USA > Pennsylvania > Carbon County > History of Carbon County, Pennsylvania; also containing a separate account of the several boroughs and townships in the county, with biographical sketches > Part 5
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The chieftain's imposing presence, his earnestness of appeal, and his impassioned oratory, as he plead the cause of the long-injured Lenape, evoked the ad- miration of his enemies themselves.
He always spoke in the euphonious Delaware, although he was conversant with the white man's
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HISTORY OF CARBON COUNTY.
speech. It would almost appear from the records of these gatherings, that the whites artfully attempted to evade the points at issue, and to conciliate the indig- nant chieftain with fair speeches and uncertain prom- ises. The hollowness of the former he boldly exposed, and the latter be scornfully rejected; so that it was soon perceived that the Indian king was as astute and sagacious as he was immovable in the justice of his righteous demands. This conviction forced itself upon his hearers, and they yielded to the terms he laid down. In return the Indians were pledged first to release all the white prisoners they held.
Having been given presents, the chief departed to arrange for the carrying out of his part of the pro- gram. All his movements, however, were so dilatory as to cause grave suspicion with regard to his sin- cerity of purpose. He loitered about the frontiers, went away, and came back again.
Finally, in the early part of Angust, he re-appeared at Fort Allen, where the lieutenant in command kept plying him with rum until he was in no condition to move away, much to the detriment and disgrace of the province. The officer who was in supreme command of the fort at this time was Captain Reynolds, but he being absent, a subordinate was temporarily in charge. The rum which he supplied to Teedynscung was em- bezzled from the public stores, and was sold to the chief. When the Delaware king came to the fort he brought with him sixteen deer skins, which he pro- posed sending to Governor Morris as a present, and ont of which to make himself a pair of gloves. The lieutenant ridiculed Teedyuscung for this, and told him that one skin would be sufficient to make all the gloves that the governor would need. The king re- plied that this was the way the Indian spoke to show
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his generosity. However, the corrupt lieutenant gam- bled all but one of the skins away from the chief be- fore his departure.
It is not surprising to learn that under such a leader a mutiny occurred at the fort before the return of Captain Reynolds.
It appears that a number of the soldiers had im- bibed too freely of rum, and grew insubordinate. Christian Weyrick, a corporal, was the chief offender. He had a bodily encounter with his superior officer, and later quarreled with the Indians who were at the fort, threatening to drive them out.
Both the corporal and the lieutenant were placed under arrest and lodged in jail at Easton for their mis- conduct.
Captain Jacob Arndt was placed in command of the fort soon after this incident.
Early in July, 1757, Teedyuscung was again quar- tered at Fort Allen, being enroute between the Sus- quehanna and the Delaware for the purpose of attend- ing another conference with the governor.
On this occasion he was accompanied by two hun- dred Indians of all ages and both sexes. Upon his arrival he informed the commandant that he expected to stay five or six days, when he would be joined by about one hundred Senecas.
In the Spring of 1758 Teedyuscung removed to Wyoming, where, agreeably to his request and the con- ditions of treaty, a town had been built for him and his followers by the province, in the beautiful valley of the Susquehanna. Thus happily situated after so many vicissitudes, he looked forward to the time when he should be enabled to wipe out the blot which had tarnished the escutcheon of the immemorial Lenape ever since the Six Nations had insidiously made
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women of them, years before. But his dreams were destined not to be realized; for here he was burned to death on the night of the nineteenth of April, 1763, while asleep in his lodge.
It is said that the Iroquois were the instigators of this wicked deed, for they hated the man who testified against their arrogant assumption, and who opposed their lust of power. As long as he lived, therefore, he was a standing rebuke to their designing oppression, and although they no longer dreaded his arms, they feared his words, which left their guilty consciences no peace. Hence it was resolved in council that he ought not to live; and when the news was brought back to Onondaga that the Delaware king was no more, and that the lodges of the warriors had ascended in smoke, the treacherous Six Nations exultantly celebrated their triumph in having destroyed an enemy whose brave spirit they had despaired of subduing.
CHAPTER V.
CAPTIVITY OF THE GILBERT FAMILY.
