While here they were visited by a large deputation from the council at Miami Rapids, who desired an explicit answer to the inquiry whether they were authorized to run and establish a new boundary? Which they answered in the affirmative, at the same time reminding the Indians that in almost all disputes there were wrongs on both sides, and that, at the approaching council, both parties must expect to make some concessions.

This reply was well received and sanguine hopes were entertained of a favorable termination of their mission.

The Indians returned again to their council at Miami, and the commissioners supposing they would now be prepared to receive them, proceeded on their voyage westward. Arriving at the mouth of Detroit river they were obliged to land, being forbidden by the British authorities to proceed any farther toward the place of meeting.

They were met here by another Indian deputation, bringing a paper with a written statement of their determination, to make the Ohio the boundary line between the Indian country and the United States, and requiring the latter, if sincere in their desires for peace, to remove their settlements to the south side of that river. To this the commissioners were desired to give an explicit written answer.

They replied, referring to the understanding from their conference at Niagara, that some concessions were to be made on both sides, and giving a brief history of the treaties by which a title had been acquired to land north of the Ohio, on the faith of which, settlements had been formed which could not be removed; hence they answered explicitly.—"The Ohio river cannot be designated as the boundary line."

They expressed the hope that negotiations might proceed on the basis of these treaties, closing with some concessions, and liberal offers for some lands still held by the Indians.

The debate at this council, it is said, ran high. Thayendanegea, and others of the Six Nations were strenuous in their advocacy of peace. The offer of the commissioners to establish a boundary line that would include the settlements already made north of the Ohio, they regarded as reasonable, and that farther concessions ought not to be required. Quite a number of tribes were influenced to adopt this view, which at one time it was thought would prevail. But there were certain ruling spirits present determined to make no concession, and the council broke up without allowing the commissioners, or any other white person, not in sympathy with Britain, to be present.

Previous to the holding of this council, the army had been re-organized under the command of General Anthony Wayne, an officer of untiring energy and vigilance; a larger number of soldiers had been called into the field, and as they were placed under a severe discipline, to inure them to the dangers and hardships of the campaign, it was undertaken with flattering prospects of success.

Pittsburgh had been made the place of rendezvous; but fearing the influence of an encampment near a town, and wishing to inspire in his soldiers a feeling of self reliance, General Wayne, on the 27th of November, 1792, marched his army to a point twenty-two miles distant on the Ohio, which he called Legionville, fortifying it and taking up his quarters there for the winter.

On the 30th of April, 1793, as spring had opened, he broke up his garrison at Legionville, and led his army down the river, to Fort Washington, its site being that of the present beautiful and flourishing city of Cincinnati.

Here he remained while the negotiations were going on with the Indians at the West. As soon as they were ended and the result known, he took a more advanced position, marching in October in the direction pursued by, General St. Clair, to a point on the south-west branch of the Miami, six miles beyond Fort Jefferson, and eighty from Fort Washington, which he fortified and called Greenville.

On the 23d of December, a detachment of the army commanded by Major Burbeck took possession of the ground where the army of General St. Clair, two years before on the 4th of the preceding November, had sustained a terrible defeat. Here they gathered up sadly and sacredly the bones that marked this as a place of human slaughter, put in order the field-pieces that were still upon the ground, served them with a round of three times three, over the remains of their fallen comrades, and erected a fortress, appropriately naming it Fort Recovery.

The army at different points had skirmishes with the enemy that were not serious, but they served to create confidence and inspire courage in the minds of the soldiers.

It was not until the 20th of August, 1794, that General Wayne had a regular engagement with the Indians. Yet like a true gladiator he had been preparing for the struggle, and his wariness, which had gained for him the title of "Black Snake" may be gathered from the speech of Little Turtle, chief of the Miamis, and one of the most active and brave warriors of his time. He counselled his countrymen to think favorably of the proposals of peace offered by General Wayne before giving them battle; saying,—"We have beaten the enemy twice under separate commanders. We cannot expect the same good fortune always to attend us. The Americans are now led by a chief who never sleeps. The night and the day are alike to him; and during all the time he has been marching on our villages, notwithstanding the watchfulness of our young men, we have never been able to surprise him. There is something that whispers to me,—it would be prudent to listen to his offers of peace."

But this counsel was rejected by the Indians, who determined to give battle to the Americans the next day. They fought in the vicinity of a British fort, which Governor Simcoe of Canada had caused to be erected at the foot of the rapids of the Miami emptying into the lakes, far within the acknowledged territory of the United States.

The ground occupied by the Indians was well chosen, being a thick wood, where were old fallen trees that marked the track of some ancient hurricane, where the use of cavalry would be impracticable, a place suited to afford them shelter and well adapted to their peculiar mode of warfare. But the order of General Wayne to advance with trailed arms, and rouse the Indians from their covert at the point of the bayonet, and when up deliver a close and well directed fire on their backs, followed by a brisk charge, so as not to give them time to load again; was executed so promptly, and with so much effect that the Indians were driven in one hour more than two miles, and soon dispersed in terror and dismay, leaving the ground in full and quiet possession of the victorious army.

This battle, which terminated within reach of the British guns, decided the fate of the campaign. The Indians after this were dispirited and unable to make a general rally. The distrust awakened by the coolness of their supposed friends, the gates of whose fort remained unopened while they were fleeing thither for a covert, served not less than the victory to dishearten them, and incline their thoughts toward peace.

The few days spent by the army on the battle ground after its victory, were occupied in destroying the property of the Indians in that vicinity, including also the extensive possessions of Colonel McKee, an officer of the British Indian Department, whose influence had been exerted in promoting these hostilities, whose effects were now being experienced. The fort itself was poised in the General's mind, as was also the torch of the gunner, who was only restrained by his commanding officer from firing upon Wayne, who, as he thought came too near, in making his observations on one of His Majesty's forts. Prudence prevailed. The fighting was confined to a war of words in a spirited correspondence between General Wayne, and the officer in command of the fort.

General Wayne after laying waste their principal towns in this region, continued in the Indian country during the following year, bringing his campaign to a close by a treaty with the North-western tribes, which was entirely agreeable to the wishes of the United States.



CHAPTER X.

Canandaigua at an early day—Facts in the early settlement of Bloomfield— Indian Council—Its object—Indian parade—Indian dress—Opening of Council—Speeches—Liberal offers of the government—Mr. Savary's Journal —Treaty concluded—Account of Red Jacket by Thomas Morris.

Canandaigua at an early day was the objective point for all who were seeking what was called the Genesee country. It was at the head of navigation. Parties coming from the east could transport their goods by water from Long Island Sound to Canandaigua, with the exception of one or two carrying places, where they were taken by land.

We can hardly realize that at that time there was here a widely extended forest, in all its loneliness and grandeur. Its first trees were cut down in the fall of 1788, soon after Mr. Phelps had concluded his treaty of purchase with the Indians. By means of them a log store-house was constructed, near the outlet of the lake. The family of a Mr. Joseph Smith took possession of it in the spring of 1789. Judge J. H. Jones, who in the fall of 1788, was one of a party to open a road between Geneva and Canandaigua, witnessed, on revisiting the latter place in 1789, a great change.

"When we left," he says, "in the fall of '88, there was not a solitary person there;—when I returned fourteen months afterwards, the place was full of people; residents, surveyors, explorers, adventurers; houses were going up; it was a thriving, busy place." During the following year quite a nucleus for a town had gathered here. In 1794, Mrs. Sanborne, an enterprising landlady, whose eye kindled with the recollection of those days, served up in a tea saucer the first currants produced in the Genesee country. [Footnote: Conversation of the author with Mrs. Sanborne.] Canandaigua at that time and for many years after was head-quarters for all who were making their way into what at that time was called the Indian country, and from the respectability and enterprise of its early inhabitants, it became attractive as a place of residence.

