Stories of The Kanestio Valley

THIRD EDITION

BY WILLIAM M. STUART Author of: Hand to Back, Who's Who in Steuben, Masonic Soldiers of Fortune, etc. Copyright 193 5 by WILLIAM M. STUART Canisteo, N.Y.

PRINTED IN U.S.A. BY F. A. OWEN PUB. CO .• DANSVILLE. N. Y To My Son, Roger Winship Stuart

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I Under Three Flags . . • • • • • • • • 7

II The Shades of Death . • • • • • • • • 20 III The Fall of the Long House ...... 29 IV How the White Men Came to the Valley . . . 43 V Tales They Told ...... 70 VI A Captain with Washington . . . • . . . 88 VII Neighhors ...... • • . . . 9 3 VIII Terror by Night . . . . • . . .· . . . 114 IX The Killing of Joshua Stephens . • • . . . 122 X The Douglas Affair ...... 13 0 XI The Lower Valley ...... 140 XII Wolf! Wolf! ...... • . . . 152

XIII The Abduction of William Morgan • • • • • 161 XIV Rafting on the Canisteo River • . . . . . 166 XV How They Lived ...... 172 XVI Anti-Renters ...... 180 XVII The Coming of the Railroad ...... 19 0 XVIII The Mystery of David Weatherby . . . . . 197 XIX The Man Who Bluffed Lee ...... 207 XX The Brazilian Adventure ...... 218

XXI Average Americans . . . • • • • • • • 223

FOREWORD

The book, STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY, had its begin­ ning away back in the winter of 1918-19, when I was asked by the editor of The Canisteo Chronicle to prepare a few sketches of local history to run serially in his paper. I agreed to this, and at first blocked out only ten stories, the first one of which was published January 8, 1919. Presently the editor was good enough to tell me the yarns were eliciting some favorable com­ ment. He asked me to continue. The upshot of the matter was the publication of a series of forty-three stories, running through most of the issues of the paper in the year 1919. In the early part of 1920 the tales were collected and published in book form, making a volume of 208 pages, 8 vo, with 12-point type, 4 illustrations. The book was stapled, had paper covers, and but 60 copies were issued. While these were disposed of promptly, it cannot be said that the advent of the volume produced any excitement in the Valley. During the year 19 2 8 the series was revised, several chapters were discarded, much new material was introduced, more care taken with the preparatiort ( since the first edition had been rathei' hastily thrown together) , the whole now being published in The Canisteo Times. The new series excited considerable interest, which made me decide to publish this also in book form. The volume was copyrighted in 1929. It had forty-one chapters and an appendix, no illustrations, was printed in ordi­ nary newspaper type, and embraced 146 pages-about 100,000 words. Like the first edition, this work was stapled, but unlike the first it was bound in cloth, with gilt lettering on the cover. A total of 23 5 copies was published. The copies sold with amaz­ ing rapidity, the demand by no means being limited to the Canisteo Valley. The edition was soon exhausted, and ever since I have been receiving orders for the book. These orders I have been unable to fill, and so I have been forced to bring out this, the third edition. (5) 6 FOREWORD As the second edition varied considerably from the first in content, so this offering varies by about the same amount from the second. In the present book I have discarded much strictly genealogical data and have endeavored to get back to the orig­ inal purpose of the book, implied by its title: STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY. It is not intended to be a history of the Valley, wherefore I have in this copy thrown out most ma­ terial that had not story value. The net result of all this growth and pruning is that I have produced three essentially different books under exactly the same title. And yet a considerable amount of identical material is to be found in all three editions. My fond hope is that this book will prove to be the best of the lot. Surely, there was room enough for improvement! CHAPTER I Under Three Flags It was the year of starvation at Niagara. Of the original garrison of one hundred Frenchmen who had built Fort Denonville late in the summer of 1687, but forty were alive by midwinter. When the Marquis de Nonville had given the command of the post to the Sieur de Troyes, and himself made ready to de­ part for Montreal, he promised to send a shipload of provisions. "In any event," said he, "you should not starve. In these wa­ ters are the :finest fish in the world." The post, the military ancestor of the present Fort Niagara, had required only three days to build. It was merely a stockade with bastions and log barracks. For a time the gay Frenchmen were happy. They fished in the Niagara River and Lake On­ tario; they ranged the forest that lay dark and forbidding to the southward, shouting like schoolboys and hunting for nuts which the frosts of autumn had brought down. Wondrous Indian summer came, the air was still and sound carried far in the for­ est. To the west ran the strong current of the Niagara, its wa­ ters emerald green, vthile at evening the sun, glowing blood-red through the smoky atmosphere, painted a vivid streak on the surface of the lake. Then the Senecas, real owners of the land and inveterate foes of the French, besieged the post. No soldier might now venture beyond the stockade to hunt or fish. Every night strict watch and ward must needs be kept, for the forest swarmed with Iro­ quois, and each glancing shadow produced the roar of a musket. Provisions began to fail. Anxiously the garrison waited for the promised ship. At last it was seen, far down the lake, mov­ ing slowly, for there was little wind. A breeze sprang up and the bark was wafted to the shore. Eager hands unloaded her burden. Disappointment, rage, terror followed; the provisions were found to be spoiled. Within the next six weeks sixty men perished. (7) 8 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY

The hostile Indians had withdrawn to their camps, but King Winter reigned. Across the peninsula, so pleasant in summer but desolate and bleak in winter, the icy blasts hcv.T!ed, moaning in the pines and shrieking about the timbers of the fort. Dur­ ing the frequent storms none dared to venture out, for the sur­ vivors had grown weak and almost helpless. One day, as the fuel had become exhausted, a band of the strongest tottered out to chop some wood. Their strength was not equal to the task. Amid the drifting snow clouds they lurched toward the post, but sank exhausted just outside the gate. In the words of one of the surviving garrison: ''None durst go out to them. The second day the wolves found them-we saw it all." By the time that the mellow breath of spring had reduced the snow to pools of muddy water, twelve Frenchmen remained alive. Then came Chief Michitonka, of the friendly Miami tribe. He caused his warriors to bring food and medicine. The twelve were saved. Such was the :first dramatic episode in the his~ory of Fort Niagara, which was destined to become the stronghold of that portion of New France now known as Western New York. Niagara was the key to the West, and the French soon discov­ ered that fact. They realized that it stood at the gateway of their western empire, and wisely they decided to fortify it. Eventually a vast territory was governed from this point. The first military work on this site was built in 1679 by the explorer La Salle, and by him was named "Fort Tonty." It burned the following year and nothing but the magazine re­ mained. For seven years thereafter the place was unfortified, then followed the gruesome incident of Fort Denonville, which has just been recounted. This post of odious memory was abandoned temporarily in September, 1688. The next fortification was begun in 1725 and completed in 1727. The undertaking was upon the orders of the Governor General of New France, De Vaudreuil. The engineer who se­ lected the site and drew the plans did so with such skill and good judgment that both the fort and the plans remain to this day. Recently the old stronghold was renovated and restored to its original condition, and it is now one of the show places of the western frontier of the Empire State. Tradition has it that the Senecas were strongly opposed to the UNDER THREE FLAGS 9 French fortifying this spot again, and threatened to make war upon them. Some unscrupulous strategist thereupon induced the savages to go upon a long hunting expedition. When they returned, a month later, the walls of the fort were so far ad­ vanced that they dared not make an attack. One thing is certain, the work was well done. There were real builders in the land in those days. The main building, some­ times called the "Mess House," but generally designated as "The Castle," is 10 5 feet long, 47 feet wide, three stories high. Its massive walls were built of native stone from the hills of Lewiston, trimmed with cut stones brought across the lake from Kingston, Canada. The heavy timbers, most of which are intact after the lapse of more than two centuries, were obtained in the forest to the west, beyond the Niagara River. The Castle had many large apartments, each with its huge fireplace. Of course there was a dungeon, ten by eighteen feet. About this dreadful place wild tales cluster. Within the building a deep well was sunk, to guard against the exigencies of a siege. Although the castle has several times been subjected to bom­ bardment, it never has been seriously injured. At the time of its construction two detached blockhouses, likewise of stone, were built. Later, barracks, bombproofs, traverses and ditches were constructed, rendering the place of tremendous strength. Concerning the barracks, an officer located at the present fort, writing for the benefit of the boys of the Citizens' Military Training Camp, says: This building is a :fine type of the method of housing soldiers in Europe more than two centuries ago. Similar ones may be seen in France today. Built close to the ground with small windows and divided into three compartments; squad room, kitchen and living room; heated by open :fireplaces and banked high with snow in winter, to shut out the fierce winds. Here the men slept on the stones and ate barrels of salt pork and beans. Small gardens were cultivated near the fort for aids to the rations, but nearly all food was shipped from France and sailing was at the mercy of the winds-sometimes fast, more f re­ quently slow. After the completion of this fortress the French reigned for a space of thirty-two years. It is interesting to imagine what their life was like in that remote post, thousands of miles from the sunny fields of F ranee. 10 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY

The fleur-de-lis, golden on a white :field, flaunts in the breeze; smoke from the many chimneys of the castle rises in the air; white-clad soldiers move about the parade ground, flirting with dusky Indian maids; gaily dressed officers, wearing fierce mus­ taches and huge jack-boots, clatter across the stone floor of the castle; or, in winter, sit before the blazing logs in the fireplaces and swap yarns about the wars in Flanders under the_ Grand Monarch; in softer moods dreaming of Suzanne in her rose garden of far-away Picardy. What a quantity of wood those immense fireplaces must have consumed! And poor Jacques had to cut the logs. Some of the military governors ruled with a high hand. Men who displeased them were summarily clapped into the dungeon, or executed. The king was far away, the commander of the post was supreme. To this day the autographs of many unfor­ tunate occupants of the dungeon can be traced on the walls-to the gaping enjoyment of tourists. Some of these names repre­ sent the best blood of France. Thirty feet from the castle an oak beam, possibly two hun­ dred years old, joins giant trees whose trunks have grown around the ends of the ti...111ber. This is called Hangman's Timber, and tradition has it that three French officers were executed here­ hung by the neck till they were dead. Other traditions, perhaps not so well authenticated, serve to cast the mantle of romance over the old structure of many memories. A thorough modernist would scorn to listen to one of these tales; but not so the starry-eyed bride on her honey­ moon, who clutches the arm of her man and just laps up the story. 'Tis said that, every night, in the gloomy and abandoned castle, when the moon is low in the west and bats rustle among the timbers, a headless ghost rises from the poisoned well and sits on the stone curbing. He doesn't do anything at all but sit there, perhaps thinking of the good old days. For quite two hundred years, so the story goes, the coming of this spectre has been a midnightly occurrence. There are scoffers who maintain that America has neither cas­ tles nor traditions; yet here are both in one place. It is true that no one seems to know why the apparition should be headless, nor yet why the well came to be considered poisoned. Perhaps one of the three executed officers, previously referred to, was UNDER THREE FLAGS 11 tossed into the well. That, surely, wouldn't do the well any good. It is possible that the original ghost, before he became a ghost, figuratively lost his head in the presence of his command­ er and later lost it in reality. Perhaps .... But what's the use? The story persists, for one simply must associate spookish yarns with such an ancient place as Niagara Castle. We aren't going to.let Europe have a corner on that sort of business. Not by a long shot! It was in 1826 that William Morgan, of Batavia, the cause of the Anti-Masonic movement, was confined by his abductors in this dungeon and was never again seen, at least by those who would tell. Was he murdered there? Was his body sunk weighted into the Niagara River, near by? Or was he merely bribed to go away? No one now alive can say. During the French and Indian War, the British determined to capture Fort Niagara, then garrisoned by about six hundred men under the command of Captain Pouchot, later to be re­ f erred to in these pages. An army of 3,200 men, including a thousand Mohawk and Seneca warriors, led by Sir William Johnson-the whole expedi­ tion being commanded by General Prideaux-advanced upon Niagara, and on July 7, 1759, began siege operations. Five days later Prideaux was killed by the bursting of a shell, and Johnson succeeded to the command. The energetic Lord of the Mohawk Valley continued the siege, and by the 22nd of the month had breached the outer walls sufficiently to warrant an assault. In the meantime the French had collected an army at their distant western posts; enlisting the aid of numerous Indians. The mixed force of French regulars and Indian braves, perhaps 2,500 men in all, advanced boldly to relieve the fort. Johnson's lurking scouts had informed him of the movement. Taking the pick of his troops, Sir William marched to meet the relieving column. Just to the south of the present village of Youngs­ town, located close to the military reservation of Fort Niagara, is a deep ravine, now called "Bloody Gulch." Here Johnson suc­ ceeded in ambushing the enemy. What followed was a surprise, a panic and a butchery, rather than a battle. A chorus of quavering yells, a sudden volley, a charge by the British regulars, and the French army dissolved like a rope of sand. Johnson captured nearly all the French o:ffi- 12 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY cers. When infarmed of this tragic occurrence, Captain Pouchot surrendered the fort. For a period of thirty-seven years thereafter the Union Jack of the British Empire waved almost unchallenged over the Gi­ braltar of the West; New France had passed away. A bloody incident of the British occupation was the wiping out of a de­ tachment of troops by the Senecas. The soldiers, on their return march from the Falls, whither they had been convoying a wagon train, suddenly were beset and then forced over a precipice into the awesome cavern since called "The Devil's Hole." During the Revolution the post at Niagara was the center of British and Indian activities in the state of New York. Here were the headquarters for Johnson's Greens, a bitter Tory regi­ ment. Here Walter Butler, with his strangely brooding eyes and his diabolical brain, planned the raid on Cherry Valley. Here, Walter's father, Colonel John Butler, organized the expedition which was to culminate in the Massacre of Wyoming. On the parade ground which had witnessed the evolutions of the veterans of Louis XIV, now gathered for their bloody forays British regulars, Canadian rangers, Tories, Loyalists, riffraff from the ends of the continent. Marching with incredible swiftness, or floating down rapid streams in canoes, the motley force struck exposed settlements in bewildering succession. Led by the Butlers, the Johnsons (Sir John and Guy), MacDonald, Chief Brant, they accomplished their horrid tasks, then returned to Niagara to rest, recuperate, feast and revel. These events later furnished the novelist, Robert W. Chambers, with material for his extremely interesting romances concerning New York in the Revolution. "The sink of iniquity," as Fort Niagara was indignantly termed by the Americans, was one of the objectives of General Sullivan, when he launched his raid against the Long House people, in the summer of 1779. But by the time his army had reached the Genesee River, the season was so far advanced that this portion of the plan had to be abandoned. Until the end of the struggle, and for thirteen years thereafter, the British con­ tinued to hold Niagara. It was not until 1796, when the Jay treaty went into effect, that the English finally surrendered the famous post. At this time, it is worthy of note, the fort was commanded by the same Colonel Smith who had ridden with UNDER THREE FLAGS 13 Major Pitcairn to Lexington on the celebrated April morn in '7 5, following Paul Revere's famous ride. After the close of the Revolution and until its final surrender, Niagara Castle was the great depot of supplies for the Loyalists and Tories who had been driven from their homes. It is said that fifteen thousand refugees went through the old castle on their way to start life anew in Canada. Between 1796 and 1812, there was friendly intercourse be­ tween the American garrison of Fort Niagara and the British force at Fort George, on the opposite side of the river. At this time the British commandant at Fort George was Sir Isaac Brock, later to die gloriously at Queenston Heights. On Sundays the families of the American officers crossed the river to worship in St. Mark's Church, while the British officers came to the Amer­ ican post to attend social functions. Upon the outbreak of the War of 1812, the English made des­ perate efforts to capture or reduce Fort Niagara. During a heavy bombardment, a Mrs. Doyle, wife of a private soldier, carried hot shot from the heating oven to the guns of the castle for the period of an entire day, and was constantly under fire. This en­ gagement terminated rather to the disadvantage of the British. Later in the war the Canadian village of Newark was burned by the Americans. The enemy determined to retaliate by cap­ turing Fort Niagara and ravaging the frontier. The night of December 18, 1813, was cold and dark, but a thousand British and Indians crossed the river about three miles above the fort and stealthily advanced to surround the post, now held by fewer than five hundred men. What was worse, Captain Leonard, the American commander, seems to have been either criminally careless or a veritable traitor. He was three miles away on the night of the approaching attack, and his men had left open the gate of the fort. After skulking for a while in the woods, the invaders attacked, to their surprise found the way clear, and rushed in. A massacre of eighty Americans followed, many of them being hospital patients. Only twenty of the entire garrison escaped capture. The enemy continued to hold the fort for the remainder of the war; but since 1815 no flag save Old Glory has waved over the ancient ramparts. New buildings have been constructed outside the walls of the old post for the use of the troops, and here at all times some reg- 14 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY ular regiment-perhaps one just returned from service in a for­ eign clime-rests from its labors. At present the 28th Infantry, "The Cantigny Regiment," decorated by the French for valor, garrisons the fort. Here in summer hundreds of boys receive a month of intensive instruction in the Citizens' Military Training Camp, rendering them a potential reserve for future drill­ masters. The stronghold, for whose possession three of the greatest nations in the world contended, has now been completely restored to its original condition. These three powers, once enemies, were aligned on the same side during the recent war; and it was while defending the soil of F ranee that the present regimental garrison of Fort Niagara received its distinctive decoration. At the extreme end of the point of land between Niagara River and Lake Ontario, yet stands like a giant sentinel that grey mass of stone, its walls eternal reminders of an age that has passed; hoary, battle-scarred, haunted with weird memories­ Niagara Castle. It.has been noted that for a number of years after 1688 there was no fort at Niagara. Sometime during this period the terri­ tory of the Seneca Indians in the Genesee Valley and thereabouts was invaded by a strange and uncouth people, who came from over the hills to the east. The Senecas met the invaders in battle on the flats near the mouth of Stony Brook Glen and after a severe engagement defeated them and sent them flying back toward the place from whence they had come. The French, hearing of this raid, and claiming as they did a sort of over­ lordship in all that region west of the Finger Lake country, de­ cided to look into the matter. Whereupon an expeditionary force was gathered at Kingston, Canada, in the summer of 1690. The motley little army was composed of French regulars, Algonquin Indians, Canadian forest rangers, and Jesuits in their clerical garb; all being under the command of Sieur de Villiers. Crossing Lake Ontario and entering the mouth of the Genesee River, the party in canoes made their way up that stream to the site of the present Mount Morris, then turned into Canaseraga Creek. That stream is now rather puny, but in 1690, and in­ deed for more than a century after, it was of sufficient volume to afford a navigable waterway for boats of as much as ten tons UNDER THREE FLAGS 15 burden.1 Making their way easily against the moderate current, the French and their allies paddled up the stream to a point near where Dansville of the present is, then landed and shouldered their boats. Climbing a ridge, they came to an ancient trail which led in a southerly direction, flanked on the left by hills, on the right by low ground which presently turned marshy, and then into a lake tangled by weeds and timber. After about nine miles had been compassed, the party came to a small river which had its origin partly in the swampy lake, partly in the hills to the south. On the waters of this little river, which to them at the time seems to have been nameless, but which we now know as the Canisteo, the invaders launched their craft and paddled down stream in a general southeasterly direction. Through a wide valley, at first heavily wooded with pine, then with patches of cleared land on either side, they journeyed for ten miles. Then just ahead they discerned a village of log houses, large and well-made, several score in number. From the cabins, as the French drew near, poured such a dis­ reputable crowd of individuals as the French leader had never be£ ore seen. In his written account of the expedition, Villiers later said: "A more worthless lot of renegades and villains, who had no hope of heaven or fear of hell, we never saw." In that secluded outlaw village he found Indians of many different tribes, renegade Frenchmen, rascally Dutchmen from the Hud­ son, Yankees who had fled from Connecticut with the threat of the gallows behind them, runaway slaves from Maryland, foot­ pads and highwaymen from most of the coast colonies. The adventurous Frenchman had stumbled upon a city of refuge for the lawless of all races. Built on the banks of the river and flanked by prairies which may have been partly natural, partly caused by deforesting in order to provide building material for the huts, this village had probably existed forty years when De Villiers found it. Originally it had been settled by the Dela­ ware Indians, but outlaws of all hues had heard of its remote and secure location and had come there for sanctuary. They had

1 See "Description of the Settlement of the Genesee Country.... in a series of letters from a Gentleman to his Friend," (probably written by Colonel Charles Williamson). Printed in 1799 and reprinted in the Documentary History of the State of New York, Vol. II, 1849, by E. B. O'Callaghan, M.D. 16 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY been the raiders who had met the Senecas in battle at Stony Brook Glen. Had De Villiers not had a considerable force with him, he doubtless would have been wiped out. As it was he calmly took possession of the place ( which he reported as named Ken-is-tio) by virtue of the authority of Louis XIV, unfurled the white banner of France, raised a cross, celebrated the mass, then pro­ ceeded on his way, crossing the valley flats and entering one of the creek valleys to the south. Eventually he found his way back to the valley of the Genesee, thence to the place from which he had come. He later wrote his Relation, an account of the expedition, which first gave to the world a description of the village called in colonial annals Kanestio Castle. This Relation was quoted by Judge Near, in his History of Steuben County and Its People, published in 1911. I must confess that I have thus far been unable to locate the narrative from which Near quoted. Nor have I been able to identify elsewhere this Sieur De Villiers. In the "Paris Documents" (see page 488, Vol. IX, New York Colonial Manuscripts) reference is made to a Sieur de Villieu, a half-pay lieutenant. This may have been the hero of Near' s story. Near also says: "With this expedition .••• was the good Abbe Fenelon, afterwards Bishop of Cambray." And later he adds: "The same Relation records that it was on this journey the good abbe composed in part that charming work, Les Adventures de Tele11iaque ... _,, Now, this latter item is as interesting as the rest-if true. For Francois de Salignac de Lamothe Fenelon (1651-1715), Arch­ bishop of Cambray, a great teacher and writer, was one of the most celebrated names "in the intellectual and ecclesiastical history of France in the 17th century." But nowhere have I been able to find that he ever was in Canada in his life, though he once wished to come. It is certain that from 1689 to 1695, he held the position of preceptor of the dauphin's son. Villiers' expedition was in 1690, so it seems quite sure that the Abbe Fenelon did not accompany it. For many years after De Villiers' expedition, Kanestio Castle does not appear in history, yet it continued to exist as an outlaw settlement, from time to time receiving new blood (if bad blood) from the outside world. Even deserters from the British UNDER THREE FLAGS 17 army found their way to this hidden setdement, and they caused the construction of two forts located about a mile east of the village, to guard the approaches from the lower Kanestio Valley and the valley of what is now known as Colonel Bill's Creek. The settlement was undoubtedly named from the river, but when and by whom that was named is uncertain. It seems to be of Seneca Indian origin. Morgan, in his book, The League of the Iroquois, gives the form as "Te-car-nase teo," meaning, literally, "Board on the water." However, others have trans­ lated it as "place of putting in of the canoes," or merely "head of navigation." The energetic M. de Pouchot, commandant of Fort Niagara at the beginning of the French and Indian War, and who was forced to surrender his post to Sir William Johnson in 1759, drew a map of Western New York in 1758. On this map, which is rather inaccurate in measurements, Pouchot shows both the river and the village of Kanestio.1 Apparently the settlement was located west of the old outlet of Bennett's Creek and on the river's bank. All the way down the river, on the northern bank, a trail is indicated. Seemingly, that portion of the territory now embraced by the flats above Arkport, and running up as far, or beyond, Swains, was then a lake. The present condition of the terrain in that locality of course renders this probable. Colonel Guy Johnson drew a map of the same territory in 1771. He also shows Kanestio, "with mixed population," and indicates a trail running from there to Ganuskago, the Dansville of the present. He also shows a trail leading from Kanestio to Gistaguat, located apparently about on the site of the present Andover. His map is a bit more accurate than Pouchot's, but both leave much to be desired. In 1762, Kanestio again forged into the limelight. In that year two traders from the Hudson, Dutchmen (but British subjects), passed this way and were set upon and murdered by a brace of ruffians from the town. Volume IV of the Sir William Johnson Papers has several ref­ erences to the Kanestio of about this time. Sir William asked the Senecas to apprehend and deliver up to justice the murderers

1 See opposite page 406 in Beauchamp's History of the New York Iro­ quois, published as N.Y. State Bulletin (Museum) No. 78, in 1905. 18 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY of the traders. The Senecas disclaimed responsibility, since Kanestio, they claimed, was populated by stragglers from all nations. Also, one of the killers had already fled to the Ohio. A letter of the Baron's, dated March 9, 1764, refers to Kanestio as "a Village of our most inveterate Enemys." But in a letter to Cadwallader Colden, dated April 6 of the same year, he said the "Chenussios" had agreed to deliver up "the 2 Murderers of Kanestio." Even as he wrote an expedition of vengeance under Captain Montour was swiftly approaching Kanestio with the intention of wiping out that disgraceful place. A letter dated at Diogoa, April 7, 1764, and purporting to be signed by "Henery Montour, William Hare and John Johnston," informed Sir William that: "When All together We Made a Body of one hundred and forty W arrours We Immeadtly Proceeded Against Kanestio and by our Spys and Out Scouts we Discovered they Were fled towards Ginauss." John Johnson never signed that letter, for he used no "t" in his name. Henry Montour may have been along, but the party was led by his brother, Captain Andrew Montour. A letter in the State Historical Society of Wisconsin, Draper Manuscripts, dated April 12, 1764, says:

•••• Capt. Montour, after passing several creeks and rivers, which were very high and difficult at this season, arrived with his party, con­ sisting of 140 Indians, with some rangers, the beginning of this month, at the Cayuga Branch of the Susquehanna River . . . . After this Montour proceeded to the large town of Kinestio, containing sixty good houses, which were likewise burnt; and there, as well as the other towns, killed a number of cattle, which could not be brought off; and sent parties in pursuit of the enemy, who have fled to the South­ ward . ....

