History of Armstrong County, Pennsylvania, Part 86

Author: Smith, Robert Walter
Publication date: 1883
Publisher: Chicago : Waterman, Watkins
Number of Pages: 790

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On a certain occasion Craig ordered a scouting party to make a tour of observation as far up the country as the mouth of Red Bank. They went, and on their return reported that they had not dis- covered any Indians. One of them, however, while on his death-bed, many years afterward, sent for Craig and confessed to him that, while on that tour, he and his comrades had captured an Indian, and after obtaining all the information possible from him, and not wishing to have the trouble of taking him as a prisoner to the blockhouse, they concluded to keep his capture a secret, and to dis- patch him by tying him to a tree and each one shooting him, so that, all being equally guilty, there would be no danger of anyone disclosing their dread secret. Others of that scouting party, hav- ing been questioned about that affair, acknowl- edged to finding the Indian, but averred that John Harbison, who had just cause for a deadly hate toward all Indians, tomahawked him while he was conversing with another one of the party who un- derstood the Indian language, and that they all agreed to keep that deed secret on Harbison's account .*

In those early war times there was a place of refuge on John Reed's farm on the left bank of the Allegheny, about two and a half miles below the mouth of the Kiskiminetas, called "Reed's Sta- tion," which was named after "Uncle Johnny Reed," as the owner of the ground on which it was situated was called. He was much addicted to trapping and fishing, in which he became quite

* Communicated to the writer by a descendant of Capt. Craig.

CAPT, JAMES P. MURPHY.

CAFT. SAMUEL MURPHY.

CAPTAIN SAMUEL MURPHY-CAPTAIN JAMES P. MURPHY-THE MURPHY FAMILY.

The progenitor of the Murphy family of this county was Capt. Samuel Murphy, a native of Frederick county Virginia, born in 1756. He led a remarkable career, one full of adventure, vicissitude and usefulness, and was famous both as soldier and pioneer. Left an orphan at an early age, he was reared by a Col. Stinson, a revolutionary patriot. He accompanied the forces of Lord Dunmore in their expedition into the region now Southern Central Ohio, in 1774, and joining the Conti- nental army (the 8th Pa. regt.), served through the revolutionary war. In the fall of 1781 he was captured by the Indians, on the north fork of Salt river, in Ken- tucky, and taken by Simon Girty to an island in the St. Lawrence river, sixty miles above Montreal. He per- formed valiant and valuable service on the frontier during the revolutionary war and the subsequent Indian wars, and Major Denny said that he was "the best soldier he ever knew." He was intimately acquainted with Gen. Washington, and on one occasion, while a boy, at the suggestion of Col. Stinson, he perpetrated upon that great man a practical joke which so pleased Gen. Washington that he gave young Murphy a silver coin. Shortly after the close of the revolutionary struggle, Murphy removed with his family to what is now Sharpsburg, where he remained, with the exception of some brief absences, until 1798. He assisted in the laying out of the town of Erie, and was a lieutenant in a company of rangers in 1794. In 1798 he removed to that part of Armstrong county now known as South Buffalo township, and settled upon the farm which is still in the possession of the Murphy family. He remained here, following the quiet vocation of farming, until his de- cease, which occurred in 1850. He was a fine type of the Armstrong pioneer, six feet two inches in stature, mus- cular, well formed, and possessing great courage and endurance .*

*Other facts concerning Capt. Murphy will be found in the chapter on Sonth Buffalo.

Capt. Murphy's wife, whose maiden name was Eliza- beth Powers, was a native of Maryland, and ten years his junior. She died in 1820. Their children were: William, Thomas, Mary, James, Elizabeth, Margaret, Samuel, Benjamin, Nancy, Susan, John and George, all of whom are living except William, Thomas, Elizabeth and Samuel. William, who was a farmer, removed to Washington county, Ohio, about 1818, and died there in his eighty-third year. Thomas died in Mississippi, and Samuel in California, in the year 1872. The others are all living in this county.

Mary married James Patterson.

James, or Capt. Murphy, as he is more familiarly known in this part of the state, was born in Sharps- burg, September 10, 1796, and reared in Armstrong county. He remained under the parental roof until he was twenty-five years of age, when he became a river man, which occupation he followed in various capacities for about twenty years. He ran the first steamboat which ascended the Allegheny river, in 1828. In 1850 he went to California by the overland ronte, walking the greater part of the distance. He remained on the Pacific coast about a year, during which time his father died, and on his return he went on to the farm where he has since resided. He possesses many of the distinguishing characteristics of his father, and is widely known for his integrity of character and marked social qualities.