But though considerable improvements had been made here, the entire region was new, romantic and wild. Such was its condition at the time of the great Indian council that convened here in the autumn of 1794. Indians and deer, and wolves, and bear were very abundant and were mingled with the early associations of those who contributed to make this an abode of elevation and refinement. The cow-boy, often startled while on his way by the appearance of a bear, went timidly forth on his evening errand, inspired with courage by the thought that he might, for his protection, shoulder a gun. Bear incidents, narrow escapes from fighting with bears, and bear stories of every description, entered largely into the staple of their conversation, and many an evening's hour was thus beguiled away, around the huge and brightly blazing fire of the early pioneer.

"Did you hear," said a Mrs. Chapman to a Mrs. Parks, how neighbor Codding came near being killed yesterday?

"Mercy! no. How did it happen?

"Mr. Codding was in the woods splitting rails, and just as he was turning around to take up his axe to cut a sliver, don't you believe he saw a great bear sitting up on his hind legs, and holding out both fore paws ready to grab him."

"Mercy on us! What did he do?

"What did he do? He took up his axe, and instead of cutting the sliver, cut into the old bear's head. But the axe glanced and only cut into the flesh, without killing the bear, and he ran away with the axe sticking fast in the wound.

"Awful! Awful! How thick the bears are getting to be! Husband says they have killed off most all of our hogs.

"Your hogs! Just think once, there was a great bear came the other night and got hold of a hog in Asahel Sprague's hog-pen, and would have killed him, if Mr. Sprague hadn't shot the old fellow.

"Yes, and last summer when Mr. Sperry was gone off to training, there was a bear came in the day time and tackled one of their hogs right in their own door yard; but Mrs. Sperry and the children screamed so awfully, and gave him such a tremendous clubbing, he was glad to put off into the woods again.

"Ha! Ha! She was about up to Jim Parker, who broke a bear's back with a hand-spike in driving him out of his corn field, just as he was climbing over the fence." [Footnote: Facts which transpired in the early history of Bloomfield. See Turner's History.]

Wolves were equally if not more numerous, destroying in some instances entire flocks of sheep, so that there was not a farmer in the region who did not suffer more or less from their depredations.

It was something of an off-set to these annoyances that deer were very abundant, and furnished the inhabitants with an ample supply of their delicious meat. The Indians while assembled here during the council, often killed more than a hundred of them in a single day.

The object of convening this council was to settle difficulties of long standing, and quiet the minds of the Iroquois, who were much disturbed by the warlike spirit prevailing at this time among the Indians at the West. The influences from this source were of such a nature as to render many among these friendly tribes exceedingly bold. In some instances on entering the houses of settlers they would manifest a very haughty temper, and rudely demand a supply of their wants as though they were still proprietors and lords of the soil, and the settlers only their servants or tenants.

The settlers themselves began to feel unpleasantly about their position. During the spring of this same year while Thomas Morris was painting his house, erected the previous summer, and making other improvements around it, indicating his design of having a permanent and inviting home, it so happened that a company of settlers in passing by, paused to view with astonishment what was going on. From a feeling of insecurity they had just abandoned their new locations in this region, and had come thus far on their way, having resolved to return to the more safe and quiet homes they had left at the east. But beholding the enterprise of Mr. Morris, and the business and thrift that prevailed here on every side, they inferred that their situation could not be so very precarious, and wisely concluded to return and carry forward the improvements commenced by themselves.

The Indian council, held during the months of October and November, had been appointed before the victory of General Wayne, noticed in the preceding chapter, had transpired. This had much to do in giving a favorable turn to the proceedings, and of securing those pacific relations with the Iroquois, that were then established. Before this these tribes and the Indians generally were stimulated with the idea that they might form and maintain in the North-west an independent nationality, that would reflect once more the pride and glory of the ancient dominion of the Iroquois. But when the news of this signal victory was circulated among them, their spirits were humbled and broken. They seemed to relinquish this dream of greatness, and gave themselves up to the stern demands of an evident necessity. This sad intelligence, however, did not reach them until the council had been for several days in progress. Its first opening was darkened by no cloud of evil. There was nothing to hinder the exercise of that proud bearing with which their past greatness, and a hopeful future inspired them.

They began to assemble by the arrival of the Oneidas on the eleventh of October. The Onondagas, Cayugas, and a part of the Senecas, led by Farmer's Brother, came in on the fourteenth. Cornplanter at the head of the Allegany clan of Senecas arrived on the sixteenth, and Red Jacket with his, on the eighteenth.

On assembling, a degree of dignity and decorum was manifested, which served to indicate their ideas of the forms and proprieties due to the occasion. Before reaching the council fire the chiefs and warriors halted, carefully decorated themselves after their manner, and then marched to meet those appointed to confer with them on the part of the government, and after passing around and encircling them, with the train, the leader stepped forth, formally announced their arrival in obedience to the summons they had received, at the same time delivering the belt brought by the messenger sent to call them together.

The next tribe that came, halted and prepared themselves as the others, were received by the tribe or tribes already on the ground, who also arrayed themselves in their uniform, and having received their welcome, salutes being fired and returned, they marched all together and formed in a circle around the commissioners, when the same ceremony was observed, as before, of delivering the belt. They proceeded thus until all the Indians had assembled to the number of about sixteen hundred.

It was an occasion for the display of Indian pageantry, and though it may have been more rude than among nations calling themselves civilized, it was the same in its essential elements, and this council was ushered in with as true a military spirit as though banners had been flying, bayonets gleaming, and soldiers marching to the liveliest, or most heart-stirring sounds of music.

The uniform of the Indian was not as the dress of the European, ornamented, epauletted, tinselled; it was a more simple, less expensive, but not a less time honored mode of adorning his person. Though his military coat was of paint of different colors with which he was striped in a distinguishing manner, he regarded it no doubt as gorgeous and gay. Instead of the gracefully waving plume he was bedecked with the feathers of the kingly eagle; beads and shells served in the place of military buttons; and his trophies in the chase, and in war, he regarded as forming a prouder sash than the richest scarf of scarlet or of blue.

Canandaigua, in years gone by, has often witnessed scenes of proud military display. But never will there be witnessed so grotesque, and in many respects so imposing a parade as appeared on this occasion. The neighboring forest swarmed with life, and resounded with the wild yell and deafening war-whoop of the Indian. It was his gala day, and highly fitting that before surrendering these grounds forever to the dominion and usages of another race, he should come forth once more from his native wilds, and depart in the fullness of his strength, as the sun passing from under a cloud, sheds his full glory over the earth before sinking beneath the western horizon. This was his last day of pride on ground hallowed in the memories of the past.

The occasion called forth an unusual attendance. It was known that Colonel Pickering who had been appointed to hold this treaty, would come prepared to give them a grand feast, and distribute among them a large amount of money and of clothing. Hence they all came. "For weeks before the treaty, they were arriving in squads from all their villages, and constructing their camps in the woods, upon the lake shore, and around the court-house square. The little village of whites was invested, overrun with the wild natives. It seemed as if they had deserted all their villages, and transferred even their old men, women and children to the feast, the carousal, and the place of gifts. The night scenes were wild and picturesque; their camp fires lighting up the forest, and their whoops and yells creating a sensation of novelty not unmingled with fear, with the far inferior in numbers who composed the citizens of the pioneer village and the sojourners of their own race." [Footnote: History of the Phelps and Gorham Purchase.]

The council was formally opened on the eighteenth of October, by a speech of condolence on the part of the Oneidas and Onondagas, to the Senecas, Cayugas, Tuscaroras and Delawares, some of whom were present, on account of the death of a number of their chiefs since the last meeting.—It was with a view to "wipe away their tears,—brighten their faces, and clear their throats,"—that they might speak freely at the council fire.

Red Jacket in reply made a very sympathetic, and as it was regarded at the time, beautiful address, presenting belts and strings of wampum to "unite each to the other as the heart of one man."

Next was given a speech of congratulation by Colonel Pickering, who appointed a council of condolence on the following Monday for the Delawares, who were mourning for a young brother killed by a white man.

The ceremony of burying the dead,—covering the grave with leaves to obscure it from sight,—of burying the hatchet taken from the head of the victim, thus representing his death by violence,—of covering it with stones and pulling up and planting over it a pine tree, so that in after years it should never be disturbed; of wiping the blood from the head of the victim, and tears from the eyes of the mourners,—these things represented by speech and action having been performed, the council was opened in earnest on the day following.

