Spain till it was ceded to France, in 1801. In 1803, at the purchase of
Louisiana, it came into the possession of the United States, and formed
part of the territory of Louisiana, until the formation of the State
of that name in 1812, when the remainder of the territory was named
Missouri, from which (after a stormy debate in Congress as to the
admission of slavery) was separated the present State of Missouri in
1721.[59]

The office of Syndic, to which Colonel Boone had been appointed, is
similar to that of justice of the peace under our own government: but it
is more extensive, as combining military with civil powers. Its exercise
in Colonel Boone's district did not by any means occupy the whole of
his time and attention. On the contrary, he found sufficient time for
hunting in the winter months--the regular hunting season. At first he
was not very successful in obtaining valuable furs; but after two or
three seasons, he was able to secure a sufficient quantity to enable
him, by the proceeds of their sale, to discharge some outstanding debts
in Kentucky; and he made a journey thither for that purpose. When he had
seen each creditor, and paid him all he demanded, he returned home to
Missouri, and on his arrival he had but half a dollar remaining. "To his
family," says Mr. Peck, "and a circle of friends who had called to see
him, he said, 'Now I am ready and willing to die. I am relieved from a
burden that has long oppressed me. I have paid all my debts, and no one
will say, when I am gone, 'Boone was a dishonest man.' I am perfectly
willing to die.'"[60]

Boone still continued his hunting excursions, attended sometimes by some
friend: but most frequently by a black servant boy. On one of these
occasions these two had to resist an attack of Osage Indians, whom they
speedily put to flight. At another time, when he was entirely alone, a
large encampment of Indians made its appearance in his neighborhood;
and he was compelled to secrete himself for twenty days in his camp,
cooking his food only in the middle of the night, so that the smoke of
his fire would not be seen. At the end of this long period of inaction
the Indians went off.

At another time, while in his hunting camp, with only a negro boy for
his attendant, he fell sick and lay a long time unable to go out. When
sufficiently recovered to walk out, he pointed out to the boy a place
where he wished to be buried if he should die in camp, and also gave
the boy very exact directions about his burial, and the disposal of his
rifle, blankets and peltry.[61]

Among the relations of Colonel Boone, who were settled in his
neighborhood, were Daniel Morgan Boone, his eldest son then living, who
had gone out before his father; Nattra, with his wife, who had followed
in 1800; and Flanders Callaway, his son-in-law, who had come out about
the time that Missouri, then Upper Louisiana, became a part of the
United States territory.[62]

We have already stated that the land granted to Colonel Boone, in
consideration of his performing the duties of Syndic, was lost by his
omission to comply with the legal formalities necessary to secure his
title.

In addition to the ten thousand arpents of land thus lost, he had been
entitled as a citizen to one thousand arpents of land according to the
usage in other cases; but he appears not to have complied with the
condition of actual residence on this land, and it was lost in
consequence.

In 1812, Colonel Boone sent a petition to Congress, praying for a
confirmation of his original claims. In order to give greater weight
to his application, he presented a memorial to the General Assembly of
Kentucky, on the thirteenth of January, 1812, soliciting the aid of that
body in obtaining from Congress the confirmation of his claims.

The Legislature, by a unanimous vote, passed the following preamble and
resolutions.

"The Legislature of Kentucky, taking into view the many eminent services
rendered by Col. Boone, in exploring and settling the western country,
from which great advantages have resulted, not only to this State, but
to his country in general; and that from circumstances over which he had
no control, he is now reduced to poverty, not having, so far as appears,
an acre of land out of the vast territory he has been a great instrument
in peopling; believing, also, that it is as unjust as it is impolitic,
that useful enterprise and eminent services should go unrewarded by a
government where merit confers the only distinction; and having
sufficient reason to believe that a grant of ten thousand acres of land,
which he claims in Upper Louisiana, would have been confirmed by the
Spanish government, had not said territory passed, by cession, into the
hands of the general government: wherefore.

"Resolved, by the General Assembly of the Commonwealth of
Kentucky,--That our Senators in Congress be requested to make use of
their exertions to procure a grant of land in said territory to said
Boone, either the ten thousand acres to which he appears to have an
equitable claim, from the grounds set forth to this Legislature, by way
of confirmation, or to such quantity in such place as shall be deemed
most advisable, by way of donation."