Margaret, Nancy, James and John are unmarried, and live upon the homestead farm acquired by their father.

Susan became Mrs. William Truby. Elizabeth mar- ried Benjamin King, one of the prominent citizens of Freeport; both are deceased. Benjamin was born May 10, 1815, and reared on the old home farm, a portion of which he owned and tilled, until his removal to Freeport, where he now lives, in 1879. He married Miss Jane, daughter of James Green, of North Buffalo township. They have reared a family of eleven children: James, Elizabeth, Rebecca, Samuel, Margaret, Emily, Walter P., Isabella, Theodore, Sarah and Lovina. Samuel died in the service. Walter P., one of the prominent business men of Freeport, is the only son living.

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FREEPORT TOWNSHIP.

notable. Mrs. Gibson, mother of William Gibson, Freeport, who in the last quarter of the last cen- tury resided not far from Reed's, and had authentic knowledge of some of the incidents of his life, used to relate that he was accustomed to set his traps in the mouth of the Kiskiminetas. He found, on going there one evening to examine them, about 1782-3, that they had been robbed. He then at- tempted to remove them to and set them in another place. While thus engaged he perceived an In- dian coming down to examine his traps. He soon saw others coming from an Indian camp in that vicinity. Not having his rifle, he was compelled to run for his life, the Indians pursuing him to within gunshot of the blockhouse, or Reed's sta- tion, which was situated a few rods up the river from McKean's run, the stone chimney and fire- place of which can still be seen from the cars on the A. & P. R. R. He was of course thoroughly frightened, and said it was "the fastest time he had ever made in his life." His fleetness on that occasion may have rivaled John Guld's.

John Harbison was a soldier in St. Clair's army. Having been wounded, he was, after his recovery, employed as a spy to watch the movements of the savages. In the spring of 1792, his family resided in a house near Reed's station. While he was absent on duty, his house, about 200 yards distant from the blockhouse, was entered by Indians on the morning of May 22, and his wife and children were captured. Before proceeding with the account of their capture, the reader's attention is directed to what William Findley wrote to A. J. Dallas, sec- retary of the commonwealth, June 1: "I was but a few days at home until the Indians broke into the settlement by Reed's station. It was garrisoned by rangers under Cooper. They had never scouted any. They had been drinking and were surprised, in want of ammunition, and the officer was absent from the station. However, the Indians fired only

a few rounds upon the blockhouse, with which they killed one man and wounded another, and went away without any exertions being made by the rangers. They then killed and took Harbison's family in sight of the station. Harbison was one of the spies, and was reported as having relaxed a little in his duty. Indeed, the duties of the spies in this county is [are] too hard, and they are not assisted by the troops as was designed at laying the plan. The alarm was quickly spread; indeed, they themselves (the Indians) promoted the news of their coming by burning some of the first houses they came to. This occasioned the country to fly before them with the greatest rapidity, and being about forty in number took the country before

them, keeping nearly the course of the Kiskimi- netas, going in small parties from five to seven, as far as has been observed."

Two spies, Davis and Sutton, having lodged at Harbison's house, left the next morning, Sunday, May 22, when the horn at the blockhouse was blown, leaving the door open. Several Indians soon afterward entered, and drew Mrs. Massey (corrupted from Mera) Harbison and her two eldest children by their feet from their beds, the third or youngest one, about a year old, being in bed with her. While these dusky burglars were rummaging the house and scrambling to secure whatever each one could of her clothing and other articles, she went outdoors and hallooed to the men in the blockhouse. One Indian then ran up and stopped her mouth, another rushed toward her with his raised tomahawk, which a third one seized, calling her his squaw and claiming her as his own. Fifteen Indians then advanced toward and fired upon both the blockhouse and the storehouse, kill- ing one and wounding another of the soldiers, one of whom, by the name of Wolf, was returning from the spring and the other either coming or looking out of the storehouse. When Mrs. Harbison told the Indians who remained with her that there were forty men in the blockhouse, each having two guns, those who were firing were brought back. Then they began to drive her and the children away. Because one of her boys, three years old, was unwilling to leave and was crying, they seized him by his feet, dashed his brains out against the threshold of the door, and then stabbed and scalped him. Her heart rent with agony, almost bereft of sight and all her other senses, still keeping her in- fant in her arms, she gave a terrific scream, and for that one of her savage captors dealt a heavy blow on her head and face, which restored her to conscious- ness. She and her two surviving children were then taken to the top of a hill, where they all stopped, and while the Indians were tying up their booty, she counted them, their number being thirty- two, among whom were two white men painted like Indians. Those were probably the " treacher- ous persons among us " mentioned in another part of Findley's letter to Secretary Dallas. Several of those Indians could speak English. Mrs. Harbi- son knew three or four of them very well ; two were Senecas and two were Munsees, whose guns her husband had repaired almost two years before. Two Indians were detailed to guard her, and the rest then went toward Puckety. When she, her children and their guards had advanced about 200 yards, the latter caught two of her uncle John Currie's horses, and then placing her and the