In reply to Colonel Pickering's remarks of the preceding day respecting peace, and upon keeping the chain of friendship bright, Fish Carrier, an aged and influential chief, in a speech of some length recounted the history of the whites and of their intercourse with the red men from their first settlement in this country. He referred to the manner in which they had been received, to the friendship, that had existed before the controversy of the United States with Great Britain, and to the negotiations that had taken place since that time, the grievances they had suffered, dwelling particularly upon the dissatisfaction still existing among them about the treaty at Fort Stanwix in 1784. "The commissioners were too grasping, they demanded of us too much." But as they had taken hold of the chain of friendship with the fifteen fires they were disposed to hold fast; but he thought it needed brightening up a little.

Colonel Pickering in reply to them said they ought not to think very hard of them about that treaty, for they had just come out of a long and bloody war, and as they had been victorious the Six Nations ought not to blame them for feeling a little proud; and they ought not to be surprised, in view of what had taken place during the war, if the commissioners were somewhat severe.

A deputation from the Quakers was present at this council, and their address being read and interpreted, was received by the Indians with much satisfaction.

At the opening of the council the next day, a request was presented by some of the Indian women, who desired that their views might be heard; and permission being granted, Red Jacket spake in their behalf.

He represented that the women had taken a deep interest in everything pertaining to the wellfare of their nation; and he requested the sachems and warriors, as well as the commissioner, to give an attentive consideration to the views of those he had been chosen to represent. They had attended upon the council, had listened to all that had been said, and they desired it to be understood that their views were in accordance with those of their sachems and chiefs. They felt that the white people had caused them a great deal of suffering. The white people had pressed and squeezed them together until their hearts were greatly pained, and they thought the white people ought to give back all their lands. A white woman had told the Indians to repent; [Footnote: Referring to Jemima Wilkinson.] they wished in turn to call upon the white people to repent; they needed to repent as much as the Indians; and they hoped the white people would repent and not wrong the Indians any more.

The commissioner thanked them for their speech, saying he had a high respect for the women, and would be happy to hear from them whenever they had anything to say.

After several days had passed without coming to anything decisive in regard to the main object of the council; Colonel Pickering called their attention to the fact of their grievances, saying they had been together sometime and talked them over and had found but two rusty places in the chain of friendship, one of which they had already brightened. But the other spot they thought was too deep to be cleared up. It related to their lands. He then showed them maps which clearly pointed out the limits agreed upon in their treaties, and by a distinct statement of the negotiations and treaties that had been made at different times with them, and afterward confirmed, proving that the claims of the United States were just, he declared himself ready to stipulate concerning their grievances, that they should still have the privilege of hunting upon the lands they had ceded, and that their settlements thereon should remain undisturbed. He further assured them that the United States would increase their annuity from fifteen hundred to four thousand five hundred dollars, to say nothing about the presents he had brought them amounting to ten thousand dollars. These he would distribute in case of a favorable termination of their council. He hoped in view of these liberal offers they would dismiss their complaints, bury the hatchet deep and take hold of the chain of friendship so firmly as never again to have it torn from their grasp.

The Indians appeared to be pleased with these offers, and promising to regard them favorably, spent several days in deliberating among themselves, inviting to their councils the Quakers, a deputation of whom, as we remarked were present. William Savary, one of their number made the following interesting note of his observations at the time.—

"Oct. 30. After dinner John Parrish and myself rode to view the Farmer's Brother's encampment which contained about five hundred Indians. They are located by the side of a brook in the woods: having built about seventy or eighty huts, by far the most commodious and ingeniously made of any I have seen. The principal materials are bark, and boughs of trees, so nicely put together as to keep the family dry and warm. The women as well as the men appeared to be mostly employed. In this camp there are a large number of pretty children, who in all the activity and buoyancy of health, were diverting themselves according to their fancy. The vast number of deer they have killed, since coming here, which they cut up and hang round their huts inside and out to dry, together with the rations of beef, which they draw daily, give the appearance of plenty to supply the few wants to which they are subjected. The ease and cheerfulness of every countenance, and the delightfulness of the afternoon, which the inhabitants of the woods seemed to enjoy with a relish far superior to those who are pent up in crowded and populous cities, all combined to make this the most pleasant visit I have yet made to the Indians; and induced me to believe that before they became acquainted with the white people, and were infected with their vices, they must have been as happy a people as any in the world. In returning to our quarters we passed by the Indian council, where Red Jacket was displaying his oratory to his brother chiefs on the subject of Colonel Pickering's proposals."

Mr. Savary again observes:—"Red Jacket visited us with his wife and five children, whom he had brought to see us. They were exceedingly well clad, in their manner, and the best behaved and prettiest Indian children I have ever met with." [Footnote: As quoted by Col. Stone.]

Various councils and deliberations with the Indians, resulted finally in the conclusion of a treaty, which was quite satisfactory to all the parties.—By this treaty peace was again declared to be firmly established, the different tribes were confirmed in their reservations, and lands that had not been sold, the boundaries of which were accurately described, and the United States engaged never to claim these lands, or disturb the Six Nations in the free use and enjoyment of them. The Six Nations pledged themselves also not to claim any other lands within the boundaries of the United States, nor disturb the people of the United States in the free use and enjoyment thereof. It was stipulated also that the United States should have the right of way for a public road from Fort Schlosser to Lake Erie, have a free passage through their lands, and the free use of harbors and rivers adjoining and within their respective tracts of land, for the passing and securing of vessels and boats, and liberty to land their cargoes, where necessary for their safety.

In consideration of these engagements the United States were to deliver the presents, and pay the annuity as already intimated in the promise of Colonel Pickering.—The money thus pledged was to be expended yearly forever in purchasing clothing, domestic animals, implements of husbandry, and other utensils suited to their circumstances, and for compensating useful artificers who might be employed for their benefit.

It was further agreed that for injuries done by individuals on either side, private revenge should not take place, but that complaint be made by the injured party to the nation to which the offender belonged, and that such measures were then to be pursued as should be necessary for the preservation of peace and friendship. [Footnote: Indian Treaties. Favored with a copy by O. Parrish. Esq., of Canandaigua, N. Y.]

The conclusion of this treaty was regarded as a great point gained. Previous to this time, such of the Iroquois as remained in their ancient seats, were but partially reconciled to the United States, and were oscilating in their friendship. But henceforth they were uniformly steadfast in the allegiance they had promised.

The holding of this council was further useful in withdrawing the attention of this large body of Indians with their warriors, who had been earnestly solicited to join their hostile brethren at the West.

During the progress of the council there were several speeches made, but as they are not of special interest or importance they have not been given. Colonel Stone mentions an evening when quite a number of the chiefs dined with Colonel Pickering. He says,—"Much good humor prevailed on this occasion. The Indians laid aside their stoicism, indulged in many repartees, and manifested the keenest relish for wit and humor. Red Jacket, in particular, was conspicuous for the readiness and brilliance of his sallies." [Footnote: Col. Stone's Life and Times of Red Jacket.]

Not far from this time, and with reference it is believed to this treaty, Thomas Morris says,—"Red Jacket was, I suppose, at that time about thirty or thirty-five years of age, of middle height, well formed, with an intelligent countenance, and a fine eye; and was in all respects a fine looking man. He was the most graceful public speaker I have ever known; his manner was most dignified and easy. He was fluent, and at times witty and sarcastic. He was quick and ready at reply. He pitted himself against Colonel Pickering, whom he sometimes foiled in argument. The colonel would sometimes become irritated and lose his temper; then Red Jacket would be delighted and show his dexterity in taking advantage of any unguarded assertion of the colonel's. He felt a conscious pride in the conviction that nature had done more for him, than for his antagonist."

"A year or two after this treaty, when Colonel Pickering from post master general, became secretary of war, I informed Red Jacket of his promotion. —'Ah!' said he,—'We began our public career about the same time; he knew how to read and write; I did not, and he has got ahead of me.—If I had known how to read and write I should have got ahead of him.'"



