1778. -  Sketch – New oath of allegiance – Established prices,(curious) – Women of Wyoming – Scene darkens – Meditated invasion – Alarm – Congress orders a third company to be raised – Wm. Crooks murdered – Miner Robins shot – Indian spy – Inexplicable delay of Congress – Independent companies withheld – Wyoming defenseless – Vote of Congress – Reorganization of independent company – The four pounder – Bold and impudent treachery and deception of Congress by the Indians – Invasion – Murder of the Hardings, and Hansells – Col. Z. Butler called to the command – Wintermoot's Fort surrendered – Fort Jenkins surrendered – Summons of Forty Fort – Array – Battle – Defeat – Dreadful massacre – Bloody ring – Soul stirring incidents – Cruel torture.

            The first bright beams of a January sun, leading up the new year, lighted a scene at Wyoming of white and cold and placid beauty.  Hill and valley were clad in virgin snow.  Smoke rose, curling to the skies from hundreds of cottages.  Barns surrounded by stacks of wheat showed that the staff of life was abundant.  Cattle and sheep foddered from stacks in the meadow, or sheltered in rude sheds, sleek and thriving, gave evidence that they shared in the super-abounding plenty of these fertile plains.  The deep mouthed watch-dog barked fiercely as the sled, drawn by a smart span of horses, with jingling bells and its merry load of girls and lads, going to some quilting, singing meeting, wedding, or other merry making, passed swiftly by.  The “soldiers' wives, and the soldiers' widows” were well provided for.  Coffee was little known, but the fragrant and exhilarating cup of tea graced the table, on which smoked the buck-wheat cake, and the luscious honey-comb, the venison steak, and well preserved shad.  If, perchance, a furlough had allowed some of  Ransom and Durkee's men to visit their wives and little ones, the broiled chicken, the well fatted roasting pig, or the delicious turkey, bade them a thousand times welcome.  Neighbors would flock in to hear – how they had whipped the British at Millstone, and took an hundred horses!  How Porter, poor fellow, and the gallant Matthewson, were cut in two by cannon balls.  How Gen. Washington (“and did you see Gen. Washington?" would, in the enthusiasm that beloved name inspired, burst from a dozen tongues.)  How Gen. Washington, at Germantown, rode right into the mouths of the British cannon, as it were.  The wearied scouts would come in, while others set off on tours of duty, creating little excitement, as no immediate danger impended, all seeming quiet above.  Meanwhile the flail sounded merrily on the threshing floor – the flaxbreak and hatchell were in active requisition – the spinning wheel buzzed its round – while the shuttle sped its rapid flight.  The arrival of the postman from Hartford created a sensation throughout the whole settlement.  Such was the dawning of 1778 upon Wyoming, as pictured to the writer by a grey-headed survivor from that day.

            Burgoyne had surrendered.  It was a happy event, but many of the sagacious old men feared that the Indians, released from service in the northeast, would now turn their dreaded arms upon the southern and western frontiers; and who so hated, or exposed, as the people on the Susquehanna(?)

            Under the recent law, requiring, since the Declaration of Independence, a new oath of allegiance to the State of Connecticut, instead of the King, one hundred and forty-nine freemen had been sworn in and recorded, beginning with the name of Nathan Dennison, Esq., in the previous September, in open town meeting, and now, April 13, 1778, one hundred and twenty more appeared, and took the oath of fidelity; making in all two hundred and sixty-nine.

            John Dorrance was chosen Collector of the State Tax.

            Nathan Dennison and Anderson Dana were elected members to the Assembly, to be holden at Hartford, in May.

            On the 21^st of April, another town meeting was warned, and prices fixed of articles of sale and service of labour, in accordance with a recommendation of the Legislature.  To gratify the curious, we will quote twenty items: 

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                        Good yarn stockings, a pair,                                      10 s.

                        Laboring women, at spinning, a week,                        6 s.

                        Winter-fed beef, a pound,                                             7 d.

                        Taverners, for dinner, of the best, per meal,                2 s.

                        Metheglin, per gallon,                                                 7 s.

                        Beaver skins, per pound,                                           18 s.

                        Shad, a piece,                                                              6 d.

                        Beaver hats, of the best,                                               4 l.

                        Ox work, for two oxen, per day, and tackling,             3 s.

                        Good hemp-seed, a bushel,                                       15 s.

                        Men's labour, at farming,

                                   the three summer months, pay day,                  5 s. 3 d.

                        Good check flannel, yard wide,                                   8 s.               

                        Good tow and linen, do                                               5 s.

                                   The above to be woven in a 36 reed, etc.

                        Tobacco, in hank or leaf, per pound,                           9 d.

                        Taverners, for mug of flip, with two gill of rum in it,  4 s.

                        Good barley, per bushel,                                             8 s.

                        Making, and setting, and shoeing horse all round,      8 s.  $1 33

                        Eggs, per doz.,                                                             8 d.

                        Strong beer, by the barrel,                                            2 l.

            From which we deduce several conclusions, namely: - That shad and eggs were plenty, as they were cheap – that tobacco, hemp and barley were extensively cultivated, and articles of considerable traffic – that the once popular, but now exploded, flip, had been introduced from New England, a most agreeable but pernicious beverage – that the luxury of beaver hats, costing more than  thirteen dollars, had become fashionable, indicating considerable wealth – that metheglin [a spiced mead] was manufactured for sale, and therefore honey was abundant – that, in conclusion, the prices fixed to more than an hundred articles, are proof of extensive production, trade and prosperity.