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HISTORY OF ARMSTRONG COUNTY.

youngest child on one and one of the guards and the remaining child on the other, proceeded toward the Kiskiminetas to a point opposite the upper end of Todd's island, where in descending the steep river hill the Indian's horse fell and rolled more than once. The boy fell over the horse's back, receiving a slight injury, and was taken up by one of the Indians. On reaching the shore the horses could not be made to swim, so the Indians took the captives across to the head of that island in bark canoes. After landing, the elder boy, five years old, complaining of the injury he had received from his fall and still lamenting the death of his brother, one of the guards toma- hawked and then scalped him, the other guard having first ordered the mother to move on ahead of them, actuated, perhaps, by a slight assertion of humanity, to save her the pain of witnessing the murder of another of her children. When she be- held that second massacre of her offspring she fell senseless to the ground with her infant in her arms beneath her with its little hands about her head. She knew not how long she remained in that insen- sible condition. The first thing she remembered on recovering her consciousness was raising her head from the ground and being overcome by an extreme, uncontrollable drowsiness, and beholding as she looked around the bloody scalp of her boy in the hand of one of these savages. She then invol- untarily sank again to the earth upon her infant. The first thing which she remembered after that, was the severe castigation that her cruel guards were inflicting upon her, after which they aided her in rising and supported her when on her feet. Why they did not massacre her she attributed to the interposition of Divine Providence in her be- half. There must have still been a little streak of humanity lingering in their ferocious breasts, for they concealed the scalp of her boy from her sight. Having restored her dormant senses by leading her knee-deep into the river, all proceeded to a shoal near the head of the island, between it and the mainland or "Indian side of the country," where her guards forced her before them into and through the water breast deep, she holding her child above the surface, and by their assistance she with her child safely reached the opposite shore. They all moved thence as fast as they could across the forks to the Big Buffalo, which, being a very rapid stream, her guards were obliged to aid her in cross- ing. Thence they took a straight course "to the Connoquennessing creek, the very place where Butler now stands." (The narrator probably wrote or the compositor printed to for toward.) Thence they advanced along the Indian trail, heretofore

mentioned, to the Little Buffalo, which they crossed at the very place where B. Sarver's mill stood when her narrative was written, and there ascended the hill. Having become weary of life she fully de- termined to make these savages kill her, to end her fatigue and the prospective miseries and cruelties which she conceived awaited her. They were then moving in single file, one guard before and the other behind her. She stopped, withdrew from her shoulder a large powderhorn which, besides her child, they compelled her to carry, and threw it to the ground, closing her eyes and momentarily expecting to feel their deadly tomahawks. But, contrary to her expectations, they replaced it on her shoulder. She threw it off a second time, ex- pecting death. But they, looking indignant and frightful, again replaced it. She threw it down a third time as far as she could over the rocks. While the one that had been engaged in that little contest was recovering it, the other one who had claimed her as his squaw and who had witnessed the affair, approached and said : " Well done, you did right and are a good squaw, and he is a lazy son of a b-h ; he may carry it himself." That would-be husband of hers had evidently a penchant for at least some of the polite language which he had heard some of the white men use. The guards having changed their positions, the latter taking the rear probably to prevent the other from injur- ing her, they proceeded until they reached, shortly before dark, without refreshment during the day, the Salt Lick on the Connoquennessing, nearly two miles above the present site of Butler, where there was an Indian camp made of stakes driven into the ground sloping, covered with chestnut bark, long enough for fifty men, appeared to have been occupied for some time, was very much beaten, and from which large beaten paths extended in different directions.

Mrs. Harbison was taken that night from that camp into a large dark bottom, about 300 rods up a run, where they cut away the brush in a thicket, placed a blanket on the ground and permitted her to sit down with her child, which it was difficult for her to manage, as they had pinioned her arms so that she had but slight freedom of their use. There, without refreshment, thus pinioned, with those two savages who had that day massacred in her presence two of her boys, one of those guards on each side of her, she passed the first night of her captivity.

The next morning one of the guards left to watch the trail they had traveled, and ascertain whether any of the white people were in pursuit. During his absence the other, being the one who

JUHA GRAHAM.