The memory of the horrors and barbarities which attended the Indian uprising of 1755 lingered long in the minds of the settlers and their families. Notwith- standing that the Blue mountain frontier was rendered as safe as forts and garrisons could make it, only the most obstinate and adventurous of the pioneers re- turned to their clearings after the first violence of the storm had subsided. Even ten years after the massacre of Gnadenhütten only a handful of white people lived in what is now Carbon county, and almost a generation passed away before the ring of the axe was again heard in the forests, and the curling smoke wreaths ascended from the chimneys of the log cabins of Towamensing, as this whole region was then known.
Among those whom the feeling of returning security lured across the Blue Ridge was Benjamin Gilbert, a peaceful Quaker, who, in 1775, located in the Ma- honing Valley, a few miles from the spot where the Moravians had thirty years earlier planted their ill- fated mission. He came from Byberry, near Phila- delphia, and was married to his second wife, who had been the widow of Bryan Peart. Their united families of children made a large household. The Dodsons and a number of other families lived in the same neigh- borhood. Gilbert erected a log dwelling house and barns, a saw and grist mill, and for five years all went well; for the forest supply of timber was abundant, while Mahoning creek ran its strong full course un- checked by ice or drought. The mill-stones whirred cheerily all the year round, and the sharp, grating
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mill saw played a joyous accompaniment. In an evil hour this scene of peace, contentment and prosperous toil was rudely broken by the stealthy and savage in- truder. On the morning of April 25, 1780, just a year after General Sullivan's expedition, the family was surprised by a party of eleven Indians, who took them all prisoners. The names and ages of the cap- tives were: Benjamin Gilbert, aged sixty-nine; Eliza- beth, his wife, fifty-five; Joseph Gilbert, his son, forty- one; Jesse Gilbert, another son, nineteen; Sarah Gil- bert, wife of Jesse, nineteen; Rebecca Gilbert, a daughter, sixteen; Abner Gilbert, a son, fourteen; Elizabeth Gilbert, a daughter, twelve; Thomas Peart, a son of Benjamin Gilbert's wife, twenty-three; Benja- min Gilbert, a son of John Gilbert, of Philadelphia, eleven; Andrew Harrigar, employed by Gilbert, twenty-six; and Abigail Dodson, aged fourteen. The last named was a daughter of Samuel Dodson, who lived on a farm nearly a mile away. She had come to the mill that morning with a grist. Having securely bound the prisoners, the Indians then proceeded to the dwelling of Benjamin Peart, about half a mile distant. There they made captive the head of the household, who was a young man of twenty-seven, his wife Eliza- beth, aged twenty, and their nine-months' old child.
A guard was placed over the prisoners while the Indians employed themselves in plundering their homes and packing up such goods as they chose to carry off. When they had secured all that their horses could carry, they loaded the remainder of their booty upon the backs of the distressed prisoners. Having finished their plundering, they began their retreat, first detaching two of their number to fire the buildings of the luckless captives.
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HISTORY OF CARBON COUNTY.
From a nearby eminence called Summer Hill, the prisoners had their last view of the spot where they had lived so prosperously and contentedly for five years, and as their glances lingered mournfully on the scene, the falling roofs of the buildings sent showers of sparks toward the heavens.
The Indians were led by Rowland Monteur, a half- breed, whose father was a Mohawk, while his mother was a French woman. Five of the band were Senecas. They lost no time in pushing forward into the wilder- ness, evidently fearing pursuit and retribution. The route which they pursued led first to Mauch Chunk. A halt was called near the point where Flagstaff Park now is, and considering themselves comparatively se- cure, the Indians leisurely prepared a hearty meal, which they shared with the prisoners. Moccasins were then made for the children, after which they resumed their journey. Mauch Chunk creek was crossed and the climb of the hill on the opposite side begun. This the prisoners climbed with difficulty, and they were permitted to rest for a brief period at the foot of Mount Pisgah. The party then pressed on to the Nesquehoning creek, at the foot of the Broad mount- ain, where they halted for an hour. Here they struck the Warriors' Path, leading toward the Susquehanna. As the ascent of the Broad mountain was begun, Ben- jamin Gilbert's wife was greatly discouraged and fatigued, the unevenness and ruggedness of the path rendering the journey exceedingly toilsome. Being threatened with death by the Indians, however, she was compelled to move forward with the rest. After crossing Laurytown Valley, preparations were made to camp for the night. The Indians secured their pris- oners by felling a tree, in which notches were cut at regular intervals. Having placed their legs in these
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HISTORY OF CARBON COUNTY.