            An ancient document, of great interest, was found among the papers of Anderson Dana, Esq., being the Commission from the General Assembly and Governor of Connecticut, fixing the judicial establishment of Westmoreland for 1778, as was the annual custom.  The names of judges and justices, with those of Governor Trumbull, and Secretary Wyllys, only are in manuscript, the remainder being printed.  It is in perfect preservation, except that a few words of the printed matter are defaced by frequent folding.  We insert it.

                          THE GOVERNOR AND COMPANY OF THE STATE OF CONNECTICUT,

                                                        IN NEW ENGLAND, IN AMERICA;

            To Nathan Denison, Christopher Avery, Obadiah Gora, Zera Beach, Zebulon Butler, William      McKarrican, Asaph Whittlesey, Uriah Chapman, Anderson Dana, Ebenezer Marcy, Stephen     Hardy, John Franklin, 2d., Joseph Hambleton, and William Judd, Esq's.,  GREETING.

            SEAL                         KNOW YE, That We have assigned you, and every of you, jointly and                                                      severally, to keep the Peace within the County of Westmoreland, within      the State aforesaid; and to keep and cause to be kept, all the Laws and Ordinances that are or             shall be made for the good, the Peace, and Conservation of the same, and for the quiet Rule

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            and Government of the People within the County aforesaid, against the said Laws or       Ordinances, or any of them, as according to those Laws or Ordinances shall be fit to be           done:  And to cause to come before you, or any of you, all those Persons who shall threaten any            one in his Person or Estate, to give sufficient Sureties for the Peace and good Behavior, or in   default of their finding Sureties, to commit them to Goal (sic), or safe Custody, until they do so.

                        And we have assigned you, the said Nathan Denison, Christopher Avery, Obadiah Gore,             and Zera Beach, Esq's., to assist the Judges of the County of Westmoreland [a word or two     torn] enquire of, hear, and determine by a Jury or otherwise, [torn] all matters and things, civil          and criminal, cognizable [half a line torn.]

                        And we do also assign you, the said Nathan Denison, Christopher Avery, Obadiah Gore,             Sera Beach, Zebulon Butler, William McKarrican, Asaph Whittlesey, Uriah Chapman, Anderson         Dana, Ebenezer Marcy, Stephen Harding, John Franklin, 2d, Joseph Hambleton, and William        Judd, and each and every of you, to hear and determine all Causes, Matters and Things, civil   and criminal, which any One Assistant in this Corporation, now hath, or hereafter shall have       Power by Law to hear and determine.  And I command you, and every of you, that you           diligently intend the keeping of the Peace, Laws and Ordinances, and all and singular other the             Premises, and perform and fulfill the same, doing therein what to Justice appertains, according   to the Laws of this State.  In Testimony whereof, We have caused the Seal of our said State to be hereunto affixed.  Witness JONATHAN TRUMBULL, Esq; Governor of our said State of       Connecticut, and with the Consent of the General Assembly of the same, in Hartford, this first Day of June, Anno Domini, 1778.

            By His Excellency's Command,                                                        JONATHAN TRUMBULL,

            GEORGE WYLLYS, Sec'y.

            Justice and gratitude demand a tribute to the praiseworthy spirit of the wives and daughters of Wyoming.  While their husbands and fathers were on public duty, they cheerfully assume a large portion of the labour, which females could do.  They assisted to plant, made hay, husked and garnered the corn.  As the settlement was mainly dependent on its own resources for powder, Mr. Hollenback caused to be brought up the river, a pounder; and the women took up their floors, dug out the earth, put it in casks, and run water through it, (as ashes are leached).  Then took ashes, in another cask, and made lye – mixed the water from the earth with weak lye, boiled it, set it to cool, and the saltpetre rose to the top.  Charcoal and sulphur were then used, and powder produced for the public defense.*

                        *Author's note -  Mrs. Bertha Jenkins.  The statement of this lady, at age eighty-four,       giving an account of the process of obtaining saltpetre, shows that it was a familiar and        common transaction.  We have been more particular in the quotation, as the fact is remarkable, showing that even powder was not furnished them.

            Early in the Spring, Congress were apprised of a meditated attack on Wyoming.  From Niagara, and the Indian country, adjacent to, and within the town of Westmoreland, rumour followed rumour, that British and Indians were preparing an expedition for the destruction of the settlement.  Defenseless as the position was known to be, and exasperated as the enemy were, by the efforts of the people in the cause of Independence, nothing could be more probable than such a design.  The only considerable post above the Blue Ridge, Wyoming was an important barrier between the Savages and the German settlements below those mountains; and could that place be desolated, bands of the enemy could easily

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penetrate the Great Swamp, and make incursions into Northampton and Berks, and immediately after striking a blow, hide themselves in those almost impenetrable forests, withdrawing thereby, those numerous and useful levies of men and provisions, which those populous and patriotic counties yielded to the army of his Excellency.  Independent, therefore, of a just regard to the pledge noticed, and without considering the interests of the people, policy would seem to have dictated the taking early and ample measures to defend Wyoming.  Gen. Schuyler wrote to the Board of War on the subject.  The officers and men earnestly plead and remonstrated, that their families, left defenseless, were now menaced with invasion, and adverted to the terms of their enlistment.  History holds no parallel of the pertinacious detention of men under such circumstances.  Treachery is nor for a moment to be lisped, and yet the malign influence of the policy pursued, and the disastrous consequences, could not have been aggravated, if they had been purposely withheld.  Nothing could have been more frank and confiding, more brave and generous, than the whole conduct of the Wyoming people from the beginning of the contest; and it is saying little to aver that they deserved, both at the hands of Congress and Connecticut, a different requital.  Connecticut could ill spare them.  To her, they were inestimable.  Mercy, justice, and policy, plead in vain.