THE GRAHAM FAMILY-JOHN GRAHAM.

Joseph Graham, father of John Graham, the well-known citizen of South Buffalo township, was born in Scotland in 1768, and reared in Ireland, where he married a Miss Mary Ralston. In 1803 he and his wife and three children came to America and located in Baltimore, and thence in 1808 they immigrated to Buffalo township, Armstrong coun- ty, and settled upon the farm where Philip Kepple now lives. Both Mr. and Mrs. Graham were mem- bers of the Slate Lick Presbyterian church, and numbered among its founders. Joseph Graham died in 1847, and his widow in 1862. Their chil- dren were: Jane (Ralston), Ann (Moorehead), Rob- ert Joseph, Rebecca (Keenear), Mary, John, Sarah (Mateer) and Elizabeth (Smith). Of these all are deceased except Joseph, who lives in West Vir- ginia; Mary, a resident of Allegheny City; Mrs. Smith, who lives in North Buffalo, and John, the subject of our sketch.

He was born October 18, 1814, and reared a farmer. June 20, 1844, he was married to Miss Margaret B. Smith, daughter of John B. and Mary (Bell) Smith, who was born January 8, 1825. Her parents were, like Mr. Graham's, early settlers of the township. John B. Smith was born east of the mountains, November 13, 1790, and came to Westmoreland county with his parents when two years of age. The family was driven back by the

MRS. JOHN GRAHAM.

Indians, but in 1800 came to Armstrong county and effected a settlement. Prior to this time John B. Smith's grandfather, Joseph Brown, had been killed by the Indians east of the mountains. Mr. and Mrs. Smith reared a large family of children, their names being: John, George H., Joseph B., James G., Margaret B., A. Wilson, S. H., R. M. and Richard N. Of these the two first named are deceased. Joseph B., who now lives in North Buffalo township, was a member of the 78th regt. Pa. Vols., as were also his brothers Richard N. and R. M., who are both now in the West. A. Wilson Smith was in the 8th Pa. Reserves, and subsequently in the 78th regt., and died from disease contracted in the service. S. H. Smith died in the Sandwich Islands. James G. Smith is a well known farmer of West Franklin town- ship.

Returning to Mr. and Mrs. Graham, we will add that both are members of the Slate Lick Presbyte- rian church, and among the most respected resi- dents of their township. They have no children of their own, but have adopted a son, John D. Graham, who lives upon a farm near them. They have reared several others, and particularly during the war period were friends of the little ones whose fathers were in the field, taking several of them into their home.

Mr. Graham, like his father, has been in politics a democrat.

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FREEPORT TOWNSHIP.

claimed her as his squaw, and who had that day killed her second boy, remained with her and took from his bosom the scalp which he had so hu- manely concealed from her sight on the island, and stretched it upon a hoop. She then meditated re- venge, attempting to take the tomahawk which hung by his side, and deal a fatal blow, but was, alas ! detected. Her dusky wooer turned, cursed her, and called her a Yankee, thus inti- mating that he understood her intention, and to prevent a repetition of her attempt, faced her. The feigned reason that she gave for hand- ling his tomahawk was, that her child wanted to play with its handle. The guard that had been out returned from his lookout about noon, and reported that he had not discovered any pursuers, and remained on guard while the other went out for the same purpose. The one then guarding her, after questioning her respecting the whites, the strength of their armies, and boasting of the achievement of the Indians in St. Clair's defeat, examined the plunder which he had brought from her house, among which he found her pocket- book, containing $10 in silver and a half-guinea in gold. All the food that she received from her guards on that Sunday and Monday was a piece of dried venison, about the size of an egg, each day, for herself and her child, but by reason of the blows which they had inflicted upon ber jaws she could not eat any of it, and broke it up and gave it to her child. The guard who had been on the look- out in the afternoon returned about dark. Having been removed to another station in the valley of that run, that evening, she was again pinioned, guarded, and kept without either fire or refresh- ment, the second night of her captivity, just as she had been during the first one. She, however, fell asleep occasionally and dreamed several times of her arrival at Pittsburgh.