CHAPTER XI.

Valley of the Genesee—Indian misgivings—Mill yard—Effort to obtain their land—Council at Big Tree—Coming of the Wadsworths—Indian villages —Refusal to sell—Discussion between Red Jacket and Thomas Morris— Breaking up of the Council.

The valley of the Genesee was a favorite resort of the Indian. His trail led along its banks and brought him at short intervals to Indian villages, or the head-quarters of Indian chiefs. Its flats were broad and beautiful, and were bordered on either side by hills that rose gradually to their summit, where they stretched out into extensive table lands. These hills, as we ascend the valley gradually become higher and higher, until we are brought into the vicinity of mountain elevations, where the scenery becomes very romantic, and the country much broken. The valley itself is almost of uniform width from its commencement, a few miles south of the city of Rochester, to the pleasant and thriving village of Mount Morris. Here these flats which are quite extensive and exceedingly rich and beautiful, appear to leave the river and follow its tributary, the Canaseraga, to a point about sixteen miles above; diminishing somewhat in width as they ascend, until they come near the present village of Dansville, where the hills again recede and forming a large basin, enclose it on the south, presenting the appearance of a magnificent amphitheater.

The Canaseraga is here joined by two streams, Stony Brook and Mill Creek, which flow down from the highlands beyond, over precipices, and through gorges deep and wild, where rugged cliffs defying all attempts at culture, rise abruptly at times, from one to three hundred feet on either side. The Indian's trail conducted him to these wilds, which still remain the most unchanged of all his ancient haunts. Here are solitudes seldom visited by man, where are treasured sublimities that enchain the mind, and inspire a feeling of devotion in the heart of the beholder. Here the Indian, undisturbed by other sights or sounds, may yet listen to the voice of the waterfall as it sounded in the ear of his fathers, or to the gentle murmur of the stream discoursing now, as it did to them, in passing hurriedly over its rocky bed. [Footnote: Who would ever suspect that a railroad would stride across any of these deep chasms? How presumptuous.]

Beyond this point the Canaseraga itself, as it flows from its source among the hills bordering on Pennsylvania, passes often through deep ravines, narrow defiles, and overhanging cliffs. The same is true also of the Genesee river above Mount Morris. Its course is marked by scenery rarely surpassed in sublimity and grandeur. [Footnote: The High Banks, as they are called, near Mt. Morris, and a similar formation, together with the falls, near Portage, have attracted the attention, and are often visited by the tourist.—J. N. H.]

The Indian as he followed his trail leading up along its banks, paused often to listen to the thunder of its waterfalls, or to watch its course while threading its way at the bottom of ravines, hundreds of feet beneath the jutting point where he was standing. The territory marked by this river was unsurpassed in the magnificence and beauty of its scenery, and in the variety and richness of its soil; and the Indian who lived for the most part in the open world, found here a home congenial to his spirit, and he loved it. The white man saw and loved it too. But he loved it not as the Indian, who looked upon it as already complete. The hills brought him venison, the valleys corn, and the streams on every side abounded in fish, the beautiful speckled trout, which fairly swarmed in all of these waters. What could he want more? He loved it as it was; just as it came from the forming hand of the Great Spirit.

The white man loved it for what he saw he could make of it; but how little he thought his making, would mar the desirableness and beauty of the Indian's home. He had already obtained of the Indian a title to all his land lying on the east side of this river. He had even been allowed to cross over to the west side, and look upon that generous Mill Yard, twelve miles square, as his own. A very extensive gift it is true, but as it was proposed to erect at the Genesee falls a saw mill, which was claimed to be a vastly benevolent institution, and would be useful to the Indians as well as whites, inasmuch as it would save the immense labor of splitting and hewing logs for plank, as they were going to make the water of the river split the logs and hew them at the same time; it was claimed that this surrender on the part of the Indians, would be but a just offset against the self-denial, great expense, and severe labor of the whites, in establishing so benign an institution as a saw mill, in these western wilds. This is one among many instances of the benevolence of the white man toward the Indian.

If the Genesee country was prized by the Indian, it was regarded with a wishful eye by the white man. And as he had obtained what was on the east side of the Genesee river, he was not content without a larger portion on the west. Already the tide of emigration had brought him to the utmost limit of his possessions, and he could hardly refrain from looking, with a wishful eye, upon the fertile fields lying beyond.

The Indian on the other hand, began to feel uneasy about having sold so much of his land. He regretted very much the permission he had given the white man to own one foot of ground, on the west side of the Genesee river. Natural boundaries with him weighed more than with the white man; and had the white man's possessions been confined strictly to the east side of the river, he would have felt better satisfied though it had cost him a larger area of ground. The white man's mode of running lines and of measuring land, he did not comprehend or appreciate. But when the line was made by a creek, river, or mountain, he understood it, and it harmonized better with his views of fitness, in dividing up the surface of this great earth. He was utterly unschooled in the art of computing by acres and roods. But the water's edge he had traversed with his light canoe, and with every point and islet on the lakes he was familiar. He had followed the rivers to where they came bubbling up from their rocky bed amid mountain elevations, and there was not a tributary stream or run, by whose side he had not rested, or by whose music he had not been charmed, keeping pace with it, as it went innocently busying and babbling along on its downward way. With any or all of these landmarks he was familiar, and when fixed upon as boundaries, he could readily recur to, and religiously keep them; for they had been made by the Great Spirit, and it was his life- study to know them.

Not satisfied with the large purchase already made, the white man contemplated still greater acquisitions of Indian land. Little did the red man suspect, while roaming unmolested over his native hills, that in civilized circles, the advantages and disadvantages of his cherished home were canvassed, and made the subject of negotiation and purchase. And it awakened his deepest surprise when assured, that without his knowledge or consent, his land had been sold. He was not aware that his ignorance of the value of his country, for the purposes of civilization, was made a subject of barter among his superiors in knowledge, and that men of enterprize were willing to pay for the privilege of making a bargain with him for his lands.

This right, as we have seen, was claimed by the government; Massachusetts holding the right of buying the Indian lands in Western New York. This right, under sanction of which the Phelps and Gorham purchase was made, was in part sold, as related in a preceding chapter. The pre-emptive right to the remainder was bought by Robert Morris in the spring of 1791. He re- sold soon after, to a company of gentlemen in Holland; pledging himself to survey the entire tract, and extinguish the Indian title. Thirty-five thousand pounds sterling of the purchase money were retained, as a guaranty of his fulfilling these engagements.

It became an object therefore for Mr. Morris to obtain, at as early a period as practicable, a conference with the Indians, and their consent to sell this land. Owing to their extreme reluctance to part with any more land, he had not been able to persuade them to appoint a council for this purpose, and committed the further prosecution of this to his son Thomas. Hence the occasion given to notice the presence of Thomas Morris at the Indian councils, particularly that at Tioga Point. For several years he had been cultivating an acquaintance with the Indians, residing in their midst, attending their councils, and making himself generally agreeable; and by means of his own personal influence with the chiefs, and unwearied exertions he gained their permission to hold a council, which assembled at Big Tree, the present site of Genesee, in August, 1797.

This had already become the residence of the white man. James and William Wadsworth, from Durham, Conn., had emigrated hither as early as the year 1790. Under their auspices a new settlement had been commenced. On rising ground which commanded a fine view of the flats, stood their large block house. The same site has still its attractions, for what at a later day, was the old Wadsworth mansion.

The coming of the Wadsworths into this region, which was still in possession of the Indians, and their prominence in its subsequent history, would seem to justify a more extended notice.

In the spring of 1790, James Wadsworth, then a young man of twenty-two, was debating with himself the question of his future calling in life. He had graduated at Yale College in the fall of '87:—had spent the winter of '87 and '88, at Montreal, Canada, teaching school. He had no thought of teaching as his life-work, and what would he do next? was his earnest inquiry. Some one suggested that he should study medicine; but this did not suit him. As he had received a liberal education, it was further intimated that he should lead a professional life and become a lawyer, or a minister.

After duly considering the matter, choosing for this purpose the retirement of a neighboring wood, he returned the answer,—"I am not satisfied with either of these professions."