            All the Indians in the Valley had been recalled; and several white persons from Tunkhannock and Wyalusing, had joined the enemy.

            In this state of things, Congress again interposed its authority for the protection of Wyoming.  March 16^th, 1778.

                        “Resolved, that one full company of foot, be raised in the town of Westmoreland, on the   east bank of the Susquehanna, for the defense of said town, and the settlement on the frontiers,             and in the neighborhood thereof, against the Indians and the enemies of these States;  the said          company to be enlisted to serve one year from the time of their enlisting, unless sooner            discharged by Congress.”

            Several reflections arise out of the extraordinary resolution.  In the first place, it establishes the fact that Congress was apprised of the danger from Indians, early in March, for it is predicated on a report of the Board of War, of a previous date, and had been some time under consideration.  2d. It is difficult to conceive how a company, then to be enlisted from among the inhabitants, could add any strength to the defense; for if at all, the enemy would probably some before they would have time to be disciplined, and a company, so enlisted, would not increase the force a single man.  After so many had enlisted, and were away with the army, it sounds strange and almost unnatural to assume that more could be spared from the purposes of agriculture, the scout, and social protection!

            But Wyoming seems to have been doomed by a selfishness, which cannot be designated except by terms which respect forbids us to employ.

            The resolution proceeds -

                        “That the company find their own arms, accoutrements, and blankets.”

            But the difficulty was in obtaining them.  Durkee and Ransom's men had armed themselves, and from the scant supply in the Valley, had taken away the best.  Individual enterprise had been able, very imperfectly, to supply the deficiency.

            In the month of May, scouting parties began to be met by those of the enemy, who hovered around the settlements at a distance of twenty miles, seeming intent to prevent all communication with the upper country, and it is presumed to cut off all chance of learning the preparations making for the descent, rather than do mischief.  No families were attacked – no houses burned.  Shots were

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exchanged rarely, as the enemy rather kept aloof than courted battle;  but one of the Wyoming men, William Crooks, coming out of a house near Tunkhannock, abandoned by John Secord, who had gone to the enemy, was shot dead at the door.  This was the first life taken at Westmoreland by the Indians.

            A few days afterward a party of six,  out on duty, were fired upon about four miles below Tunkhannock.  Miner Robbins, and Joel Phelps were wounded; but regaining their canoes, escaped down the river.  Robbins lingered until the next day, and died.  Phelps recovered.  These incidents increased the alarm already distractingly painful.  But an even soon occurred of more exciting importance.  Two Indians, formerly residents of Wyoming, and acquainted with the people, came down with their squaws on a visit, professing warm friendship;  but suspicions existed that they were spies, and directions were given that they should be carefully watched.  An old companion of one of them, with more than Indian cunning, professing his attachment to the natives, gave his visitor dink after drink of his favorite rum, when, in confidence, and the fullness of his maudlin heart, he avowed that his people were preparing to cut off the settlement, the attack to be made soon, and that they had come down to see and report how things were.  The squaws were dismissed, but the two Indians arrested, and confined in Forty Fort.

            Now the distress and alarm rose almost to a phrenzy (sic).  To remain so entirely exposed, to have their throats cut, and their children's brains dashed out by the savages, without an effort for protection, was not to be endured.

            Dethick Hewitt had been appointed captain to enlist the new continental company, but the order was looked upon as little better than a mockery.  The people in the outer settlements fled to the forts; and the wives of the soldiers sent messages, calling upon them, by every tender tie, to come home and protect them.  Still Congress and Connecticut, with more than Egyptian obstinacy, would not let the companies depart.  Beyond all question they ought, as early as May, to have been ordered to Wyoming.  Almost instantly, on hearing this last news, the companies became nearly disorganized.  Every commissioned officer but two resigned, and more than twenty-five of the men, with or without leave, left the ranks, and hastened to the Valley.  Imperious necessity, above all earthly law, consecrated the deed.  That they did not all return shows the influence of discipline and their love of order.

            Congress, by these measures, was compelled to interpose.   On the 23d of June, only seven days before the arrival of the enemy, they resolved,

                        “that the two Independent Companies lately commanded by the tow captains, Durkee      and Ransom, which were raised in the town of Westmoreland, be united and form one    company.”

            A preamble states that the number of men remaining was eight-six, non-commissioned officers and privates.  The two commissioned officers, made eighty-eight.  Battle, sickness, and the vicissitudes of war, had reduced the companies to about sixty men each – of course nearly thirty must have returned on leave given, or assumed.

            Simon Spaulding, a valuable officer, was appointed captain, Timothy Pierce and Phineas Pierce, lieutenants.  The Board of War directed, (it is believed) the new company to march to Lancaster, and soon after, but too late, to Wyoming.

            A vote was also passed that Hewitt's men should receive pay for their arms, accoutrements and blankets, but so tardy was the order, that few of them lived to hear of the benevolent design.

            The concentration of the enemy at Newtown and Tioga, (the latter a part of Westmoreland town,) and the preparation of boats and canoes, being known, every man who could bear arms, was called into service, and trained.  Two deserters from the British army were in the Valley, one by the name of Pike, who had fled from Boston several years before; the other named Boyd, a fine active

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young fellow, from Canada.  The latter, a serjeant (sic), was particularly useful in training the militia.  Large bodies were sent up the river as scouts, and as the Yankee woodsmen, crossing the streams on fallen trees, would run over the roaring flood with the agility of a wild cat, the two foreigners, sitting astride on the log, hitching themselves awkwardly across, excited great merriment among the companions.*

                        *”In sorrow's cup, still laughs the bubble joy.”

