"The above are the impressions derived from my personal recollections, and the traditions of the first settlers. Perhaps prior to 1787, which I understand to be the period included in your volume, the localities and the inhabitants of these towns might have been different; and it is quite likely that the population, about this time of the Revolution, was more exclusively Shawanese. Yours, &c., "JAMES W. TAYLOR, Esq." "JOSEPH NEWELL. VIII. NETAWATWES, AND OTHER DELAWARE CHIEFS. Heckewelder says (Transactions of American Philosophical Society, vol. iv. p. 388) that Netawatwes had been a signer of a treaty held at Conestogo, near Lancaster, Pennsylvania, in 1718, and was then a young man, between twenty or thirty years of age. As an hereditary chief of the Turtle Tribe, he was intrusted with "all verbal speeches, with wampum, bead vouchers," &c., from the time of William Penn. He died at a great age-upwards of ninety. He was settled on the Cuyahoga, on his first arrival in Ohio, but in 1773 was on the Muskingum, at a point still called from him, Newcom erstown. WHITE EYES or Coquethagechton (as Heckewelder writes his name) succeeded Netawatwes in 1776, or "at least accepted the appointment for a limited time, and until the young chief by lineal descent should be of proper age." (See Biography in Am. Phil. Trans., p. 391.) His character and career are sufficiently apparent from the text. GELELEMEND or Killbuck, after the death of White Eyes in 1778, was installed as temporary chief during the minority of the heir of Netawatwes. He became a devoted adherent of the Americans, receiving the rank of colonel. MACHENGIVE PUSHIS or Big Cat afterwards removed to the Auglaise, as appears from the interesting narrative of John Brickell, late of Franklin county, who was a captive, from 1791 to 1795, among the Delawares. During that time, he was adopted as a son by "Whingwy Pooshies or Big Cat." (See Brickell's Narrative in American Pioneer, vol. i. p. 46.) His description of the parting with his Indian protector, when the tribe was compelled to deliver their prisoners, is extremely touching-sufficiently so to warrant its quotation. "On the breaking up of spring [in 1795] we all went up to Fort Defiance, and on arriving on the shore opposite we saluted the fort with a round of rifles, and they shot a cannon thirteen times. We then encamped on the spot. On the same day Whingwy Pooshies told me I must go over to the fort. The children hung around me crying, and asked me if I was going to leave them? I told them I did not know. When we got over to the fort, and were seated with the officers, Whingwy Pooshies told me to stand up, which I did; he then rose and addressed me in about these words: 'My son, there are men the same color with yourself. There may be some of your kin there, or your kin may be a great way off from you. You have lived a long time with us. I call on you to say if I have not been a father to you? if I have not used you as a father would use a son?' I said, 'You have used me as well as a father could use a son.' He said, 'I am glad you say so. You have lived long with me; you have hunted for me; but our treaty says you must be free. If you choose to go with the people of your own color, I have no right to say a word, but if you choose to stay with me your people have no right to speak. Now reflect on it and take your choice, and tell us as soon as you make up your mind.' "I was silent a few minutes, in which time it seemed as if I thought of almost every thing. I thought of the children I had just left crying; I thought of the Indians I was attached to, and I thought of my people which I remembered; and this latter thought predominated, and I said, 'I will go with my kin.' The old man then said, 'I have raised you-I have learned you to hunt. You are a good hunter-you have been better to me than my own sons. I am now getting old and I cannot hunt. I thought you would be a support to my age. I leaned on you as on a staff. Now it is broken -you are going to leave me and I have no right to say a word, but I am ruined.' He then sank back in tears to his seat. I heartily joined him in his tears-parted with him, and have never seen nor heard of him since." Heckewelder mentions another prominent Delaware, Tetepachksi, whose name will be readily identified at the subsequent treaties. In the Philosophical Transactions (vol. iv. p. 391), the Moravian biographer thus speaks of him: "Tetepachksi, also called by the whites the Glaze King, was for a number of years a counsellor of the Great Council of the Turtle Tribe at Goshacking (forks of the Muskingum); afterwards he became a chief of the Delawares, who resided on White River in Indiana. He was rather timorous, and easily prompted to become jealous or mistrustful, though he meant no harm to any body, and rather than make a mistake, would leave others to act in his stead. Yet harmless and innocent as he was, he was by the prophet brother of Tecumseh declared a witch, and condemned to die; in consequence of which sentence, his executioners took him to the distance of eight or ten miles from their village, and there tomahawked him, and then burnt his body on the piles.-See Heckewelder's Narrative, page 410." At a treaty with the United States, August 18, 1804, his name is written Tetabuxika. HOPOCAN or Pipe appears seldom, except as narrated above. He signed the treaty of Jan. 9, 1789, at Fort Harmar, and is frequently mentioned in the journals of the Marietta settlers. He probably died before the Treaty of Greenville in 1795, as his signature does not appear. Heckewelder speaks of Newalike and Nihmha, as chiefs of the Munsie tribe (of Delawares), at Minisink in Pennsylvania, afterwards on the Susquehanna, and finally at Sandusky. IX. LEWIS WETZEL, THE BORDERER. We have been favored with the following communication from Hon. E. R. Eckley, of Carroll county; which presents some facts of the later history of this noted borderer, that are not generally known, besides vindicating his memory in respect to his Indian hostilities: "J. W. TAYLOR, Esq.: "SIR,-In compliance with your request, I send you such facts, in connection with the history and services of Lewis Wetzel, as are in my possession, or within my power to furnish. I do it with the more pleasure, because it may tend to wrest from oblivion the history of one who, in that stirring time in our frontier history, filled so conspicuous a place. The date of events, in the life of that distinguished man, are now perhaps beyond the reach of certainty. The date of facts contained in this letter, I cannot even approximate. They were given me by my venerable father, who, though cognizant to many of them, kept no record, and would not undertake to fix even the year. He, at the time Wetzel was in Louisiana, was engaged in the river trade, and was personally acquainted