Notwithstanding this action of the Legislature of Kentucky, Colonel
Boone's appeal, like many other just and reasonable claims presented to
Congress, was neglected for some time. During this period of anxious
suspense, Mrs. Boone, the faithful and affectionate wife of the
venerable pioneer, who had shared his toils and anxieties, and cheered
his home for so many years, was taken from his side. She died in March,
1813, at the age of seventy-six. The venerable pioneer was now to miss
her cheerful companionship for the remainder of his life; and to a man
of his affectionate disposition this must have been a severe privation.

Colonel Boone's memorial to Congress received the earnest and active
support of Judge Coburn, Joseph Vance, Judge Burnett, and other
distinguished men belonging to the Western country. But it was not till
the 24th of December, 1813, that the Committee on Public Lands made a
report on the subject.

The report certainly is a very inconsistent one, as it fully admits the
justice of his claim to eleven thousand arpents of land, and recommends
Congress to give him the miserable pittance of one thousand arpents, to
which he was entitled in common with all the other emigrants to Upper
Louisiana! The act for the confirmation of the title passed on the 10th
of February, 1814.

For ten years before his decease, Colonel Boone gave up his favorite
pursuit of hunting. The infirmities of age rendered it imprudent for him
to venture alone in the woods.

The closing years of Colonel Boone's life were passed in a manner
entirely characteristic of the man. He appears to have considered love
to mankind, reverence to the Supreme Being, delight in his works and
constant usefulness, as the legitimate ends of life. After the decease
of Mrs. Boone, he divided his time among the different members of his
family, making his home with his eldest daughter, Mrs. Callaway,
visiting his other children, and especially his youngest son, Major
Nathan Boone, for longer or shorter periods, according to his
inclination and convenience. He was greatly beloved by all his
descendants, some of whom were of the fifth generation; and he took
great delight in their society.

"His time at home," says Mr. Peck, "was usually occupied in some useful
manner. He made powder-horns for his grandchildren, neighbors, and
friends, many of which were carved and ornamented with much taste. He
repaired rifles, and performed various descriptions of handicraft with
neatness and finish." Making powder-horns--repairing rifles--employments
in pleasing unison with old pursuits, and by the associations thus
raised in his mind, always recalling the pleasures of the chase, the
stilly whispering hum of the pines, the fragrance of wild flowers, and
the deep solitude of the primeval forest.

In the summer of 1820, Chester Harding, who of American artists is one
of the most celebrated for the accuracy of his likenesses, paid a visit
to Colonel Boone for the purpose of taking his portrait. The Colonel was
quite feeble, and had to be supported by a friend, the Rev. J.E. Welsh,
while sitting to the artist.[63]

This portrait is the original from which most of the engravings of Boone
have been executed. It represents him in his hunting-dress, with his
large hunting-knife in his belt. The face is very thin and pale, and
the hair perfectly white; the eyes of a bright blue color, and the
expression of the countenance mild and pleasing.

[Footnote 58: An arpent of land is eighty-five-hundredths of an acre.]

[Footnote 59: Lippincott's Gazetteer.]

[Footnote 60: The owners of the money of which he was robbed on his
journey to Virginia, as already related, had voluntarily relinquished
all claims on him. This was a simple act of justice.]

[Footnote 61: Peck.]

[Footnote 62: Ibid.]

[Footnote 63: Peck. Life of Boone.]




CHAPTER XXIII.

Last illness, and death of Colonel Boone--His funeral--Account
of his family--His remains and those of his wife removed from
Missouri, and reinterred in the new cemetery in Frankfort,
Kentucky--Character of Colonel Boone.


In September, 1820, Colonel Boone had an attack of fever, from which he
recovered so as to make a visit to the house of his son, Major Nathan
Boone. Soon after, from an indiscretion in his diet, he had a relapse;
and after a confinement to the house of only three days, he expired on
the 26th of September, in the eighty-sixth year of his age.

He was buried in a coffin which he had kept ready for several years.
His remains were laid by the side of those of his deceased wife. The
great respect and reverence entertained toward him, attracted a large
concourse from the neighboring country to the funeral. The Legislature
of Missouri, then in session, passed a resolution that the members
should wear the badge of mourning usual in such cases for twenty days;
and an adjournment for one day took place.