            Both these names will appear conspicuously on another page.  The forts were now filled with women and children.  Every company of the militia was ordered to be ready at a moment's warning, - all was bustle and anxiety.  Care sat on every brow, and fear on many a heart too firm to allow a breath of apprehension to escape from the lips.  The one and only cannon, the four pounder, was in Wilkes-Barre Fort.  Having no ball, it was kept as an alarm gun.  The indispensable labours of the field were performed by armed men.  Soon and certainly the attack would be made, was known; but the precise time could not be calculated, for the enemy could descend the river slightly swollen, at the rate of five miles an hour, and could therefore be in the settlement in less than a day from leaving their rendezvous.  So usually there is a rise of water in summer, that the “June fresh” is a familiar phrase, and had, it was supposed, been fixed upon for their embarkation.

            Leaving the lovely and unprotected Valley in all its blooming beauty, the fields waving with the burden of an abundant harvest, but the people, like a covey of partridges, cowering beneath a flock of blood-scenting vultures, that soared above, ready to pounce on their prey;  or like a flock of sheep huddled together in their pen, while the prowling wolves already sent their impatient howl across the fields, eager for their victims;  we proceed to state one of the most imprudent attempts at treachery and deception, ever recorded.  It is known that the Indian prides himself on his cunning.  It is equally honorable by stratagem to take a scalp. As by force.  So secure were they of Wyoming, that the whole expedition seems to have been a matter of sport, a holiday gambol with the savages.  The Senecas were the nation principally concerned in the expedition, although detachments from the Mohawks, and other tribes, accompanied them.  While the enemy were concentrating at their rendezvous, a delegation of Seneca chiefs, daringly presuming on the stolidity of Congress, repaired to Philadelphia, ostensibly to negotiate, really to amuse, put them off their guard, and prevent any troops being sent to the threatened frontier.  Nor did the bold and dexterous chiefs leave the city, until the fatal blow was struck, as an extract from the journals will show.

                        “July 8, 1778, - Resolved, That the Board of War be directed to send of the Seneca           chiefs that have lately quitted Philadelphia, and inquire whether the Seneca Nation, as such,             have committed hostilities against us.”

            The chiefs refused to return.  Why should they?  Their errand was accomplished!  A motion was made July 17, that General Schuyler be directed, “to take effectual  measures for detaining the Seneca chiefs at Albany,”  but it was decided in the negative.

            The enemy numbering about four hundred British provincials, consisting of Col. John Butler's Rangers, a detachment of Sir John Johnson's Royal Greens, the rest being Tories, from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and New York, together with six or seven hundred Indians, having descended the Susquehanna from Tioga Point [now in Athens, where the Susquehanna and Chemung Rivers meet], landed not far below the mouth of Bowman's Creek, on the west side of the river, in a north direction, about twenty miles above the Valley, (by the river, which here makes a large bend, the distance would have been nearly thirty miles.)  Securing their boats they marched across the peninsula, and arrive on

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the western mountain, on the evening of the 29^th, or morning of the 30^th of June.  At Fort Jenkins, the uppermost in the Valley, and only a mile above Wintermoot's, there were gathered the families of the old patriot, John Jenkins, Esq., the Hardings and Gardiners, distinguished for zeal, with others.  Not apprised of the contiguity of the savages, on the morning of the 30^th June, Benjamin Harding, Stukely Harding, John Harding, a boy, James Hadsell, James Hadsell, Jr., Daniel Weller, John Gardiner and Daniel Carr, eight in all, took their arms and went up about three miles into Exeter, to their labour.  Towards evening, at an hour when aid could not be expected, they were attacked.  That they fought bravely was admitted by the enemy.  Weller, Gardiner and Carr, were taken prisoners.  James Hadsell, and his son James, Benjamin and Stukely Harding, were killed.  John Harding, the boy, threw himself into the river, and lay under the willows, his mouth just above the surface.  He heard with anguish the dying groans of his friends.  Knowing he was near, the Indians searched carefully for him.  At one time they were so close that he could have touched them.

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            This was the opening of the campaign.

            Colonel Zebulon Butler, then at home, by common consent assumed the command of the Connecticut people.  On the 1^st of July he marched, Colonel Denison, and Lieut. Col. Dorrance, being also in command, with all his force, from Forty Fort to Exeter, where the murders of the preceding day had been perpetrated.  The two Hardings, it appeared, must have contended to the last, for their arms and faces were much cut, and several spear holes were made through their bodies.  Instead of shooting, it is probable that the intention was to take them prisoners.  All were scalped, and otherwise mutilated.  

Two Indians, who were watching the dead, expecting that friends might come to take away the bodies, and they might obtain other victims, were shot; one where he sat, the other in the river to which he had fled.  Zebulon Marcy's rifle, it was supposed, killed one of them, and subsequently, he was waylaid and hunted for several years, a brother of the Indian killed, swearing he would have revenge.  The bodies were removed and decently interred near Fort Jenkins, where many years after, Elisha Harding, Esq., caused a stone to be raised to their memory, with this inscription: -

                        “Sweet be the sleep of those who prefer death to slavery.”