notches, a pole the length of the tree was placed on top. Across this, stakes were driven, after the manner of an old-fashioned rail fence, other poles or riders being placed in the crotches of the stakes, effectually confining the prisoners, with their backs to the ground. In addition to this, they tied a strip of rawhide about the neck of each of the captives, fastening one end to a tree. Hemlock branches strewed on the ground took the place of mattresses, while woolen blankets were provided for covers. In this unaccustomed manner the night was passed.
Before resuming their march the next morning, the captors separated the prisoners into small companies, placing a particular Indian in command of each com- pany and spreading them to a considerable distance in order to render pursuit as impracticable as possible.
Overcome with fatigue, the old people could not move as rapidly as their taskmasters desired, and they were forced to travel far beyond their strength under penalty of being tomahawked. As evening drew near, the parties again met and encamped. A deer having been killed, a fire was kindled, each one roasting pieces of flesh on sharpened sticks.
The mode of confinement the second night was the same as before, but the prisoners submitted to it with greater resignation than on the night previous. The next morning again found them early on their way. During the day's journey they passed near Fort Wyoming, situated on the eastern branch of the Susquehanna. The Indians observed every precaution as they ap- proached the garrison. Lest some slight noise might betray their presence, they carefully avoided treading on the twigs that were lying in the path, stepping from one stone to another, and requiring the captives to do likewise.
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HISTORY OF CARBON COUNTY.
On the morning of the fourth day of their captivity, the prisoners were all painted according to the usages of the Indians. Some were painted red and black, others red, and some pure black. Among those to whom the ebony hue was applied was the old man, Benjamin Gilbert. This was a fatal omen, indicating that he was considered of little value and was marked for death. Soon thereafter the Indians essayed to kill him, but he was saved through the intercessions of his wife. On the fourth of May, Andrew Harrigar succeeded in making his escape. After a perilous jour- ney he returned in safety to civilization, bringing the first detailed news of the whole affair to the settle- ments. The prisoners who remained were treated with greater severity on account of his escape, and were ac- cused of having been privy to the design.
For a time the Indians experienced no difficulty in procuring a plentiful supply of food. Deer, turkey, and fish were found in abundance, and at some of the Indian villages which had been deserted on the ap- proach of General Sullivan's army the year before, plenty of turnips and potatoes remained in the ground. The Indians were holding their course toward the Genesee river, and after the hunting grounds of north- ern Pennsylvania were passed, food became very scarce, and some of the prisoners were well nigh fam- ished. In this extremity all were compelled to depend on wild onions and a species of root, somewhat re- sembling the potato, which the Indians called "whop- panies." Benjamin Gilbert failed rapidly on this diet and the Indian who had him in charge, highly irritated at his want of strength, put a rope around his neck, leading him along with it. Fatigue at last overcame him, and he fell to the ground, when the heartless savage pulled so hard on the rope that he was nearly
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HISTORY OF CARBON COUNTY.
choked to death. The Indian seemed determined to kill the aged man, but his life was again spared through the resolute entreaties of his wife.
Some of the companies were at times far separated from the others, thus adding additional fear and un- certainty to their miserable lot.
On their approach to the country of the Senecas, brought with them cakes of hominy and Indian corn. abroad in search of provisions. Returning, they brought with them cakes of hominy and Indian corn. The prisoners were then put to work in the hot sun, pounding hominy, which, in their enfeebled condition was a hard task. This was then boiled and prepared for supper. The Indians sat down to eat first; when they had finished their meal, they wiped the spoons on the soles of their moccasins and then gave them to the captives, who were obliged to eat from them or go hungry.
Subjected to such conditions, the forlorn band was dragged, goaded and driven over the rugged region of northern Pennsylvania, and through the swamps and rivers of the Genesee country toward an unknown destination.