Colonel Boone had five sons and four daughters The two oldest sons, as
already related, were killed by the Indians. His third, Colonel Daniel
Morgan Boone, resided in Missouri, and died about 1842, past the age of
eighty. Jesse Boone, the fourth son, settled in Missouri about 1805, and
died at St. Louis a few years after. Major Nathan Boone, the youngest
child, resided for many years in Missouri, and received a commission in
the United States Dragoons. He was still living at a recent date. Daniel
Boone's daughters, Jemima, Susannah, Rebecca, and Lavinia, were all
married, lived and died in Kentucky.

In 1845 the citizens of Frankfort, Kentucky, having prepared a rural
cemetery, resolved to consecrate it by interring in it the remains of
Daniel Boone and his wife. The consent of the family being obtained,
the reinterment took place on the 20th of August of that year.

The pageant was splendid and deeply interesting. A few survivors of
Boone's contemporaries were present, gathered from all parts of the
State, and a numerous train of his descendants and relatives led the van
of the procession escorting the hearse, which was decorated with forest
evergreens and white lilies, an appropriate tribute to the simple as
well as glorious character of Boone, and a suitable emblem of his
enduring fame. The address was delivered by Mr. Crittenden, and the
concourse of citizens from Kentucky and the neighboring States was
immense.

The reader of the foregoing pages will have no difficulty in forming
a correct estimate of Boone's character. He was one of the purest and
noblest of the pioneers of the West. Regarding himself as an instrument
in the hands of Providence for accomplishing great purposes, he was
nevertheless always modest and unassuming, never seeking distinction,
but always accepting the post of duty and danger.

As a military leader he was remarkable for prudence, coolness, bravery,
and imperturbable self-possession. His knowledge of the character of the
Indians enabled him to divine their intentions and baffle their best
laid plans; and notwithstanding his resistance of their inroads, he was
always a great favorite amongst them. As a father, husband, and citizen,
his character seems to have been faultless; and his intercourse with his
fellow-men was always marked by the strictest integrity and honor.




COLONEL BOONE'S AUTOBIOGRAPHY

[The following pages were dictated by Colonel Boone to John Filson, and
published in 1784. Colonel Boone has been heard to say repeatedly since
its publication, that "it is every word true."]

Curiosity is natural to the soul of man, and interesting objects have
a powerful influence on our affections. Let these influencing powers
actuate, by the permission or disposal of Providence, from selfish or
social views, yet in time the mysterious will of Heaven is unfolded, and
we behold our conduct, from whatsoever motives excited, operating to
answer the important designs of Heaven. Thus we behold Kentucky, lately
a howling wilderness, the habitation of savages and wild beasts, become
a fruitful field; this region, so favorably distinguished by nature,
now become the habitation of civilization, at a period unparalleled in
history, in the midst of a raging war, and under all the disadvantages
of emigration to a country so remote from the inhabited parts of the
continent. Here, where the hand of violence shed the blood of the
innocent; where the horrid yells of savages and the groans of the
distressed sounded in our ears, we now hear the praises and adorations
of our Creator; where wretched wigwams stood, the miserable abodes
of savages, we behold the foundations of cities laid, that, in all
probability, will equal the glory of the greatest upon earth. And we
view Kentucky, situated on the fertile banks of the great Ohio, rising
from obscurity to shine with splendor, equal to any other of the stars
of the American hemisphere.

The settling of this region well deserves a place in history. Most
of the memorable events I have myself been exercised in; and, for the
satisfaction of the public, will briefly relate the circumstance of my
adventures, and scenes of life from my first movement to this country
until this day.

It was on the first of May, in the year 1769, that I resigned my
domestic happiness for a time, and left my family and peaceable
habitation on the Yadkin River, in North Carolina, to wander through the
wilderness of America, in quest of the country of Kentucky, in company
with John Finley, John Stewart, Joseph Holden, James Monay, and William
Cool. We proceeded successfully, and after a long and fatiguing journey
through a mountainous wilderness, in a westward direction. On the 7th
of June following we found ourselves on Red River, where John Finley
had formerly been trading with the Indians, and, from the top of an
eminence, saw with pleasure the beautiful level of Kentucky. Here let
me observe that for some time we had experienced the most uncomfortable
weather, as a pre-libation of our future sufferings. At this place we
encamped, and made a shelter to defend us from the inclement season,
and began to hunt and reconnoitre the country. We found everywhere
abundance of wild beasts of all sorts, through this vast forest. The
buffalo were more frequent than I have seen cattle in the settlements,
browsing on the leaves of the cane, or cropping the herbage on those
extensive plains, fearless, because ignorant of the violence of man.
Sometimes we saw hundreds in a drove, and the numbers about the salt
springs were amazing. In this forest, the habitation of beasts of every
kind natural to America, we practiced hunting with great success until
the 22d day of December following.