Her ears were regaled the next morning by the singing of a flock of mocking-birds and robins that hovered over her irksome camp. To her imagina- tion they seemed to sing, "Get up and go off !" One of the guards having left at daybreak to watch the trail, the remaining one appeared to be sleep- ing, on observing which, she began to snore and feigned to be asleep. When she was satisfied that he had really fallen asleep, she concluded it was her time to escape. She would then have slain or disabled him, but for the crying of her child when out of her arms, which would of course awaken him and jeopardize her own life. She, therefore, was contented to take a short gown, handkerchief, and child's frock from the pillow case contain- ing the articles which the Indians had brought

from her house, and escape, about half an hour after sunrise. Guided by those birds, and wisely taking a direction from instead of toward her home, in order to mislead her captors she passed over the hill, reached the Connoquennessing, about two miles from the point at which she and they had crossed it, and descended it through thorns and briers, and over rocks and precipices, with bare feet and legs. Having discovered by the sun and the course of the stream that she was advancing too far in her course from her home, she changed it, ascended the hill, sat down till sunset, deter- mined her direction for the morrow by the even- ing star, gathered leaves for her bed, without food, her feet painful from the thorns that were in them, reclined and slept.

About daybreak the next morning she was awakened by that flock of birds which seemed to her to be attending and guiding her through the wilderness. When light enough to find her way, she started on her fourth day's trial of hunger and fatigue, advancing, according to her knowledge of courses and distances, toward the Allegheny river. Nothing unusual occurred during the day. It having commenced raining moderately about sun- set, she prepared to make her bed of leaves, but was prevented by the crying of her child when she sat him down. Listening she distinctly heard the footsteps of a man following her. Such was the condition of the soil that her footprints might be discerned. Fearing that she was thus exposed to a second captivity, she looked for a place of con- cealment and providentially discovered a large fallen tree, into whose thick foliage she crept with her child in her arms, where, aided by the dark- ness, she avoided detection by the Indian whose footsteps she had heard. He having heard the child's cry, came to the spot whence the sound proceeded, halted, put down his gun, and was then so near to her that she distinctly heard the wiping- stick strike against his gun. Fortunately the child, pressed to her bosom, became warm and lay quiet during the continuance of their imminent peril. That Indian in the meantime, amidst that unbroken stillness, stood for nearly two hours with listening ears to again catch the sound of the child's cry, and so profound was that stillness that the beating of her own heart was all she heard, and which seemed to her to be so loud that she feared her dusky pursuer would hear it. Finally, answering the sound of a bell and a cry like a night-owl's, signals which his companions had given, and giv- ing a horrid, soul-harrowing yell, he departed. Deeming it imprudent to remain there until morn- ing, lest her tracks might be discovered in day-

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light, she endeavored, but found it difficult, by reason of her exhaustion, to remove, but compelled by a stern necessity and her love of life, she threw her coat around the child, with one end between her teeth, thus carrying the child with her teeth and one arm, with the other she groped her way among the trees a mile or two, and there sat in the damp, cold air till morning.

At daylight the next morning, wet, hungry, ex- hausted, wretched, she advanced across the head- waters of Pine creek, not knowing what they were, and became alarmed by two freshly indented moccasin tracks of men traveling in the same direction that she was. As they were ahead of her she concluded that she could see them as soon as they could see her. So she proceeded about three miles to a hunter's camp at the confluence of another branch of the creek, in which those who preceded her had kindled a fire, breakfasted, and leaving the fire burning, had departed. She after- ward learned that they were spies, viz., James Anderson and John Thompson. Having become still more alarmed, she left that path, ascended a hill, struck another path, and while meditating there what to do, saw three deer advancing toward her at full speed. They turned to look and she, too, looked intently at their pursuers, and saw the flash and heard the instantaneous report of a gun. Seeing some dogs start after the deer, she crouched behind a large log for shelter, but fortunately not close to it, for, as she placed her hand on the ground to raise herself up, that she might see the hunters, she saw a large mass of rattlesnakes, her face being very near the top one, which lay coiled ready to strike its deadly fangs into her. With a supreme effort she left that dangerous spot, bear- ing to the left, reached the headwaters of Squaw run, which, through rain, she followed the rest of the day, her limbs so cold and shivering that she could not help giving an occasional involuntary groan. Though her jaws had sufficiently recov- ered from the pain caused by the blows inflicted upon her by the Indians, she suffered from hunger, procuring grapevines whenever she could and chew- ing them for what little sustenance they afforded. Having arrived at eveningtide within a mile of the Allegheny river, though she did not know it, at the root of a tree, holding her child in her lap and her head against the tree to shelter him from that night's drenching rain, she lodged that fifth night since her capture.

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History of Armstrong County, Pennsylvania, Part 86

Author: Smith, Robert Walter Publication date: 1883 Publisher: Chicago : Waterman, Watkins Number of Pages: 790

Author: Smith, Robert Walter
Publication date: 1883
Publisher: Chicago : Waterman, Watkins
Number of Pages: 790