When food was plentiful, no attempt was made to lay by a portion toward the day of scarcity, the Indians being accustomed to gormandize when the opportunity offered, and to go hungry for a long period without repining when nothing to eat could be found. This mode of life, however, was foreign to their prisoners, which, together with their unaccustomed hardships and sufferings wore them to the bone.
On the twenty-third of May, after a fearful and ad- venturous journey of twenty-nine days, the prisoners were brought into an Indian village not far from Fort Niagara. They were now called upon to encounter the
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HISTORY OF CARBON COUNTY.
dreadful ordeal of the gauntlet. They had been re- lieved of the heavy loads which they had heretofore been compelled to carry, and, had it not been for the treatment which they knew was in store for them, their situation would have been tolerable. The Indians entered the village whooping in the most frightful manner, and soon the squaws and children began to gather, hurling clubs and stones at the heads of the defenseless captives as they came, seeking revenge in this manner for friends and relations who had been slain.
Two of the women who were on horseback were much bruised by falling from their mounts, which were frightened by the Indians. Elizabeth, the mother, took refuge by the side of a warrior, who, upon observing that she met with some favor on his account, sent her away; she then received several violent blows, and was almost disabled.
The blood trickled from their heads in streams, and at the sight of this the Indian women and children redoubled their cries and the fury of their onslaught. The warriors did not take part in this brutal affair, except by looking on and encouraging the demonical sport.
The hair of the prisoners was close cropt, while their clothes, as may easily be imagined, were in rags. The piteous spectacle which they presented at length moved the Indian king to put a stop to further cruelty, telling his people that the punishment which had al- ready been meted out was "sufficient."
These preliminaries having been carried out, as pre- scribed by custom, the prisoners were given something to eat, the women of the party in particular being treated with kindness.
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HISTORY OF CARBON COUNTY.
Two English officers from Fort Niagara, Captains Dace and Powell, came to see the. prisoners, and in- formed them that they would exercise their good offices to prevent them from suffering any further abuse.
Soon after this a severe trial awaited the captives. Against their tearful and unavailing protests they were separated from each other. Some were given over to the Indians to be adopted, others were hired out by their Indian owners to white families, and others were sent by way of Lake Ontario down the St. Lawrence river to Montreal as prisoners of war. Among the latter was the venerable Benjamin Gil- bert. He had been greatly indisposed before leaving Fort Niagara, and his distress was increased by a rain which fell on their passage, as they were without any covering. They passed Oswagatchy, an English garrison by the side of the St. Lawrence, but were not permitted to stop here; the rain continuing as they proceeded down the river, they landed on an island in order to secure themselves from the weather. A shelter was made for Benjamin Gilbert, but the rain ceasing to fall after a time, he was again placed in the boat, where he might be more at ease. The aged man was, however, broken in body and mind, and he sank rapidly under the complications of woe and hard- ship. He died on the evening of the eighth of June, 1780, his faithful wife and two children being by his side. In the morning the party passed Fort Coeur de Lac, and waited for a considerable time some distance below while arrangements were being made for the burial of the body of the unfortunate Quaker. The remains were placed in a coffin and hastily interred under the wide-spreading branches of an oak, not far from the fort. The boatmen, an unfeeling company of four Frenchmen, would not allow his widow to pay the
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HISTORY OF CARBON COUNTY.
last tribute to his memory, and regardless of her piti- able plight, refused to wait.
The last nine miles of the journey to Montreal were made by land. The women were allowed to ride in an empty cart, which was on the way to the town.
Arriving at Montreal, the prisoners received kind treatment at the hands of the officers in command of the garrison there.
A concise account of the privations and sufferings which the family had undergone was taken down and forwarded to General Haldimand at Quebec, who issued orders that those who were held in captivity at Niagara should be released, with particular injunc- tions for every garrison to furnish them with neces- saries on their way down the St. Lawrence to Mon- treal. To carry out these orders, however, required a great deal of time, and those of the family who had been adopted by the Indians fared miserably before they were released.
Joseph Gilbert, in particular, found the Indian man- ner of life disagreeable. The band which held him captive improvidently consumed their stock of pro- visions in indulging their voracious appetites, and a famine ensued. They were obliged to have recourse to herbs and roots, and during a time of especial scarcity they lived upon the carcass of a dead horse which had been found lying in the woods. He finally escaped, but his strength had been so greatly reduced that he made his way to Fort Niagara with extreme difficulty.