This day John Steward and I had a pleasing ramble, but fortune changed
the scene in the close of it. We had passed through a great forest, on
which stood myriads of trees, some gay with blossoms, and others rich
with fruits. Nature was here a series of wonders, and a fund of delight.
Here she displayed her ingenuity and industry in a variety of flowers
and fruits, beautifully colored, elegantly shaped, and charmingly
flavored; and we were diverted with innumerable animals presenting
themselves perpetually to our view. In the decline of the day, near
Kentucky River, as we ascended the brow of a small hill, a number of
Indians rushed out of a thick canebrake upon us, and made us prisoners.
The time of our sorrow was now arrived, and the scene fully opened.
The Indians plundered us of what we had, and kept us in confinement
seven days, treating us with common savage usage. During this time we
discovered no uneasiness or desire to escape, which made them less
suspicious of us; but in the dead of night, as we lay in a thick
canebrake by a large fire, when sleep had locked-up their senses, my
situation not disposing me for rest, I touched my companion, and gently
awoke him. We improved this favorable opportunity and departed, leaving
them to take their rest, and speedily directed our course toward our old
camp, but found it plundered, and the company dispersed and gone home.
About this time my brother, Squire Boone, with another adventurer, who
came to explore the country shortly after us, was wandering through the
forest, determined to find me if possible, and accidentally found our
camp. Notwithstanding the unfortunate circumstances of our company, and
our dangerous situation, as surrounded with hostile savages, our meeting
so fortunately in the wilderness made us reciprocally sensible of the
utmost satisfaction. So much does friendship triumph over misfortune,
that sorrows and sufferings vanish at the meeting not only of real
friends, but of the most distant acquaintances, and substitute happiness
in their room.

Soon after this, my companion in captivity, John Stewart, was killed
by the savages, and the man that came with my brother returned home by
himself. We were then in a dangerous, helpless situation, exposed daily
to perils and death among savages and wild beasts--not a white man in
the country but ourselves.

Thus situated, many hundred miles from our families in the howling
wilderness, I believe few would have equally enjoyed the happiness we
experienced. I often observed to my brother, "You see now how little
nature requires to be satisfied. Felicity, the companion of content,
is rather found in our own breasts than in the enjoyment of external
things; and I firmly believe it requires but a little philosophy to
make a man happy in whatsoever state he is. This consists in a full
resignation to the will of Providence; and a resigned soul finds
pleasure in a path strewed with briers and thorns."

We continued not in a state of indolence, but hunted every day, and
prepared a little cottage to defend us from the winter storms. We
remained there undisturbed during the winter, and on the first day of
May, 1770, my brother returned home to the settlement by himself, for
a new recruit of horses and ammunition, leaving me by myself, without
bread, salt, or sugar, without company of my fellow-creatures, or even
a horse or dog. I confess I never before was under greater necessity of
exercising philosophy and fortitude. A few days I passed uncomfortably.
The idea of a beloved wife and family, and their anxiety upon the
account of my absence and exposed situation, made sensible impressions
on my heart. A thousand dreadful apprehensions presented themselves to
my view, and had undoubtedly disposed me to melancholy, if further
indulged.