In any event, Montour's raid served to blot from the map the town of odious memory which for more than a century had flourished as a city of refuge for outlaws of all colors. Tradition says that the chief of the village at this time, Atweetsera, es­ caped from the town just a few leaps ahead of Montour' s raid­ ers, and fled to a dark and woodsy place now known as Obe's Glen. Here he avoided immediate capture, but eventually was taken and delivered up to Sir William Johnson. Kanestio Castle, while it lasted, had made quite a name for itself--of a sort. Now it was to lapse into dust, ashes and for- UNDER THREE FLAGS 19 getfulness. But forest runners still knew of its former location, its reputation, and the remarkable prairies that had girt it about. Nearly a quarter of a century after it had ceased to be, a little party of explorers, guided possibly by vague tradition which still persisted, stood upon a high bluff and gazed down upon the hidden and largely forgotten valley. These men led others to the spot, and so the history of the modern village of Canisteo began only a few years after the :final cannon shot of the Revolution had ceased to echo. The Valley was now under the third of the three flags which, at different periods, had cast their protection over it. This was a new and brilliant banner, and the stories which follow will be concerned in large measure with the struggles, privations and adventures of those who made it. CHAPTER II The Shades of Death For a number of years before the Revolution title to a portion of northern Pennsylvania was in dispute. Connecticut claimed this region because of a peculiar provision in its charter which seemed to give that colony control over a strip of land extending to the Pacific Ocean. Pennsylvania claimed the same tract be­ cause of the King's grant to William Penn. In order to hold the country, Connecticut, in 1769, sent forty families to settle the beautiful Wyoming Valley where Wilkes-Barre now stands. The matter was handled through "The Susquehanna Land Com­ pany," founded in 1753. Among these militant settlers were the Stephens, Bennet, Baker, Upson and Hadley families, all of whom later became prominent in the settlement of the Canisteo Valley. The Connecticut people constructed several forts to safeguard their possessions. One of these posts, located near the site of the present Kingston, was called-and is so distinguished to this day -"Forty Fort." Another fort, established by the Pennsylvania settlers, stood where Wilkes-Barre is now situated. In the com­ mon along the Susquehanna River is a large boulder on which is the following inscription: This stone marks the site of Fort Wyoming, built by the proprietary forces, January, 1771, captured by the Connecticut settlers the same year and used as defense against the Indians. Rebuilt in 1778 and be­ came an important military post during the Revolutionary War . . . . As suggested by the inscription, the settlers who had derived their title to land from Pennsylvania did not choose to be dis­ possessed by Yankees from Connecticut. They resorted to arms and a series of skirmishes, more noisy than bloody, ensued, and are known to history as "The Pennamite Wars." The soil of the valley was extremely fertile. The settlers pros­ pered. But the local difficulties had not been adjusted when the Revolution broke out. Many of the young men now left for the seat of war. Those who remained in the valley contrived to (20) THE SHADES OF DEATH 21 make hard the way of the transgressors-these being the Tories who had continued to live in Wyoming. Some of these British sympathizers now fled to the enemy and placed their complaints before the representatives of the King. Soon, at old Fort Niagara, that starting point for border raids, a force was gath­ ered for the purpose of proceeding to Wyoming and desolating the valley. Colonel John Butler, father of the notorious Walter, was the leader of the dreadful menace which collected in the shadows of the ancient French castle. The Indian contingent was made up of Seneca braves, horrid in their war paint, and led by such ruthless and redoubtable chiefs as Hiakatoo, the husband of Mary Jemison, the "White Woman of the Genesee." Including perhaps two hundred white rangers and British regulars, the force that started from Fort Niagara late in June, 1778, must have numbered between seven hundred and eight hundred men. Later they were to be joined, at Tioga Point (now Athens, Pa.), by another contingent of Iroquois composed of Mohawks, Ca­ yugas and Onondagas, numbering perhaps three hundred rifles. Joseph Brant, however, contrary to the claims of some histo­ rians, was not among them. The main force, from Fort Niagara, marched swiftly across country to the Genesee Valley, swung into the old war trail that led up Canaseraga Creek and through Poag's Hole, then took precisely the same route followed by Sieur de Villiers in 1690 ( the route now followed by the state road from Hornell to Dansville) until after they had passed the spot where Arkport now stands. They struck the Canisteo River about a mile west of Hornell, and here decided to build canoes, or dugouts, and proceed on to Wyoming by the water route. The place where the dugouts were constructed was on land eventually owned by Charles Hartshorn. Wnen, twelve years later, the first white settlers came to this spot, they found much evidence bearing upon the building of the hostile fleet: decayed portions of partly-finished canoes, trunks of trees evidently dis­ carded as being too small for the purpose, chips in abundance, broken tools, arrowheads and bullets. The late Milo M. Acker, in an address given be£ ore the Canisteo Valley Historical Society, in March, 1891, estimated that at least twenty canoes, or dug­ outs, were built at this point. He certainly erred on the side of 22 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY conservatism. Either the dugouts were huge affairs, or many more of them were constructed than estimated by Mr. Acker, in order to carry eight hundred men down the river. At any rate, that point of land in the bend of the river across the flat from the present Bethesda Hospital undoubtedly is the spot where the hostile force that was to compass-the iniquity known as "The Wyoming Massacre," embarked in its fleet. The spot should be marked, for it has vast historical significance, tying up as it does the annals of the Canisteo Valley with the better-known history of Wyoming. The Yankee settlers at Wyoming had heard vague rumors concerning the gathering of the ominous storm cloud at Fort Niagara. As the :first of July approached, scouts were sent to watch the river. Among the scouts were Solomon Bennet, Jedediah Stephens and Lebbeus Hammond. The :first two men­ tioned were later to have an important part in the settlement of Canisteo, while Hammond was to experience, on the night of the massacre, an almost miraculous escape. Bennet, Stephens and Hammond took their station near the summit of South Mountain, where they could overlook the Susquehanna River for a great distance. The weather, as is usual in July, was very hot and the foliage about them seemed to wither in the :fierce rays of the sun. Occasionally a breeze moaned softly in the pines, a squirrel scolded impatiently, or the ominous warning of a rattlesnake broke the silence. The men had brought with them a supply of food, but they did not ven­ ture to light a fire to cook the meat, for fear the smoke would betray their location. Patiently they watched the shining sur­ face of the river, taking turns in catching :fitful moments of sleep. Suddenly Bennet pointed. "Look!" Around a bend in the river to the north had drifted what at :first appeared to be a cloud on the surface of the water. But this cloud soon resolved itself into a flotilla of war canoes :filled with Indians and scarcely less savage white men. The sunlight gleamed on hatchet, lance, scalping knife and bayonet. Rapidly the Americans began to estimate the force. "At least a thousand of the devils," growled Stephens. "Come!" he told the others, and sprang down the mountain­ side. Behind him clattered his companions, a torrent of stones, THE SHADES OF DEATH 23 dust and leaves following them. They made their way to Forty Fort and gave the alarm. Soon the valley echoed with shouts of men, cries of children, the lowing of cattle. The settlers hurried to the fort, carrying what chattels they could and abandoning what could not readily be moved. In the meantime the enemy beached their fleet, passed through a notch in the mountains, entered the valley and at once began the work of devastation. Black smoke rose into the clear sky, yells and shots echoed among the rocks. Cattle in distant pas­ tures ran wildly, snorting and stamping the earth. The settlers could muster but 3 50 :fighters, and many of these were mere boys or old men. No regular troops, save a few officers, were at hand; most of the middle-aged men were with Washington's army. From afar the natural leaders looked up­ on the destruction of their property and resolved to risk a battle in its defense. Colonel Zebulon Butler, on leave from the Con­ tinental Army, and Colonel Nathan Dennison, of the local mili­ tia, led out their little force and boldly advanced upon the in­ vaders. Many, perhaps most, of the militia were unlettered men, yet they must have felt-those dauntless few-the sentiments that a great singer later was to put into immortal verse: To every man upon this earth Death cometh soon or late. And how can man die better Than facing fearful odds For the ashes of his fathers And the temple of his Gods? The order came to advance briskly, and the line pushed for­ ward toward a fringe of woods that lay between a swamp and a little creek. The men, for the most part, were silent. Some smoked their pipes, all frequently brushed the sweat from their flaming brows. Suddenly, from a brush-covered hillock about a hundred yards in front, a rifleshot crashed. Then came a staggering volley, a chorus of quavering yells. Scarlet gleamed amid the smoke. The fight for the Valley was on. The settlers stood to their work, firing, advancing a pace, then pausing to fire again. But they were totally untrained; they knew not the meaning of discipline. A misunderstood order caused confusion on one flank. The raw troops wavered, fell back, tried clumsily to reform. With terrible yells the Indians 24 STORIES OF TBE KANESTIO VALLEY rushed forward and tore through the line. All was now chaos . . . . smoke . . . . hoarse commands . . . . fiendish screams of blood lust .... bursts of rifle shots. Almost instantly the field was covered with running men, hands thrust blindly in front, guns thrown away. Close behind sounded pursuing feet. A few escaped to the fort, but 300 out of the 3 50 engaged were killed on the spot or butchered during the awful night that followed. The memory of this dreadful time lingered long in the fam­ ilies concerned, and many traditions, some of which have never been in print, have come down to us. Jedediah Stephens, who was the great-grandfather of Mrs. James Hall Stewart, of Canisteo Village, had a stirring adven­ ture at the battle of Wyoming. The story has come down through the generations of the Stephens family and was told to the writer by Mrs. Stewart. It is, no doubt, authentic. When the American line broke, Jedediah Stephens and his brother Rufus retreated with the rest. "Retreat" is too mild a word. They fled as though the devil were after them. Jedediah, being more fleet of foot, sprang ahead. A bullet sang above his head and spatted against a tree. Glancing back, he saw a band of Indians in close pursuit. He shot one of the redskins, then he and Rufus ran on. Presently they came to a fence and as they were climbing it Rufus was shot dead. Jedediah sprinted toward the river, loading his gun as he ran. Like the Wetzel boys, he was proficient in this very difficult accomplishment. On this day his skill was of much value to him, for he was enabled to drop in succession several of his pursuers who came too close. He came to the river bank, which at this point was high and afforded some protection. Thus covered from observation, he made his way down the stream until he thought it safe to come out. No sooner had he appeared on the bank than two Indians shot at him and wounded him slightly in one shoulder. With the savages following, Jedediah again took to his long legs. A footfall sounded close behind. Stephens whirled and smashed an Indian's skull with his rifle, but in the act broke his gun. The remaining Seneca brave lost his nerve and gave up the chase. It had now grown almost dark. Jedediah continued on down the river until he came opposite an island on which there was a THE SHADES OF DEATH 25 fire. By treading on driftwood he made his way out to the is­ land and concealed himself in a hollow log. Here he could observe the scene around the fire. The sight was terrible; a party of wounded Americans were being butchered quite methodically by the Indians. Stephens backed from the log and made his way to the bank of the stream. He was hungry, tortured by thirst, weak from loss of blood, terribly depressed. It seemed as though absolute ruin had overtaken both his family and the entire community. At different points in the valley shots still echoed, flames from burning buildings rose high, and now and then a bugle screamed. At random Stephens wandered until the night had passed and the dawn came up in the smoky east. Through the mists of the morning he saw, on the farther side of the river, a group of Americans. He signalled to them. They came over in a canoe and a council of war was held. Hoping that the fort had not fallen, they decided to make their way there. They arrived in time to be included in the surrender. But Jedediah Stephens' work was not done; we shall hear of him again. The invaders, possibly hearing that Washington had ordered a detachment of regular troops to the Valley, were anxious to finish their task as soon as possible and start back to Fort Niagara. Hence they offered the people in Forty Fort more lib­ eral terms than they otherwise might have done. The night following the battle of Wyoming was one of horror to the inhabitants of the once-pleasant valley. Not all of the women and children, the aged and ill, had been able to make their way to Forty Fort or Fort Wyoming. The savages, red and white, strode through the valley like spirits from the evil world, murdering the defenseless and burning their dwellings. Captain Bidlack of the patriot forces was cast alive on the burning tim­ bers of Wintermoot's blockhouse while red devils with pitch­ forks held him there until his body was consumed. Meribah Dyke, then a young girl, but later the wife of Uriah Upson of Canisteo, was spared-only to be forced to look on while a sav­ age grasped her infant brother by the feet and dashed his brains against a tree. Many had fled to the mountains when first the news of dis­ aster came. Tottering old men, women big with child, children who could scarcely walk, made their way into the wild region of 26 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY the Pocono Mountains, set their faces toward the distant town of Stroudsburg on the Delaware, and struggled onward through the night. Travelers of the present day, seated in a luxurious automobile, speed in an hour's time from Scranton to Strouds­ burg through these very mountains. Their way lies over a well­ built cement road. Those fugitives of 1778 had no road at all. Tearing their way through matted thickets, drenched by moun­ tain torrents, falling from rocks, lost, despairing, all hope fled, few of them reached the valley which leads down from the heights of the Poconos to the ancient town of Stroudsburg. Most of them died there in the wilds, for many years called the "Shades of Death." But the Wyoming Valley itself, that night after the battle, was turned into the Shades of Death. Lebbeus Hammond, the third of the trio of scouts who had witnessed the approach of the invaders from the summit of South Mountain, had perhaps the most thrilling experience of all who managed to survive the dreadful day. Around a large rock located within sight of the present battle monument, a party of sixteen American captives had been col­ lected at the hour of midnight. They were arranged in a circle and each was held by two brawny Seneca warriors. The scene was illuminated by a huge fire of pine knots whose pungent smoke drifted away on the breeze. The circle of human forms shifted and a veritable hag, resembling one of Macbeth's witches, thrust forward, holding in one hand a tomahawk, in the other a death maul. She appeared almost insane with rage, for the day before the battle one of her sons had been killed in a paltry skirmish, and she lusted for revenge. She was the famous, or infamous, Esther Montour, whom latter-day, half-baked, would­ be historians have tried to absolve from blame. But her deed of shame is well attested, and the stone around which it was wrought is known to this day as "Queen Esther's Rock." Using first the tomahawk, then the maul, the diabolical wom­ an made her way around the circle and at each blow a brave man's brains were dashed out. Two of the condemned-Lebbeus Hammond and Joseph Elliot-perhaps being less securely held than the others, or possibly not so stupefied with fear and de­ spair, suddenly hurled the restraining arms aside and dashed for the protecting cover of the dark forest. Their movement was a THE SHADES OF DEATH 27 surprise and, although missiles sang about their heads, they at­ tained the woods and so escaped. The other fourteen died. Of Hammond we shall hear again; and in that portion of this book devoted to The Painted Post, we shall discuss the identity of Esther Montour, a descendant of the wilderness family whose deeds have furnished material sufficient for a hundred romances. The day after the battle the invaders advanced and summoned Forty Fort to surrender. The garrison (if garrison it can be called) had no alternative; for most of the men had been killed. There was no battle at the fort; no massacre after the sur­ render. The atrocity had been perpetrated the previous night. The articles of capitulation were signed in the house of Thomas Bennet, the aged father of Solomon Bennet. This house stood but a short distance from the fort. A few days after the sur­ render it was burned by the Indians. The table, upon which the treaty was signed, was saved, and as late as 1845 was in the pos­ session of a Mrs. Myers, a daughter of Thomas Bennet. There were few outrages after the surrender. The Senecas seemed glutted with slaughter. Possibly Butler used strong measures to restrain them. The invaders soon departed and the survivors of the massacre, the widows and orphans, were free to rebuild-if they could-their shattered homes and hopes. The battlefield is located about seven miles from Wilkes­ Barre. The writer visited the sacred spot on August 18, 1904. Wheat and corn fields then occupied the spot where formerly sprang the pursuing savage. Through the hazy atmosphere came the rattling of machinery at a distant coal mine, manned by foreigners who knew nothing and cared less for the sacrifice of those who died here so long ago. Within a little enclosure stands an imposing monument, even though it was a long time abuilding. (For many years after the battle the dead were suf­ fered to remain in a common, unmarked grave-a mere trench -where originally their bodies had been cast.) On the monument is the following inscription: Near this spot was fought, on the afternoon of the third day of July, 1778, the battle of Wyoming, in which a small band of patriotic Americans, chiefly the undisciplined, the youth£ul and aged, spared by inefficiency from the distant ranks of the Republic, led by Col. Zebulon Butler and Na than Dennison with a courage that deserved success, fearlessly met and bravely fought a combined British, Tory and Indian force three times their number. Numerical superiority alone gave 28 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY success to the invader, and widespread havoc, desolation and ruin marked his savage and bloody footsteps through the valley. This monument commemorative of these events and in memory of the actors in them has been erected over the bones of the slain by their descendants and others who gratefully appreciated the services and sacrifices of their patriotic ancestors. The British poet Campbell wrote a piece about that tragic Battle of Wyoming. The composition, entitled "Gertrude of Wyoming," has this as its second verse: Delightful Wyoming! beneath thy skies The happy shepherd swaines had nought to do But feed their flocks on green declivities, Or skim perchance thy lake with light canoe, From morn till evening's sweeter pastime grew With timbrel, when beneath the forest brown, Thy lovely maidens would the dance renew, And aye those sunny mountains half-way down Would echo flageolet from some romantic town. I'm sure that Campbell must have known more about the Battle of the Baltic than he did about the Battle of Wyoming. His notion of frontier life must have been gleaned from singular authorities indeed. Shepherd swains had nought to do save toot on a :flageolet, or something. Oh, my, no! Yet, many of our historians mention with evident awe the fact that the great Campbell had deigned to write a poem about the valley his own king's hired ruffians had devastated. Those 3 50 stark pioneer soldiers who marched forth to do battle with three times their own number that awful third day of July, 1778, need no effusion by a Scotch bard to make secure their place of honor in that long roll of heroic dead that con­ stitutes America's temple of fame. CHAPTER III The Fall of the Long House During the Revolution the Indians mainly favored Great Britain, and a powerful adversary of the struggling patriots the savage race proved to be. Especially was this true of the Iroquois Confederacy, composed of the six tribes: Mohawks, Oneidas, Onondagas, Cayugas, Senecas, Tuscaroras. These people, called by the Dutch, "The Maquas"; by the French, "The Iroquois"; by the English, "The Five Nations" {later the Six Nations); and by themselves, "The Hodeno­ saunee," occupied in early times the region round about Montreal, Canada. At that time, being weak in numbers, they were the prey of the formidable Algonquin tribes. Later they removed to the lake region of New York and, under the wise direction of a somewhat mythical character immortalized by Longfellow as Hiawatha, the several tribes united in a defensive and offensive alliance called "The Great Peace." Peace was, however, for the mem hers of the League only. Against all others it was war to the knife. The Confederacy, originally composed of :five tribes, was strengthened in 1711, when the Tuscaroras migrated from Carolina and were admitted to representation at the national council :fire that burned con­ tinuously at Onondaga. The two most powerful of these tribes were the Mohawks, who were the keepers of the Eastern Door (The Mohawk V al1ey) ; the Senecas, much the largest of them all, keepers of the Western Door (Niagara). The fair domain of this powerful confederacy was called in figurative language, "The Long House." Favored by its location, the League of the Iroquois grew extremely potent. It annihilated the Andastes, or Cat, nation; it made successful war upon the Hurons; it nearly destroyed the Illinois tribes; it reduced the powerful Delaware people to a position of serfdom; its war parties roamed from the Mississippi to Cape Cod, from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. No tribe could long stand before it. The Indians of far-away Maine (29) 30 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY trembled when the Iroquois warwhoop was heard quavering on the wind. Parkman says: Nor was it the Indian race alone who quailed before their ferocious valor. All Canada shook with the desolating fury of their onset; the people fled to the forts for refuge; the blood-besmeared conquerors roamed like wolves among the burning settlements, and the youthful colony trembled on the brink of ruin. The Iroquois have aptly been styled, "The Romans of the West." It is probable that had the white men not come when they did, these savages would soon have been masters of the continent. Of all the tribes of America they were the bravest and most ferocious. From far-flung regions they brought their captives to the beautiful lake country of New York and there tortured them at the stake-aye, and ate them, too, on occasion. They owed their conquests to: dauntless valor; their location at the head of many water routes, which permitted them to advance in nearly any direction with swiftness and silence; their form of government. This was a combination of oligarchy and democracy. While it was the rule of the few, part of the leaders were elected, part succeeded to authority by inheritance from the mother. The French explorer Champlain's poor judgment earned for his nation the enmity of the Iroquois, because he had joined a war party of their enemies and fought against them. Save on a few occasions, the Iroquois remained consistent foes of the French to the end. At the outbreak of the Revolution the Americans sought to secure the neutrality of the Iroquois, but without much success. With the exception of a portion of the Oneida tribe, and a few of the Tuscaroras, the Confederacy declared for England-and thereby insured its own ultimate destruction. But they long comprised the most implacable and ruthless of all the foes of America. Under the leadership of such chiefs as Joseph Brant (who, tradition says, had accompanied Andrew Montour on the raid against Kanestio) they waged a predatory warfare along the border whose bloody memory still abides with us. Brant, a Mohav.rk, was the ward of Sir William Johnson, and by him was educated. At the outbreak of the war he was com­ missioned a colonel in the British service. In following years he THE FALL OF THE LONG HOUSE 31 led many raids against the settlers, notably at Cherry Valley and Minisink. Contrary to general belief, he was not present at the desolation of Wyoming Valley. He was a strategist of the first order and a humane warrior. Because of the atrocities at Cherry Valley, Wyoming, Minisink, and others of less evil fame, Washington decided that the menace at our very back door must be eliminated. The Con£ederacy was to be totally destroyed and the territory of one of our most powerful enemies rendered desolate. Although the blow was aimed at the entire League, it was to fall with particular weight upon the Seneca nation-by far the most powerful in numbers and resources of all the allied tribes. The Senecas occupied, or at least claimed, all of New York State from the Seneca Lake region west to Niagara. It was in the fertile river valleys of this people that most of the food was raised which eventually found its way into the granaries of the British army. Then, too, it was the Seneca nation that had been mostly concerned with the Massacre of Wyoming. The plan of campaign was briefly this: General John Sullivan, who had been selected to lead the invasion after Gates had re­ fused, was to gather the main force in the Jerseys, march from Easton, Pennsylvania, to the Wyoming Valley, and thence up the Susquehanna to Tioga Point, the great southern door of the Long House. Here he was to be joined by a force under General Clinton, whose army was to gather at Albany, march to the Otsego Lake region, then descend the Susquehanna River. A third and smaller corps, under Colonel Brodhead, was to start from Pittsburgh, ascend the Allegheny River to a point near the present city of Olean, then advance along the route now fol­ lowed by the Rochester division of the Pennsylvania Railroad, and join Sullivan in the Genesee Valley near the spot occupied by the present village of Mount Morris. The united force was then to march on Fort Niagara, the great starting point for marauding expeditions, reduce that post and eventually return to the seaboard after absolutely devastating the land. It was an ambitious and romantic project; for the Genesee Country was then a remote and mystery-clad region to which few white men had as yet penetrated. The main army, gathering at Phillipsburg, New Jersey, and Easton, Pennsylvania, as planned, advanced to Wyoming, ar- 32 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY riving June 23, 1779. It camped on the wide flats near Wilkes­ Barre. After procuring a fleet of 1 5 0 boats, Sullivan's force started up the Susquehanna on July 31. One week before the departure for the wilderness an inspection had disclosed that there were fit for duty 96 officers, 131 drummers and fifers, 2,312 rank and file; a total of 2,539. As they left on the great adventure the band played, cannons boomed and banners flaunted in the breeze. But as they passed the spot where the disastrous battle of the previous summer had been fought, the lively music of the military band was changed to a dirge in honor of those who had there died in vain. On August 11, the army arrived at Tioga Point, a narrow peninsula between the Susquehanna and what was then called the Tioga River, now the Chemung. On this spot now stands the village of Athens. At the narrowest part of the peninsula Sullivan began the erection of a strong fort. On the east side of Main Street in Athens is a large boulder in which has been set a commemorative plate with the following inscription:

Sullivan's expedition, the march that destroyed savagery and opened the Keystone and Empire States to civilization. Five brigades furnished by the states of Pennsylvania, New York, New Jersey and New Hamp­ shire, with Proctor's artillery and Parr's riflemen, took part. At this Tioga Point, long the sou them door of the Iroquois Confederacy, 5000 troops encamped. Named by the Continentals and garrisoned by 250 soldiers of the 2d New Jersey regiment, under Colonel Shrieve, here stood FORT SULLIVAN, with four block houses, curtains and abatis, from August 11 to October 3, 1779. This tablet is erected by the Tioga Chapter, Daughters of the American Revolution, 1902.