"What will you do, then?" was the inquiry. He replied, "I know God has made me for something, and I am trying to find out what that is."

With his mind thus unsettled, he determined to visit his uncle, Colonel Jeremiah Wadsworth, of Hartford. This uncle had pursued a sea-faring life, entering upon it at first for the benefit of his health, and following it afterward, from a love for the employment. From a sailor before the mast, he came to be mate, and captain, and at the breaking out of the Revolutionary war he had retired from the sea, and had settled at Hartford, Conn. He was appointed commissary of the Connecticut line, and subsequently had important trusts committed to his charge, by his own State, and also by the Congress at Philadelphia, having reference to the pay, clothing and subsistence of the Continental troops.

In the discharge of his official duties he had formed an acquaintance with Oliver Phelps; and after Mr. Phelps had secured an interest in the Genesee country, he represented its advantages to Colonel Wadsworth in such glowing colors, as led him to purchase a considerable tract of land in that region. Being a man of wealth and advanced in life, he had no thought of emigrating thither, but designed to provide for his interests by employing an agent.

As soon as James Wadsworth arrived at the house, he was met at the door by his uncle, who eagerly grasped his hand and exclaimed,—"James, I am glad you have come, you are the very man I have been wanting to see."

It was not long before they were deeply engaged in discussing the Genesee question, this becoming the chief topic of conversation during the visit. As the result, James purchased on advantageous terms a part of the tract at Big Tree, and became agent for the remaining lands, qualified by the condition that his brother William would consent to accompany him in the proposed emigration. [Footnote: Conversation of the author with Nehemiah Hubbard, Esq., of Middletown, Conn., and statements in Turner's History.]

The two brothers jointly entered upon the undertaking, and commenced preparations for their journey into this, at that time, far-off wilderness. An ox cart, and ox team, are in wide contrast with the conveniences of travel enjoyed at present. Yet with these, and two or three hired men, and a colored woman, a favorite slave belonging to the family, William set forth to encounter the vicissitudes and dangers involved in the enterprise. It was a slow and wearisome journey, most of the way rough, and some of the way requiring to be opened and prepared for travel.

James, with provisions and a small supply of household furniture, went by the sound, the Hudson, and the head of navigation on Canandaigua outlet. He arrived at Canandaigua three days in advance of his brother.

From this point their journey was comparatively easy. They pursued the route taken by Sullivan in '79, yet not without having frequently to cut a way for their team and cart. They arrived at their point of destination on the 10th of June, 1790.

Captain Horatio, and John H. Jones preceded the Wadsworths, and other families came into the region soon after. But the country was full of Indians. Their villages swarmed with life in every direction. Ken-de-wah or Big Tree, as principal chief was at the head of a numerous clan, located on the bluffs near by. Not far from them on the river was a village of the Tuscaroras. Two miles below was Oneida Town, a large village of Oneidas. Near the present site of West Avon was another principal village, whose chief was Ga-kwa-dia, or Hot Bread. Above was another large village called Little Beard's Town, occupying the present site of Cuylerville. Further on were Allen's Hill, Squaky Hill and Gardeau, the residence of the "White Woman." Her husband was principal chief of the clan at this point. Further on at Nunda, was another village, its principal chiefs were Elk Hunter and Green Coat. Still higher up on the river at Caneadea, was another considerable village, whose chief was John Hudson. [Footnote: It was here the author's grandfather, as an Indian prisoner, had to run the gauntlet in the spring of 1782.

The author remembers Hudson very well. Often visiting his grandfather's house in Angelica, N. Y. When a boy he often sat on Hudson's knee, whom he regarded as a very pleasant, kind Indian.]

These villages were mostly in the vicinity of Big Tree, a region which at that time was not without its charms, and has since been regarded as possessing attractions in soil and scenery, unsurpassed by any in the State.

It was here the council, solicited by Thomas Morris, assembled.

The unfinished block house of the Wadsworths was engaged for the accommodation of those particularly interested with Mr. Morris in conducting the council; and a large tent covered with boughs, and prepared with rows of seats, and a platform, furnished a place suited to their deliberations.

The United States, though not directly concerned as a party in this council, were interested in the welfare of the Indians, and appointed a commissioner to watch over their rights, and see that no injustice took place. Massachusetts reserved this right in the sale of her pre-emptive title. Accordingly Colonel Wadsworth of Connecticut, appeared as commissioner on the part of the United States, and General Wm. Shepard in behalf of the commonwealth of Massachusetts. William Bayard of New York represented the interests of the Holland company, and Mr. Morris, appeared through his agents, Thomas Morris and Colonel Williamson. The engagements of Mr. Williamson calling him away, the responsibility of conducting the treaty devolved upon Thomas Morris.

A large number of Indians were present, brought together by the prospect of good cheer, no less than their interest in the object of their assembling.

The council being duly opened, the commissioners offered their credentials, and explained the reason of their appointment; after which Mr. Morris presented in a speech of some length, the object for which they had been convened. Representing the desire of his father to obtain by purchase a part, or all of their lands, and how much better it would be for them to dispose of all, except what were actually needed for settlement, and place the money at interest, than to retain in their possession uncultivated wastes, whose only value to them could be such as were derived from the chase; and that this advantage would not be lost, for they could still use it for hunting, the same as before. He concluded by offering them the sum of one hundred thousand dollars, for the entire tract that remained to them in the State, allowing them such reservations as might be needed for actual use.

The Indians after deliberating for a time returned an unfavorable answer; saying "they did not wish to part with any more of their land."

Mr. Morris replied, urging them to reconsider the case, that they ought not to decide hastily, setting before them in various ways the favorable terms he had proposed.

After deliberating once more, they returned the answer they had already given.

Meetings and speeches thereupon succeeded; Farmer's Brother, Cornplanter, Little Billy, Little Beard, and Red Jacket, taking part in the discussion, the chief burden of which fell upon the latter.

When Mr. Morris urged upon their attention the liberal sum he had proposed to pay for their lands:—

Red Jacket replied,—"We are not yet convinced that it is best for us to dispose of them at any price."

"But," said Mr. Morris, "what value can they be to you as they now are, any further than the consciousness that you own them?"

"Yes," said Red Jacket, but this knowledge is everything to us. It raises us in our own estimation. It creates in our bosoms a proud feeling which elevates us as a nation. Observe the difference between the estimation in which a Seneca and an Oneida are held. We are courted, while the Oneidas are considered as a degraded people, fit only to make brooms and baskets. Why this difference? It is because the Senecas are known to be the proprietors of a broad domain, while the Oneidas are cooped up in a narrow space."

"Ah," said Mr. Morris, "you presume too much in regard to the consequence of your nation. It is far from being as great as you seem to suppose; and in proof of this let me refer you to the manner in which your deputation to the Miamis was received in 1793. Though large and composed of many of the first men of your nation, it had but little influence."

"Very true," replied Red Jacket, "and why? It was because we were in bad company. We went with the pale faces. Had we gone alone, we should have been treated with the dignity which belongs to the Senecas throughout the world."

While Red Jacket was still standing some one interposed the remark,— "he's a coward." Turning round with a look of contempt, and in tone and manner expressing the deepest sarcasm, he said,—"YES, I AM A COWARD." And then waving his hand over the broad and beautiful lands that were spread out before them, added: "assure me that you can create lands like these, which the Great Spirit has made for us his red children, so that you can give us lands like them in return, and I will be brave: UNTIL THEN, I AM A COWARD,—I DARE NOT SELL THESE LANDS." [Footnote: Conversation of the author with Wm. Jones.]

The commissioners together with the agent of the Holland company, who had been looking on and anxiously observing the proceedings for about two weeks, began to regard the undertaking as hopeless, and urged Mr. Morris to use more decisive means with them, and bring them to terms one way or the other.

Though contrary to Mr. Morris' convictions from his knowledge of the Indian character, as to its being the best method to pursue, he yielded to their solicitations; and when the Indians presented him the offer of a single township on the line of Pennsylvania, at one dollar an acre, Red Jacket assuring him that he could sell this at a sufficient advance, to pay for the trouble and expense of the treaty, he told them if that was all they could offer, they might return to their homes, for the sooner their conference was ended the better.