One day I undertook a tour through the country, and the diversity and
beauties of nature I met with in this charming season, expelled every
gloomy and vexatious thought. Just at the close of day the gentle gales
retired, and left the place to the disposal of a profound calm. Not
a breeze shook the most tremulous leaf. I had gained the summit of a
commanding ridge, and, looking round with astonishing delight, beheld
the ample plains, the beauteous tracts below. On the other hand, I
surveyed the famous river Ohio, that rolled in silent dignity, marking
the western boundary of Kentucky with inconceivable grandeur. At a
vast distance I beheld the mountains lift their venerable brows, and
penetrate the clouds. All things were still. I kindled a fire near a
fountain of sweet water, and feasted on the loin of a buck, which a few
hours before I had killed. The sullen shades of night soon overspread
the whole hemisphere, and the earth seemed to gasp after the hovering
moisture. My roving excursion this day had fatigued my body, and
diverted my imagination. I laid me down to sleep, and I awoke not until
the sun had chased away the night. I continued this tour, and in a few
days explored a considerable part of the country, each day equally
pleased as the first. I returned again to my old camp, which was not
disturbed in my absence. I did not confine my lodging to it, but often
reposed in thick canebrakes, to avoid the savages, who, I believe,
often visited my camp, but, fortunately for me, in my absence. In this
situation I was constantly exposed to danger and death. How unhappy such
a situation for a man tormented with fear, which is vain if no danger
comes, and if it does, only augments the pain! It was my happiness to
be destitute of this afflicting passion, with which I had the greatest
reason to be affected. The prowling wolves diverted my nocturnal hours
with perpetual howlings; and the various species of animals in this vast
forest, in the daytime, were continually in my view.

Thus I was surrounded by plenty in the midst of want. I was happy
in the midst of dangers and inconveniences. In such a diversity, it was
impossible I should be disposed to melancholy. No populous city, with
all the varieties of commerce and stately Structures, could afford so
much pleasure to my mind as the beauties of nature I found here.

Thus, through an uninterrupted scene of sylvan pleasures, I spent the
time until the 27th day of July following, when my brother, to my great
felicity, met me, according to appointment, at our old camp. Shortly
after, we left this place, not thinking it safe to stay there longer,
and proceeded to Cumberland River, reconnoitering that part of the
country until March, 1771, and giving names to the different waters.

Soon after, I returned home to my family, with a determination to bring
them as soon as possible to live in Kentucky, which I esteemed a second
paradise, at the risk of my life and fortune.

I returned safe to my old habitation, and found my family in happy
circumstances. I sold my farm on the Yadkin, and what goods we could not
carry with us; and on the 25th day of September, 1773, bade a farewell
to our friends, and proceeded on our journey to Kentucky, in company
with five families more, and forty men that joined us in Powel's Valley,
which is one hundred and fifty miles from the now settled parts of
Kentucky, This promising beginning was soon overcast with a cloud of
adversity; for, upon the 10th day of October, the rear of our company
was attacked by a number of Indians, who killed six, and wounded one
man. Of these, my eldest son was one that fell in the action. Though
we defended ourselves and repulsed the enemy, yet this unhappy affair
scattered our cattle, brought us into extreme difficulty, and so
discouraged the whole company, that we retreated forty miles, to the
settlement on Clinch River. We had passed over two mountains, viz,
Powel's and Walden's, and were approaching Cumberland mountain when this
adverse fortune overtook us. These mountains are in the wilderness, as
we pass from the old settlements in Virginia to Kentucky, are ranged in
a southwest and northeast direction, are of a great length and breadth,
and not far distant from each other. Over these, nature hath formed
passes that are less difficult than might be expected, from a view of
such huge piles. The aspect of these cliffs is so wild and horrid, that
it is impossible to behold them without terror. The spectator is apt
to imagine that nature has formerly suffered some violent convulsion,
and that these are the dismembered remains of the dreadful shock; the
ruins, not of Persepolis or Palmyra, but of the world!

I remained with my family on Clinch until the 6th of June, 1774, when
I and one Michael Stoner were solicited by Governor Dunmore of Virginia
to go to the falls of the Ohio, to conduct into the settlements a number
of surveyors that had been sent thither by him some months before; this
country having about this time drawn the attention of many adventurers.
We immediately complied with the Governor's request, and conducted in
the surveyors--completing a tour of eight hundred miles, through many
difficulties, in sixty-two days.

Soon after I returned home, I was ordered to take the command of three
garrisons during the campaign which Governor Dunmore carried on against
the Shawanese Indians; after the conclusion of which, the militia was
discharged from each garrison, and I, being relieved from my post, was
solicited by a number of North Carolina gentlemen, that were about
purchasing the lands lying on the south side of Kentucky River, from the
Cherokee Indians, to attend their treaty at Wataga, in March, 1775, to
negotiate with them, and mention the boundaries of the purchase. This
I accepted; and, at the request of the same gentlemen, undertook to
mark out a road in the best passage from the settlement through the
wilderness to Kentucky, with such assistance as I thought necessary
to employ for such an important undertaking.