Almost directly across the street from this marker is the Spalding Memorial Library and Museum, under the management of the D.A.R. In the museum, which houses a remarkable col­ lection of Indian relics, is a tablet to the celebrated American composer, Stephen C. Foster, who, as the inscription records, was a student at Athens Academy in 1841-42 and "whose first musical composition, 'Tioga Waltz,' was written while a student h ere. " At seven on the evening of the army's arrival at Tioga Point General Sullivan sent a scouting expedition toward the Indian village of Chemung, which he understood was located not far up the valley of the Tioga River. The party returned in a short THE FALL OF THE LONG HOUSE 33 time and reported that the enemy in Chemung appeared to be in confusion and were moving off. Although the records are silent on this matter, it would seem that the scouting party must have scaled Spanish Hill, in order to have discovered so promptly the whereabouts of the foe. This hill, located on the outskirts of Waverly, N.Y., but south of the Pennsylvania line, is of a peculiar shape, much resembling a truncated cone. The sides are very steep, and the top looks as though it had been leveled by the sweep of a giant's sword. From this elevated point one can obtain a remarkable view of the surrounding country for a radius of at least ten miles. To­ ward the west is a cloud of smoke that hovers over the city of Elmira. A few miles nearer, surmounting a high hill, glistens the white shaft of the Newtown battle monument. To the northeast, east and southeast, the villages of Waverly, Sayre and Athens are strung in a ragged line along the bottom land of the Susquehanna Valley, the white houses and red factories con­ trasting sharply with the deep green of the foliage in which the sister municipalities are embowered. On one side of the hill sweeps in a wide curve the Chemung River; on the other side the waters of the Susquehanna glisten in the sunlight. At an edge of the ten-acre meadow that crowns the hill is a marker which informs us: Site of the Indian town Carantouan, visited in 1615 by Stephen Brule, French explorer . . . . Erected 1915 by the Brad£ord County Historical Society. Many writers have implied, that until the battle of Newtown, Sullivan's army had no fighting other than slight skirmishes with bands of prowling savages, who were always hanging around the environs of the fort. Such, however, was not the fact. At eight o'clock in the evening following the day of his scouts' report, Sullivan left two regiments to protect his sup­ plies at Tioga Point, and with the remainder of the army marched toward Chemung. General Hand with the light troops formed the van, General Maxwell's brigade the rear, while Gen­ eral Reid with two regiments was ordered to cross the river in order to face the town. 1ne night was dark; the path lay through dense woods and tangled thickets, morasses and deep valleys, over precipitous 34 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY hills. All night the soldiers floundered along, and at daybreak, protected by a dense fog which had rolled up from the river, they rushed into the Indian village. Except for a brace of straggling savages the prey had fled. The column pushed on for a distance of two and a half miles, descended an almost perpendicular hill and came upon the town of New Chemung, lying in a bend of the river and flanked by fields of corn, cabbages and potatoes. The forty houses in the place were given to the flames, then General Hand with a small force set out in pursuit of the fleeing Indians. Hand's detach­ ment had proceeded about a mile and had reached a place where the ground was broken by a series of ridges of peculiar shape, sometimes called "hogbacks," when from a hill on the right came the blaze and blended roar of many rifles. Although surprised, Colonel Hubley's Pennsylvania regiment formed quickly, fixed bayonets and charged directly up the hill. A brief hurlyburly and the Seneca warriors fled. But Hand's detachment suffered a loss of six men killed and twelve wounded, among the latter being two officers. The pursuit was kept up until General Su1livan sounded the recall. It had been a vicious little fight. In the meantime the main body of the troops, engaged in destroying the town of New Chemung, had been fired upon and lost one man killed and several wounded. The whole neighbor­ hood was a hornet's nest. Having chased off the enemy at this point and completed the destruction of the village and crops, the column arrived at Tioga Point at 8 o'clock. As the shadowy outlines of the stockade appeared in the gloom and the challenge of the alert sentry rang out, many a tired soldier breathed with relief, and could hardly wait until he was permitted to prepare his supper by the blazing camp fire. On August 22, Clinton's division-fifteen hundred strong­ came in sight of the fort and was received with shouts. A de­ tachment previously sent out by Sullivan to meet Clinton had effected a junction at Choconut, since called Union. The united army now numbered four thousand effective soldiers. Four days after Clinton's arrival, General Sullivan, leaving a garrison of :five hundred men in the fort, began his real advance up the valley of the Chemung. Progress was slow, for a train of nine pieces of artillery was included in the force, and there THE FALL OF THE LONG HOUSE 35 were no roads-merely the ancient native war trace. Sullivan himself knew nothing about Indian warfare, but he was in com­ mand of those who did. One such was a scout named Tim Murphy, supposedly the best marksman in the army and re­ puted slayer of General Frazier at the second battle of Saratoga. Sullivan was fond of the pomp and circumstance of war. The :first day's march from the fort covered but five miles. But the evening gun thundered its salute to the setting sun, while the rattling drums and squealing fifes rendered the customary obei­ sance to the flag. The force was largely made up of Continental regulars, well disciplined and perfectly equipped. The routine of regular warfare was not permitted to lag, merely because the army had advanced into a trackless solitude. On Sunday, August 29, the army moved out of New Chemung in regular order. After proceeding about three miles, the advance guard announced that the enemy was just ahead. It was apparent that the crafty foe had entertained hopes of ambushing the army, and for this purpose had constructed en­ trenchments carefully concealed along the slope of a high hill. This elevation was on the right side of the trail, almost due north from the site of the present village of Wellsburg. In order to entice the soldiers to advance without caution, the savages in small numbers came out into the open, fired and re­ treated. The ruse did not work. Sullivan's men were not raw militia. The American leader was soon advised by his scouts that not only was a detachment of the enemy hidden behind defences artificially screened by branches of trees stuck in the ground, but that a party was posted on top of the hill to observe his movements, while yet another group was stealing through the woods on the south side of the river with the probable object of surrounding him. The General acted with his usual promptness. He planted his nine pieces of artillery on a bluff just east of a creek which here crossed the trail. This spot is now occupied by a church in the hamlet of Lowman. Next he placed the brigade of General Hand and a regiment under Colonel Ogden in front of a series of small hills which paralleled the river, with orders to advance on signal and cut off the retreat of the enemy's right. Generals Clinton and Poor were directed to execute a flanking march to­ ward the American right by the way of Butler Creek, with the 36 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY ultimate object of scaling the northern side of the high hill, turning the enemy's left and surrounding him. Maxwell's bri­ gade was held in reserve to protect the guns. An hour was given Clinton and Poor to attain their position, after which the artil­ lery was to open the ball-this being the signal for 2 general advance. It was a brilliant plan. The enemy's force consisted of about thirteen hundred Indians, mostly Senecas and Mohawks under Brant, and perhaps two hundred British regulars, rangers and Tories, under the com­ mand of Sir John Johnson, the Butlers-father and son-and Captain MacDonald. As Clinton and Poor :filed off toward the right and marched up the valley of Butler Creek, the Indian lookouts on the crest of the hill discerned the gleaming of bayonets through the inter­ stices of the foliage. They reported the matter to Brant, who placed himself at the head of a strong party of his warriors, ran over the summit of the hill and part way down the northeastern slope, where he waited the attack. The artillery opened with a series of crashes that woke the echoes far and wide and covered its position with masses of smoke, through which the spurts of flame darted like :fireflies on a summer night. A hurricane of solid shot, shell, and canister smote the breastworks of the concealed foe, tore branches from the trees and kicked aloft spouts of dirt and leaves. At the same time Hand and Ogden advanced with leveled bayonets. As Clinton and Poor with their men, panting from their swift walk, labored up the steep side of the mountain they had been sent to flank, they were assailed by Chief Brant and his braves, who sprang from tree to tree, yelling :fiercely and :firing as rap­ idly as they could reload their rifles. At this place the assaulting column suffered practically all the loss sustained by the army during the engagement. Indians generally are wretched marks­ men, and, as the slope up which the Americans advanced was abrupt and heavily wooded, Brant's followers mostly overshot their target. On the other hand, the soldiers were exhausted with the hard climb on this hot day and half blinded with per­ spiration, so that their :fire also was far from effective. They, however, showed the utmost steadiness. They :finally attained the crest, delivered a stunning volley, and swept forward with the bayonet through the smoke of their own discharge. Brant THE FALL OF THE LONG HOUSE 37 raised the cry of retreat: "Oonah! Oonah!" and followed his disorganized warriors from the field in wild rout. Down the slope of the hill, along the bank of the river, raced the horde of panic-stricken foemen-red coats, green coats, red men with no coats at all. The impetus of the flight carried the enemy through the line of a detachment of troops who barred the way. Eleven dead warriors were left on the field. The British white troops lost four rangers killed, seven wounded and two captured. Sullivan's loss was three killed and thirty-nine wounded, several of whom subsequently died. Such was the action at Newtown. It is exaggeration to call it a battle. It was merely a heavy, well-planned skirmish, though its results were far-reaching and decisive. The army functioned like well-oiled machinery; but, save in the case of Brant's efforts in the face of Clinton's and Poor's advance, the defense was more or less weak. It is amusing to note that local historians, especially those who from time to time break into print in the Elmira papers, appar­ ently carried away by enthusiasm, are wont to stress the terrific nature of the battle. The list of casualties is the best evidence of the character of the conflict. But the foe had no more stomach to fight. It was enough. A fine view of the distant city of Elmira can be had from the top of the hill, or perhaps mountain, where Brant's warriors charged. Here, on August 29, 1879, a monument was dedicated. Owing to the combined action of vandals and the elements, the original monument was destroyed, and in 1912 was replaced by a white shaft which can be seen for many miles. The inscrip­ tion on this monument reads:

Near this site, Sunday, August 29, 1779, was fought the battle of Newtown between Continental troops commanded by Major General John Sullivan and a combined force of Tories and Indians under Colonel John Butler and Joseph Brant, avenging the massacres of Wyoming and Cherry Valley, destroying the Iroquois Confederacy, ending attacks on our settlements, and thereby opening westward the pathway of Civilization. Immediately after the action the army marched to Newtown, a small settlement about a mile from the battlefield, burned it, then went on to Canaweola, on the site of the present city of 38 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Elrn.ira. 1 Small detachments were sent out to ravage the sur­ rounding territory, notably a village located on the site of Big Flats. Then, by way of the place we now call Horseheads (grim reminder of some slaughtered beasts of burden Sullivan left there) the army moved onward toward the lake region. With difficulty the troops forced their way down the sinuous stream that led to Seneca Lake. At night they camped in a dark and gloomy cedar swamp. On September 3, they arrived before Catherinestown-the headquarters of the so-called "Queen Catherine Montour." From this town the Indians had fled. It, together with the surrounding cornfields and orchards, was destroyed, while in their secret places the furious but chas­ tened foe looked upon the destruction of their empire. A vivid description of the army's experience in the swamp was noted in the diary of Lieutenant Robert Parker, of the Second Continental Artillery. This diary originally was printed in the Pennsylvania Magazine of History and Biography, and later was reprinted in the work entitled, The Sullivan-Clinton Campaign in 1779, published by the University of the State of New York, 1929. Under date of September 1st, 1779, Lieutenant Parker noted: .... This defile continued about two miles and then we entered into a dark, gloomy & almost impenetrable Hemlock swamp, which continued for eight miles further-in many places it was so thick as scarcely ever to admit the rays of the sun to enter. Some places we were obliged to ascend an almost perpendicular height and next descend the precipice into low muddy valleys :filled with dirty rivulets. In this manner we proceeded, cutting our road for the artillery all the way­ About two miles from the end of the swamp night came on & left us in the midst of those gloomy regions, without the assistance of Sun, Moon and Stars, or even the benefit of a road. Here we were obliged to make fires at the distance of thirty or forty yards from each other to assist us in making the road-until at length we arrived at Catherine's Town. The Indians had just le£ t, not expecting us that night-they left their fires burning and had just time to make their escape. This was a very pretty Town that contained about thirty Houses very well built on a good piece of ground-most of the Houses were pulled down for fires to warm and dry ourselves before n1orning.