Red Jacket thereupon sprang to his feet and said, "You have now come to the point to which I wished to bring you. You told us in your first address, that even in the event of our not agreeing to sell our lands, we would part friends. Here then is my hand." Mr. Morris taking his hand, he then added; "I now cover up the council fire."



CHAPTER XII.

Interview between Farmer's Brother and Thomas Morris—Mr. Morris addresses the women—Distributes presents—Negotiations continued—Treaty concluded with the women and warriors—Manner of payment—Inquiries about a Bank— Their reservations—White woman—Young King's dissent—Charge of insincerity.

The Indians appeared to regard the breaking up of the council at Big Tree, with great satisfaction. Their joy was unbounded; they made the forest ring with their wild yells, inveighing loudly and insultingly against Mr. Morris, and the commissioners, and assuming such menacing attitudes, as fairly to intimidate those unaccustomed to their rude manners.

To all present but Mr. Morris, the prospect of accomplishing any thing after this seemed utterly hopeless, and it was with some difficulty the commissioners were persuaded to remain, for the purpose of giving him the opportunity of another trial. Yet his hopes of success were so sanguine, as to induce them to tarry a short time longer.

The day after the breaking up of the council, Farmer's Brother called on Mr. Morris, expressed his regret at what had transpired, and the hope that it might not destroy the interest he had manifested for his nation. "Certainly not," said Mr. Morris,—"you had a right to refuse to sell your lands;" but he added, the treatment he had received from his people at the close of the council, especially in allowing a drunken warrior to menace and insult him; while they were yelling in approbation of his conduct, was uncalled for, and ungenerous. He had not deserved this from them. They had for years had food at his house in Canandaigua, and liquor as much as was for their good, and whenever any of them had been at Philadelphia, his father had treated them with equal kindness and hospitality.

Farmer's Brother acknowledged that all this was true, and regretted that the council fire had been extinguished so hastily, or they might have had a meeting, to smooth over these difficulties.

"Yes,"—said Mr. Morris, "and here is another ground of complaint. Red Jacket assumed the right of covering up the fire. This did not belong to him. For according to your custom, he only who kindles the council fire, has a right to cover it up."

"That is so,"—said Farmer's Brother.

"Then as I did not cover it up the council fire is still burning."

After thinking a moment he replied,—"Yes:"—and appeared to be pleased that it was so, and proposed to have the council convene again.

Mr. Morris signified his pleasure to delay a few days, to give him time to look over his accounts, pay for the provisions that had been consumed, collect his cattle that had not been slaughtered, and arrange other matters preparatory to his leaving the treaty ground.

He had become so well acquainted with Indian customs, that he had resolved upon another expedient, when his negotiations with the sachems had failed.

It is a rule among the Indians that their sachems shall have a right to transact whatever business belongs to their nation, whether relating to their lands, or anything else. But in transactions that concern their lands, if their course is not satisfactory to the women and warriors, they have a right to arrest the proceedings, and take the management into their own hands. The reason they assign for this practice is,—that the land belongs to the warriors, because they are the defense and strength of their nation, and to the women, because they are mothers of the warriors. In their polity therefore they recognize head or chief women, whose privilege it is to select a speaker to represent their views.

Mr. Morris determined as a last resort, to refer his case to the chief women and warriors. He accordingly sought and obtained such a meeting.

He made known to them his business, told them of the offer he had made their sachems, portrayed to them in glowing colors, the advantages they would receive from the annuity so large a sum would bring,—how it would furnish them with food and clothing, without any anxiety or toil on their part, and that they would thus be relieved of many hardships, which they were now compelled to endure.—That the sachems, who were unwilling to sell the land, always had enough to supply their wants.—That they could kill game, and feast on the meat, and go to the settlements and sell the skins, and buy them clothing. Hence they did not care to exchange their land for money, that would enable the women to obtain for themselves and children food and clothing, whereas they were now often compelled to go hungry and naked. By selling such a portion of their land as they had no use for, they would have the means of supplying their necessary wants, and of making themselves comfortable. He then displayed before them a large supply of beads, blankets, silver brooches, and various other ornaments, of which the natives were particularly fond, and said he had brought these with the design of making them presents, in the event of a successful treaty. But in as much as the women were not to blame for breaking off the negotiations, he was determined they should have the presents he had intended for them. He accordingly proceeded to distribute among sparkling eyes, and joyous hearts, the beauties and treasures, he had brought for them.

These gifts proved a most powerful addition to his argument, and were the means of giving a favorable turn to their counsels. For several days after this the chiefs, and women, and warriors, could be seen scattered about here and there in small parties, engaged in earnest conversation, which resulted in a renewal of their negotiations.

Mr. Morris was informed that their council fire was still burning, and that their business might proceed,—but instead of being carried on by the sachems, would be conducted by the women and warriors.

Cornplanter being the principal war-chief, appeared on this occasion in their behalf.

He said,—"They had seen with regret the misconduct of the sachems; that they thought also the action of Mr. Morris was too hasty; but still they were willing the negotiations should be renewed; and hoped they would be conducted with better temper on both sides."

Mr. Morris offered a few conciliatory remarks in reply; and Farmer's Brother, on the part of the sachems, represented these proceedings of the women and warriors, as in accordance with the customs of their nation.

The way being thus opened, the negotiations were readily carried forward to a successful termination.

They consented to sell their lands for the sum proposed, which was one hundred thousand dollars, leaving their reservations to be settled, as they could agree.

The simplicity of the Indian character was apparent, in the eagerness with which they desired to know about a Bank: the president having directed that the money they received for their lands, in case they were sold, should be invested for their benefit in stock of the United States Bank; in the name of the president, and his successors in office, as trustees of the Indians; they earnestly inquired,—what is a Bank?

Several attempts were made at explanation, when finally they came to understand, that the United States Bank, at Philadelphia, was a large place where their money would be planted, and where it would grow, like corn in the field.

As it was desirable also for them to understand, that the dividends from it might be greater some years than others, this was explained by referring to the idea of planting, as they could know from experience, that some years they would have from the same ground a better crop than others. Hence after this when speaking to Mr. Morris about their money, they would inquire what kind of a crop they were going to have that year?

Another point of interest with them, was to ascertain how large a pile, the money they were to receive, would make?

This was shown them by representing the number of kegs of a given size, it would take to hold, and the number of horses that would be necessary to draw it.

These questions being settled, the next point to be agreed upon, was the size of their reservations. Mr. Morris had stipulated, in case their demands were reasonable, no deduction would be made from the price they were to receive. But instead of moderate, very exhorbitant claims were presented, growing out of a degree of rivalry between different chiefs.

Their comparative importance would be graduated in a measure by the size of their domain, and the number of people they would thus be enabled to have about them; hence they were individually ambitious of not being out- done, in the size of their reservations.

Red Jacket put in a claim to about one-fourth of the entire tract purchased. Cornplanter desired about as much; and other chiefs were alike ambitious in securing extensive reservations; and they wished to have them marked out by natural boundaries, such as rivers, hills or the course of streams. To all of these demands Mr. Morris was obliged to give a stout and resolute denial, requiring them to fix upon a certain number of square miles, which, in the aggregate, should not be far from three hundred and fifty.

Here also arose difficulties about the size of their respective allotments, which they were unable to settle, so that Mr. Morris was obliged to assume the office of arbiter, and decide these for them, which he accomplished generally to their satisfaction.

In only one instance did he depart from his purpose of not allowing natural boundaries, in describing their reservations. It was in case of Mary Jemison, the White Woman, who lived on the Genesee river, some few miles above Mt. Morris. Her history is one of singular interest, and as belonging to this region, and connected with the circumstances under consideration, a brief notice of this remarkable woman, will not be out of place.

Hers is an instance of the entire change that may be wrought, in the taste and inclination, so that instead of a civilized, a person may prefer an uncultivated state of society. Though descended from the whites, she became so thoroughly Indian in her feelings and habits, that she was regarded as a curiosity, and called by way of distinction—the "White Woman."