I soon began this work, having collected a number of enterprising men,
well armed. We proceeded with all possible expedition until we came
within fifteen miles of where Boonesborough now stands, and where we
were fired upon by a party of Indians, that killed two, and wounded two
of our number; yet, although surprised and taken at a disadvantage, we
stood our ground. This was on the 20th of March, 1775. Three days after,
we were fired upon again, and had two men killed, and three wounded.
Afterward we proceeded on to Kentucky River without opposition; and on
the first day of April began to erect the fort of Boonesborough at a
salt lick, about sixty yards from the river, on the south side.

On the fourth day, the Indians killed one of our men. We were busily
employed in building this fort until the fourteenth day of June
following, without any further opposition from the Indians; and having
finished the works, I returned to my family on Clinch.

In a short time I proceeded to remove my family from Clinch to this
garrison, where we arrived safe, without any other difficulties than
such as are common to this passage; my wife and daughter being the first
white women that ever stood on the banks of Kentucky River.

On the 24th day of December following, we had one man killed, and one
wounded by the Indians, who seemed determined to persecute us for
erecting this fortification.

On the fourteenth day of July, 1776, two of Colonel Calaway's daughters,
and one of mine, were taken prisoners near the fort. I immediately
pursued the Indians with only eight men, and on the 16th overtook them,
killed two of the party, and recovered the girls. The same day on which
this attempt was made, the Indians divided themselves into different
parties, and attacked several forts, which were shortly before this time
erected, doing a great deal of mischief. This was extremely distressing
to the new settlers. The innocent husbandman was shot down, while busy
in cultivating the soil for his family's supply. Most of the cattle
around the stations were destroyed. They continued their hostilities
in this manner until the 15th of April, 1777, when they attacked
Boonesborough with a party of above one hundred in number, killed one
man, and wounded four. Their loss in this attack was not certainly known
to us.

On the 4th day of July following, a party of about two hundred Indians
attacked Boonesborough, killed one man and wounded two. They besieged us
forty-eight hours, during which time seven of them were killed, and, at
last, finding themselves not likely to prevail, they raised the siege
and departed.

The Indians had disposed their warriors in different parties at this
time, and attacked the different garrisons, to prevent their assisting
each other, and did much injury to the distressed inhabitants.

On the 19th day of this month, Colonel Logan's fort was besieged by
a party of about two hundred Indians. During this dreadful siege they
did a great deal of mischief, distressed the garrison, in which were
only fifteen men, killed two, and wounded one. The enemy's loss was
uncertain, from the common practice which the Indians have of carrying
off their dead in time of battle. Colonel Harrod's fort was then
defended by only sixty-five men, and Boonesborough by twenty-two, there
being no more forts or white men in the country, except at the Falls,
a considerable distance from these; and all, taken collectively, were
but a handful to the numerous warriors that were everywhere dispersed
through the country, intent upon doing all the mischief that savage
barbarity could invent. Thus we passed through a scene of sufferings
that exceeds description.

On the 25th of this month, a reinforcement of forty-five men arrived
from North Carolina, and about the 20th of August following, Colonel
Bowman arrived with one hundred men from Virginia. Now we began to
strengthen; and hence, for the space of six weeks, we had skirmishes
with Indians, in one quarter or another, almost every day.

The savages now learned the superiority of the Long Knife, as they call
the Virginians, by experience; being out-generalled in almost every
battle. Our affairs began to wear a new aspect, and the enemy, not
daring to venture on open war, practiced secret mischief at times.

On the 1st day of January, 1778, I went with a party of thirty men
to the Blue Licks, on Licking River, to make salt for the different
garrisons in the country.

On the 7th day of February, as I was hunting to procure meat for the
company, I met with a party of one hundred and two Indians, and two
Frenchmen, on their march against Boonesborough, that place being
particularly the object of the enemy. They pursued, and took me; and
brought me on the 8th day to the Licks, where twenty-seven of my party
were, three of them having previously returned home with the salt.
I, knowing it was impossible for them to escape, capitulated with the
enemy, and, at a distance, in their view, gave notice to my men of their
situation, with orders not to resist, but surrender themselves captives.