1 Colonel John Handy, 1788, was the :first settler of what became Elmira. Among the others who were early in the vicinity was Lebbeus Hammond, one of the two men who escaped from Esther Montour's circle of death at Wyoming. THE FALL OF THE LONG HOUSE 39 The army now swept up the east side of Seneca Lake through or near the location of the future villages of Hector, Odessa, Valois, Willard and Ovid. Nearly all of what is now Seneca County flamed and smoked. Orchards, corn and wheat fields vanished before the destruction that wasted at noonday. Mem­ ories of Cherry Valley, Wyoming and Minisink urged the sol­ diers to ruthlessness. The Indians fled, appalled, and the granary of the enemies of America was rendered as desolate as the ruins of Nineveh and Tyre. Many of the villages were of neat construction-hewed log or frame-and the surrounding orchards were of apple, peach and pear trees. The land was of unexampled fatness; the diaries of the soldiers speak of pumpkins large as bushel baskets and corn sixteen feet high. On September 7, the army reached Kanadaseaga, near the present location of Geneva. This village contained sixty houses, but, like the others, it was destroyed. From this point detachments were sent out; one down the west bank of Seneca Lake, one to Cayuga Lake. Next, the line of march was to Kanandaigua, then on toward the Genesee Valley. Around the southern end of Conesus Lake the army swept, building a road across the marsh, and the left flank presently reached the valley of Canaseraga Creek, which leads down from Dansville to Mount Morris. While at Conesus Lake General Sullivan dispatched Lieutenant Thomas Boyd with a small party to reconnoiter Little Beard's Town, the Seneca capital, distant supposedly about five miles. With twenty-six men Boyd advanced on his mission, accom­ plished the first part of it, and was on the return march to the army when he was ambushed and had nearly all his detachment killed, by a party under Captain Walter Butler, of odious mem­ ory. Three or four of Boyd's party escaped, among them being the celebrated Tim Murphy; but Boyd and Sergeant Parker were captured. Reserved for a terrible fate, the captives were con­ ducted to the Indian town from which they had recently re­ tired. Realizing his extreme peril, Boyd, upon the approach of Chief Brant, gave the latter the Masonic signal of distress; as the officer well knew that Brant had been made a Mason in London at about the time of the outbreak of hostilities. Brant honored the sign and promised protection. Although this fact has been 40 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY questioned, there can be little doubt of its truth. Many author­ ities refer to it, including Doty, in his History of Livingston Coitnty. Unfortunately for Boyd, Brant was called away. During his absence either Captain Walter Butler or his father, Colonel John Butler-probably the latter-endeavored to elicit information relative to the movements of Sullivan's army. When Boyd indignantly refused such information, Butler threatened to turn him over to the Indians. Boyd then gave Butler the Sign. This the British officer declined to honor, and, upon Boyd's continued refusal to betray his trust, told the Senecas to take him. Robert W. Chambers, in his stirring historical romance, The Hidden Children, says it was to WALTER Butler that Boyd gave the Sign. I do not think this can have been so, for there is no record that Walter Butler was a Mason. His father was the :first secretary of St. Patrick's Lodge, at Johnstown, N. Y. In any event, the Senecas now proceeded to kill Boyd and his companion, Sergeant Parker, with the most exquisite tortures. Owing to the perfect physical condition of the two American patriots, death was slow in coming. But at last their spirits fled and the poor mutilated bodies sagged in the chains which bound them to the torture tree. This tree still is pointed out to the history-minded tourist. When, the following day, the army advanced, the bodies of both officers were fourid near the bank of a little stream, parallel to and but a short distance from the Genesee River. Here the remains of Boyd and Parker were buried under a clump of wild plum trees, while a mound of earth was raised over their graves. In 1841, the bodies were transferred to Mount Hope Cemetery, in Rochester. This was almost a sacrilegious· proceeding. The heroes should have been permitted to sleep on in the soil they had sanctified with their blood. Filled with renewed wrath against the barbarous enemy, Sullivan's men now advanced on Little Beard's Town, crossing the river at a point a mile north of Mount Morris. According to Colonel Hubley, of the 11th Pennsylvania, the river bottom land in front of the village embraced a plain of 6,000 acres, devoid of bushes, and with grass so high that nothing but the guns of the marching soldiers could be seen above it. This town, located on the site of the present Cuylerville, THE FALL OF THE LONG HOUSE 41 contained 128 houses, and was flanked by an orchard of 1,600 trees. All were blasted from the face of the earth with axe and fire. The army then marched to Big Tree Village, on the site of the present Geneseo. This place took its name from a huge tree which grew on the bank of the river, and under which the Indians used to hold their councils. A section of this tree is yet preserved on the grounds of the late James W. Wadsworth, Sr., in Geneseo. It measures eight feet in diameter. The troops had now been eighteen days from Newtown. They had destroyed forty towns, 160,000 bushels of corn, and vegetables without number. The lovely valley of the Genesee was rendered desolate. Smoke rose to the sky in every direction. The Senecas had been made to pay a heavy price for their blood-lust. They fled in panic to Fort Niagara. Sullivan yearned to march thither and reduce those granite walls to dust, but it was now too late in the season. Within two months, certainly, perhaps four weeks, the snow clouds would be whirling around the post once garrisoned by French veterans. He dared not risk it. Furthermore, Colonel Brodhead, after ascending the Allegheny River to Olean, had gone back to Pittsburgh, without even his scouts ha.ving con­ tacted Sullivan's army. Some accounts claim Brodhead marched as far as I-Iornell, but this claim has no foundation in fact. Sullivan began his return march. At Geneva he sent out three columns to ravage the country on both banks of Cayuga Lake, as well as the country of the Onondagas. The first two detachments performed their allotted tasks, then united with the main army at Fort Reid, which had been erected as a depot of supplies near Elmira. The third column, under Colonel Peter Gansevoort, one of the heroes of Fort Stanwix, marched past the foot of lakes Owasco and Skaneateles, scourged the Onondaga domain and proceeded down the Mohawk River to Albany. Sullivan's force burned Fort Reid and marched to Tioga Point, where it arrived on October 3 d. Here, after demolishing Fort Sullivan, the troops set out for Wyoming. From that point they proceeded to Easton, where the various regiments were dis­ patched to rejoin Washington's army. The Campaign had been conducted with a vigor terrible in its efficiency. It largely removed from the struggle one of Amer­ ica's most formidable adversaries, and eventually led to the 42 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY settlement of the rich valleys of Western New York. Among these, the Canisteo Valley was not the least. After peace had come, the soldiers who had marched with Sullivan into the far western forest which hid the wondrously fertile Genesee Country, told many tales around their :firesides. Veterans, impoverished by the war, now shouldered their packs, took up again the trusty rifle, and started out to explore for themselves those valuable lands which were, so common report had it, to be sold for a song. CHAPTER IV How the White !vien Came to the Valley While Sullivan and the main army were destroying villages and corn fields in the Genesee Valley, the little garrison left in Fort Reid, near Elmira, had little to do. Being young and ro­ mantic, many of these soldiers did considerable exploring. It is believed that some of them came up the Chemung as far as Painted Post; possibly they even went on up the Canisteo Valley a short distance. When they returned to their fort they carried with them enthusiastic reports of the country. They had heard -probably from some forest runner-of a hidden valley that lay somewhere to the west. It was said that the bottom land of this fair valley was devoid of trees, but was clothed with prairie grass as high as a mounted man. This was, of course, an echo of Montour's raid and the destruction of Kanestio Castle. When the main army returned from the Genesee Valley, one of the soldiers, Uriah Stephens, Jr., heard these yarns, became vastly interested in them, and resolved, if he should survive the war, to either prove or disprove them. A number of the families, originally from Connecticut, who had been ruined by the Massacre at Wyoming, or who, after the coming of peace, despaired of having title to their land in the Valley ratified by the Pennsylvania authorities, moved farther up the Susquehanna Valley and settled in the region that lay be­ tween Tioga Point and Newtown. Among these people Uriah Stephens, Jr., circulated his stories with considerable success. Several of the more adventurous ones decided to search for the mysterious place which lay somewhere in the western wilderness. Hence, during the summer of 1788, Solomon Bennet, Captain John Jamison, Uriah Stephens and Richard Crosby packed their knapsacks with parched corn, jerked beef, and possibly an extra shirt, shouldered their rifles, and started on an exploring trip that was destined to produce far-reaching results. Some accounts say that Richard Crosby was accompanied by his father, Benjamin. (43) 44 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY The first part of their journey lay through a country more or less known to the borderers. At Painted Post they found a tiny settlement composed of a few log cabins, six or eight resi­ dents and two transients-surveyors. Doubtless influenced by what these persons told them, the scouts now decided :first to explore the Conhocton Valley. Accordingly they made their way up that valley, wading bogs, smashing through thickets, fording creeks, coming at last to the wide flats which mark the present location of Bath. Here something took place to alter their purpose. One tradition says that an Indian met them here, warned them to proceed no farther in that direction, but pointed toward the southwest. If an Indian there was at this place, he probably knew all about the former Kanestio Castle and told them about it. On the other hand, it may be that the appalling prevalence of rattlesnakes on those marshy flats induced the explorers to seek a more healthy spot. The tales of later set­ tlers of Bath have indicated that it was almost impossible to secure a place to sleep on the ground without having for a bed­ fellow a nice, mottled, overweight rattler. In any event, the searchers for the promised land bore toward the left, possibly following up Goff's Creek, and eventually came out on the bluff overlooking the Canisteo Valley, just below the old C. 0. Baker place. Shading their eyes against the rays of the afternoon sun, they broke forth into exclamations of delight! This was the place! Just below them the valley was a ma~s of tree tops-pine, hemlock, deciduous trees-but toward the northwest the valley widened greatly. The high grass of what seemed to be a natural prairie waved and undu­ lated in the breeze. The river, like a silver-scaled snake, wound through this vast meadow, bordered by a fringe of willows and far-spreading elms. 'Tis said, too, that there was a field of corn and the smoke of an Indian encampment. To the left, right, far in the distance, hills garbed in eternal green, girt in the intriguing place and formed a background of beauty. Surely, the scouts need look no farther. This indeed was the land they sought. Probably not one of the four was conversant with the history of the place, or knew that men of several races had once lived there and flourished in a life of vice and outlawry. Tradition does not inform us whether the explorers de­ scended from their elevated perch and inspected at close range HOW THE WHITE MEN CAME TO THE VALLEY 45 their :find, or whether they turned in their tracks and sought at once the older settlements on the Chemung. But both tra­ dition and history inform us that when they did return their report stirred up so much enthusiasm that twelve men at once decided to unite, or pool their resources, and purchase two townships which, they supposed, embraced the marvelous prai­ rie. But of whom were they to purchase this .land? The original charter granted by James I to the Pilgrims of Plymouth, later incorporated with Massachusetts Bay Colony, gave title to a strip of land extending across the continent to the Pacific Ocean. At that time no one believed the Pacific was very far away. Anyhow, the king had so much land he scarcely cared what he did with it. In this case it happened that Massachusetts held title to land later included within the boundaries of New York. We have noted that a similar state of affairs existed in relation to Connecticut and Pennsylvania, and led to the Pennamite Wars. · At the close of the Revolution, the question of title to the rich section of New York opened by Sullivan's campaign quite naturally arose. Massachusetts asserted her ancient claim; New York opposed it. In 1786 a convention was held in Hartford, Connecticut, and representatives of both states attended. The opposing claims were thoroughly threshed out and a compro­ mise was effected whereby Massachusetts was given pre-emption rights to the lands in dispute, while the sovereignty of the ter­ ritory was vested in New York. This section lay for the most part west of a line "beginning at the center of the 82d mile­ stone on the north boundary of Pennsylvania and running due north, terminating on Sodus Bay, on Lake Ontario." In April, 1787, Oliver Phelps, of Connecticut, and Nathan­ iel Gorham, of Massachusetts, acting as representatives of a com­ pany, purchased from the state of Massachusetts the pre­ emptive rights to the territory west of the line described. The next year a treaty was negotiated with the Seneca Indians whereby that tribe relinquished its title to the region. A land office was opened at Canandaigua, and the land was rapidly dis­ posed of to the settlers who were flocking in. It was to Canan­ daigua that the representatives of the Canisteo settlers had to make their way, in order to negotiate for the coveted two­ township tract. Besides the four scouts who originally spied 46 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY out the valley, the following now had joined the company: Colonel Arthur Erwin, Joel Thomas, Uriah Stephens, Sr., John Stephens, William Wyncoop, James Hadley, Elisha Brown and Christian Kress. Solomon Bennet and Elisha Brown were the emissaries chosen to complete the deal. The first attempt was something of a fiasco; it was presently discovered that the more westerly town they had purchased lay in the region now known as Hartsville. Another journey was rendered necessary and, after some involved negotiation, the Hartsville tract was ex­ changed for one subsequently known as Hornellsville. The company represented by Phelps and Gorham soon came into financial difficulties on account of expenditures over its head. The land lying to the west of the Genesee River, except for a small reservation, was therefore ceded back to Massachu­ setts. After selling about a third of the pre-emption tract to settlers, Phelps and Gorham disposed of the rest to Robert Morris, of Philadelphia, the patriot financier of the Revolution. The property of which Morris now became the owner com­ prised about 2,264,000 acres. For this empire he paid :fifteen cents per acre. The deed was signed November 18, 1790. The land involved had previously been set off from Montgomery County (March, 1789) and made into a new county called Ontario. Morris sold his holdings to Captain Charles Williamson, who acted as secret agent for an association of British subjects com­ posed of Sir William Pulteney, John Hornby and Patrick Colquhoun. In March, 1801, Williamson conveyed the entire estate to Sir William Pulteney; the reason being that nearly three years prior to this the New York Legislature had author­ ized conveyances to aliens for the term of three years. From the Pulteney Estate, settlers of the towns of Addison, Cameron and Rathbone derived their titles. Canisteo, Hornellsville and Erwin (formerly Painted Post) were purchased direct from Phelps and Gorham, hence titles in these towns antedate the inception of the Pulteney Association. During the summer of 1789, the proprietors of Canisteo sent men to the valley to cut and stack hay. This was in order to provide fodder for the herds that later were to be driven into the new settlement. We don't know the personnel of this party or anything about their adventures during that summer HOW THE WHITE MEN CA~IE TO THE VALLEY 4 7 of hay cutting. But in the fall of the same year Uriah Stephens, Sr., and Benjamin Crosby, with their families, started from Newtown to take possession of the colony. The trip was made by water, and at first no particular difficulty was en­ countered. The Chemung River, as far as Painted Post, was broad, deep and unobstructed. But after leaving the mouth of the Tioga, the troubles started. Writing in 1799, or ten years after the first permanent set­ tlers of Canisteo had made their way thither, Colonel Charles Williamson had this to say of the Canisteo River: The Canisteo, which is the next river to the north, rises from a marsh in the northwest corner of the county of Steuben, and, taking a south-east course, joins the Conhocton at the Painted Post. It is some­ what singular, that the river is navigable almost to its source. From the opposite side of the marsh, the Canaseraga (Creek) also has its source. This is a branch of the Genesee River, which .... while the Canisteo, a branch of the Susquehanna, falls into Chesapeake (Bay). Both are navigable for boats of ten tons to within nine miles of each other, and the portage now in use may, with very trifling labor, be re­ duced to five miles. The navigation of the Canisteo has been more used than any other branches of the Susquehanna that water th~ Genesee Country, and has added much to facilitate the moving of Pennsylvania emigrants; but the recent settlement of the country has not permitted them even to clear out, much less improve, the naviga­ tion in the manner it will admit of. The Canisteo pioneers carried their provisions, furniture and ammunition in seven-ton boats, while the young men and boys drove a large herd of cattle along the bank. The Canisteo was found to be blocked by logs and driftwood. These had to be cleared out by the liberal use of the axe. There were rifts over which it was difficult to force the boats. More than once the entire party had to line up and pull oh ropes in order to draw the boats up over the rifts into deep water. Frequently the cattle strayed in the woods and it was difficult to find them. It was late in the season and the almost perpendicular river bluffs were, save for the evergreens, denuded of foliage. Bleak indeed appeared the myriad white birch that covered the hills, through a driving, cold, autumnal rain. There was constant danger from wild animals. Even the Indians might prove to be a menace. Progress was discouragingly slow. Winter might now set in at any time. At night huge fires were kindled and around these spots of cheer the families prepared their supper 48 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY and spread their beds. The howling of the wolves was their only lullaby. The reason for the large number of cattle was that they em­ braced not only the herds of the two families, but also the ani­ mals of four other families who were expected to come the following spring. There was an ancient Indian trail along the bank and this the stock were forced to follow in single file. If they left this trail they immediately became bogged in marshy ground or lost in the numerous creek valleys which led down from the hills. On one day only six miles were covered, but on the whole, and considering the obstacles, the party did pretty well. Past the sites of the future settlements of Addison, Rathbone, Cameron Mills and Cameron, then literally a howl­ ing wilderness, the Stephens and Crosby families made their way, and three days after leaving Painted Post (a distance now covered in an hour) they came in sight of their future home. In about the middle of the plain stood the stacks of hay which had been cut that summer. Around these stacks snow squalls were already beginning to whirl. It was time to begin providing for the winter shelter; no time was to be lost. They began their task not far from the stored fodder. Huge pines growing along the bank of a creek, later known as "Bennett's," were brought crashing to earth before the energetically­ wielded axes of the young men, and hauled into place by teams of oxen. Almost by magic rose the outlines of a log house twenty-four by twenty-six feet in size. Stones and clay were obtained in the bed of the creek, and four fireplaces were con­ structed-one in each corner of the house. At least they meant to keep warm. There was no question about the supply of fuel; the hills surrounding the plain were covered with virgin forest. Even before the house was finished some of the boys began the fall plowing, for the ground had not yet frozen. The high grass was brown and dry but its roots were matted and tangled deep in the soil. Years of rank growth had rendered it a serious impediment to agriculture. In order to rid the bottom land of this growth, it was burned. Fanned by a breeze, the flames raced through the grass like a prairie fire and the valley at what we now call "The Center" was filled with smoke. Through the haze the setting sun gleamed redly each night. The actual work of plowing was difficult. Save for a few acres formerly HOW THE WHITE MEN CAME TO THE VALLEY 49 cultivated by the outlaws of Kanestio Castle, and later, perhaps, by the Seneca squaws, the broad flats had remained through the ages untouched by the implements of husbandry. The sod was so tough that in order to break it, several yokes of oxen had to be hitched to one plow. When the roots were thus torn asunder the sound thereof was like unto the explosion of a string of :firecrackers, or the tearing of a blanket. Several acres actually were :fitted and sown to wheat before King Winter puffed through the valley, driving before his gusty breath blinding clouds of snow. Then followed months of isolation. Were those people lonely? We don't know; they kept no diaries. Would that they had! Rugged, tough, used to frontier life as they were, I doubt that they were down­ hearted. The boys did a great deal of hunting. And still there was plenty of work to do. The only other settlement then in what later became Steuben County was at Painted Post, forty miles distant. Bath had not yet been thought of. The hills swarmed with wolves, bears and panthers, and at night their hideous cries woke the echoes. Often the four sons of Mr. Stephens had to run out to the crude cattle sheds and hurl among the preying beasts blazing sticks plucked from the well­ fed :fireplaces of the lone cabin. Merely to survive kept the hardy settlers busy, but I suspect they derived greater enjoy­ ment from it all than we now derive from our vicarious adven­ tures at the movies. There was no danger of starvation; fresh meat was at the very door. Had the door been left open at night, the fresh meat would have walked right in. The stock consumed the stored hay with amazing rapidity, and it was no small task to keep the hungry animals fed. Each day was so crowded with work that all were willing to retire shortly after dark. Before we raise our modern hands with horror at the reflection that one cabin should house so many persons, let us reflect that this was merely a place to eat and sleep. Most of the time the men and boys were in the open, engaged at their never ending tasks. Whether there were sep­ arate bedrooms in the loft, I do not know. But it is a safe bet that those four :fireplaces kept the cabin as warm as toast. Sometimes the members of the two families sat before the blaz­ ing logs long into the winter night, and laid their plans for the future, or recounted tales of daring and breathless adventure 50 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY that had been their portion in the bloody doings at Wyoming. Save for the glare from the burning logs and the feeble glim­ mering of some tallow dips, there was no illumination. Little was needed, for there were no papers and but few books. These people were engaged in making history rather than reading it. Many of the tales told at this remote fireside will bear re­ peating. Though now the church, lodge, movies, card clubs, community fair, speeches, entertainments, newspapers, and magazines, and, most of all, the radio, occupy our winter evenings and deafen us to the roaring of the wind on the hills and the snapping of trees with frost, the stories of that far day still may interest some, as they did those pioneers. The howling of the wolves has gone, the electric light has banished the in­ triguing darkness that cloaked the interior of that lonely cabin; but the love of thrilling action, the stirring call of adventure, the lure of the wild, still quicken our blood. It is a heritage of the race. Be£ ore the pages of this book are :finished, we shall recount again some of the fascinating tales told around that winter :fireside. . . . . The snowy, icy days passed at length and the air grew mild. The wild geese, in the same formation now used by our army airplanes, sailed high above the valley on their flight to the Northland. The huge snowbanks in the hills turned into yel­ low water which :filled to overflowing the creeks and the river. The flats were inundated in spots and the cattle gathered in affright near the remnants of the hay stacks. The settlers scarcely could wait until the ground settled before beginning their spring work. You see, in that tiny settlement no one was on relief. They held to the simple notion that if they were to survive, it must be by the sweat of their brows. All were busy with their tasks one bright day when a loud shout down the valley caused them to look in that direction. A number of people were in sight. The settlers, gladdened by the coming of someone from the outside world, hastened to meet the new arrivals. These proved to be Solomon Bennet, Uriah Stephens, Jr., and his brother, Colonel John Stephens, with their families. The remote colony had received a potent accession of strength, and all rejoiced. For a time further building operations were neglected while the spring planting was rushed. The new families moved into HOW THE WHITE MEN CAME TO THE VALLEY 51 the log cabin with the first arrivals, and here for a time they managed to exist. Soon additional families arrived and the settlement became a settlement indeed. The best land in the lower township, beginning at a point near the present Garman Block in the village, and continuing on east, was divided into twelve plots. The division lines ran clear across the valley and up the hillsides on either side. The twelve proprietors then drew lots for these farms. The same thing was done in the up­ per township, now embraced in Hornellsville. The rich soil of the river bottom lands yielded bountiful crops, and the settlers had visions of wealth as they contemplated the almost un­ believable growth of their corn. With all the energy in the world, they not only reduced the flats to fertility, but they cleared the uplands that marked the first rise from the river valley to the steep hills behind. The hillsides were heavily wooded, but the settlers made no attempt to turn this into marketable lumber. There was no market for it. The age of rafting was a long way in the future. Hard­ wood had little value, save for fuel and fencing. So, as a usual thing, maple, beech, ash, and even oak trees were burned in the fallow where felled, along with the brush and weeds. Several acres of such a fallow, thoroughly dried, made a tremendous conflagration. The roaring of the flames could be heard for miles, and huge clouds of smoke darkened the sun. Animals and birds fled in affright and even snakes sought a safer hiding place. Often the fire got beyond control and swept for days, even weeks, through virgin timher in the hills, destroying lumber that would now bring a fortune. After the fallow had been burned over for the first time, it had to be "logged"; that is, the huge trunks of the fallen trees, which had been but partially burned, had to be hauled into great heaps and methodically reduced to ashes. This work was both hard and dirty. After laboring all day at this sort of task the workers resembled spirits from the underworld, peering with bloodshot eyes from faces black as those of native Afri­ cans. But the end was not yet. The land had to be dragged and planted. The stumps lasted for years, for they rarely were pulled out, or even cut off level with the surface of the ground. The farmer had to guide his oxen around these impediments to agriculture as best he could, while grubbing the soil with a 52 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY wooden drag in preparation to sowing his wheat, barley or oats by hand. Hand sowing consisted in scattering the kernels in front and on both sides of the worker as he strode back and forth across the field. He was fortunate if he could secure a still day in which to perform this task. Often a stiff breeze rendered his best efforts almost futile. It was soon found that the wild animals played mischief with the crops, so it was decided to enclose a considerable tract with an animal-proof wall or fence. The labor involved must have been staggering, but four hundred acres presently were enclosed by a high log wall. Perhaps timber taken from the uplands when clearing them was used in this almost unbeliev­ able project. After all, this herculean feat proved more or less useless. While the wall handicapped the denizens of the forest a bit, it did not overcome their ravages. By jumping over or digging under the barricade, they managed to continue their inroads. The Seneca Indians, who had not been in evidence when :first the two original families came, soon arrived in the form of hunting parties. Among these savages were some hardened warriors who had aided in the desolation of the Wyoming Val­ ley. Both sides were now inclined to for give and for get, at least for the present. Grinning foolishly, the chiefs extended :fists once red with patriot blood and grunted, "How! How!" One of these case-hardened old sinners, called "Captain John," stared with beady eyes at the elder Uriah Stephens, then proceeded to almost die laughing. His unseemly mirth angered one of Mr. Stephen's husky sons, who snatched up a club with the firm intention of teaching the damned "Injun" better manners. Whereupon Captain John made haste to explain the cause of his sudden delight. It appeared that during the war­ fare in the Wyoming, a year or so after the Massacre, Stephens, on a certain day, proceeded from his farm to the fort with a pair of oxen and a horse. His young son, Phineas, rode the horse. Just as Mr. Stephens stooped to retrieve one of his shoes which had been drawn off by the mud, a rifle cracked in some nearby bushes and one of the oxen fell dead. And now the cry, "Indians!" rose from some lusty throat. Stephens, his son, and others in the vicinity, rushed headlong to the fort. The ambushed red rascal who had fired the shot was no less than HOW THE WHITE MEN CAME TO THE VALLEY 53 this selfsame Cap'n John. When he met Mr. Stephens in Can­ isteo, a decade later, it all seemed too funny for anything. The settlers couldn't see much humor in it, but they allowed the chief to retain his hide. To entertain the whites, the Indians, numbering several hundred, frequently staged war dances and sham battles, to the accompaniment of booming snake-skin drums and the clat­ tering of wooden rattles. The Anglo-Saxons indicated their appreciation of the natives' thoughtfulness by giving them fire water. Now, whisky is bad for Indians, bad for their disposi­ tion. One half-shot warrior decided to start something. He asked a white man his name, and, upon being answered cour­ teously enough, rumbled his derision in verboten words: "Ugh! Ugh! Heap much big damn liar!" For a few times the in­ ebriated redskin got away with this, but :finally made the car­ dinal error of covering too much territory. He ran against Elias Stephens, the athletic and fiery champion of the settlers' rights. As the big chief crawled out of the campfire into which Elias had knocked him, he was inclined to be peeved about the matter. Sundry other warriors of the younger generation ap­ peared to hold similar views. But the older chiefs gravely an­ nounced that the insulting party had received merely his due, something he had been begging for. So the flurry passed and fraternal relations were reestablished. For Elias Stephens the Indians conceived a great respect. It is said that one day fourteen of them-drunk again, of course -charged down on Bennet's mill, uttering throaty howls. They kicked the workers out, took possession of the place, and pro­ ceeded to put on a war dance both complicated and noisy. Elias heard of the ruction, so he seized a flail and charged on his own hook..... When those fourteen "tarnal Injuns" passed the future location of Skuzzy Fuller's place, they were leading Elias by ten rods. It is not a matter of record that this particular hunting party ever returned. The Bennet mill, built by Solomon Bennet in 1793, was the :first saw- and gristmill in the Valley. One of its flour stones is yet in existence, though broken. For years it was exhibited on the lawn of J. M. Hitchcox of this village. It was found by Mrs. Hitchcox's brothers, Timothy and James Stephens, during the early eighteen-seventies, while they were engaged 54 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY in drawing gravel from Bennett's Creek at a point near the old dam. It is of rough sandstone, and tradition says that it was brought from Newtown (Elmira) up the river. The radius of the top surface from the shaft hole to the outer edge varies from fifteen to nineteen inches. The shaft hole is about ten inches in diameter. The total diameter of the stone is there­ fore about forty inches. It is seven inches thick. Although the modern form of the family name, as commem­ orated by the creek, the street and other places, is Bennett, Solomon himself used but one "t." This is proven by a curious old receipt, given by John Stephens to Solomon Bennet, under date of April 12, 1796, and signed by both parties. Here it is: This day Settled With Solomon Bennet all Book Accounts from the beginning of the World to this Day, April the 12, 1796, and found the balance Eaven. John Stephens, Solomon Bennet. The Bennet family was active in settling and developing the Canisteo Valley, as it had been equally active in Wyoming. The clan comes from Thomas Bennet, who was born near Scit­ uate, Rhode Island, married 1vfartha Jackson, and was one of the first of the New Englanders to settle in the Wyoming Val­ ley. In the battle of July 3, 1778, Thomas Bennet was excused from militia duty on account of his age, but he subsequently served for a month in Captain John Franklin's company dur­ ing the spring of 1780. During the summer of 1779, while Sullivan was engaged on his campaign against the Long House people, the Wyoming was comparatively free from raids, except by small parties of Indians. This being so, about thirty families removed to the upper end of the valley, fortified themselves in a small village and made an effort to raise some crops. Their need was des­ perate. Among these people were Thomas Bennet and Leb­ beus Hammond, the latter being the same who had escaped from the circle of death at Queen Esther's Rock. As this sum­ mer of 1779 witnessed no particular outrage, Bennet decided on the following spring to work his own farm, located three or four miles further up the valley. He expressed faith in his dog to warn him of approaching danger. Accordingly, one day in March of this year, 1780, Thomas Bennet took his son Andrew, a lad of thirteen, proceeded to a HOW THE WHITE MEN CAME TO THE VALLEY 55 field, hitched his team to the plow and began his task. He took certain precautions, for at each side of the field he placed two loaded rifles. Two days he labored without interruption, at night returning to the fort. But, unknown to him, gleaming eyes had for some time been spying upon his movements, sizing up the situation. On the third day Lebbeus Hammond accom­ panied Bennet as far as the plowed field; for his horses had strayed and he must needs find them. Leaving Bennet at work, Hammond went on, located his horses and had just mounted one of the animals when six Indians dashed from the bushes and captured him without a struggle. The savages trussed Hammond securely, threw him on the ground like a sack of potatoes, then cautiously stole toward the laboring Bennet. From his position on the ground Hammond could note the peril of his neighbor, but was unable to warn him. Bennet and his son, taken by surprise, were made cap­ tives before they realized it. Threatening their captives with sudden death, the invading Senecas now dragged them along on a rapid retreat toward the Genesee Country. Thomas Bennet was much discou.r:aged. He was old and tired, and he feared for the safety of his young son. For his own future he did not care so much. Hammond, on the other hand, was apparently in high spirits. He whistled and sang as he strode along the forest trail. But his keen eyes were every­ where and his active mind was already planning an escape. Watching his opportunity, he confided to Bennet his plans. Bennet asked him to defer his proposed attempt until a fav­ orable chance presented itself, when they would try to kill the savages, and thus all three captives would escape the fiery sacrifice. Near the close of the third day of the march Bennet desired to fix a button on his coat; he asked an Indian for the use of an awl. "No count button for one night," grunted the native. This suggestive reply told Bennet that the time of their execution was near. He resolved to make an attempt to escape that very night. They had reached a point on the Susquehanna where the village of Meshoppen now stands. The raiders camped near a brook. After eating their supper five of them curled up in their blankets and went to sleep, leav- 56 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY ing the sixth member of their party on guard. Hammond and the lad had been bound, but, on account of his age and seem­ ingly exhausted condition, Thomas Bennet had been left untied. Hoping for a break, perhaps praying a little, the old man sat on the ground and watched furtively the Indian guard. He felt certain that if the night did not bring release the fate of the three white men was sealed. The gloom settled, but through the interstices of the forest covering Bennet could see the stars twinkling in the clear sky. He thought the sentinel nodded a little. Almost holding his breath, Bennet waited. There could no longer be a doubt, the savage was growing drowsy. The day's march had been long and fatiguing, even for an Indian. Bennet reached for a spear, grasped it :firmly and prayed for strength. The head of the guard dropped lower. On the night wind came strange sounds from the depth of the forest. Ham­ mond's eyes gleamed in the firelight as he watched the prepar­ ations of his aged companion. The old man drew back his arm and hurled the spear straight at the drowsy guard. The weapon tore its way through the red body, so that the point appeared on the farther side. The Indian rolled into the fire and his blood hissed and sputtered on the live coals. Springing to the side of his fellow captives, Bennet released them with two swift strokes of a knife. Then the three turned without compassion upon the :five slumbering warriors. A moment sufficed to compass the death of four. The :fifth sprang to his feet and dashed with a yell of terror into the forest. When at last the dawn lit up the ghastly scene, those three de­ scendants of a fighting race which is always most dangerous when in the last ditch, collected the weapons and hurriedly left the scene of their bloody triumph. They arrived at Wyoming without further mishap. Some accounts say that the lad was Solomon Bennet; but nearly all versions say he was a mere boy. As Solomon Bennet was born in 1750, he would have been a mature man of thirty at this time. Although it contradicts some other versions, I have it on good authority that the lad was Andrew Bennet, thirteen years of age. I have not been able to ascertain definitely the size of Thomas Bennet's family, but it included Solomon, Andrew, HOW THE WHITE MEN CAME TO THE VALLEY 57 Oliver, and at least one daughter, who became the Mrs. Myers mentioned by Lossing. Thomas Bennet never came to the Canisteo Valley, but he lived at Forty Fort, in the Wyoming, as late as July, 1787. Solomon Bennet's exploits in the Wyoming have been chronicled. He married Sarah (Stephens) Upson, daughter of Uriah Stephens, Sr., and widow of Asa Upson. He had four children: William, Thomas, Martha, Sarah. He was one of the four scouts who spied out the Canisteo Valley, was one of the original purchasers of the two-township tract, and in the di­ vision of the land drew Lot No. 12. He owned most of the land now occupied by Canisteo village, and the first settlement here was called Bennettsville. He built a log house at the cor­ ners, and the first mill on the creek that now bears his name. He was considered the "Number One business man of the place." He died in 1823 and was buried in the "Old Settlers" cemetery, now located on the Willow Bend farm. That portion of his land now bounded by Depot, West Main and Walnut Streets, for many years was called "The Indian Orchard." This from the fact that the original settlers found there an orchard of common fruit trees which doubtless had been set by the outlaws of Canisteo Castle. Some persons now living have eaten apples from these trees, and it is said that one tree sur­ vived until less than forty years ago. Solomon Bennet's son, William, in 1826, built the brick hotel since known as the Canisteo House, now owned by Mrs. Agnes Garman of this village. He was a friend to the Indians and is supposed to have been shown by them the lost lead mine­ which yarn will be told later in these pages. He died in 1840 and was buried near his father. Jedediah Stephens, who was closely associated with Solomon Bennet in sundry adventures in the Wyoming, also became very prominent in the affairs of Canisteo. He was a preacher of the Baptist faith, and in 1802 was granted a license to keep a pub­ lic inn. For some years Canisteo seems to have had no political existence; it was merely a part of the so-called "Painted Post Country," located in Ontario County. But in 179 3 the region was divided into two parts: Painted Post and Williamson, or Williamsburg. Eli Mead was the first supervisor of the former town, Jedediah Stephens was the :first supervisor of the town of 58 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY

Williamsburg, serving in 1793-94. He and Mead used to at­ tend the meetings of the Board in Canandaigua by walking there-a distance of seventy miles from Canisteo. Filling their knapsacks with provisions and taking a roll of blankets, the hardy pioneers took the old Indian trail up the valley to Ark­ port and from there to Dansville, down Canaseraga Creek ( the old route to which we have frequently referred) to Little Beard's Town-where Boyd was killed-thence on to Geneseo. From this point a fair road led to Canandaigua. While on such a trip they had to sleep in the woods, making their beds of twigs and keeping a roaring fire going all night. But people were hardy folk in those days. They did not mind privations. A very few years sufficed to give the younger generation in Canisteo a reputation for being hard-boiled. They were rough, tough and turbulent-and gloried in it. They professed to be able to whip their weight in wildcats, and frequently proved it. They worked hard, but they ate enormously of bear meat, ven­ ison, corn bread and potatoes, washing it down with copious doses of raw corn whiskey. They wrestled and fought, they shouted and swore, they ran foot races and practiced with the long-barreled Deckhard rifle. They may have been the original characters in the touching little ballad which starts off some­ thing like this: The mountaineers they have long ears, They wear stiff leather breeches, They ..•.. But let it go at that. The denizens of Canisteo often visited at Bath, after Bath came to be, and shocked the more sedate and disciplined populace of that shire town. Here they were slightingly termed "Canisteers," or "The Six Nations." All of which they minded not at all. They were careless of what they were called, so long as they were called to their meals. When on these social visits they gladly fought if any one desired them to, but they really preferred to sit in the shade of a tavern and enjoy the luxury of getting drunk quietly, without having any of their women folks around. When the first stage line came through Canisteo, following the route we now call "the back road," it is said the drivers used to whip up their nags, when coming in sight of this wild and woolly place, and drive by in a cloud of dust. But perhaps some envious persons had HOW THE WHITE MEN CAME TO THE VALLEY 59 been lying about our boys. One thing concerning them cannot be denied: They had energy! The town of Canisteo was organized in March, 1796, the same year in which Steuben County was set off from Ontario. Like its predecessor, the town of Williamsburg, Canisteo at :first embraced a largely undefined extent of territory. It in­ cluded at least what are now the towns of Canisteo, Hornells­ ville, Hartsville, Greenwood, Troupsburg, Jasper, parts of Cameron, Almond, West Union, and possibly other smaller sec­ tions. It was one of the six original to:wns of the county. Troupsburg was set off in 1808, Jasper and Greenwood not until 1827. For some time Almond was known as the "Num­ ber Four Settlement," and was not incorporated in Allegany County until March 11, 18 0 8, when the western range of towns of Steuben were annexed to Allegany. Among the early set­ tlers of this so-called "Number Four Settlement," was the Karr family, originally from the Wyoming, where the father had been killed in the battle. One of the sons, Walter, was captured by the invaders at that time and remained a captive twelve years. Mrs. Margaret Karr, with her three sons, Samuel, Joseph and Walter, came up the Canisteo River in 1797, with their goods loaded on scows which were propelled by setting poles. They landed about two miles below the site of the pres­ ent Hornell and from that place the remaining portion of the journey was made by ox team. They settled in what has since been known as Karr Valley, west of the village of Almond. Mrs. Karr (born 1747, died 1820) was a good nurse and her services were in much demand among the settlers. She used to ride for miles through the dense forest on her visits to the sick. On one of these trips she became drenched while fording a creek, contracted pneumonia and died. Her sons, Joseph and Samuel, served as officials of the early town government of Canisteo. Many descendants yet reside in Almond and vicinity. The upper township of the original two-township tract was for a number of years quite naturally known as "Upper Canis­ teo." It was not until 1820 that this section was erected into a separate town and named Hornellsville. Nevertheless, the Can­ isteo post office was established there in 1807. Twenty years elapsed before the Canisteo which remained Canisteo was given a post office. 60 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY The first clearing within the limits of the present city of Hornell was made by Benjamin Crosby in 1790, on the site now occupied by St. James' Mercy Hospital. Crosby Creek was named in his honor. He was the father of five children: Reuben, Richard, Hannah, Rachel and Polly. Reuben Crosby's nearest neighbor for a time was an Indian called Straight Back, whose wigwam stood near the present Seneca Street bridge over the Canisteo River. Crosby formed a friendship for this na­ tive and, perhaps wishing to impress him with the white man's superior culture, invited him to dinner. The meal was served in courses. Straight Back observed closely all that went on, but made no comment. A few days later he invited Crosby to his tepee. Here the meal was also served in courses, each course consisting of exactly the same article of food: succotash. George Hornell, sometimes erroneously called the first set­ tler of Hornell, after whom the town and the city were named, came to the locality as early, some accounts indicate, as 1792, and built saw- and gristmills on the site later occupied by the Thatcher mills. He owned several thousand acres and kept the first store. He married Martha, daughter of Uriah Stephens, at Newtown, before coming to the Valley He was one of the associate judges of the county, and in 1808 was elected to the Legislature. He was one of the very few slave owners in the Canisteo Valley. Oliver Harding was another early settler of Upper Canisteo and left a name that has always been respected. His house stood not far from the river, on what is now Main Street. Young people then appeared as romantic as now, perhaps more so. Elopements were rather common. Nowadays elope­ ments are not necessary, as Dad is no longer permitted to have much to say about whom his daughter shall marry. An early marriage of the "stop-me-if-you-can" sort was that of Daniel Upson and Rachel Crosby. Someone opposed it, so the young people sneaked out, boarded Upson' s canoe and paddled down the river. Night came on before they had reached their objec­ tive, so they landed, drew the canoe up on the bank and used it for a shelter. Early the next morning, while the mist was still on the water, they went on and arrived before dark at New­ town. Here they were married. They lived happily ever after and had seven children. The Upson family did much to develop HOW THE WHITE MEN CAME TO THE VALLEY 61 the infant settlement of Canisteo, and the name has always been honored in this community. Christopher Hurlbut, whose name was potent in the early days of the Valley's history, had made a place for himself in the Wyoming region before coming here. Judge of the Luzerne County Court, he had been appointed to that position by Gov­ ernor Mifflin of Pennsylvania. He married Elizabeth Mann, of Wilkes-Barre. While happily located there! nevertheless the pioneering instinct overcame him. In 1796, he mounted his horse and started north to visit his brother, John Hurlbut, who had settled at Palmyra, N.Y. On this trip Christopher was at­ tracted to the Canisteo Valley and ultimately decided to make his home there. He visited the land office at Bath and pur­ chased of Colonel Charles Williamson a tract of 640 acres lo­ cated on the headwaters of the Canisteo. Later he made fur­ ther purchases, which bought his total holdings up to 1365 acres. ,,In those. days land hunger was as prevalent as "flivver h unger now 1s. It was in 1797 that Christopher came with his eldest son, John. He cleared a small portion of land, erected a log house, then returned to Hanover and moved his entire family to the new home in the wilderness. He, with his wife and children­ John, James, Christopher, Abigail, Sarah, Nancy, Elizabeth­ composed a happy family, even though far removed from neighbors. At Canisteo, ten miles to the southeast, there was by this time a considerable settlement, while at Upper Canisteo there were three or four families. Hurlbut, in 18 0 5, built what was then considered a large house. This now stands in good condition, being occupied by his descendants. Nearby ran the ancient Indian trail, leading from Canisteo to the Canaseraga Creek Valley, part of the Iroquois great Southern Trail connecting the Genesee Valley with Tioga Point. Myron Hurlbut, historian of the Arkport Presbyterian Church, in 1902, wrote: "In the month of March, 1764, several hundred outlaws, negroes, French and Indians, passed through here on their way from Canisteo to Geneseo." "Passed" is scarcely the proper word. Doubtless, they were on the dead run, since that flight marked their exodus from Kan­ estio Castle, when 1v1ontour and his vengeful borderers burned their town and drove them in headlong rout. Mr. Hurlbut also 62 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY observed ( and exaggeration was not one of his faults) : "In the latter part of May, or early in June, 1778, four or five hundred Indians went down the trail in front of where this church stands, on their way to Wyoming." In the days of the first settlement of Arkport, the valley plain there was covered with a giant growth of pine. Lumber was in demand on the seacoast, and this led to the construction of rafts of sawed lumber. To kill two birds with one stone, the rafts, or "arks," were so constructed that they would carry a considerable load of grain, livestock, or in fact, anything which the settlers had for sale. In the year 1800 Christopher Hurlbut built one of these arks, loaded it with wheat and dispatched it down the Canisteo, Chemung and Susquehanna rivers to Baltimore, where the grain was sold. This was probably the first shipment of grain from this section of the state. The ven­ ture having turned out well, other arks were constructed at the tiny settlement, and from this circumstance originated the name of the place: Arkport. The ark of 1800-the first one-was piloted down the stream by John Stearns, of Canisteo. He was one of the most useful men in the locality. Born in Worcester, Massachusetts, he served while a mere lad as a teamster in the patriot Revolutionary army. Following the war, he lived in New York City for a time, but came to Canisteo in 1791 and settled near the center of the present village. He was a fine figure of a man and it was said of him, "The finest appearing mounted officer in the State militia." He married Elizabeth, daughter of Asa and Sarah (Stephens) Upson. He was one of the very few Canisteo men in the American army during the War of 1812. He served in "Slippery Jim" Wilkinson's force, was wounded in the fight at Chrystler's Field, and later received a pension. He died in Canisteo at the age of ninety-six. Judge Hurlbut, as Christopher Hurlbut was generally called, was one of the best educated and generally efficient men in the town. At one time or another he filled nearly all the major positions of the town government of Canisteo, and is mentioned in the early town records as having surveyed many of the new roads. What was rare in this remote locality, he possessed a fine private library which included such works as English, American and ancient histories, a full set of the Spectator, HOW THE WHITE MEN CAME TO THE VALLEY 63

Homer, commentaries, biographies, scientific works. Myron Hurlbut sums up his ancestor's activities in his immediate locality: Judge Hurlbut built a good log house and barn, a river warehouse; dug a mill race through the woods a quarter of a mile long; built a sawmill, sent the first arks and rafts down the river, constructed the old Colonial house just south of the stone bridge, accomplishing this, and much more, by 18 0 8. Colonel James McBurney was one of the big men of the town. Of Protestant Irish ancestry, it is said that his first business venture was peddling. However that may be, he man­ aged to accumulate a fortune, and he built, in 1797, what is now the oldest house in the Canisteo Valley standing today, perhaps in the county. It has recently been officially marked by the State. McBurney served as town clerk of Canisteo for a total of eleven years, and during the War of 1812 he was a colonel of the local militia, hence his title. In 1812, according to Judge Hurlbut, Canisteo village (he probably meant Upper Canisteo) had "twenty houses and stores, a post office and con­ siderable trade." He likewise said that the township contained 266 square miles, being "nineteen miles long, north and south, by fourteen wide." During the winter of 1813-14, the startling rumor pene­ trated the hills of Steuben that the British forces had captured Black Rock, burned Buffalo and were advancing eastward toward the interior of the state. The militia call was sent out by mounted couriers. A considerable force was mustered in the Canisteo Valley, while the Conhocton Valley added its quota. Colonel James McBurney commanded the Canisteo regiment, with Colonel William Stephens ( another big man in the neighborhood) acting as major, and Colonel John R. Stephens, of Upper Canisteo, as adjutant. The alarming drum rolled and snarled and the hills gave back the echo. Colonel McBurney mounted his horse, waved his sword and led his army over the old Seneca trail to Dansville. Here the Bath con­ tingent, under command of Colonel Haight, presently arrived. The two detachments had scarcely joined forces when news came that the British had retreated and all immediate danger was over. As the lowering visage of Mars disappeared, the maudlin countenance of Bacchus was thrust forward. The Canisteo 64 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY brigade, true to its traditions, had most thoughtfully brought along a barrel of whisky. This was tapped, the soldiers im­ bibed, waxed merry or belligerent, according to their several temperaments, and-the frolic was on. The provost guard had all it could do to preserve even the merest semblance of mili­ tary order. For many years thereafter this gathering of the militia was called "The Battle of Dansville." Colonel McBurney affected considerable style. He hob­ nobbed with the patrician families of this section of the state. To his parties, especially one notable barn raising, came the W adsworths from Geneseo, the McClures from Bath, the Erwin family of Painted Post. Some of the guests remained several days. Liquor was plenty, food was in abundance, slaves ministered to every want, satin slippers trod the dewy grass of the spacious lawn. There was fishing in the river, which ran just behind the house. There were hunting trips in the hills. We don't know how many slaves the Colonel owned, but one of them, born on the estate November 19, 1809, as certified by the Colonel himself in the Canisteo town records, was named Bob. This black person, years later, under the name Bob Barr, became rather notorious. It is said that his blood runs today in the veins of a number of persons now resident in the Valley. This Bob individual used to be a great rattlesnake hunter, and later became involved in the Weatherby case. Eventually he was swept off a raft in the river and drowned. During the decade preceding the Civil War, the old McBurney place was occupied by one of the Colonel's nephews, Thomas Magee. So far from being a slave owner (slavery was abol­ ished in this state in 18 27) , Magee is said to have turned the old mansion into a station on the Underground Railway. Some rumors have it that there was then a tunnel from the cellar of the house to the river. It is presumed that the runaway slaves, if they came at all, used the river route when on their way to the Genesee Valley, Canada and freed om. Magee was one of the founders of the Presbyterian Church in Canisteo. The front door of the old house is of solid black walnut, paneled and hung on wrought-iron hinges of generous size. Over the door is a fan-shaped window of seven panes, alternate red and white. The door opens into a hall nine feet wide, and from this a wide stairway with walnut rail leads to the cham- HOW THE WHITE MEN CAME TO THE VALLEY 65 her. On both sides of the hall are large and comfortable rooms. One on the right has a fireplace of the original construction. The chamber above this room also has a fireplace. There are seventeen rooms. From the chamber a wide stairway leads to the third story where the Colonel's ballroom was located. The large, foot-square beams supporting the roof have a modern appearance. At one end of this room rises a huge chimney of stone and clay. The floor is of wide pine boards, well matched and in good condition. By a slight effort of the imagination one can people the old room with McBurney' s aristocratic guests dancing the Virginia Reel, while a bald-headed slave scrapes at his fiddle and fans wave as bewigged heads bend low over fair and slender hands. • . . North of the main portion of the building, but connected with it, are the former slaves' quarters. Here the kitchen has a fireplace ten feet wide, with bake and warming ovens, swing crane, tongs, hooks and all the other implements they used in the olden days. Over the kitchen is an apartment where the house servants slept. A wing that juts off from this portion of the house formerly extended far­ ther toward the west and afforded quarters for more of the slaves. A part of this wing was removed years ago. East of the house is located a small but substantial building of stone and hewn logs. The original use of this structure is uncertain. Near it are several apple trees, probably as old as the house it­ self. The oldest house in the Valley! Among the early settlers of that portion of the original town of Canisteo now known as Almond, Allegany County, were Major Moses Van Campen and his brother, Benjamin. They came from the Wyoming Valley in 1797, the same year that the Karrs came. Major Van Campen was a colorful char­ acter and a valuable addition to the population of the primitive town. He had been a noted borderer and Indian fighter, and the story of his adventures reads like fiction. At once he be­ came prominent in the town affairs of Canisteo, although he lived remote from the principal settlement. He settled in what is known as McHenry Valley, north of the present village of Alfred. In 1801, he was elected fence viewer of Canisteo, and at the same time was one of the three justices of the peace. The following year he was selected as one of the eight overseers of highways. The same year he surveyed the Number Four Road, 66 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY "extending from George Hornell's, Esq., westerly up through the North Valley in the Number Four Settlement, to the Indian or County Line." This was no doubt the Almond road. The settlements in the then town of Canisteo, four in number, were Centre Canisteo, Bennettsville, Upper Canisteo, Almond. In 1803 Van Campen surveyed five roads for the town of Canis­ teo, but in 18 0 5 he removed to Angelica. Before coming to Canisteo the Major had earned his fame as an Indian fighter, both in the Wyoming Valley and in Sulli­ van's campaign. During that expedition, which smashed the Long House, Van Campen, adopting the disguise of an Indian warrior, penetrated to the camp of the hostiles, obtained im­ portant information and made his escape. After Sullivan re­ turned from the Genesee Country, Van Campen retired to his farm in the Wyoming. During March, 1780 (the same month and year in which Thomas Bennet was captured-and made his bloody escape) Van Campen one day left the fort to work on his farm. He was accompanied by his father, a brother, an uncle and the uncle's son-a lad of twelve-and a man who bore the odd name of Peter Pence. The uncle and his son, to­ gether with Pence, stopped on the way for the purpose of working on the former's land. The Major!! his father and brother went on to the Van Campen place. The air being cold and raw, a fire was built at the edge of the field, then the three workers began their task. So busily engaged did they become that they had little thought of danger until they were suddenly con£ ronted with a party of horridly­ painted Seneca braves who bore the bloody scalp of the uncle and drove be£ ore them as prisoners the young cousin and Peter Pence. Almost immediately the Major's father was killed by the thrust of a spear, while the brother was tomahawked, scalped and tossed into the fire. The Major put up a fight but finally was captured. With Pence and the lad, Van Campen was marched away toward the Genesee Country. That night the prisoners, securely bound, were caused to sleep near the fire with five husky Indians on each side of them. The second day of the march the hostile party came upon a settler named Abraham Pike, with his wife and child. The savages put the "prisoner's mark" upon the woman and child and let them go, but Pike was taken along with the other captives. That HOW THE WHITE MEN CAME TO THE VALLEY 67 night the prisoners were guarded as carefully as had been the case the previous evening. Major Moses Van Campen had no illusions concerning his probable fate. He knew full well that he and the others were being taken to an Indian town for torture. Being conversant with the dreadful end of Lieutenant Boyd and Sergeant Parker, he knew that compassion did not disturb the poise of these kill­ ers; the luckless white men were to grace a war feast in some Seneca stronghold-provide entertainment for Lo the poor In­ dian. Van Campen resolved to effect his escape or die trying. Watching his opportunity on the following day, he informed Pike and Pence of his plan. This plan was that each of the three should, during the dead of night, contrive to loosen their bonds, rise cautiously and kill three Indians. Three times three equals nine. That would leave but one Indian to be accounted for. Very simple! Pike and Pence were not so sanguine of success. They wished to offer an amendment. One man should be delegated to col­ lect the Indians' rifles and then fire upon the sleeping savages, while the two other borderers should wield the tomahawk. The lad was not expected to take any part in the fight. Van Campen agreed to the change in plans and assigned to Pence the task of firing the rifles. That night the gentle Senecas camped with the usual care. They collected a great pile of wood, built a roaring fire, ate their supper, then lay down with the prisoners, safely tied, as they suppose.cl, between two groups. Providence had seemed to favor the designs of the white men. While collecting wood for the fire, one of the painted braves had dropped a knife near Van Campen' s feet. The alert scout had secured and hidden the knife on the instant, and wholly unobserved. Midnight came. The fire burned low. The Indians snored. But the white men, tense with excitement, awaited the proper moment. Then, Van Campen, having severed the cords which bound him, quietly rose and glanced around, scarcely breathing. Save the snores of the Indians and distant cries of fore st creatures, all was silent. He stooped and cut the thongs which bound his companions. Their great moment had come. Pike and Pence noiselessly gained their feet and took their 68 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY allotted positions. Van Campen, it had been agreed, was to strike the three warriors who lay on the right side of the encampment. Pike was to destroy the two who lay on the left, while Pence, who had seized the stack of rifles, was to shoot as many of the hostiles as he could compass in the dim light of the dying fires. At the last moment the good luck of the pioneers seemed to desert them. Just as Van Campen and Pike were about to strike, the two Indians assigned to Pike awoke and sat up. At this juncture Pike lost his nerve. He sank back to his former position on the ground. Van Campen was made of sterner stuff. Real­ izing that all was lost unless he acted immediately, he sprang upon the two awakening savages and brained them with his tom­ ahawk. At the same instant Pence opened fire. Snatching up the guns in quick succession, he discharged their contents into the forms of the Indians who now were springing up like jacks­ in-the-box. Pence must have possessed a steady nerve and a quick eye, for, despite the clouds of powder smoke which hung close to the ground, partly hiding his victims and stinging his eyes, he killed four of the raiders. In the meantime Van Campen had smashed the skulls of the three originally assigned to him. Pike, on the other hand, may have been a constitutional pacifist, for while this desperate struggle for life was going on, he had sunk to his knees and was engaged in a hysterical attempt at prayer. The only Indian who survived that midnight slaughter was one called John Mohawk. This indomitable heathen, in all that ruck of blood, smoke and noise, rushed for the guns. After him, like a tiger, sprang Van Campen, whirling aloft his bloody tom­ ahawk. Slipping on the turf moist with blood, the Major missed the full effect of the blow and succeeded only in wounding Mohawk in the neck. The warrior fell v.rith Van Campen on his back. Ensued a lively personal combat. The Ma_jor endeav­ ored to stab his opponent, b!1t 11ohawk slipped around like an eel, contrived to evade the white man's blows, and finally man­ aged to break his hold. With a wild yell he fled into the dark forest, while the 11ajor, too nearly exhausted to follow, sank down on a log. As the biting powder smoke drifted away, the flickering gleam of the campfire illuminated the ghastly scene. Red bodies, sprawled grotesquely, lay everywhere. Van Campen HOW THE WHITE l\ilEN CAl\iE TO THE VALLEY 69 and Pence, unaided by Pike or the lad, actually had succeeded in disposing of nine of that Indian band, leaving but a single wounded brave to tell the tale. Looking back at the event from the perspective of this far day, it seems incredible. Yet it was merely one of many bloody combats, largely unheralded and unsung, whereby the dauntless men of a former generation n1.ade good their claim to the soil of America, and left the title clear for us who were to follow. In those days there were no parlor pacifists; a man was either a fighter or a coward. The massacre had taken place on the bank of the Susquehanna, not far from Tioga Point, the site of Fort Sullivan during the campaign of the previous year. The following morning Van Campen and the others built a raft, placed thereon the captured rifles and equipment-not forgetting to scalp their victims, to prove their tale-and floated down the stream to Wyoming. When, seventeen years later, Major Van Campen and his fam­ ily paddied up the Canisteo River in search of a new home, the Indian killer at :6.rst had some notion of settling at Canisteo Flats. His reason for deciding in favor of McHenry Valley is not known. Very likely it was because he was too late to obtain a portion of the choice bottom land. Soon after Van Campen landed at Canisteo, the Indians, who frequently came to the settlement, recognized him as the one who had wounded John Mohawk in the fierce night contest. And, just as it would be in the movies, no less than old man Mohawk himself appeared on the scene. With his neck still on the bias from its contact with Van Campen' s axe, muttering gut­ tural sounds, the chief registered anger, revenge and sundry other emotions. It certainly looked like a fight. The other Indians began to handle their weapons and yelp suggestively. Were the bold men of Canisteo downhearted? Not at all. A fight or a frolic was all the same to them. They primed their Deckhards and grouped themselves about their hero. Then some wise person suggested that Van Campen and Mohawk should withdraw and talk it over. They did so. They shook hands. The :fight was off. Whereupon an opportune in­ dividual opened a keg of whisky and the greater portion of the crowd, red and white, proceeded to get drunk. It is not on record that Rev. Jedediah Stephens preached on that occasion. CHAPTER V Tales They Told Jeremiah Baker was born in Litchfield ( or Canaan) , Connec­ ticut, in 1747. He married Anne, a sister of Rev. Jedediah Stephens, and moved to the Wyoming Valley, as many other Connecticut families had done. Upon the outbreak of the Rev­ olution, he enlisted in the patriot army, serving in Captain Simon Spaulding's Independent Company of Wyoming. At the time of the battle of Wyoming, he was located, according to the account of his son, Jeremiah Baker, Jr., "with the regular army at North­ umberland." As a matter of fact, Captain Spaulding's com­ pany had been ordered to the Valley, was on the march thither, but at the time of the disaster was still thirty miles distant. This is a matter of history. The night following the battle found Mrs. Jeremiah Baker alone with her little flock of children, one of whom had been born only two weeks previously. The mother was still weak and ill. With no one to assist her, she had been unable to make her escape to Forty Fort, nor yet to take flight with those who elected to retreat to the Pocono Mountains, and there become enmeshed in those "Shades of Death." As the flames from burn­ ing dwellings lighted the sky in every direction, and yells and rifle shots sounded through the night, she peered out of a win­ dow and trembled with a great fear. The baby cried fretfully and the older children crouched whimpering in a corner. A sudden rush of footsteps and the door of the house was burst in. Savages, painted like demons and covered with blood, sprang into the room, whirled their tomahawks and poised them over the head of the terrified woman. The added burden of fear was too much for the nerves of the weakened mother. Scream­ ing terribly, she placed her hands before her face. Something had snapped; she had been stricken blind! As soon as the Indians became aware of what had happened, they treated Mrs. Baker with as much consideration as it was possible for a Seneca warrior to show. They believed that the (70) TALES THEY TOLD 71 hand of the Great Spirit had been placed upon the head of the afilicted woman, hence their superstition tended to restrain their lust for blood. They burned the house and outlying buildings, however, and when they retreated, a few days after the surrender of Forty Fort, they took the mother and her children along with them as captives. In the meantime Captain Spaulding's company had been ad­ vancing toward Wyoming. On the day the fort surrendered the soldiers arrived on the crest of the mountain ridge which overlooked the plain. One look told them they were too late. The horror had been wrought. Being few in number, they re­ treated. Later they were reinforced and again advanced. The invaders had gone. Two months after the battle an expedition of about 130 men was organized to pursue the savages who, our scouts reported, were yet lingering in considerable numbers along the upper reaches of the Susquehanna. At Seshequin, the home of Queen Esther Montour, a battle was fought. The Indians were defeated and much plunder taken from Wyoming was recovered. It is supposed that it was during this battle that Mrs. Baker and her children were rescued. According to family traditions, the captives, including Mrs. Baker and her little flock, were taken by the native warriors to a depression in the ground and forced to lie face downward while an Indian with loaded rifle stood over them. They were sternly ordered to refrain from raising their heads on pain of instant death. Just beyond a rise of ground the battle was being waged. The noise of the conflict was borne to the captives; quavering yells of the Senecas, the whip-like crack of the frontier rifles, deep-toned Yankee cheers. The wife of a former neighbor lay next to Mrs. Baker. This woman, anxious about her husband's safety, raised her head and peered toward the pall of smoke which hid the battle. She was instantly shot by the Indian guard, and her blood was scattered over the others. The family tradition has it that after the fight was over, "Jeremiah Baker and other soldiers began a search for their fam­ ilies, and only by the hand of Providence were they guided to the hollow where they lay; for the captives dared not raise their heads, thinking the Indian remained on guard. Only when they heard the familiar voices did they dare rise." 72 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY An old record says: "Jeremiah Baker did not desert his place in the ranks, even after the capture of his wife and children, but continued loyally at his post, while so many, with far less excuse, made the care of homeless families and the terrible suf­ ferings they had undergone the excuse for abandoning the rank s. " As a result of the fight at Seshequin, Jeremiah Baker was united with his family. Before the war he had been engaged in the tanning business and was considered wealthy. The war re­ duced him to poverty. After his discharge from the army he settled at Tioga Point, not far from the place where his wife had been rescued. Hearing of the fertile Canisteo Valley, he decided to remove thither, where his wife's brother, Jedediah Stephens, had already settled. Putting their few goods into canoes, the Baker family started up the river on their long journey. It was the autumn of 1790. The first part of the journey was pleasant; for Indian summer, with its nameless call to wander far, its air like wine, tantalizing, was on the land. Haze cloaked the landscape, the forest flamed with red and brown, the sky was a deep blue, sounds carried far. It was joy just to live. But, after passing the iocation of the future hamlet of Cameron, the weather changed. There was a touch of winter in the air. The bare trees on the crest of the precipitous hills stood silhouetted against a dark and forbid­ ding sky. Like spectres seemed the white birches. On the night they reached Hadley's Eddy, tied their boats to the bank and built a roaring fire, spits of snow were in the air. That night they turned restlessly in their sleep. Morning showed them that the river had frozen solidly enough to prevent the further use of boats. The remainder of the trip was made on foot, along the old Indian trail, their goods carried on their shoulders. They settled on "East I. Lot No. 12," owned by Jedediah Stephens and now known as the C. 0. Baker place. A double log house was built on the site now occupied by the granary, where the Baker's Gulf road leaves the river highway. Here the Bakers spent their first winter in the Canisteo Valley. Jeremiah Baker served the town of Canisteo as overseer of highways, 1803-05, and was also fence viewer the latter year. In 1809-10, he served as assessor. He had married Anne Stephens five years before the battle of Wyoming, eventually becoming the father TALES THEY TOLD 73 of nine children. He died December 23, 1825, his wife follow­ ing him less than a year later. Her descendants tell me she never entirely recovered her sight which she lost during the terrible night of the Massacre of Wyoming. Jeremiah Baker, Jr., a son of the Revolutionary couple, was born in Canisteo on April 8, 1791. It is claimed that he was the first male white child born within the limits of what is now Steuben County. This is doubtless true, if we eliminate the spawn of the outlaws who in olden times occupied Kanestio Castle. It is extremely likely that more than one male white child was born there, although probably without the saving grace of wedlock. Jeremiah Baker, Jr., was twice married. By his first wife, Eunice Powers, he had seven children. By his sec­ ond wife, Hila Stephens, a daughter of Rev. Jedediah Stephens, he had three children. He was one of the most prominent men in Steuben County in his day; more widely known than most men of his day or since, in this locality. In his early manhood he served under General McClure in the War of 1812, and later drew a pension. Early in life he joined the Masonic fraternity, holding membership in Cameron Lodge, No. 77, of Howard, N.Y., until Morning Star Lodge was organized in Canisteo, where he affiiliated with the latter body and became its second Master. A life-long member of the Methodist Episcopal Church, he yet contributed liberally to the building fund of the Presby­ terian Church in 18 5 2. In his own faith his name is preserved to this day by a men's Bible class. He held numerous town offices: Constable, town clerk, justice of the peace, deputy sheriff, supervisor. In 18 3 5 he was elected to the lower house of the Legislature. It is seriously affirmed that at one time he was personally acquainted with every person in the county. He owned and operated two sawmills, sending the sawed lumber down the river in rafts to tidewater. The same year he was sent to the Legislature, he constructed the house since known as "The Baker Homestead." Although a century old, this is still one of the show places of the Valley. One of his descendants says of him: "When he came home from the Legislature, he brought two small 'love-apples' (presented by a friend in Albany) with direc­ tions for preparing for the table. The farnily saved the seed and planted them, raising the next year a considerable quantity of 74 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY what later were known as tomatoes. These, it is claimed, were the first tomatoes to be raised in this vicinity."