            After Col. Z. Butler returned, Colonel John Butler, passing through a notch in the mountain, near Wintermoots, took possession of the fort without opposition.  Mr. Daniel Ingersoll, who was present, on learning the approach of the enemy, began to prepare for resistance, and his wife seized a pitchfork to aid, but the Wintermoots gave them to understand Colonel Butler would be home there, and Ingersoll found himself a prisoner.  This fort, beautifully situated on the upper river flat, from which gushed an abundant spring of pure water, was admirably calculated for the convenience of the enemy, for whose special purposes it was erected.  The Wintermoots had built it amid suspicions of their neighbors, and without their consent, but had, at the same time, in other respects conducted so discreetly as to give no ground for arresting them.*

                        *Author's note – An anecdote connected with this celebrated fort may be introduced         here.  Colonel John Jenkins made the place his own after the Revolution, and it descended to      his heirs.  Eight or ten years ago, a shrewd son-in-law of Col. J's, in whose possession the property now is, was working on the flats below the spring, when a genteel stranger, mounted on a fine horse, rode up to the fence, alighted, looked eagerly round, and entered into conversation.  He inquired for the spring – for the situation and extent of the fort, and other localities. “You seem to be a stranger in this place?”  “Yes.”  “Yet you seem to know a good deal about it?”  “Something.”  “Have you any interest here?”  “My father formerly owned property here.”  Comprehending that the stranger was a Wintermoot, “I guess you don't own           any now?”  “No,” answered the young man with a smile, seeing he was known and understood.  His curiosity was gratified by every reasonable answer to his questions, when he mounted his        horse and rode slowly away, turning every few moments, to take one more gaze at a spot, in regard to which, from infancy, he had heard his people speak with enthusiasm, and who had left it with the reluctance that Adam bade farewell to Paradise.

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            The same evening, a detachment under the command of Capt. Caldwell was sent to reduce Fort Jenkins.  Originally, the garrison consisted of seventeen, mostly old men; four of whom were slain, and three made prisoners, so that no means of resistance being left, the stockade capitulated.

            Early the next morning, Mr. Ingersoll was sent under an escort of one white man and one Indian, to Col. Zebulon Butler, demanding the surrender of Forty Fort and the Valley.

            On the morning of Friday, the 3d., Mr. Ingersoll was again dispatched from Wintermoot's to Forty Fort, accompanied as before, by two attendants, one Indian and one white man, both as guards and spies.  The motive was perfectly comprehended, and the duty only undertaken because it would have been death to refuse.  His guards did not allow Ingersoll a word with Col. Butler, or Denison, out

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of their hearing.  Effectual care was taken that he should communicate nothing that he had discovered while a prisoner.  But his guides had, by this means, an opportunity to see, partially, the condition of the fort, the number, and more than either, the spirit and bearing of the Connecticut people.  A surrender of all the forts, the public property, Hewitt's company and the Valley, was the least that was demanded, and of course refused.  On his return, Col. Z. Butler called a council of war, and opinions were freely expressed.  Many, and among the rest, Col. Butler, Col. Denison, and Lieutenant-Colonel Dorrance, were of the opinion, that a little delay would be best – that the alarm of the sudden irruption would subside – that the absent militia companies would arrive, and that Capt. Spaulding's company, supposed to be on its march, might be hoped for, and would be of great consequence – probably decisive of the issue.  To these wise and weighty considerations, it was replied: - That the enemy had now been three days in the town – that they were fast carrying on their work of conquest and murder.  Two forts had surrendered, and the cruel butchery of the Harding's, and their companions, was dwelt on.  They would not be idle if we were disposed to be still.  The Valley would be destroyed, piece-meal.  All the craft in the upper part were in their possession.  They could cross at Pittston, take that fort in spite of Capt. Blanchard, and murder the inhabitants.  What then would prevent them from marching to any other point?  Our little army could not be kept long together.  Unless led to action, each man would fly to the protection of his own family.  As to Spaulding coming, no one doubted his hearty good will, but those who had detained him for so long, would not be apt, now, to accelerate his coming.  There was no certainty when he would arrive.  We must depend on God and ourselves.  To attack and defeat the enemy, was the only hope of salvation for the settlement.  A large majority accorded with these sentiments; and the minority, though with reluctance, finally yielded their assent, and sometime after noon, the column, consisting of about three hundred men, old men, and boys, marched from the fort.  The little army consisted of six regular companies: -

            1^st.  That of Capt. Dethick Hewitt, called regulars, but precisely like the rest of the militia, for they were just enlisted.  He mustered about forty men.  

            2^nd.  Capt. Joseph Whittlesey's company, from Plymouth, consisting of forty-four men.

            3^rd.  Capt. William McKarrican's company, from Hanover, numbering about forty men.  Being also the schoolmaster, and little used to war, though a brave, active, and valuable man, he gave up the command to Capt. Lazarus Stewart; Rosewell Franklin was his lieutenant. 

            4^th.  The Lower Wilkes-Barre company, commanded by Capt. James Bidlack, Jr., consisting of thirty-eight men.

            5^th.  The Upper Wilkes-Barre company, commanded by Capt. Rezin Geer, smaller, but the number not known.

            6^th.  The Kingston company, commanded by Capt. Aholiab Buck, lieutenant Elijah Shoemaker, second in command.