She was born on the ocean, while her parents were emigrating from Ireland to this country, about the year 1742 or 3. Her father and mother soon after landing at Philadelphia, removed to a frontier settlement of Pennsylvania, lying on what was called Marsh Creek. During the war between the French and English, she was taken captive with her parents, by a party of Shawnee Indians. On the way, her father and mother were killed. The mother anticipating, from tokens she had observed, what would be their fate, advised her child not to attempt an escape from the Indians, as she most likely would be taken again, and treated worse. But as a course better adapted to promote her welfare, she was told to try and please her captors, adding as her parting counsel,—"don't forget, my daughter, the prayers I have taught you,—repeat them often; be a good child, and may God bless you."

After this, under various trials she went with the party, until they came to Fort Du Quesne. [Footnote: Afterwards called Fort Pitt, now the site of Pittsburg.] Here she was given to two Indian women, who were of the Seneca nation, and lived eighty miles below, on the Ohio river, at a place called She-nan-jee. With the usual ceremony observed by the Indians on such occasions, she was adopted into their family, and called De-ha-wa-mis. At length under kind treatment she began to feel as one of them. In time she was married to a young chief of the Delaware tribe, with whom she lived happily for several years in the Shawnee country. She became devotedly attached to her Indian husband, who treated her with marked tokens of affection.

After a time she welcomed with the joy of a young mother's heart, the appearance in her wigwam of a daughter, her first born. The bright morning of her domestic joy was soon overcast with sorrow; she is seen strewing over her little one's grave, the fallen leaves of autumn. She-nin-jee, her Indian husband once more became a father. Together they gladly embraced a son. Their lonely cabin after this was enlivened and cheered by his childish prattle; nothing now remained to interrupt the joy of the mother, but the absence of the father, whom the season of hunting, took far away from his cherished home. Yet with returning spring these toils are forgotten, as he is surrounded once more with the charms of the domestic fireside. But at length there came a spring whose joyful return, brought not the long wished for She-nin-jee, back to his lonely cabin. Many an evening fire blazed brightly to bid him welcome, yet he did not come. Choice venison had been dried and laid up for him, new skins had been prepared and spread for his couch, and many a silent hour whiled away with thoughts of the absent one, but he came not. His returning comrades brought back the sad news of his death. De-ha-wa-mis mourned long and deeply for the pride of her Indian wigwam. Her own kindred could not have extended to her more genuine sympathy, than did her new relatives by adoption. They kindly offered to take her back, if she desired to go, to her former friends among the whites, or if she chose to remain among them, they promised to give her a home of her own.

A part of her Indian relatives lived in the valley of the Genesee, and this was the occasion of her removal there, from her home on the Ohio. A few years intervened, and she again became the wife of an Indian, the distinguished Seneca warrior Hio-ka-too. She resided with him until his death, at Gardeau, the place where she was living, at the time of her appearance at this treaty. The chiefs desired for her a special reservation. To this Mr. Morris readily assented, in case she would specify a certain number of acres.

She said to him,—"I do not know any thing about acres, but I have some improved places;" pointing them out on the ground; "here a patch of potatoes, there, a few beans, and another still, where there's a little corn." She wished these might be embraced in her reservation, at the same time giving boundaries, which she thought would include them.

Mr. Morris owing to the lateness of the hour, and the impatience of the commissioners, gave his consent to the boundary named, supposing it might include a hundred or a hundred and fifty acres. But much to his surprise, the tract when surveyed, was found to contain not less than seventeen thousand, nine hundred and twenty-seven acres. [Footnote: Indian Treaties, p. 39. This reservation has been variously represented to contain, four thousand, and by others a larger number of acres. Col. Stone makes it thirty thousand. The amount given in the text is that obtained by actual survey of the boundaries in question. They are as follows: "Beginning at the mouth of Steep Hill Creek, thence due east until it strikes the Old Path, thence south until a due west line will intersect with certain steep rocks on the west side of the Genesee river, thence extending due west, due north, and due east, until it strikes the first mentioned bound, enclosing as much land on the west side, as on the east side of the river."

The survey by Augustus Porter, surveyor, gives it 17,927.]

Mary Jemison, the White Woman, had thus secured to her, according to the pledge of the Indians to give her a home, a princely domain, where for years after in primitive simplicity, she planted her beans, potatoes and corn, and maintained, as in former years, the usages of her Indian life.

The most of this tract she afterward sold to John Grey and Henry B. Gibson of Canandaigua; a deed for which was executed bearing date of September 3d, 1823.

She retained for her own use twelve hundred and eighty acres, and received for the balance, the sum of four thousand two hundred and eighty-six dollars, or an annuity of three hundred dollars forever.

The Senecas became gradually dispossessed of their lands in the valley of the Genesee, and in the year 1825, removed to their reservation at Buffalo. At the time of their removal, the White Woman refused to part with the residue of her land, and continued to reside at the place, where she had passed the greater part of her long life, and which was now endeared to her by many associations in the past.

But here she soon found herself surrounded by another race, and as time advanced, she longed to be among the people she had chosen for her kindred, and disposing of her possessions in the Genesee valley, removed to Buffalo in 1831.

She had now upon her the infirmities of age. Long had the parting injunction of her christian mother passed from memory. The religion as well as habits of the Indian, had become hers. Ninety summers had passed over her head. The missionary had visited her, and had been assured that her faith had long been in accord with that of the red man, and she had no desire to change her religious views.

But ere her last hour came a voice reached her from the distant past. It awakened memories long forgotten. She sent for the missionary. He came and stood by her. She was almost withered away. Her small, shrivelled, finely wrinkled face, silvery hair, toothless mouth, the nose almost touching her chin, and her thin, wasted form, indicated the presence of second childhood. The memory of that long lost mother rushed back upon her mind. She cried out in anguish, as well as sincerity of heart, "Oh, God! have mercy upon me!" The prayer of her childhood returned; she instinctively began to say.—"Our Father which art in heaven."

As a child she received the instructions of the missionary, and before departing this life, her soul was lighted up with a cheering hope, based upon a reception of the clear and living truths of Christianity.

No one had sought to disturb the serenity of her advanced life, by intruding upon her the idea that she was a sinner. How came she to be thus exercised? The lessons given in childhood, availed more than sermons, and impressions were then made, which though apparently effaced, still remained to be quickened into life, and bring forth fruit, which cheered the closing days of her singularly eventful history.

With the settlement of the White Woman's reservation, Mr. Morris regarded the business of the treaty, as about concluded. Yet a new obstacle was presented by the arrival of Young King, a descendant of "Old Smoke," a renowned chief, held in great veneration among the Senecas. None had ever attained a greater degree of power, or swayed a more commanding influence. The son though not possessing the high endowments of the father, yet when he chose to exert it, commanded an extensive hereditary influence, which carried with it great weight. Having been informed of the proceedings of the council thus far, he expressed his disapproval.

Cornplanter and Farmer's Brother informed Mr. Morris that the treaty could not be completed contrary to the wishes of Young King; that however unreasonable it might appear to him, for one man to defeat the will of the entire nation, it was a power he received from his birth, and one of which he could not be deprived. Yet after much persuasion, Young King, though not reconciled to the idea of selling their lands, acquiesced; saying—"he would not stand out against the wishes of his nation."

The signing of the treaty yet remained; and Red Jacket according to the testimony of Mr. Morris, though he had strenuously resisted the sale, desired nevertheless to have his name appear among the chiefs of his nation, whose signatures were appended to the deed executed on the 15th of September, 1797, conveying to Robert Morris of Philadelphia, the title to all their lands west of the Genesee river, not included in their reservations, or previously sold.