The generous usage the Indians had promised before in my capitulation,
was afterward fully complied with, and we proceeded with them as
prisoners to Old Chilicothe, the principal Indian Town on Little Miami,
where we arrived, after an uncomfortable journey, in very severe
weather, on the 18th day of February, and received as good treatment as
prisoners could expect from savages. On the 10th day of March following,
I and ten of my men were conducted by forty Indians to Detroit, where we
arrived the 30th day, and were treated by Governor Hamilton, the British
commander at that post, with great humanity.

During our travels, the Indians entertained me well, and their affection
for me was so great, that they utterly refused to leave me there with
the others, although the Governor offered them one hundred pounds
sterling for me, on purpose to give me a parole to go home. Several
English gentlemen there, being sensible of my adverse fortune, and
touched with human sympathy, generously offered a friendly supply for
my wants, which I refused, with many thanks for their kindness--adding,
that I never expected it would be in my power to recompense such
unmerited generosity.

The Indians left my men in captivity with the British at Detroit,
and on the 10th day of April brought me toward Old Chilicothe, where
we arrived on the 25th day of the same month. This was a long and
fatiguing march, through an exceedingly fertile country, remarkable for
fine springs and streams of water. At Chilicothe I spent my time as
comfortably as I could expect; was adopted, according to their custom,
into a family, where I became a son, and had a great share in the
affection of my new parents, brothers, sisters, and friends. I was
exceedingly familiar and friendly with them, always appearing as
cheerful and satisfied as possible, and they put great confidence in me.
I often went a hunting with them, and frequently gained their applause
for my activity at our shooting-matches. I was careful not to exceed
many of them in shooting; for no people are more envious than they in
this sport. I could observe, in their countenances and gestures, the
greatest expressions of joy when they exceeded me; and, when the reverse
happened, of envy. The Shawanese king took great notice of me, and
treated me with profound respect and entire friendship, often entrusting
me to hunt at my liberty. I frequently returned with the spoils of
the woods, and as often presented some of what I had taken to him,
expressive of duty to my sovereign. My food and lodging were in common
with them; not so good, indeed, as I could desire, but necessity makes
every thing acceptable.

I now began to meditate an escape, and carefully avoided their
suspicions, continuing with them at Old Chilicothe until the 1st day
of June following, and then was taken by them to the salt springs on
Scioto, and kept there making salt ten days. During this time I hunted
some for them, and found the land, for a great extent about this river,
to exceed the soil of Kentucky, if possible, and remarkably well
watered.

When I returned to Chilicothe, alarmed to see four hundred and fifty
Indians, of their choicest warriors, painted and armed in a fearful
manner, ready to march against Boonesborough, I determined to escape
the first opportunity.

On the 16th, before sunrise, I departed in the most secret manner, and
arrived at Boonesborough on the 20th, after a journey of one hundred and
sixty miles, during which I had but one meal.

I found our fortress in a bad state of defense; but we proceeded
immediately to repair our flanks, strengthen our gates and posterns, and
form double bastions, which we completed in ten days. In this time we
daily expected the arrival of the Indian army; and at length, one of my
fellow-prisoners, escaping from them, arrived, informing us that the
enemy had, on account of my departure, postponed their expedition three
weeks. The Indians had spies out viewing our movements, and were greatly
alarmed with our increase in number and fortifications. The grand
council of the nations were held frequently, and with more deliberation
than usual. They evidently saw the approaching hour when the Long Knife
would dispossess them of their desirable habitations; and, anxiously
concerned for futurity, determined utterly to extirpate the whites out
of Kentucky. We were not intimidated by their movements, but frequently
gave them proofs of our courage.

About the first of August, I made an incursion into the Indian
Country with a party of nineteen men, in order to surprise a small
town up Scioto, called Paint Creek Town. We advanced within four miles
thereof, when we met a party of thirty Indians on their march against
Boonesborough, intending to join the others from Chilicothe. A smart
fight ensued between us for some time; at length the savages gave way
and fled. We had no loss on our side; the enemy had one killed, and two
wounded. We took from them three horses, and all their baggage; and
being informed by two of our number that went to their town, that the
Indians had entirely evacuated it, we proceeded no further, and returned
with all possible expedition to assist our garrison against the other
party. We passed by them on the sixth day, and on the seventh we arrived
safe at Boonesborough.

On the 8th, the Indian army arrived, being four hundred and forty-four
in number, commanded by Captain Duquesne, eleven other Frenchmen, and
some of their own chiefs, and marched up within view of our fort, with
British and French colors flying; and having sent a summons to me, in
his Britannic Majesty's name, to surrender the fort, I requested two
days consideration, which was granted.