            In addition to those in the trainbands (sic), the Judges of the Court, and all the civil officers who were near, went out.  Many old men – some of them grandfathers – took their muskets and marched to the field.  For instance, the aged Mr. Searle, of Kingston, was one.  Having become bald, he wore a wig.  Taking out his silver knee-buckles, he said to his family, “If I fall, I shall not need them.  If I come back, they will be safe here.” - Nothing could have been more incongruous, more pitiably unfit, than the mingling of such aged men in the rough onset of battle.  Dire was the necessity that compelled it.  The old gentleman had a number of grandchildren.  Several boys, from fourteen to sixteen, are known to have been on the field.  There was a company at Pittston, of thirty or forty men, under Capt. Blanchard, stationed at the fort, to guard the people gathered there.  To leave them,, and march to Forty Fort, would be to expose them to certain destruction, for the enemy were in sight, on the opposite bank

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of the river.  Capt. Franklin's company, from Huntington and Salem, had not arrived.  The other companies of the regiment were at Capouse, and at the “Lackaway” settlement, too far off to afford assistance,  So that there were about two hundred and thirty enrolled men, and seventy old people, boys, civil magistrates, and other volunteers.

                                                                               ***         

            Every movement of Col. Z. Butler was watched by a vigilant and wary foe.  No sooner had the march commenced than the news was communicated to Col. John Butler, at Wintermoot's, who immediately dispatched a messenger up to Fort Jenkins, for the party there, who were destroying the defenses, to hasten down, for the Yankees were coming out to battle.  This was between two and three o'clock.  A few sentinels alone were left at Forty Fort; and one of these by the name of Cooper, more brave than obedient to orders, said “Our people need all their strength on the field.  If defeated or successful, my being here will do no good.”  And he hurried off to join his neighbors.

            Miss Bennett, (since Mrs. Myers,) was one of the crowd of women and children who had resorted to the Forty Fort.  After the troops had been gone about half an hour, three men were seen, spurring their jaded horses up the road.  As they came to the gate and dismounted, the sweat flowed from the panting flanks of their generous steeds.  Two of them were Capt. Durkee and Lieut. Pierce.  In a moment they learned the state of things.  “We are faint – give us bread; we have not broken our fasts to day.”  Such provisions as were at hand were placed before them.  Pierce was a lieutenant in Capt. Spaulding's company, then about forty miles off, through the Great Swamp.  They had ridden nearly all night.  Having snatched a morsel of food, they hastened to the field.

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            As the American troops approached Wintermoot's, they perceived that the fort was in flames.  The motive for setting it on fire is not yet understood, probably to prevent its sudden assault and capture; probably to draw attention and conceal their number and movements.

            At this point there are two plains, the upper and lower flats, divided by a steep bank of about fifteen or twenty feet in height;  the lower a rich sandy loam;  the upper a coarse gravel.  The fort was on the bank dividing the two plains.

            Col. Z. Butler, on approaching the enemy, sent forward Captains Ransom and Durkee, Lieutenants Ross and Wells, as officers whose skill he most relied on, to select the spot, and mark off the ground on which to form the order of battle.  On coming up, the column displayed to the left, and under those officers every company took its station, and then advanced in line to the proper position, where it halted, the right resting on the steep bank noted – the left extending across the gravel flat to a morass, thick with timber and brush that separated the bottom land from the mountain.  Yellow and pitch pine trees, with oak shrubs, were scattered all over the plain.  On the American right was Capt. Bidlack's company.  Next was Capt. Hewitt's, Daniel Gore being one of his Lieutenants.  On the extreme left was Capt. Whittlesey's.  Col. Butler, supported by Maj. John Garrett, commanded the right wing.  Col. Dennison, supported by Lieut. Col. George Dorrance, commanded the left.  Such was the ground, and such the order of battle.  Everything was judiciously disposed, and conducted in a strictly military and prudent manner.  Captains Durkee and Ransom, as experienced officers, in whom great confidence was placed, were stationed, Durkee with Bidlack on the right wing – Ransom with Whittlesey on the left.  Col. Butler made a very brief address, just before he ordered the column to display.

                        “Men, yonder is the enemy.  The fate of the Hardings tells us what to expect if defeated.    We come out to fight, not only for liberty, but for life itself, and what is dearer, to preserve our    homes from conflagration;  out women and children from the tomahawk.  Stand firm the first          shock, and the Indians will give way.  Every man to his duty.”

            The column had marched up the road running near the bank on which our right rested.  On its display, as Dennison led off his men, he repeated the expression of Col. Butler - “Be firm, everything depends on resisting the first shock.”

            The left of the enemy rested on Wintermoot's Fort, now on fire, and was commanded by Col. John Butler, who, divested of feathers and finery, appeared on the ground with a handkerchief tied on his head.  A flanking party of Indian marksmen, were concealed among some logs and bushes under the bank.  Johnson's Royal Greens, commanded by Capt. Caldwell, (if Johnson himself was not present,) formed on Butler's right.  Indian marksmen filled the space between.  The main body of the Indians, under Brandt, or Gi-en-gwah-toh,* formed the right wing, and extended to the morass or swamp.

•    Gi-en-gwah-toh, a Seneca.  “He who goes in the smoke.”   COL. STONE.

             From Wintermoot's Fort, to the river in a straight line, was about eighty rods – To Menockasy island, over the low flats in a south direction about a mile.  The weather clear and warm.