After many sore trials and vicissitudes, all of the during the period of her captivity.
After many sore trials and vicissitudes, all of the captives, excepting Benjamin Gilbert and Abigail Dod- son, were happily reunited at Montreal. Leaving there
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on the twenty-second of August, 1782, they reached their old home at Byberry in safety, two years and five months having elapsed since they had been rudely driven forth into the wilderness by the Indians.
In 1785, Thomas Dodson, a cousin of Abigail, deter- mined to go northward into the Indian country to make a search for the missing girl.
After many wanderings his diligence and faith were rewarded. He found her in the Genesee Valley with the tribe of Indians by which she had been adopted. It appeared that her return at some time had been anticipated by the Indians, they having decided that if any of her friends ever came for her she should be allowed to go.
When Thomas Dodson arrived, the chief of the tribe was absent, and the family of which she was a mem- ber, although loath to part with her, for they had learned to love her, consented, and preparations were made for her departure. A new suit of Indian gar- ments, ornamented with beads, was made for her, and feasts were given in her honor, at which many gath- ered. When all was ready, with many fond farewells, the pair started. The young man had left his horse at a settlement, a few miles away, and upon reaching the place and applying for his property, the man in whose care the horse had been left refused to give him up, except upon the payment of one hundred dollars, Dod- son did not have that much money, and was obliged to leave the horse behind. He succeeded, however, in making arrangements whereby they were taken to To- wanda, and from that point they floated down the Sus- quehanna to Salem in a canoe. There a horse was secured from a man named Nathan Beach, and they proceeded on their way to the Mahoning Valley, where they arrived in October, 1786.
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HISTORY OF CARBON COUNTY.
Abigail had been absent from home for five years and six months; she had lived with several different tribes, and had learned their languages. As she ap- proached the familiar dwelling of her childhood, she went alone to the door. Her mother opened in re- sponse to her knock, and then, turning to the girl's father, said: "Here is a squaw, and a pretty good- looking one, too." Neither of the parents recognized their child, whereupon she exclaimed, "Mother, don't you know me!" Her rescuer entered the house at this moment, and bewilderment gave place to unbounded joy as the father and mother beheld in the comely squaw their own long-lost daughter.
DRAINING A MINE IN THE PANTHER CREEK VALLEY,
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CHAPTER VI.
EARLY ANNALS OF ANTHRACITE COAL.
The Indians who inhabited eastern Pennsylvania knew of the existence of anthracite coal in various localities of that section long before this valuable min- eral, which is now one of our leading natural products, was discovered by the white settlers.
That the "black stones," as coal was commonly termed a century ago, were capable of combustion and of generating heat was not known to the aborigines. Had they been familiar with the properties of coal and the use to which it may be put, they would have carefully guarded the secret of its presence or loca- tion. To have pursued any other course, as experi- ence had taught them, would have been equivalent to an invitation to have their lands trespassed upon or taken away from them by the whites.
Loskiel, the Moravian historian, in speaking of the settlement of Gnadenhütten, relates that the Indians of the vicinity made their pipe-heads of a soft black stone, which was undoubtedly coal.
The Connecticut pioneers of the Wyoming Valley were the first to learn of the existence of coal in that portion of the region, while its presence was early suspected on the headwaters of the Schuylkill.
Coal, in the Lehigh region, was discovered on Sharp mountain, where Summit Hill now stands, in the year 1791, by Philip Ginter.
This discovery, like so many others which have been fraught with great import to humanity, was purely an accidental one, and it eventually led to a true ap- preciation of the value of the mineral on the part of
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HISTORY OF CARBON COUNTY.
the general public, and to its being mined and placed on the market. The element of romance attaches strongly to the story of Ginter and his epoch-making discovery. He was a hunter, and on locating among the rugged mountains of the upper Lehigh, he built a rongh cabin in the forest, depending solely on the pro- ceeds of his rifle for the support of himself and family. The game he shot, including bear and deer, he carried to the nearest store and bartered for the other neces- saries of life.
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