It was now a critical period with us. We were a small number in the
garrison--a powerful army before our walls, whose appearance proclaimed
inevitable death, fearfully painted, and marking their footsteps with
desolation. Death was preferable to captivity; and if taken by storm,
we must inevitably be devoted to destruction. In this situation we
concluded to maintain our garrison, if possible. We immediately
proceeded to collect what we could of our horses and other cattle, and
bring them through the posterns into the fort; and in the evening of
the 9th, I returned answer that we were determined to defend our fort
while a man was living. "Now," said I to their commander, who stood
attentively hearing my sentiments, "we laugh at your formidable
preparations; but thank you for giving us notice and time to provide for
our defense. Your efforts will not prevail; for our gates shall forever
deny you admittance." Whether this answer affected their courage or not
I cannot tell; but contrary to our expectations, they formed a scheme to
deceive us, declaring it was their orders, from Governor Hamilton, to
take us captives, and not to destroy us; but if nine of us would come
out and treat with them, they would immediately withdraw their forces
from our walls, and return home peaceably. This sounded grateful in our
ears; and we agreed to the proposal.

We held the treaty within sixty yards of the garrison, on purpose to
divert them from a breach of honor, as we could not avoid suspicions of
the savages. In this situation the articles were formally agreed to,
and signed; and the Indians told us it was customary with them on such
occasions for two Indians to shake hands with every white man in the
treaty, as an evidence of entire friendship. We agreed to this also,
but were soon convinced their policy was to take us prisoners. They
immediately grappled us; but, although surrounded by hundreds of
savages, we extricated ourselves from them, and escaped all safe into
the garrison, except one that was wounded, through a heavy fire from
their army. They immediately attacked us on every side, and a constant
heavy fire ensued between us, day and night, for the space of nine days.

In this time the enemy began to undermine our fort, which was situated
sixty yards from Kentucky River. They began at the water-mark, and
proceeded in the bank some distance, which we understood by their
aking the water muddy with the clay; and we immediately proceeded to
disappoint their design, by cutting a trench across their subterranean
passage. The enemy, discovering our countermine by the clay we threw out
of the fort, desisted from that stratagem; and experience now fully
convincing them that neither their power nor policy could effect their
purpose, on the 20th day of August they raised the siege and departed.

During this siege, which threatened death in every form, we had two men
killed, and four wounded, besides a number of cattle. We killed of the
enemy thirty-seven, and wounded a great number. After they were gone, we
picked up one hundred and twenty-five pounds weight of bullets, besides
what stuck in the logs of our fort, which certainly is a great proof of
their industry. Soon after this, I went into the settlement, and nothing
worthy of a place in this account passed in my affairs for some time.

During my absence from Kentucky, Colonel Bowman carried on an expedition
against the Shawanese, at Old Chilicothe, with one hundred and sixty
men, in July, 1779. Here they arrived undiscovered, and a battle ensued,
which lasted until ten o'clock, A.M., when Colonel Bowman, finding he
could not succeed at this time, retreated about thirty miles. The
Indians, in the meantime, collecting all their forces, pursued and
overtook him, when a smart fight continued near two hours, not to the
advantage of Colonel Bowman's party.

Colonel Harrod proposed to mount a number of horse, and furiously to
rush upon the savages, who at this time fought with remarkable fury.
This desperate step had a happy effect, broke their line of battle, and
the savages fled on all sides. In these two battles we had nine killed,
and one wounded. The enemy's loss uncertain, only two scalps being
taken.

On the 22d day of June, 1780, a large party of Indians and Canadians,
about six hundred in number, commanded by Colonel Bird, attacked
Riddle's and Martin's stations, at the forks of Licking River, with
six pieces of artillery. They carried this expedition so secretly, that
the unwary inhabitants did not discover them until they fired upon the
forts; and, not being prepared to oppose them, were obliged to surrender
themselves miserable captives to barbarous savages, who immediately
after tomahawked one man and two women, and loaded all the others with
heavy baggage, forcing them along toward their towns, able or unable
to march. Such as were weak and faint by the way, they tomahawked.
The tender women and helpless children fell victims to their cruelty.
This, and the savage treatment they received afterward, is shocking to
humanity and too barbarous to relate.

The hostile disposition of the savages and their allies caused General