            About four in the afternoon the battle began; Colonel Z. Butler ordered his men to fire, and at each discharge to advance a step.  Along the whole line the discharges were rapid and steady.  It was evident, on the more open ground the Yankees were doing most execution.  As our men advanced, pouring in their platoon fires with great vivacity, the British line gave way, in spite of all their officers’ efforts to prevent it.  The Indian flanking party on our right kept up from their hiding places a galling fire.  Lieut. Daniel Gore received a ball through the left arm.  “Captain Durkee,”  said he, “look sharp

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for the Indians in those bushes.”  Captain D. stepped to the bank to look, preparatory to making a charge and dislodging them, when he fell.  On the British Butler's right, his Indian warriors were sharply engaged.  They seemed to be divided into six bands, for a yell would be raised at the end of their line, taken up, and carried through, six distinct bodies appearing at each time to repeat the cry.  As the battle waxed warmer, that fearful yell was renewed again and again, with more and more spirit.  It appeared to be at once their animating shout, and their signal of communication.  As several fell near Col. Dorrance, one of his men gave way;  “Stand up to your work, sir,”  said he, firmly, but coolly, and the soldier resumed his place.

            For half an hour a hot fire had been given and sustained, when the vastly superior numbers of the enemy began to develop (sic) its power.  The Indians had thrown into the swamp a large force, which now completely outflanked our left.  It was impossible it should be otherwise;  that wing was thrown into confusion.  Col. Denison gave the orders that the company of Whittlesey should wheel back, so as to form an angle with the main line, and thus present his front, instead of flank, to the enemy.  The difficulty of performing evolutions, by the bravest militia on the field, under a hot fire, is well known.  On the attempt the savages rushed in with horrid yells.  Some had mistaken the order to fall back, as one to retreat, and that word, that fatal word, ran along the line.  Utter confusion now prevailed on the left.  Seeing the disorder, and his own men beginning to give way, Col. Z. Butler threw himself between the fires of the opposing ranks, and rode up and down the line in the most reckless exposure.  “Don't leave me, my children, and the victory is ours.”  But it was too late.

            Still on the fated left, men stood their ground.  “See,” said Westover to George Cooper, “our men are retreating, shall we go?” “I'll have one more shot first,” was his reply.  At that moment a ball struck a tree just by his head, and an Indian springing towards him with his spear, Cooper drew up his rifle and fired, the Indian sprung several feet from the ground, and fell prostrate on his face.  “Come,” said Westover.  “I'll load first,” replied Cooper – and it probable this coolness saved them, for the great body of the savages had dashed forward after the flying, and were far in their rear.

            On the right, one of his officers said to Captain Hewitt, “The day is lost – see the Indians are sixty rods in our rear, shall we retreat?”  “I'll be d__d”* if I do,” was his answer.  “Drummer strike up,” cried he, and strove to rally his men.  Every effort was vain.  Thus he fought, and there he fell.

•    “The accusing spirit flew up to Heaven's chancery with the oath, and as she wrote it down, dropped a tear on the word, and blotted it out forever.”

            Every captain that led a company into action was slain, and in every instance fell on, or near the line.  As was said of Bidlack, so of Hewitt, Whittlesey, and the others, “They died at the head of their men.”  They fought bravely – every man and officer did his duty, but they were overpowered by three fold their force.  In point of numbers the enemy was overwhelmingly superior.

            Darius Spafford was just married to Miss Blackman.  Receiving a death wound, he fell into the arms of his brother Phineas, by whose side he fought.  “Brother,” said he “I am mortally hurt; take care of Lavina.”  Stephen Whiton, a young schoolmaster from Connecticut, was also a bridegroom, having recently married the daughter of Anderson Dana, Esq.  The father and son-in-law fell together.

            The battle ended, the massacre began.

            A portion of the Indian flanking party pushed forward in the rear of the Connecticut line, to cut off retreat to Forty Fort, and then pressed the retreating army towards the river.  Monockasy Island affording the only hope of crossing, the stream of flight flowed in that direction through fields of grain.

Cooper, and those who remained near the line of battle, saw the main body of the Indians hastening after the fugitives.

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            At Forty Fort, the bank of the river was lined by anxious wives and mothers, awaiting the issue.  Hearing the firing sharply continued, now, hope arose; but when the shots became irregular, and approached nearer and nearer, that hope sank in dismay.  Lieut. Gore, whose arm was shattered early in the action, being intercepted in an attempt to retreat the way he had marched up, secreted himself in a thick covert of bushed and briars near the road, on the descending bank.  Indians ran past him, their attention directed to those who were flying through the flats.  One stood very near, gazed a moment, drew up his rifle and fired.  Raising a yell, he rushed forward, probably to scalp his victim.

            At the river near the Island, the scene was exceedingly distressing.  A few swam over and escaped.  Closely pressed, many were killed in the river.  Sergeant Jeremiah Bigford, a very active man, was pursued by an Indian into the stream with a spear;  Bigford faced him, struck the spear from his hand, and seizing him by the neck, dashed him under his feet, where he would have drowned, but another savage rushed forward to his aid, and ran his spear through Bigford's breast, who fell dead, and floated away.  A month afterward his body was found seven or eight miles below, much decayed, but was recognized by a silver broach he wore, which, with a piece of shirt with the spear hole, was preserved by his family for many years.  One of the fugitives by the name of Pensil sought security by hiding in a cluster of willows on the island.  Seeing his Tory brother come up, and recognize him, he threw himself at his feet, begged for protection, and preferred to serve him for life, if he would save him.  “Mighty well!” was the taunting reply.  “You d__d  rebel,” and instantly shot him dead.  It was a dreadful hour; men seemed transformed into demons.  The worst passions raged with wild and desolating fury.  All the sweet charities of life seemed extinguished.  Lieutenant Shoemaker, one of the most generous and benevolent-hearted men, whose wealth enabled him to dispense charity and do good, which was a delight to him, fled to the river, when Windecker, who had often fed at his board, and drank of his cup, came to the brink.  “Come out, come out,”  said he, “You know I will protect you.”  How could he doubt it?  Windecker reached out his left hand, as if to lead him, much exhausted, ashore, and dashed his tomahawk into the head of his benefactor, who fell back, and floated away.