There is in the possession of a Canisteo family a copy of an old and extremely rare book entitled: Historical Sketches of Roswell Franklin and Family. Dra-ivn up at the request of Stephen Franklin, by Robert Hubbard. The book was printed by A. Stephens, Dansville, N. Y, 18 3 9. Included in the volume are the adventures of Olive Franklin, who later married Colonel John Stephens, one of the leading men of early Canisteo. I have no doubt that these stories were known quite well to the members of Canisteo's pioneer families, and by them were retold around the fireplace that first winter in the Valley. Roswell Franklin, the father of Olive, was born at Woodbury, Litchfield County, Connecticut. During the latter part of the French and Indian War he enlisted in a colonial regiment and participated in the siege of Havana, Cuba. On the voyage south his ship, with two others, was wrecked on a desolate island. Here the New Englanders nearly starved, but finally were res­ cued. They went on to Havana and served until the city sur­ rendered. Franklin then returned to Woodbury, obtained his discharge, married, and in due time became the father of six children, of whom Olive was the second. In 1770, he bought a tract of land in the Wyoming Valley. Leaving his family in Woodbury for the present, he went to Wyoming to take posses­ sion of his property. While there he became involved in the Pennamite Wars, was captured by the Pennsylvania settlers and clapped into jail at Easton. By a stratagem he made his escape and, after wandering in the woods until nearly starved, contrived to find his way back to his old home in Connecticut. Far from being discouraged, he immediately brought his family to Wyom­ ing. He took an active part in the last severe skirmish of the Pennamite War. Colonel Plunket, commanding the Pennsyl­ vania forces, had led a corps of four hundred men against the Connecticut settlers. At the suggestion of Franklin, this little army was surprised as it was crossing the river, attacked and driven back in disorder. The Revolution now broke out. Franklin again felt the call of duty. He was one of the few participants to escape the TALES THEY TOLD 75 massacre that followed the battle of July 3, 1778. When the American line broke and the flight began, Franklin, in company with his captain, made his way from the :field, firing at any enemy who approached. The men :finally hid in a little ravine, taking position but a few yards apart, separated only by a screen of bushes. Here the captain was discovered and promptly mur­ dered. Franklin himself escaped observation, but could hear dis­ tinctly the appalling sounds which accompanied the assassination. He dared not betray his own position by offering aid. After darkness had come, he stole away, made haste to his home, but found the house deserted. Later he discovered that his family had escaped in a boat down the river. After the Indians had left the Valley, Franklin, united with his people, settled at N anti­ coke. Here they contracted smallpox and one of the children died. In subsequent raids by the Indians a son, Joseph, was killed, and another, Roswell, captured. The latter was taken to the Genesee Valley and finally to old Fort Niagara, but eventually escaped. It was early in April, 1782, that this much-persecuted family sustained its heaviest blow. Olive Franklin was then nearly fif­ teen years of age. It was Sunday, and Mrs. Franklin was en­ gaged in preparing the midday meal. She directed one of the girls to go to the spring and fetch a pail of water. A fringe of bushes surrounded this spring, and as the little girl made her way through them, she was seized by several Indians who had been lying in wait. The savage band then rushed for the house. Mr. Franklin was absent, having gone to the woods to look for a pig. The mother of the family was unaware of danger until the muz­ zles of eight rifles were thrust in through the open door. The brave Senecas plundered the house, set it on fire, then started with their prisoners on a retreat. The members of the family taken included Mrs. Franklin, Olive and two younger children. Swiftly the raiders led their captives to the top of a ridge that overlooked the valley. In the village below a jet of flame and a billowing cloud of smoke from a cannon announced to the startled settlers another raid. The Franklin home was burning :fiercely. Cries rose, people ran wildly from place to place. After viewing the scene with stoical indifference, the Iroquois turned and led their victims into the forest. Later in the day, Mr. Franklin returned, found his home in 76 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY ashes, his family gone, his hopes destroyed. As he could not dis­ cover the bodies of any of his brood, he concluded that they had all been taken away. At once he organized a posse among the younger men of the community and a rapid pursuit was started. The would-be avengers numbered but nine, under the command of Sergeant Thomas Baldwin, while Joseph Elliott was second in command.. The latter has left us a written account of his ex- penence.... For several days the Indians marched steadily up the bank of the Susquehanna River-the trail that was worn deep by the feet of many former raiding parties. Their stolen food began to fail. At the end of the fourth day the party was practically destitute of provisions. On the following day wintergreens con­ stituted the only food. On Friday a few squirrels and fish were secured. By this time the raiders had reached a point near the location of the present village of \Vyalusing. Some of the Indians began to show uneasiness. One pointed toward the hills and grunted: "Yankees up there!" That night they did not encamp in a body, but lay scattered about, far from the fire. The next morning, just after the retreat was resumed, several sharp reports rang out and one of the Indians fell in his tracks. Puffs of smoke rose from the bushes and bullets whined. The Senecas, although outnumbering the attackers, sought cover. No American was as yet visible, but the Franklins knew that friends were at hand. In their excitement, Mrs. Franklin and her flock stood up, shaded their eyes and peered anxiously toward the hills. Several other redskins bit the dust, then the survivors began to steal away. But one of them turned and shot Mrs. Franklin. She fell against Olive and crushed her to the ground. The Indian began reloading his gun, with the obvious intention of murder­ ing Olive. The girl closed her eyes, awaiting the shot. It did not come; the savage dared delay no longer. The retreat and pursuit crashed away in the distance. Olive and the little chil­ dren were alone with their dead. Not knowing whether the Americans had seen her, or would be able to find her if they had, and fearing greatly the return of the savages, Olive resolved to start back toward Wyoming. Putting the baby on her back and calling to the other to follow, she sped down the trail. "Run, you dear souls, run!" boomed a hearty Saxon voice. TALES THEY TOLD 77 Olive Franklin stopped in her tracks, whirled and faced an old neighbor. Then, true to her sex, the girl sank on a log and sobbed. Leaving with Olive a young man named Oliver Bennet, whose arm had been broken by a bullet, the first settler ran on after his companions in their pursuit of the hostiles. Over his shoul­ der he called a promise to return as soon as possible. The firing at length was heard no more. Seemingly a long period of wait­ ing, then the American party burst from the woods, took charge of the rescued children and began the return march to Wyoming. Four years later Olive Franklin married John Stephens and eventually became the ancestor of a long line of descendants who have made a valuable addition to the popula­ tion of the Canisteo Valley. On November 9, 1928, the Pennsylvania Historical Commis­ sion and the Bradford County Historical Society dedicated a marker of native stone on the site of the frontier skirmish where the F ranklins were rescued. In bold letters inscribed on this marker are the words: "Lime Hill Battlefield, April 14, 1782." Residents of Canisteo, traveling by motor on the Roosevelt Highway, have doubtless seen this monument crowning a plateau on the right-hand side of the road, going east, not far from Wyalusing. If they have not yet observed this marker, they should stop and read all of the inscription; for the event it com­ memorates had a direct bearing on the history of the Canisteo Valley.

The Story of the Lost Lead Mine is one that persists, and will not down, in the traditions of the Valley. The early set­ tlers really believed that the Indians had a lead mine in one of the valleys whjch broke through the range of hills to the south. As a matter of fact, there seems to be some basis for such a be­ lief, even though v.re discounr the reasons which predisposed the settlers to credit it. The Indians provided an intriguing mystery for the con­ sideration of the pioneers. They afforded necessary diversion for minds largely concerned with plans to prevent starvation. Al­ most invariably the natives were given credit for more wisdom than they had. It was believed that many of them were skilled doctors, possessing deep knowledge of remedies obtained from 78 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY the storehouse of nature. Also it was fancied that these sons of the wilderness knew of secret caves, hidden treasure, mines of valuable metals. From the Senecas, stoical, lazy, intemperate, dirty and treacherous as they were, the settlers were forever seeking a sign. But seldom was that sign given. One of the first things that the whites observed about the red men was that they were well equipped with lead, a most necessary thing for hunters to have. The odd feature of the matter was that this was not ordinary commercial lead, but lead ore. When questioned as to where they had obtained such lead the savages were reticent. Soon it became rumored that the Indians had a secret lead mine. The story was believed. It was not at all remarkable that the newcomers believed this, since the Indians, the original possessors of the land, might be presumed to know more about its resources and hidden wealth. About the only reference in print to the belief in a hidden lead mine in this vicinity is to be found in Professor Clayton's History of Steuben County. His story is substantially as follows: When the Prutsman and Craig families settled near the pres­ ent location of Jasper village, they found there a small group of Indians who used the valley as a hunting ground. Among these natives was an old chief called Nicholas-a name probably given him by the Americans. This worn-out warrior derived consid­ erable pleasure from playing with the white children, since that was easier than working and provided him with as many meals; the mothers always being pleased with his attention to their off­ spring. With a stick he would draw in the sand :figures of ani­ mals and men, would then melt lead and pour into these molds, when leaden :figures pleasing to the children would result. After exhausting his present supply of lead, old Nicholas would go away, only to return in a short time with more. When ques­ tioned, the former assassin, but present children's playmate, would merely grunt: "Plenty not far off." Of course they be­ lieved he had a mine in some secret place. Some points of oral evidence I picked up are these: The late Emmett Stephens, of Canisteo, once told me that his grand­ mother, when a small girl, used to watch the Indians run their bullets. They invariably used lead ore rather than the bar-lead handled by traders. At least, it was what the settlers called lead ore. . . . . Frank Allen, also of this village, stated that his TALES THEY TOLD 79 mother could remember seeing the Indians come and camp on the hill back of the Clint Stephens' farm. It was common talk that they came for lead, and it was supposed they obtained it somewhere in the direction of Hartsville. The location which the settlers assigned the hidden metal may have been suggested by a tradition of doubtful value. This con­ cerned a certain farmer of Andover who, while on his way to Bath to file some papers, came down Purdy Creek Valley and stopped in Canisteo long enough to intimate that he had discov­ ered the lead mine. Very likely talking in his cups, he said that he intended first to go on to Bath, transact his business, then re­ turn and exploit the mine. He went on, it was supposed, but he never came back. It was believed that the Indians had got wind of his discovery, and plans, and just naturally removed him to the white man's equivalent of the "Happy Hunting Ground." And now let us produce as a witness no other than William Bennet, the builder of the first brick tavern in Bennettsville. He had some characteristics that must have endeared him to the simple natives. A hunter of repute, he once caught four young wolves. These he kept in a pen back of the tavern. Oft in the stilly night these wolflets would lift up their voices in far-from­ dulcet tones; whereupon Bennet would go out and howl back at them. His efforts so far surpassed their own that the animals, abashed and humiliated, would cease from troubling. The Indians probably believed they understood Bennet. It is quite certain that Bennet understood them. He became on friendly terms with them. He had heard that while on their trips to obtain lead they were rarely gone more than an hour and a half from camp. He decided to inveigle them into show­ ing him the hidden mine. One version of the story has it that they quite readily agreed to this; another account affirms that Bennet gave them twenty-five dollars and a new rifle. Both tales agree that he was taken to the mine and given about twenty-five pounds of the metal. It is said that they first hoodwinked him. Then they began a trip that took the better part of two days. Up hill and down dale he was taken, over logs and through swamps. His clothes were almost torn off by briars and he felt that he must soon fall from sheer exhaustion. The sound of rushing water smote his ear and he was forced to wade a creek. He noted its depth. 80 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY

When, several hours later, he was again led into water, he ob­ served that the stream was the same depth as the :first. Several times he was forced to wade, and each time he found the water the same depth. Of course he smelled a rat. He knew full well that he was led repeatedly through the same stream. To him the reason was obvious; the Indians wished him to believe that he was being taken on a long journey, while he felt certain that at no time was he many miles from home. The story does not state whether he believed the stream to be Purdy Creek. But at last the bandage was taken from his eyes and a guttural voice said: "L00. k'" He was in a deep ravine. The surroundings were strange to him. Before him was an overhanging ledge, under this the open­ ing of the mine. It is asserted that the lead was of such an un­ usually pure vein that the Indians chopped off quantities with their hatchets. Bennet was duly impressed. His first thought was to register in his mind landmarks that would aid him in the future. But his conductors gave him little time for that. Quickly the bandage was replaced on his eyes and he was led away. And now comes the part that proves one of two things: either the Indians were simple-minded creatures, poor at strategy, or else the whole story is a myth. The trip that had consumed two days going out, took only a few hours on the return. Shall we sneer at the feeble-mindedness of the Indians, or shall we grant the palm to to some of the early settlers as being eligible for the "Tall Story Club?" But the yarn is not :finished. It is said that in spite of the silly precautions of the natives, Bennet afterward found the mine. Perhaps recalling the supposed fate of the Andover farmer, he would never name the location of the treasure. True, it is asserted that while on his deathbed he struggled to impart some important information to his son. He had delayed too long; the secret died with him. Naturally, the question arises: "Why has this mine never been found in recent years, since there are now few nooks and cor­ ners unknown to the residents of the neighborhood?" An easy answer would be that a landslide might have blotted out all trace. The fact that it has never been discovered is no proof at all that it was never there. Considering the mass of quasi-evi- TALES THEY TOLD 81 dence bearing on the subject, I am inclined toward the belief that the story had some foundation in fact. However, it has likely been distorted as the result of frequent telling. Since the story appeared in the :first edition of this book, :fif­ teen years ago, some gentlemen of an embarrassingly scientific frame of mind informed me that lead is never found in a pure state. So they inferred that the yarn about the Indians cutting the lead with hatchets was a yarn indeed. Not being burdened with any considerable amount of scientific knowledge myself, I thereupon hastened to consult books treating on the subject of lead. I found that galena (a compound of lead and sulphur, de­ manding 86.6 per cent of metal) and cerusite (77.5) are prac­ tically the only lead ores. The books stated that the extraction of lead from galena is the simplest of all metallurgical operations. Lead is quite volatile at a red heat; carbonate and oxide of lead are easily reduced by charcoal or coal. .... In view of all these bits of suggestive information, the thought popped into my mind that perhaps the Indians had been fortunate enough to dis­ cover a crevice in rocks lying under an outcropping of galena which had been smelted by a forest fire. It seems plausible. Is it mere coincidence, I wonder, that, near the source of Purdy Creek, in the town of Hartsville, there is a depression in the hills known to this day as Galena Hollow?

The U.S. Census for 1790, taken locally by Amos Hall, indi­ cated that the territory which the enumerator called the town of Erwin, but which six years later became the county of Steuben, had a population of 28 families, with a total of 168 persons, in­ cluding seven slaves. Of this total sixty-seven lived in Canisteo ( which, of course, embraced Upper Canisteo) and here there were thirteen heads of families. During the decade that fol­ lowed the census, new settlers came in increasing numbers. Among these, in 1791, was James Moore, from County Cavan, Ireland. He claimed kinship to Thomas Moore, the famous poet; but, other than his name, he had little to help him on in the world except his high ideals and his brawny hands. Of James Moore's several sons, John, the eldest, became quite noted in the community. Broad of shoulder he was, but short of limb. So, in order to distinguish him from another man of the 82 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY same name who lived in the vicinity, he was dubbed "Little Johnnie Moore." But, though brief of stature, "Little Johnnie" was large of soul, full of the imagery of his race, a lover of nature and his country. In consequence he was popular. When the War of 1812 broke out, he enlisted, was captured at the disas­ trous battle of Queenston Heights, was exchanged, and at the bloody fight of Lundy's Lane was shot through the hips. This wound was slow in healing, and for many years he felt its effects. It was several years after his discharge from the army that Little Johnnie 1'1oore had an adventure of an unusual kind. The year has been forgotten, but it was in early spring, about the first of March. The snow on the south side of the hills was vanishing and brown earth showed through. Pools of water stood in the streets of Bennettsville. The cackling of hens and the cheery clang of an anvil came pleasantly through the invig­ orating air. Moore and three others made up a party to go to Cryder Creek, in the vicinity of Andover, and fish. It seems that the route followed by the party lay along the ridge on the north side of Purdy Creek Valley. Johnnie was still quite lame and the climb tired him. But he managed to stick until the :fishermen arrived at their destination. While the others were chopping holes through the rotten ice, he sat on a log and watched them. Before long he sensed a gathering coolness in the air. Looking up through the trees, he noted that the sun had been blotted out by a gray haze that constantly was thick­ ening. A flock of crows, cawing lustily, passed toward the south. A crust began to form on the snow. "B oys, " announced Jo h nn1e. wit. h conv1ct1on,. . ''we 'd b etter b e givin' it up, I'm thinkin.' We' re goin' to have a buster of a snowstorm. 'Tis in the air." One of the men glanced up carelessly from his work. "We may have a flurry," he agreed. "What of it? Throw in your line, now. They'll bite, I'll bet ye." The fish did bite. For the space of two hours even Johnnie Moore forgot everything but the joy of pulling the flapping :fish from the holes in the ice. Then, with an elemental sigh, the storm swooped down on them. The wind sprang into life, and through the swirling snow clouds the black boles of the trees intermittently appeared and vanished. The cold, all at once, seemed intense. TALES THEY TOLD 83 Obeying a common impulse, the men hastily gathered their belongings and started for home. In single file they plodded along, struggled through the rapidly gathering drifts, and slapped their mittened hands against their thighs. With in­ credible speed the snow grew deep. The last gasp of an un­ usually mild winter appeared to be one long to be remembered. At the rear of the file strode Little Johnnie Moore. He now realized that he should not have come on the trip. His old wound was stiffening his legs-legs that at their best were no match for those of his companions. One of the men growled back over his shoulder: "Hasten, Johnnie. We've got to make home afore candle light, or it's all up with us." "Go along with ye," retorted Moore. "I'll take me own gait , h . ,, an get t ere some time. Before another mile had been com passed~ Johnnie lagged farther and farther behind. At last he sat down on a stump and announced that he could walk no more. He was totally ex­ hausted. "Come on, man," urged one of the others. "Ye'll die here. And we can't carry ye. I'm tired out myself." The rest of the party stamped their feet and growled impatiently, as their leader tried in vain to coax Moore to come along with them. At last, after whispering together for a time, they all strode away. One of them turned and shouted something to the effect that they would send help; his exact words were lost in the blast. Little Johnnie Moore sat on the stump and watched the others disappear. Darkness was coming on apace, and the storm showed no symptoms of abating; rather, it seemed to increase in violence. Moore had flint and steel, but where could he gather dry stuff with which to kindle a blaze? Already he was begin­ ning to freeze. His exertions and the agony of his wound had caused him to perspire freely, but now his teeth chattered, and a numbness spread over him. A terrible lonesomeness, greater than he had ever experienced, came upon him; then a panicky feeling, such as he had never known upon the field of battle. He was brave, braver than most men, but now he was appalled. He brushed the snow from his eyes and peered through the gloom. "'Tis 'the terror that cometh by night,'" he murmured. Then: "'He shall cover thee with his feathers.' .... Does that mean snow? But He says: 'Thou shalt not be afraid: He 84 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY shall give his angels charge over thee.' . . . . Same as the fair­ ies Mother used to tell me about, perhaps." He was growing drowsy. Suddenly he sat up, alert, tense. But a few feet away he saw a dark blotch showing under a mound of snow. He understood. It was a large hollow log, a decayed forest giant brought down by the action of some storm such as this. A thrill of hope shot through the man. Painfully he rose from the stump, lurched to the log, and crawled in. It was commodious enough, even for his broad shoulders. Foot by foot he worked his way in until he was at least ten feet from the entrance. Powdery, rotten wood dust made him sneeze, but ahead he could see a gleam of light which told him that knot-holes would provide him with suffi­ cient air to keep alive. Johnnie sighed with contentment. "'Tis deep I'll be covered with His feathers by mornin'," he murmured. "Holy Moses! 'Tis real warm I'm gettin' already. An elegant bedroom heated by me own body." He was right. The walls of the old log, banked high with snow, retained the animal heat of his body well, and, in spite of his still-throbbing wound, he soon relapsed into sleep. After awhile Moore was roused by the noise of some animal seeking refuge in the emergency bedroom. He was too com­ fortable to care what the visitor might be, so long as it was peaceable. He was thankful, too, that the newcomer kept out the wind from the foot of the log, and added considerably to the heat of the apartment. Johnnie dreamed of the glorious fight at Lundy's Lane. But along toward morning a desperate bayonet charge was shattered by a commotion caused by his visitor backing out of the log. Apparently, it was a tight fit. The ex-soldier turned over for another nap, and when he at last crawled out of his sanctuary and stood up, the storm had ceased and the sun was shining from a frosty sky over a land­ scape covered deep with white. Johnnie was thoughtfully contemplating plainly defined bear­ tracks which led from the door of his bedroom to a copse of evergreens fifty yards away, when he heard a shout and beheld a party of men from Bennettsville rushing toward him. After handling him, to ascertain whether he really were alive, TALES THEY TOLD 85 the neighbors informed Moore that his companions had stumbled into the tavern late the night before and told of abandoning him along the trail. The present relief party was the result. "No call to worry about me," Johnnie told them. "I can take care of meself." Then he informed them about his companion of the night, and, to prove his story, pointed out the bear-tracks. The rescuers marveled greatly.

