aE ae Soe i 832 TALES AND TRADITIONS. moment forget. Thus silently impressed, (for I communicated the circumstance to ng person,) two days passed, and on the third morning the dreadful report was spread that Saul Gar- vin was missing—and murdered, as was supposed. With all my speed I hastened to the house of the distracted uncle, and revealing the meeting with Saul, led his uncle and a body of armed men to the spot on which we had met. A rapid thaw had laid most of the hill-sides and hill-tops naked. For some miles we found tracks which we supposed to be those of the lost hunter, traced on the snow remaining in deep valleys and the northern slope of the hills ; but, reaching the Ohio, all further search was useless. Twenty-three years the fate of Saul Garvin remained wrapped in mystery, and within the same twenty-three years the grave had closed upon the regret of the heart-broken uncle and the wasted form of Ellen Aylworth, and had also been marked by the ever to be lamented massacre of the Mo- ravian Indians on Tuscarawas. Seventeen years had the dust of the victims mingled with their parent earth, when the tardy justice of the United States recalled to their property and homes the remnant of the Christian Delawares. Seven- teen years had I Wever dared to visit the desolate spot, where so often I had met the warmest welcome ; but when I learned that the poor surviving wanderers were to return, I determ- ined to meet them. A young man of that neighborhood, of the name of Thomas Car, was appointed to meet the return- ing Indians with a supply of provisions, and with him I went, and was present when the aged chief and his forlorn band reached the scene of murder. Time had greatly changed us both; he knew me not, nor did I disturb his decp, reflecting sorrow by any renewal of our acquaintance. ‘To confess the truth, shame withheld me; as a white man I felt a share of the dreadful wrong, a8 did the plain, uneducated young man beside me, though both were innocent of the deed. We silently followed the aged chief as he led a grandson by the hand, and pointed out where the houses formerly stood. Many of them had been supplied with cellars, at one of which, _ 284 ° . THE CHIEF AND HIS GRANDSON. - 33 : much longer than at the others, the old man stopped. It is seldom an Indian man weeps, but I saw the tears fall. from his furrowed face into the hollow space. His feelings were for a few minutes those of human nature, but he seemed, at some sudden thought, to remember that he was an Indian chief, as he turned round, and addressing his grandson, ob- served firmly, and in English, “The grave of your father.” The young man sat down upon the slope of the cellar, drew his blanket over his head and remained silent, though his heaving breast showed strong agitation. With more of sorrow than anger, the chief fixed his eyes on me, and in very good English observed: “I hope you were not here at—” “Not at the time to which you refer,” I solemnly inter-. rupted, “thanks be given to the Great Spirit who rules over Indian and white.” ** You are here now, therefore I believe your words; sev- anteen years of reflection must keep him away who was here then.” * “Many of them,” I replied, “have gone to their judgment- seat.” “Some have, I too well know,” mournfully rejoined the chief, “‘ and terrible Was their departure.” “* Were you present ?” I rather hastily demanded. “Not when and where you mean,” emphatically replied * the chief, “and thanks to the Great Spirit that I was not.” We all remained silent for some time, when the chief again addressing me, demanded : “‘ Were you ever acquaiiye with a white man of the name of Saul Garvin ?” “T was, and well. What of him? Do you know—” “Too much,” replied the chief; “too much for the o, warriors I will not call them—who dyed this place in. blood. Sit down on this bank and you shall hear.” We sat down, and after along pause the chief resumed : “Twenty-three years have the leaves of these woods been renewed and have again fallen, since, hunting on the high hills toward the rising sun; I saw thesmoke of a camp. The war, 285 ft 84 TALES AND TRADITIONS. hatchet was then buried, and I approached the fire and by it found*’a young white man; he met and received me kindly, presented me some venison, and we feasted together. It was evening, and he invited me to share his shelter, and we slept together. In the morning I invited the white man to go home with me, and told him we could reach there when the sun rose so high, and I pointed to the south. “