            Many prisoners were lured to shore by promise of quarter, and then butchered.  The accurate Indian marksmen, sure of their prey, had coolly singled out officers, and broke the thigh bone, it is supposed, as son many are found perforated, so as effectually to disable, but leaving the victim alive for torture.  Capt. Bidlack was thrown alive on the burning logs of the fort, held down with pitch forks, and there tortured till he expired.  Prisoners taken under solemn promise of quarter, were gathered together, and placed in circles.  Sixteen or eighteen were arranged round one large stone, since known as the bloody rock.  Surrounded by a body of Indians, queen Esther, a fury in the form of a woman, assumed the office of executioner with death maul, or tomahawk, for she used the one with both hands, or took up the other with one, passing round the circle with words, as if singing, or counting with a cadence, she would dash out the brains, or sink the tomahawk into the head of a prisoner.  A number had fallen.  Her rage increased with indulgence.  Seeing there was no hope, Lebbeus, Hammond, and Joseph Elliott, with a sudden spring shook off the Indians who held them, and fled for the thicket:  Rifles cracked!  Indians yelled!  Tomahawks flew!  But they escaped, the pursuers soon returning to their death sports.  The mangled bodies of fourteen or fifteen were afterward found round the rock where they had fallen, scalped, and shockingly mangled.  Nine more were found in a similar circle some distance above.

            Young Searles, aged sixteen, fled, accompanied by William, the son of Asahel Buck, aged fourteen.  Searles, almost exhausted, heard a person cry, “Stop – you shall have quarter – we won’t hurt you.”  Looking round, and almost inclined to surrender, he saw Buck stop, and yield himself:  that moment a tomahawk struck him to the earth dead.  Renewing his leap, from desperation, Searle escaped.  “See,” said one of the flying Yankees, who was pursued by a powerful Indian, and nearly exhausted.  Richard Inman drew up his rifle, and the Indian dropped dead.*

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                        *That shot was revenged on the family, as will be seen in the sequel

            Samuel Carey, a young man of nineteen, had crossed the river at the island, where he was met by the Indians, who were already on the beach.  At first they threatened him with death, placing a knife to his bowels, as if they meant to rip him open;  but he was spared, and taken to the Indian country.  With a single other exception, he was the only person made prisoner in the battle, whose life was not sacrificed.

            While this scene of suffering and woe was in progress, night threw her kindly mantle over the field, and darkness arrested the pursuit.  Lieut. Gore, who had lain still, now heard the tread of men, and their voices in conversation.  “It has been a sore day for the Yankees.”  “It has indeed – blood enough has been shed.”  So far he heard, and they passed on.  He supposed it to be Col. J. Butler, and one of his officers.

            Mr. Hollenback, who had swam the river, and so escaped, brought the anticipated tidings to Wilkes-Barre, and having learned the position of Capt. Spaulding, saddled his horse, and road all night to apprise him of the state of affairs at Wyoming.

            Col. Zebulon Butler repaired to the Wilkes-Barre Fort, and cast himself exhausted on the ground.  Col. Denison took up his quarters at Forty Fort, gathered the few soldiers who had come in – placed sentinels, and took all the precautions in his power, dictated by prudence, to guard against surprise, and save the women and children.  The night throughout the Valley was one of inexpressible anguish and despair.

            Although darkness had put an end to the pursuit, and most of the prisoners had been barbarously butchered, some who were supposed to be special objects of hate, were selected for slower torture, and the execution of more savage vengeance.  It may be some unguarded word – perhaps the refusal, in gone-by years, of whiskey to an unfortunate Indian; some fancied, or real wrong; or, it is thought by some, to satiate the revenge of Indians who had lost relations in the fight:  whatever may have been the motive, the vast depths of hell, boiling with demoniac passions, never could have devised or executed such horrid tortures, as many of the Connecticut prisoners were that night doomed to endure.

            On the river bank, on the Pittston side, Capt. Blanchard, Esq., Whitaker, and Ishmael Bennett, attracted by fires among trees, on the opposite shore, took their station and witnessed the process of torture.  Several naked men, in the midst of flames, were driven round a stake; their groans and screams were most piteous, while the shouts and yells of the Savages, who danced round, urging the victims on with their spears, were too horrible to be endured.  They were powerless to help or avenge, and withdrew, heartsick from a view of their horrid orgies – glad that they did not know who were the sufferers.  This was more than a mile above Wintermoot's.  On the battle ground, the work of torture lasted till vengeance, satiated and weary, dropped the knife and torch, from exhaustion.  Col. John Butler, much agitated, as the peculiar effluvium of burning flesh came to his nostrils, said, in the hearing of Mr. Ingersoll, “It is not my power to help it.”  In the morning, the battle field was strewn with limbs, and bodied torn apart, mangled and partially consumed.

            About one hundred and sixty of the Connecticut people were killed that day, and one hundred and forty escaped.  The loss of the enemy was never known.  “Early the next morning,” says Mr. Ingersoll, “all the shovels and pickaxes that could be mustered were taken out, and their dead buried in the swamp.  Probably from forty to eighty fell.

            The transactions of the next day must be reserved for another letter.

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