with him; visited him while in prison at New Orleans, also after he was released from prison, while he lived with a relative near Natchez. "Lewis Wetzel was supposed to have been born in the vicinity of what is now the city of Wheeling; at all events, his father occupied a small farm at that place when he was a small boy. Of his family I am unable to learn much, except that they were comparatively poor, which circumstance may account for the dangers and privations of a frontier life, to which he and his family were exposed. Wetzel had a sister and brother (John or Jack) who, with him, performed many daring adventures and exploits in the spy department, at that day so important to the defence of the frontier. In those days, every frontiersman man was, more or less, a hero; every frontiersman was compelled to defend himself and family against marauding savages, who were constantly committing depredations upon the property and persons of themselves and families. Such circumstances, and the services they were compelled to perform, inured them to dangers and deeds of daring, that make up that record of thrilling events of which our past history is so fruitful. In the midst of these stormy scenes, Wetzel's early impressions were formed; and doubtless from the fireside, on hearing tales of daring adventure and personal courage, he conceived the idea of arresting the savage on his war-path, and shivering from his hand the deadly weapon, while aimed at the head of helpless females and unsuspecting children. "The first feat in the life of Wetzel, worthy of notice, that has been preserved, happened when he was about sixteen years of age. A party of Indians had crossed the river and stolen off several horses, and were making their way back to their towns on the Muskingum, and further west. A party of the hardy pioneers were soon assembled and enroute to recapture the property and bring the aggressors to justice. In the pursuit the party passed the farm of the elder Wetzel. Lewis was engaged in cultivating a crop of growing corn. They solicited him to join their party. He had been forbidden by his father to leave his home, but the adventure was too great a temptation for the spirit of young Wetzel, and he was easily persuaded to join them. He accordingly took from the plow a favorite mare of his father's and started in pursuit of the fugitive Indians. They had not proceeded far until they came upon the enemy, who were carelessly loitering about their camp, apparently off their guard, and probably thinking they had safety on their side, as the Ohio River was between them and the neighborhoods upon which they lately committed depredations. The stolen horses were spanceled and grazing at a short distance. They were easily surprised and fled, leaving the horses, which were recovered. The party of settlers having accomplished their purpose, prepared to return, but their horses were jaded and hungry, and they agreed that the horses they had rode should be turned out to grass, three of their number left to bring them after they had refreshed a short time, and the balance of the company, with the recaptured horses, should commence their retreat back to the settlements. They had not proceeded many miles until they were overtaken by the three of their number they had left behind to bring their horses, who informed them that soon after their departure they were surprised by the savages, who made their appearance between them and their horses, leaving them no alternative in saving their lives but to abandon everything and escape by flight, which they succeeded in doing, overtook their companions, but left their horses in the hands of the enemy. A parley was called, and the hasty determination was soon formed to con tinue their way homeward and leave the Indians in possession of the horses. To this determination Wetzel earnestly remonstrated. The loss of a favorite animal improperly taken from home, the disappointment of his first adventure, and the wrath of a father whom he both feared and loved, drove him almost to desperation. He protested he would never return alive to his father without the mare-swore he preferred the mare without his scalp, to his scalp without the mare, and urged the company to return and retake the horses. In this he was overruled in council, against which decision he uttered bitter anathemas. He next proposed that if only one man would join him he would return and contest the right to the horses, but no one would volunteer. He then swore that he would go alone, that the mare he must and would have, and was actually upon the point of starting, when two others, who had been active in inducing him to go, reluctantly agreed to accompany him. The three left their companions on their way to their homes, and started back in search of their horses. They soon reached the camp and found the Indians engaged at their meals with the horses safely secured at a short distance. The Indians were three in number, equal only to themselves, but the companions of Wetzel hesitated and desired to return, but Wetzel counted chances and insisted upon success. The plan of attack was soon agreed upon. They were to advance in single file, Wetzel in front, until they passed two trees, behind which his companions were to ambush. When he reached the third it was the signal for an attack. Wetzel reached his tree, and discovered that the Indians had also treed; but in looking around for his companions he found they had retreated and were nearly out of sight, at the top of their speed. His condition was really critical; to come out in an open field was almost certain death. His only hope was in stratagem. He therefore placed his hat on the end of his ramrod and gently pushed it partly from behind the tree. This was no sooner done than all the Indians fired at it. The hat was literally riddled, and Wetzel, still secure behind the tree, quick but cautiously dropped it to the ground. At this, the Indians believing they had killed their adversary, all sprung from their ambush and rushed towards him. Wetzel now held the trump, and taking advantage of the enemy, whose guns were empty, he left his tree, and firing on the foremost brought him to the ground, and then, with the fleetness of the wind, ran from the scene, and was followed by the survivors. Wetzel loaded as he ran, and wheeling quickly, fired into the breast of the foremost savage; again ran, loaded and fired on the last of the Indians, just as he was in the act of hurling his tomahawk at the head of Wetzel. His fire was successful, and the whole three were thus dead on the plain. Wetzel secured the evidence of his victory, obtained the horses and overtook his companions before they had stopped for the night. The exhibition of the bloody trophies of victory, and the lost horses safely recaptured, all in the hands of their |