Ghost stories afforded our ancestors as intriguing thrills as we now derive from seeing such movies as, say, "The Bat." They believed these stories with as implicit a faith as many of our moderns read the newspapers-and swallow all they read. Fur­ thermore, the telling of ghost stories had a utilitarian purpose; the fear which they engendered was calculated to restrain young men from doing certain evil things, such as playing cards. I once knew a fine old lady who was ninety-one when she died, and who has now been dead a long time. She loved to tell ghost stories, and she believed the stories she told. It seems that in her youth she lived with an uncle, Charles Roberts, the :first clerk of the town of Milo, Yates County. His son, Charles, Jr., contrary to the paternal wishes, used to repair of nights to a certain ren­ dezvous for the purpose of shuffling the pasteboards with sundry companions of like habits. On the night we are now telling about, young Charles Roberts, on his way home, had to pass a graveyard. The moon was bright and the lad could see the tomb­ stones gleaming whitely, with the spectral evergreen trees in­ terspersed among them. His horse suddenly trembled, shied, then bolted. For out of the cemetery had darted a strange white thing which proceeded in the weirdest fashion to gyrate about the horse's legs with uncanny rapidity. Charles, badly frightened himself, spurred his mount into a faster pace; but still the apparition, somewhat resembling a small white c!og, kept up its annoying tactics. The speed of the horse seemed to make no difference to this bizarre thing; it easily kept pace with the madly galloping steed, whipping around the horse's legs and under her belly in a most disconcerting way. At last, Charles thundered through the little hamlet of Milo, breasted the hill and saw the white walls of his father's house 86 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY gleaming behind the great elms. As the horse struck into the driveway leading to the barn, Charles cast the bridle reins over his mount's head, leaped off and ran into the house. His mother, hearing the commotion, came out and stabled the horse. The next morning Charles, still badly scared, told his story­ and made the folks believe it! Another tale, still more exciting and terrible, the old lady used to tell. The event that this yarn chronicled, unlike the first, did not seem to have happened at any particular place at any specified time. The tale, doubtless, had come down in her family from the days of the dark and gloomy Puritans of New England. In this story, too, a group of young fellows had gathered at a remote school house located in a wood, to play cards. They lingered at their game until after midnight. Then they started for home. It was late in autumn, a sharp wind was blowing, and dead leaves fluttered across the lonely road. The moon was only intermittently visible, its bright surface when seen being cut by the silhouettes of pine trees thrusting up out of the dark wood. The party came to a fork of the road. Here one of them had to leave the rest. The weird surroundings, and perhaps a sense of evil-doing on his part, had rendered this lad highly nervous. He urged one of the others to go home with him. But they one and all laughed at his fears and left him. They had proceeded but a short distance when through the forest echoed such a terrible scream of mortal anguish that their horses seized the bits in their teeth and raced madly homeward, bear­ ing the riders, who, it may be, were not at all averse to this proceeding on the part of their mounts. The boys must have been frightened indeed, for not that night did they venture back to ascertain what had happened to their companion. But the next day, in the good old broad day­ light, they fared forth. There, in a dark stand of pine, they found him! His body had been twisted about the trunk of a tree in such an unearthly fashion that all knew at first glance that none other than the Devil himself could have wrought this dreadful work. Whether good came of this sacrifice, whether these reckless boys were thereby warned, so that they upon the spot for- TALES THEY TOLD 87 swore further card-playing, was not definitely asserted by the dear old lady. But, obviously, that was the motive of her story. Thus did the early settlers of Canisteo, and elsewhere, enter­ tain their children, and at the same time endeavor to frighten them into remaining in the straight and narrow path. But it is quite certain that the parents themselves believed these dreadful yarns. Superstition was in their blood. The witches of old Salem no longer were talked about, but evil spirits, demons, the Devil, still haunted the gloomy places and awaited their prey. The boisterous young men of Canisteo feared nothing that walked, or could be seen or felt. But the forces of the invisible world-ah! that was a different matter. CHAPTER VI A Captain with Washington On the afternoon of November 16, 1776, George Washing­ ton, with a portion of his staff, stood on the high cliff known as the Palisades, and studied an exciting drama which was being enacted on the eastern bank of the Hudson. Occasionally the great commander took the telescope from his eye, mechanically polished the lens with his handkerchief, then resumed his survey. Sir William Howe with an overwhelming force was attack­ ing Fort Washington. This post, garrisoned by Colonel Magaw and three thousand Continentals, was being held against the wishes and better judgment of Washington. Realizing its isolation, the commander-in-chief had ordered General Greene to evacuate it, at the same time allowing him discretionary powers. Green believed the fort could be held, and so permitted Magaw to stay at his post until it was too late to withdraw. Never again was Washington--or Greene, either, for that matter -to make such a blunder. The hubbub on the eastern bank was now tremendous. Smoke rose in dense clouds over the naked trees, while the roaring of artillery and the crashing of musketry were continuous. To the south of the fort could be seen a line of blue-clad Con­ tinentals, their position clearly defined by gushes of powder smoke and the flashing of rifles. Approaching this position were masses of scarlet infantry, tipped by hedges of glittering steel. Again and again the red-coats pushed forward only to be hurled back. The Yankees were making a good fight of it. A youthful officer near Washington essayed a cheer. For a moment the commander-in-chief looked pleased, but soon his face darkened. Through his glass he could see that Cadwallader, who commanded the troops defending the southern position, had been flanked and was in danger of being surrounded. It was obvious th2.t the enemy had forced the works on the bank of the Harlem and were now endeavoring to cut the Americans off. (88) A CAPTAIN WITH WASHINGTON 89 Cadwallader's men also discovered this. Helter-skelter, they began to retreat. All about them surged the British infantry and the Hessians. Many of the patriots were mercilessly bayonetted as they pled for quarter. The Great Virginian wept "with the tenderness of a child." The next instant he conquered his weakness and turned to­ ward an aide. "Captain Gooch," he snapped, "take a boat and proceed at once to the fort. Tell Colonel Magaw that he must maintain his position until evening. I shall then attempt to bring off the garrison under cover of darkness." The captain saluted smartly, made his way down the cliff, sprang into a boat and was rowed across the Hudson. He landed under a bluff and sped to the beleaguered fort. Here he dis­ covered that Magaw was unable to hold out and was, in fact, on the point of surrendering the garrison. The indomitable aide thereupon dashed from the fort and by remarkable agility contrived to elude the thrusts of the hostile bayonets. It was almost a miracle that he was enabled to effect his escape. Entering his barge, he reached the presence of his commander just as the flag over the Fort was pulled down. The patriot cause had suffered a terrible disaster. Among the many patriots who on that sorrowful day were captured, marched to lower Manhattan and confined in the loathsome Sugar House Prison, was Captain John Jamison, one of the first settlers of Canisteo and the ancestor of many worthy and useful citizens who yet reside in the Valley. John Jamison was born at Durham, Bucks County, Pennsyl­ vania, on December 3, 1752. His father, Daniel Jamison, was from the Tweed River section of Scotland, while his mother, Mary Magdalene Baxter, had been born in Wales. Upon the farm of Daniel Jamison, in Durham, was located a foundry in which were manufactured cannon balls used by the patriot army during the Revolution. While the war was yet young, John Jamison raised a com­ pany, largely at his own expense, and joined the American army on the Hudson in time to be at the defense and surrender of Fort Washington. Captain Jamison survived his imprison- 1nent and remained in the service until 1779. The members of his company who were captured with him-save four or five­ died in the horrible jail. In old Trinity Church Yard, lower 90 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY

Broadway, there is a monument to the memory of these heroes. It is extremely probable that Captain Jamison purchased with his own funds food and medicine for his men while they were with him in prison. The traditions of the family affirm this; so does an old document, a photostat copy of which is now be­ fore the writer. This paper indicates that Jamison borrowed a considerable sum at this time; it is worded in this fashion: Know all men by these presents that I, John Jamison, of the Township of Durham in Bucks County and Province of Pennsylvania, am holden and :firmly bound unto Wilhelmus Stothoff, of Flatlands, Kings County and Province of New York, in the true and full sum of Sixty-three pounds :fifteen shillings, current money of the Province of New York, to be paid to the same Wilhelmus Stothoff, or to his certain attorney, heirs, ex'trs, adm'trs or assigns to the which Payment will and truly be made. I do hereby bind myself, my heirs, Ex'trs, Adm'trs, joyntly and severally and every one of them :firmly by these presents. Sealed with my seal and dated this Seventeenth Day of September in the Eighteenth year of his Majesty's Reign, George the Third, and in the year of our Lord one thousand seven hundred and Seventy-Eight. Witness hereof, Abram Stothoff, Albert Stothoff, John Jamison. At least one of the Steuben County historians has said that the family name was originally spelled in another fashion from that at present used. But the document just quoted proves that the name was spelled as at present as long ago as the Revolution. True, early settlers in the Valley spelled it Jimerson, but that had no authority other than prevailing ignorance. The expenses connected with his military career were such that John was forced to draw repeatedly upon his father. After he had left the army he found that his share of the estate had been used. He could expect no more aid from home. He had spent his fortune and injured his health in his country's service; and in those days there were no pensions, no adjusted service certificates. John simply turned his face toward the West and started out to carve a place for himself. He had heard of the Genesee Country which lay somewhere in the western wilderness, and to this promised land he decided to repair. Going by the way of Wyoming and Tioga Point, he fell in with Solomon Bennet, Uriah Stephens and Richard Crosby. With these borderers he started on the exploring trip which eventually brought them to the bluff overlooking the for­ gotten site of Kanestio Castle. He became one of the twelve A CAPTAIN WITH WASHINGTON 91 purchasers of the two-township tract, and in the final partition he drew Lot No. 2. With the aid of his hired man he built a double log house on the site now occupied by the Granger homestead, a mile east of Canisteo village. Wells were dug, barns built, then Jamison set out for Philadelphia, the home of his intended bride. He was nearly forty; it was time he married. His fiancee was Nancy McDuffey, a girl who had been reared in luxury. Her father had been a wealthy merchant, but evil days had come upon him. A richly freighted ship sent by him to the Far East had gone down, and he was now poor. This fact did not alter John Jamison's purpose. He still de­ sired his bride, so in 1791 they were married. They received the good wishes of their families, together with the gift of several saddle and pack horses, then they set off together down the long, long trail. This was indeed a wilderness trail that led through swamps, crossed unbridged streams, and climbed precipitous hills. At night the cries of ferocious forest creatures lulled them to sleep around their campfire. But no hostile Indians crossed their path, and finally they arrived at their new home. The crude neighborhood was strange to the city-bred girl, and the howling of the wolves alarmed her mightily. At first the wives of some of the other settlers appeared to shun her. They believed she was high-hatting them because she wore silk dresses to the neighborhood social functions and did not know how to knit. Then too she was a Roman Catholic; and at that time some of the more provincial Yankees held to the notion that Catholics wore horns. Nancy had been born in Larne, County Antrim, Ireland. Her priest visited her at long inter­ vals, coming first from Albany, but later from nearer towns. Nancy was well educated, a gentle, friendly soul, so eventually she won a secure place in the remote community. To John and Nancy (McDuffey) Jamison were born nine children: Mary (Guyon); John D.; Daniel; William; Sarah (Acre); Elizabeth (Upson); Angeline (Bennet); Hugh and Samuel. Portions of the original farm are yet in possession of members of the family. All people in Canisteo by this name are descended from John and Nancy Jamison. Captain Jamison died in 18 3 6. Both he and his wife were buried in the "Old Settlers' Cemetery," located on the William Stephens Farm, now owned by Ross Dennis. 92 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY

There is a tradition in the family that the State of New York gave Captain Jamison a grant of land that included the site of the present Cornell University. He is said to have traded this property to a widow for two pigs and a cow. An old document in the possession of the family indicates that the yarn had some foundation in fact. It is a deed to "All that certain Lot or tract of land situate in the Township of Chemung, in our said State, known by Lot No. 70 ..." Then follows the descrip­ tion. The instrument was dated at the City of New York, January 22, 1791, and is signed by George Clinton, Governor of the State. At that time the site of the present city of Ithaca was located within the limits of the ancient township of Chemung. There is another tradition in the family, to the effect that Captain Jamison was a cousin to Mary Jemison, "The White Woman of the Genesee." It is asserted that John once visited her at her home at Gardeau Flats, and that she offered him a square mile of land if he would settle there. He declined; for he did not like Indians, especially the Senecas, who had been largely concerned in the Massacre of Wyoming. At that time the "White Woman" held title to 17,927 acres. It was while living at Gardeau, in 1817, that her son Jack was murdered by two Squawkey Hill Indians, Doctor and Jack. (See page 130 of The Life of Mary Jeniison: "Doctor and Jack, having :finished their murderous design, fled before they could be ap­ prehended, and lay six weeks in the woods back of Canisteo.") It would be interesting to know in just what particular woods these murderers hid themselves. Perhaps the tradition of lawlessness enjoyed by Kanestio Castle persisted at that time. John Jamison was active in the affairs of the early town government, for he held the following offices: Fence-viewer, 1808-09; roadmaster, Dist. 6, in 1810; roadmaster, Dist. 7, 1811 and 1817; commissioner of highways, 1812 and 1815; overseer of highways in 1813; assessor in 1814. His descendants have been active in public affairs, both civil and military. One of them became a famous surgeon in the Federal army during the Rebellion; several were in service dur­ ing the World War-one of them enlisting in the Canadian army long before America entered the struggle. He had a longer period of service than any other man from Canisteo. CHAPTER VII Neighbors Despite the isolation of the new settlement at Canisteo, the people there had neighbors whose records are to be found in standard works of history. It is true that some of these lived at a considerable distance through the forest, but that distance could now be accomplished in an hour and a half by motor. One such neighbor, if we rnay call her such, was Jemima Wilkinson, the self-styled Universal Friend. Her bailiwick was on the western side of Crooked ( now Keuka) Lake, not far from Bluff Point, in the town of Jerusalem, in what was to become Yates County. The story of her life is an interesting one. The daughter of a Rhode Island farmer, and one of a family of twelve, Jemima Wilkinson had no educational privileges. At the age of twenty she was smitten by a fever so virulent that her life was despaired of. She recovered but claimed that she had been dead, her spirit had flown, and the body which had been that of Jemima Wilkinson was now possessed by the spirit of Christ. Her mission henceforth, she announced, was to proph­ esy and be the Universal Friend of all humanity; in short, to found a new religion. It appears that this prophet was not without honor in her own country ( or its country, since she now professed to be sexless), for she succeeded in converting sundry prominent and hardheaded farmers of the neighborhood to her way of thinking. She is described as being of average size, having remarkably black and brilliant eyes, black curly hair, but being almost totally illiterate, speaking the crude dialect of the rural popula­ tion of her native state of that day. In the matter of culture she seems later to have improved. She dressed in a neutral garb, that is, neither male nor female, or perhaps a composite of both. She advocated absolute celibacy. It may be that after all she was not an unqualified success in the old home town; for she decided to found a place in the western wilderness where she and her followers might worship (93) 94 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY as they pleased. To effect this end she in 1786 sent three men to spy out the land. Proceeding by way of Pennsylvania and Sul­ livan's trail, they came to Seneca Lake and decided to recommend the country round about as the future abode of "The Friend" and her friends. During the following June about twenty-five members of the new sect left Rhode Island and, going by way of the Mohawk Valley, located on the western bank of Seneca Lake, about a mile south of the present village of Dresden, Yates County. This was an ideal location, for the creek which was the outlet of Crooked Lake here flung its waters over high rock ledges, renderng it convenient to obtain power for water wheels. Two years later the :first grist mill in Western New York was constructed nearby. During the season of 178 8, the Rhode Island colonists sowed wheat on land which they had previously cultivated, and the following year harvested the :first wheat crop ever grown in Western New York by white men. A tract of 14,000 acres lying between Seneca Lake and the old Pre-emption Line was purchased. A little later two of the "Friend's" adherents bought the town of Jerusalem from Phelps and Gorham, and in 1789 Jemima Wilkinson in person, with a number of followers, came in to possess the land. At :first Jemima was regarded with the utmost veneration. The ~rst framed house in the county was erected for her by her admirers on a farm of a thousand acres which was set aside for her personal use. Also the arduous labor required to operate this plantation was donated by her trusting followers. When she began her movement she had taken pains to provide herself with what she considered the necessary two witnesses, as cited in Revelations, Chapter 13, verses 3 to 13, beginning: "And I will give power unto my two witnesses, and they shall prophesy a thousand two hundred and threescore days, clothed in sackcloth." Her witnesses were James Parker and Sarah Richards, but it would appear that Jemima arrogated to herself the chief duty of prophesying. And, even if she was not clothed in sackcloth, she yet wore garments the like of which had never before been seen on a woman. So she talked and talked, sometimes as ani­ matedly as the protagonist of a new religion should, at other NEIGHBORS 95 times as interestingly as the reading of a table of logarithms. On one occasion a band of Oneida Indians drifted past her place. Of course she made them a speech. Not to be outdone, the chief responded in his native tongue. Jemima asked that the address be translated. Then the cagey old savage had her. "Ugh!" he rumbled, "if you be Christ, why you no under­ stand Indian talk? Ugh!" The practice of celibacy was not easily enforced among her adherents. Babies still were occasionally born. Then too some of the settlers not of her faith were shocked by her pretentions to Deity. More than once she was haled into court and prose­ cuted for blasphemy. Outsiders had little use for her, believing her an ambitious and unscrupulous woman. The following ex­ cerpts, taken from an anonymous "Journal of a Tour to Niagara Falls, etc. in the Spring and Summer of 1812," published in The Christian Disciple, of Boston, for the year 1817, indicate this: June 9th. At 5 o'clock on Tuesday morning I set out ... in a single horse wagon, for the town of Jerusalem, in which is the residence of Jemima Wilkinson . . . . So bad was the road, which is for several miles through the woods, that we did not reach the house until after twelve o'clock ...• It is three stories high, and has six rooms on the floor •... When I saw Jemima Wilkinson, I was first impressed with the idea that I saw a man; for her stature is large, her face full and without feminine fairness, and her dress masculine. She wore a loose black gown, which was open before, and wrapped around her, the back of which was ornamented in the manner of a clergyman's gown, and she had on a black cravat, beneath which appeared a white one whose ends hung over her bosom, like ministerial bands. Her head had no covering, and her hair was combed back, and curled at the ends . . . . But I am satisfied she is neither impeccable nor immaculate. She is ambitious and selfish. She has not thought it unworthy of her char­ acter to amass a large fortune by the donations of her followers; and she is not ashamed to spend it in the indulgence of her pride . . . She keeps her carriage among followers who can hardly earn their subsis­ tence ... Her natural disposition I believe to be passionate, tyranni­ cal and overbearing. . . ." Some of those who had once been her friends harassed her with lawsuits, believing perhaps that she was having a much easier life than they. Her lot had not fallen entirely in pleasant places. She solved the whole question by dying, July 1, 1819, for all the world like an ordinary human being, and her sect 96 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY presently disintegrated. But she had made her place in history, and the record of her doings will persist for many years . .•.., The town of Jersey was formed from Wayne Township, Steuben County, February 12, 1813. In 1836 its name was changed to Orange, and it is now a part of Schuyler County. Among the :first settlers of that part of the town of Jersey known as Monterey, was a young man who had been born at Whitingham, Vermont, in 1801. By trade he was a painter and glazier. He came to Monterey about 1822 and worked as a farm hand among the settlers. Among those for whom he worked at this time was Wesley Sellen, the maternal grandfather of the late L. W. Crandall of Canisteo. He later became identi­ fied with the Mormon movement, and after the death of Joseph Smith was elevated to the seat of supreme authority in the coun­ cils of the Latter Day Saints. He became the virtual founder and ruler of the territory of Utah. His name was Brigham Young.

Dr. Marcus Whitman maintained his office at Wheeler, Steu­ ben County, from 1828 to 1835. He married Narcissa Prentiss, a native of the neighboring town of Prattsburg. Later both Dr. Whitman and his wife went to Oregon as- missionaries to the Cayuse Indians. In 1844, learning that the rich Oregon Terri­ tory was in danger of being given up to England, Whitman made a perilous journey to Washington and pied with President Tyler so vigorously that the Administration decided to keep that far-flung but valuable possession of the nation. Marcus Whitman thereupon became known as the savior of Oregon. He and his wife were murdered by the western Indians in 1847.

It has been asserted that the famous Indian orator Otetiani, or Red Jacket, once had a hunting lodge in Bennett's Creek Valley. Whether this is true or not, it is a fact that Red Jacket was wont to tramp, :fish and hunt throughout the ancient land of "Nundawaonoga," or territory of the Senecas. His mother was born near Branchport, not far from the home of Jemima Wilkinson, but of course long before that talkative female prophet had come to the Lake Country. Red Jacket himself is NEIGHBORS 97 supposed to have been born at or near Geneva. Although per­ haps the greatest orator ever produced by the Indian race, he v.ras considered a physical coward. Certainly he was a drunkard. For his failing in this respect he was in 18 2 7 removed from his position of authority in the tribe, but presently was restored to his former rank. He was fond of an officer's red coat which had been presented to him by the British soon after the Revolu­ tion. This garment he almost invariably wore, and that fact gave him his sobriquet-Red Jacket. Drunk or sober, he was always making speeches, some of which have been preserved. His Indian name signified "Keeper A wake," but it is uncertain whether this implied that his audiences never went to sleep when he addressed ·them, or whether-as suggested by Dr. Arthur C. Parker-the name was selected because of his well-known pro­ pensity toward noise "rhen coming home from a night out with the boys. On such occasions the farmers along his line of march groaned as they awakened from a heavy sleep, and the dogs either fled or answered in kind Red Jacket's throaty howls. Despite his ability and the fame that was justly his, he must have constituted a neighborhood nuisance.

Charles Williamson, the founder of the shire town of Steuben, was possibly the most efficient and energetic of all the early settlers. Born at Edinburgh, Scotland, July 12, 1757, the son of a landed proprietor of some standing and influence, Charles was given educational advantages and eventually a commission in the British army, rising in due time to the rank of captain. During the Revolution he was captured and im­ prisoned at Boston. He married an American girl, returned to Scotland, but in the fall of 1791 he came back to America and soon declared his intention of becoming an American citizen. This he did so that he might become the secret agent of the Pul­ teney Association, which is referred to more at length in other portions of this book. At Philadelphia he took over from Robert Morris a tract of la;id th:1t virtually was an empire, paying for this holding seventy-five thousand pounds sterling. After an abortive attempt to found the seat of his empire near Mount Morris, he selected as the site of what he hoped would be a great city, a spot where the Conhocton Valley widened, and a break in 98 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY the hills to the north provided an easy grade to the shore of Crooked Lake, six miles distant. Williamson decided to call his town Bath, some associations on the other side of the ocean suggesting the name. Save for the tiny hamlet at Painted Post and the more virile and rapidly­ growing settlement on the upper Canisteo, there was no abode of civilization within the limits of the present county. In every direction spread primeval forests where the bear, wolf and panther held sway, and an occasional hunting party of Senecas made its way along well-worn trails. One might travel for half a day in any direction without seeing the smoke from a settler's cabin. Streams alive with trout gurgled in numerous valleys where no white foot had yet trod. In the high marsh grass of the river bottomland loathsome, mottled rattlesnakes sunned themselves or sounded their arresting signal of danger upon the approach of mink, 'coon or bobcat. Over all the rich, beautiful and remote land hung the silence, the loneliness, the solitude of the unknown. Into this wilderness came Williamson with gangs of men, many being from his native clime of Scotland. The land was cleared of the scrub oaks, the marshes were drained, the river opened for navigation, bridges built, a land office established. Public and private buildings sprang up as though by magic, a race track was built, a Masonic lodge chartered. To Williamson's hospitable board came French noblemen fleeing from the Reign of Terror; nabobs from the Hudson; planters from Virginia. There were fairs, horse races, field days. \Villiamson became a colonel in the militia and openly defied Governor Simcoe of Canada, when that doughty ex-leader of a famous partisan corps of the Revolution threatened to invade the region. Eventually the law was changed, Williamson was permitted to turn over his holdings to his real employers. He went to Eng­ land, became concerned more or less with the Burr Conspiracy, later engaged on a mission for the British Government, and in 1808, died at sea. His widow survived him sixteen years, dying at Geneva, N. Y., in 18 24. He will always be remembered.