From this fact the inference has been derived, that the orator was insincere in his opposition to the sales made of his people's lands. His sincerity though questioned now, was never after this a matter of doubt. If he had been insincere before, the effect of this sale on the destiny of his people, imposed upon him considerations of so grave a nature, as to render the idea of his indifference extremely improbable, and no one after this ever thought of imputing to him such a motive. Yet in all the sales the Senecas made of their land, subsequent to this period, Red Jacket's name, however much he may have resisted the act, was appended to the deed or instrument of conveyance. The reason he assigned for this, was his desire to have his name go, whether for better or worse, with the destinies of his people. Having exerted all his energies to prevent the sale of their lands, he felt that his duty had been discharged. And when his people decided against him, he regarded the responsibility of the transaction as resting on those who had effected it, and whether he gave or witheld his name, it would have no influence in determining the result.

He may have had some pride also in having his name appended to a document, which he knew the white people regarded, as of much importance, and were very careful to preserve.

It is related of him as having transpired at a later period, when Mr. Greig of Canandaigua, acting for the Ogden Company, was holding a council with a view to purchase some of the smaller Indian reservations, lying along the Genesee river, he was opposed step by step, by the persistent efforts of Red Jacket. Yet notwithstanding the opposition, Mr. Greig was successful in securing the extinguishment of their title, to about eighty thousand acres of their land. When the time came for signing the deed, Mr. Greig said to Red Jacket,—"As you have been opposed to the sale of the land, you need not have your name attached to the deed." But he would hear to nothing of the kind, and insisted upon signing it, seeming to take pride in having his name appended to the paper. [Footnote: Conversation of the author with the Hon. John Greig of Canandaigua. Some years ago a story illustrating the eloquence of Red Jacket went the rounds of the papers, in which Mr. Greig was represented as arguing a case in opposition to and as being defeated by Red Jacket. Not happening to see it at the time, the author sought for a copy, but learning that its principal statements were fictitious, he relinquished the undertaking. Mr. Greig never argued the case as represented, but took down a speech from the interpreter which he read to the orator, who was much pleased with its correctness and bestowed on him an Indian name, signifying—"a ready writer."]



CHAPTER XIII

Council at Canawangus—Interesting reminiscence of Red Jacket—Address of Farmer's Brother—Jasper Parrish—Horatio Jones—Red Jacket's visit at Hartford, Conn.

A council of the Iroquois was held at Ca-na-wau-gus, near West Avon, in the autumn of 1798. Connected with it is a reminiscence of Red Jacket of much interest, as an item of history, and it serves well to illustrate the orator's mental habit.

His conduct was such on this occasion, as to excite the observation as well as curiosity of Captain Parrish, who related the occurrence.

For the first few days of the council, he uttered not a word. He appeared to be in deep thought, and was exceedingly reserved.—The expression of his countenance was severe, and there was much hauteur in his manner. He ate scarcely anything, and his appearance was so remarkable, as to excite the wonder of all present. At length on the third or fourth day of the council, he arose with great dignity, and solemnity of air, and commenced speaking. His exordium was for the most part a beautiful and highly wrought enconium on the character and history of the Indians; particularly of his own people, in the past. They were taken back, as by a magic spell, to primitive times. The days of their renown, when the name and glory of their nation, were the admiration of the world. When from the rising to the setting sun, there was no power to stand before them, or hinder the victorious march of their warriors through the land. As they glided over the waters of river or lake, as they ascended the mountain, or passed through the valley, they could feel that their dominion was wide, and undisputed. Every deer that bounded through the forest, every bird that winged the air, and the fish in all the waters, were theirs, and they were happy. Such was the glowing picture he drew, they did not realize the present, from the engrossing theme of the past.

He next proceeded to sketch their history, as affected by the coming of the white man among them. The friendly relations, that marked their early intercourse. Their small beginnings, and the imperceptible manner of their increase. How they began to line the eastern shores,—plant themselves upon the borders of their rivers, and gather into neighborhoods, and towns, and cities. How these new and wonderful things engaged the attention of the Indians, and kept them spell-bound, so that they were insensible to what had been going on till the whites were firmly planted, like a tree that has taken deep root, and sends its branches out over the land.

He next drew their attention to a time when the signs of a great tempest began to appear. When the clouds began to overspread the heavens, when the lightning flashed, and the thunders rolled, and the land was shaken by their power. A mighty whirlwind came sweeping through the land, the tall trees of the forest were uprooted, the branches torn off and sent flying through the air. So has our nation he said been uprooted,—the strong men torn from us, and scattered, and laid low. Thus he went on recounting as few could, the circumstances of their history, and as he advanced, his expressions matured in their intensity, his thoughts appeared to be winged, and came glowing, as if from some furnace in nature, where all her materials are wrought under intense heat, and sent forth in forms of highest brilliancy, and beauty. His hearers were amid the heavings of the earthquake,—the blackness of the storms,—the wild and irresistible sweep of the tornado. The heavens, the earth, the elements, seemed to be careering under the rapid and startling flights of his fancy.

He next adverted with much feeling, and with evident sadness, to the transactions of the past year, by which they had become dispossessed of the largest part of their ancient inheritance: and then he drew, with a prophetic hand, a picture of their probable future, that brought sorrow to their hearts, and tears to their eyes.—He closed his harangue by pronouncing a most withering phillipic against the whites.—The effect of his speech was wonderful.—Mr. Parrish declared that it exceeded, in its brilliancy and force, all his former utterances, of which he had any knowledge; and he never heard from him afterward, anything that could compare with it. His auditors were mainly those of his own people. His flow of thought was not interrupted by the slow, and embarrassing process of interpretation. The full grief of his heart, in view of the transactions of the previous year, was poured forth, and came like the irresistible sweep of a whirlwind. [Footnote: Conversation of the author with Samuel J. Mills, Esq., formerly of Mt. Morris, N. Y., later of Nevada, Iowa. Mr. Mills heard Mr. Parrish give this description of Red Jacket and of his speech, while sitting at one time on the porch of one of the hotels at Avon Springs. Mr. Parrish pointed out the ground occupied by the Indians, when this speech was delivered. It was only a little distance from the porch where they were sitting.]

It was some little time after the delivery of this speech, before the minds of the Indians were sufficiently composed to attend to the main business of their council, which was presented in a speech by Farmer's Brother, and embodied in an address to the Legislature of New York, thus: "The Sachems, Chiefs and Warriors of the Seneca Nation, to the Sachems, and Chiefs assembled about the great Council Fire of the State of New York:

"BROTHERS: As you are once more assembled in council for the purpose of doing honor to yourselves and justice to your country, we, your brothers, the Sachems, Chiefs and Warriors of the Seneca Nation, request you to open your ears, and give attention to our voice and wishes.

"You will recollect the late contest between you and your father, the great king of England. This contest threw the inhabitants of this whole island into a great tumult and commotion, like a raging whirlwind, which tears up the trees, and tosses to and fro the leaves, so that no one knows whence they come, or where they will fall.

"BROTHERS: This whirlwind was so directed by the Great Spirit above, as to throw into our arms two of your infant children, Jasper Parrish, and Horatio Jones. We adopted them into our families, and made them our children. We loved them and nourished them. They lived with us many years. At length the Great Spirit spoke to the whirlwind, and it was still. A clear and uninterrupted sky appeared. The path of peace was opened, and the chain of friendship was once more made bright. Then these, our adopted children, left us, to seek their relations. We wished them to return among us, and promised if they would return, and live in our country, to give each of them a seat of land for them, and their children to sit down upon.

"BROTHERS: They have returned, and have for several years past been serviceable to us as interpreters. We still feel our hearts beat in affection for them, and now wish to fulfil the promise we made them, and to reward them for their services. We have therefore made up our minds to give them a seat of two square miles of land lying on the outlet of Lake Erie, about three miles below Black Rock, beginning at the mouth of a creek known by the name of Scoy-gu-quoy-des Creek, running one mile from the river Niagara, up said creek, thence northerly as the river runs two miles, thence westerly one mile to the river, thence up the river as the river runs to the place of beginning, so as to contain two square miles.

"BROTHERS: We have now made known to you our minds; we expect and earnestly request that you will permit our friends to receive this our gift, and will make the same good to them, according to the laws and customs of your nation."

By the laws of the State, no sale or transfers of Indian lands could be made to private individuals, without permission from the government. Hence the address embodying the request as presented above, which was complied with, and the land secured as desired by the Indians.