Nestling a11iong the hills that frown on the valley to the north of Canisteo is the town of Howard, a locality noted for its NEIGHBORS 99 fine farms, huge crops of potatoes, and the high type of the citizens it has produced. Although not erected into a separate town until 1812, it was settled at least as early as 18 06, when Abraham Johnson came with his young wife and located where the hamlet of Towlesville is now. Some accounts say, however, that Amasa Travis and family were even earlier in Howard. He was born in 1777, and in December, 1800, married Phoebe Baker, of Dutchess County, N.Y., a daughter of Captain Samuel Baker and Esther Gustin. Captain Baker settled in Howard in 1807, but later removed to Cameron. Both he and his son, Urbane Baker, were noted men in the early days of the Canisteo Valley. It is claimed that it was during the year 1805 that Amasa Travis and family set out for Western New York with horse and wagon. As they reached the vicinity of Corning, at what was called the Chemung Narrows, they found that recent storms had raised the river so that the water overflowed the road. The horses were swimming before it was noted that the family was in peril. Driftwood bumped against the wagon, the horses snorted with fear, but Mrs. Travis attempted no back seat driv­ ing, and high land was reached in safety. From that place to Campbelltown their road led through unbroken woods. At Bath Charles Williamson's settlement had achieved some size. They proceeded on up the Conhocton Valley, crossed the river where Kanona is now located, and turned into the valley of Campbell Creek. They came to a clearing of a few acres with a partly-finished and abandoned cabin, and here they stopped. But one gable end of the cabin had been boarded up, there were no doors, no ceiling. Mr. Travis had to go back at once for an­ other load of goods. It was necessary for Mrs. Travis and her small children to remain alone until his return. So he hung a quilt over the open door, rolled a barrel on the bottom edge, to keep it secure, kissed his wife and departed. During the days of her husband's absence Mrs. Travis was lonely indeed. There were no neighbors. No sound came from the vast forest sur­ rounding the cabin save the nightly cries of panthers and the howling of wolves. Wood was to be picked up anywhere, and the lonely woman kept a fine blaze snapping in the fireplace. In due time Mr. Travis returned with their chattels. They re­ mained in this location a year, then moved on to Howard Flats, 100 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY where they remained until 1818. Eventually they removed to the Talbot Creek ( or Travis Creek) neighborhood in the town of Canisteo. Mrs. Travis lived to be 104 years old. Daniel N. Bennett came to Howard in 1809 and bought a farm on the flats. He was drafted into the army during the War of 1812 and served three months. In 1824-2 5, he served as supervisor of the town, later serving again in the same capacity. Deacon Israel Baldwin came in 1810. He too was drafted for service in the War of 1812. The draft in that struggle, not essentially a Federal affair, was very simple. The Government merely ordered the various states to furnish so many men. The states in turn drew the required number from the militia. The men of the various units were drawn up in line and the necessary number of recruits were counted out-say every eighth man was taken. Hence came the phrase: "Standing for a draft." William Goff, destined to be the ancestor of a large and useful family, came in 1812 and erected the first mills in the town. During the cold summer of 1816, when all crops failed and the people were on the verge of starvation, he returned East, pur­ chased a quantity of flour and corn meal and carried the settlers through the famine year with only their promise to pay when, and if, they could. George Stewart came from the North of Ireland and settled in Howard in 1812. The following year John Stewart came in from Washington County, New York. These two representa­ tives of a famous Scottish clan were the originators of the name in Howard, which town presently came to have more Stewarts than all the rest of the county combined. Dr. Levi S. Goodrich was the town's first physician. He came in 18 2 0 and was fallowed the next year by his wife. Her letters written to relatives back in Vermont give quite a picture of the Howard of that day. She said: I am considerably disappointed in the appearance of the town. It is as new as I expected, but there are 3,000 acres of land, all in one body, as handsome as Moravia and much larger. They are known by the name of Howard Flats. They are, all over, settled and the farms mostly cleared. But not a framed house on them. In time they will be beau­ tiful. A great many young orchards; from the number and age, there is prospect of plenty of fruit in a year or two. There is a place over the hills, called Canisteo, where they have plums, and apples and currants. NEIGHBORS 101 Later she wrote: In August, I 8 2 2, there was held at our house an installation of the new lodge. 1 We prepared dinner for between one hundred and two hundred guests. We have considerable company to wait upon and it chiefly devolves upon me. I have little leisure for writing or reflection. A Presbyterian church, organized in 1815, with eight mem­ bers, was the first in the town. But its building was not erected until 18 3 5. At this time it was reported that Howard was "a very sterile place... almost impervious to the gospel." Later it improved in this respect, and the character of the people came to be notably religious. .•.., In the olden day, when the region now embraced in the town of Hartsville was a part of Canisteo, the "Canisteers" tried hard to keep it as a game preserve. The Indians had found excellent hunting there, so had the original settlers of Canisteo. In order to frighten away prospective settlers of the coveted locality, terrible stories were told of demons, ghosts, witches and assort­ ed devils who lurked in the narrow valley which broke through the hills to the west of Bennettsville. But these tactics failed to work for long. As early as 1809, a certain Benjamin Brookins penetrated a few miles into this valley and set about erecting a cabin. He failed to finish his task. Tradition says the reason for this was that he broke his axe handle. Perhaps he believed the weird stories all the time, and only looked for an excuse to quit. Not much is known about this easily discouraged person. In the old Record Book of Canisteo Town there is a single reference to him. It would ap­ pear that he was a soldier in the War of 1812; for, under date of March, 1813, we find the following entry: Resolved that the poor masters be Authorized to Refund to Captain James Dike the expense of Doctoring and Nursing and Bringing home Benjamin Brookins from the Canada Lines that he has made himself Responsible for, after paying Brookins' Wages toward Sd. Expenses. Further than this deponent sayeth not, and Mr. Brookins fades out of the picture.

1 This was Cameron Lodge No. 349, F.&A.M., chartered June 11, 1822- the Masonic ancestor of Lewis Lodge No. 104, of the present. 102 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY The year following Brookins' fiasco in what was to become Hartsville, or in 1810, Joseph Purdy, an Irishman with an in­ tellectual and pious wife, moved up the creek that ever since has borne his name, and took up his residence in the partly­ finished cabin. For nine years he and his family were the only persons in the town. His house was located on the site now oc­ cupied by the residence of Robert B. Miller, present town clerk of Hartsville. In its remote situation, the Purdy family often was in want and at least once was on the point of starvation. Then it was that Mrs. Purdy, with all the faith in the world, petitioned God to send food even as he had fed with manna the Children of Israel in the wilderness. Her prayer was answered in a most re­ markable way. Wolves chasing a deer on the hills drove the frightened animal right up to the Purdy cabin and in through the open door. Mr. Purdy killed the deer in the house, the family was saved from starvation, and its faith was made strong. Mrs. Purdy was a poet of son1.e ability. Among her efforts that have been preserved was a "Ballad on the Death of Joshua Stephens," who was killed by the Indians in 182 5. This ballad, however~ is not the one that was accepted wholeheartedly by the people of the neighborhood. That queer poetical effort will later be considered when telling of the death of Joshua Stephens. In 1819 several other settlers came to the locality: Jesse Pal­ meter, Perry Potter, Andrew Potter and William D. Burdick. Three years later Daniel P. Carpenter came from Orange County and settled on what was later known as the Vickers' Place, a short distance below Hartsville Center. In October of the same year Frank Powell came in, locating near the cemetery. In 182 5, William Allison, the ancestor of a family that became well known in Canisteo business affairs, settled on Purdy Creek. Two years later Mr. Carpenter built the first sawmill in the town. John Hood, who had been an officer in the War of 1812, came in 1826 and settled near William Allison. He promptly organized a company of militia and was chosen captain. Joseph Henry opened a tavern in 18 51. What has since been distinguished as Call Hill was settled in 1 8 2 8 by Othniel Call. His brothers-in-law, Micah and Francis Kennedy, came the following year and located nearby. The Slate Creek neighbor­ hood was settled in 18 3 2 by Thomas Stout. NEIGHBORS 103

The town of Hartsville was formed from the southern part of Hornellsville in 1844 and was p.amed in honor of Charles N. Hart, chosen the first supervisor. :;> :~ ..... Robinson Crusoe went up Bennett's Creek in 1821 and began chopping a clearing about a mile north of the present village of Greenwood. This was not the character made famous by Defoe. He was, in fact, named Anson Robinson, being facetiously dubbed Robinson Crusoe by the settlers. Anyway, he was merely the 11an Friday of Alexander H. Stephens, the real leader of the enterprise. It was the latter who gave to Green­ wood its romantic name. He was the son of Colonel John Stephens and Olive Franklin, had been born in Canisteo in 1801. and was destined to a life of usefulness. In 1829 he married Mary May, daughter of Levi and Nlary Davis. He served as supervisor for seven years, and in 1848 was elected to the lower house of the Legislature on the Democratic ticket. He was one of the organizers of the U niversalist Church of Greenwood. He was the father of five children: Redmond D., Mrs. Joseph B. Woodbury, Mrs. William G. Porter, Mrs. Amos W. Crandall, Merritt A. One of the most energetic settlers of early Greenwood was Levi Davis, who came from Tompkins County in 1824 and bought the site of the present village. The next year he opened a tavern. He also conducted a store in his building. He com­ menced the manufacture of pot and pearl ashes and continued this industry for thirty years. He was a member of the Masonic fraternity, and in 183 0, at the height of the Anti-Masonic ex­ citement, proved his independence and courage by hanging out a tavern sign which had on it the Masonic emblem. This sign is yet preserved by Sentinel Lodge at Greenwood. The first post office in the town was in Davis' store and he was the postmaster. The mail was brought from Hornellsville by mounted messenger. Davis served as postmaster for twenty-five years. He was the first supervisor of the town, 1827-29, and again served in this capacity in 1831-32. He married Mary Spurr, a native of Can­ ton, Massachusetts, and had the following children: Redmond S., George, Mrs. Alexander H. Stephens, Levi, John. Mr. Davis died July 9, 1863. John Davis, son of Levi, was one of the most influential men 104 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY in Greenwood. At the age of twenty-one he became a partner in the firm Levi Davis & Sons, eventually known as John Davis & Co. He served for many years as supervisor of the town, and in 1870 was elected to the Legislature. He married Laura A. Osborn and became the father of five children: Levi S., Mary A. (Mrs. G. M. Webster), Fred 0., Emily and Gertrude. Benjamin F. Brundage, who came to Greenwood in 1830, was one of the energetic early business men. He erected the first carding-mill in the town. Of his seven sons, two became promi­ nent lawyers, one was supervisor of the town, and one became a magistrate. Two years after the arrival of B. F. Brundage, Daniel Mc­ Cormick came from Ireland and built a gristmill in the com­ munity known as "Rough and Ready." He has had numerous useful descendants. Another early settler who left a worth-while progeny was Henry Young, who came from Tompkins County in 1826. Others who came in at about this time and formed valuable addi­ tions to the population were: George Updike, Benjamin Ed­ wards, William Atkins, Abram Williamson, Daniel Richey, John J. Dutcher, John Rogers, Hiram and Ezekiel Burger, Enos Smith, Samuel Mallory, John Balsby. Richard Krusen opened a crossroads tavern four miles west of Greenwood, on the Andover road, in 1825. West of this place Enos Mead, who had come from Tompkins County, made the first clearing in 1827. His son, Alvin, who arrived soon after, brought the first wagon into that part of the tovvn, his brothers going ahead and chop­ ping a road for him through the woods. The Mead settlement became quite a center, and in 1842 was given a post office, with Alvin Mead as postmaster. One of the noted features of early Greenwood was a salt­ water spring, discovered by Ezekiel Burger while out hunting. The Indians had known of this and used to watch there for deer who came to drink. For a time the settlers obtained their salt there by boiling in kettles. After roads were opened commercial salt became so cheap that this spring was abandoned. The town of Greenv.rood was erected from Canisteo and Troupsburg in 1827, and the first town election was held in the house of Levi Davis. NEIGHBORS 105 The town of Jasper also was formed from Canisteo and Troupsburg in 1827. The first settlement there was made in 1807 by a German named Nicholas Prutsman, Sr., who had orig­ inally settled in the Tioga Valley. Loading his family and goods in a wagon, he journeyed up the Canisteo Valley to Addi­ son, there turned into the valley of Tuscarora Creek, kept on past Caleb Smith's settlement at Woodhull, clearing his road with an axe as he progressed, and eventually camped for the night under a great oak seven miles from the nearest settler. He built the first sawmill in the town, and his daughter Sally was the :first child to be born in Jasper. His brother Adam came the next year and located at the "Five Corners." Adam spelled the name Brotzman, hence to this day descendants of the two brothers use different forms of the family name. The town was named in honor of Sergeant Jasper, of Revolu­ tionary fame, who saved the flag at the bombardment of Fort Moultrie. Andrew Craig, Sr., one of the early and most influential set­ tlers of Jasper, was born in Dublin, Ireland, March 12, 1785. At the age of 18, in company with his brothers James and Ed­ ward, he came to America and located near Philadelphia. Five years later, or in 1808-according to the family records-he be­ came acquainted with "a company of Stewarts and accompanied them to New York State." However, the various county his­ tories claim that he came to Jasper in 1810, as a sub-agent for land proprietors in Philadelphia. He spent his first night in Jasper in an Indian wigwam located near the site of the present village. His f ann, together with that of Andrew Simpson, em­ braced the extent of Jasper village of the present. He has had a long line of descendants, many of whom have made Jasper their home until the present time. They have been active both in the business and the political life of the community-merchants and public officials. Andrew hin1self was the first supervisor of the town, and of his progeny ( in spite of the fact that they have been Democrats), several have been supervisors, one was a mem­ ber of the Legislature, and one-Willis-was a major in the 161st Regiment during the Rebellion, and later sheriff of Steu­ ben County. Dr. William Hunter was the pioneer physician of the town. He came in 18 2 5. He was thrice married, his first wife being 106 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Polly Price, of Cortland County. His second and third wives were, respectively, Eleanor Craig and Maria Craig-sisters. Dr. Hunter was energetic in the per£ ormance of his professional duties, driving for miles through the dense forest in all kinds of weather. Often, it is asserted, he was chased by wolves and it was touch and go to see who first would reach the security of the village,-Doc and his nag or the snapping, yelping wolves. Gideon Marlatt, a native of New Jersey, came to Jasper in 1811 and settled west of the four corners. He had a large f ami­ ly and many of his descendants still reside in the vicinity. Rice H. Wentworth came from Connecticut and settled in the town about 1820. He married Nancy Stuart, daughter of John Stuart, of Barrington, Yates County, but later of Camer­ on. They had numerous descendants, many of whom reside in Jasper and Canisteo to this day. A. Fuller Whittimore, a pioneer schoolmaster, was early in Jasper. He married Permelia Dennis who, upon his death, married William H. Prentice. Alvah June came to the town in 1824. He served five suc­ cessive terms as supervisor and left descendants. To this day the name is well known in the locality. Moses Dennis was one of Jasper's pioneers who had a colorful history. Born in Old Ipswich, Massachusetts, in 1752, he mar­ ried Sally Frye, a scion of a famous New England family. He was in New York City at the time Independence was declared. He aided in the demolition of the statue of George III and as­ sisted in running it into bullets. During the war he was in the American army, was captured and for a time imprisoned on a ship in New York harbor. Exchanged and placed upon a cartel bound for Boston, this vessel was thirteen times taken by the British before reaching her destination, but of course was as of­ ten released. Mr. Dennis later participated in Washington's famous Trenton-Princeton campaign. He came to Jasper in 1824 and settled his son, Moses, Jr., on a farm, later owned by L. Marshall Dennis. Moses, Jr., married Lois Eaton of New Hampshire and had two sons, Samuel Frye and Franklin. By a second marriage he had three daughters. Both sons and their descendants became well known in the county. Enoch Ordway came from New Hampshire and settled in the town in 1824. He married Hannah Whiting, daughter of NEIGHBORS 107

Oliver and Hannah Whiting. In 182 5 Mr. Ordway organized the first Sunday school in the town. On May 14, 1833, he was drowned while going down the Canisteo River on a spar raft. It was several days before his body was recovered. Samuel Dennis, from Hancock, New Hampshire, arrived in 1824. He was thrice married: Elizabeth Frye, Lucy Whit­ comb, Alice Whiting. He had served in the War of 1812. He was appointed postmaster of the tiny Hampshire post office, the locality being yet known as the Hampshire District. Another early settler was Henry Prentice, also from Hillsboro County, New Hampshire. He too was thrice married. In 1827 Deacon Joshua Sargent also joined the Hampshire settlement. He helped organize the Presbyterian Church and was chosen one of its first two elders. He held this position for more than a half century. He taught a men's Bible class for forty-two years. He married Martha Burnham and had four sons: James R., J. Burnham, J. Sumner, Judson N. Charles Lamson, the ancestor of a well-known family, came to the town in 1827. He was twice married and had numerous descendants. Among the later arrivals were: Adrian Hardy, Amos F. Woodbury, James Reynolds, Osgood Hutchinson, Charles G. Hutchinson, Garrett Schenck, Solomon Countryman (post­ master, 18 61-18 7 5) , John I. Timmerman, Hon. Allen A. Van Orsdale (supervisor, county clerk, member of Assembly). Reference has already been made to the Whiting family. Deacon Thomas Whiting was among the second wave to come, arriving in 1826, before his marriage to Sarah Cram. He be­ came a leading man of the community, served as school com­ missioner of the town, was one of three in the town to vote the Anti-Slavery ticket, and became a ruling elder of the Presbyter­ ian Church. He has had numerous descendants of a high grade. Stephen Towsley, the second supervisor of the town ( 18 3 3- 1836) was also an influential resident of the early settlement. Although miles distant from the railroad, and hence-until the coming of improved highways-cut off from the main avenue of traffic, Jasper has always maintained a remarkably high type of citizenry, and her place is secure in the history of the county. 108 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY A beautiful, remote valley, thinly covered with maple, oak and hemlock, the sparkle of a trout stream, flanking hills more densely wooded, clumps of alders and willows, in places high marsh grass-that was Woodhull for many years after Canisteo had begun to be. Occasionally a hunter wandered to that neigh­ borhood, for it was a wondrous hunting ground much fre­ quented by herds of elk and deer. It is said that Daniel Johnson, the father of the first supervis­ or of the town, was the first permanent settler, having come in 1804. In March, 1806-so the history books have it, although the family claims it was earlier-Caleb Smith, a native of Orange County, ascended the Tuscarora Creek with thirteen hundred dollars in his pocket, and his nine children following him. His purpose was to build a mill in the new settlement. He did so, having purchased ten acres of land immediately and built a dam. This same year witnessed the arrival of several other settlers: Joshua Green, Asel Styles, Henry Martin, Lekins Clark, Daniel Cortright, a Mr. Mynear, a Mr. Laton. The town that eventually was formed from Troupsburg and Addison in 182 8, was named in honor of General Nathaniel Woodhull, a iittle-known field officer of the Revolution. There were some energetic and talented men among the new settlers. Among these was Jeffrey Smith, a son of Caleb, who in 18 3 5 was elected a colonel in the militia. He twice served in the Assembly, in 1844 and again in 1861. He is said to have been one of the founders of the Republican party at a conven­ tion held at Belmont, N. Y. In common with all new settlements, there were incidents out of the ordinary. One such concerns the family of Clark Brown, who came to Woodhull in 1821 and settled on the farm later owned by his grandson, Jent C. Brown. He built the first framed house in the town, in lieu of nails using wooden pins to hold the planks. Before the gable ends had been planked up, Mr. Brown one evening took the older children and went to call on a neighbor. Mrs. Brown and a young baby remained at home. Hearing a noise, Mrs. Brown glanced up just in time to see a large animal coming through the open gabled end near the roof. It dropped lightly to the loft floor, from thence to the main floor. Just like a great cat it walked up to the cradle and stared at the baby sleeping there. After speculating about the NEIGHBORS 109 infant, the cat yawned, looked around, then sprang again into the loft and disappeared. Later in the evening they heard a panther yowling in the hills and knew full well that the strange visitor had been indeed that dreaded animal. Worcester Perry, who came from Yates County in 1826 and settled near Hedgesville, had perhaps more than his share of hardships. At that time there were only two houses between his claim and Cameron hamlet. Mr. Perry spent a week opening a road sufficiently so that he could drive his wagon through. He first built a log house sixteen feet in length and floored it with split-pine puncheons. He had not yet brought his family in, but a friend came along and helped him for a while. One night this friend decided to go out and shoot a bear which he fancied he heard prowling around. Presently the gun roared. But it was not a bear that died, it was one of Perry's cows. His only remaining cow became injured in the woods and had to be killed. Be£ ore winter set in he brought his wife and family to their new home, but their troubles were not done. During a heavy storm a large maple, which he had begun to cut, blew over and fell up­ on the little house, crushed the roof and frightened the woman and children almost to death, as well as demolishing the· winter's supply of provisions. But Perry would not give up. He took his family to one of the distant neighbors, returned alone to his place and spent the winter rebuilding the house. Such was the calibre of the men who settled Woodhull. Disaster has come to Woodhull so frequently that it causes no particular comment. The village has burned several times, in so far as the business section is concerned, notably in 1866 and 1875. Yet misfortune has not dismayed the people; they have simply gritted their teeth and proceeded to repair the damage. The town has seemed to produce an unusual number of persons who have, in the language of this day, "gone places." Among these were Dr. John Seeley, state senator in 1913-14; Park D. Colvin, who became Post Office inspector in charge at Boston, Massachusetts; John Timothy Van Orsdale, who was born at Woodhull in 18 5 0, graduated at West Point in 1872, served in the Nez Perce \Var, was in the Wounded Knee campaign against the Sioux, participated in the battle of El Caney, Cuba, in 1898, later saw service in Alaska and in the Moro War in the Philip­ pines, during the World War commanded the War Prison 110 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Barracks at Fort McPherson, Georgia, reached the rank of col­ onel in the regular army, and died at Beverly Hills, California, in 1921. .. * ... We have now c011i pleted the circuit of the towns contiguous to the Canisteo Valley and come to Cameron, which is essential­ ly a Valley town. This political subdivision was named in honor of Dugald Cameron, an early manager of the Pulteney Estate. He was prominent in the affairs of the county and held numerous public offices. The town of Cameron was formed from Addison in 1822. Thurston was taken off in 1844, and part of Rathbone in 1856. The successive migrations of the allied families to Canisteo, the Hurlbuts to Arkport, and the Karrs to Almond still left Cameron a wild and unsettled wilderness. The rocky bluffs that rose almost perpendicularly from the river's bank at this place did not appear at all inviting to those pioneers. But had they taken the pains to climb to the top they would have discovered a beautiful rolling country, fertile and well watered. The first settlement in what later became Cameron Township was made by Richard Hadley and Phones Green. Hadley first lived on what became known eventually as the Baker place, a half mile east of the present hamlet and near the Erie Railroad crossing. Clayton, in his History of Steuben County, says: "He (Hadley) was driven from that locality by a landslide which opened the gap in the hills at that point, where before had been a high wall of unbroken rock-large masses of earth and rock falling into the valley and closely threatening his cabin." Hadley built the first sawmill in the town. The first grist­ mill was constructed by Captain Samuel Baker, who, we have seen, originally settled in Howard. He came to Cameron in 1816. He was assisted in his building operations by a Mr. War­ den. This was sixteen years after Hadley and Green had made the first settlement. Baker's mill was located on the right bank of the river, a short distance east of the present dilapidated "Wheeler's Mill." Phones Green lived nearby. John Hallett soon opened a tavern-a crude affair built of logs-near the present river bridge west of the hamlet. Isaac NEIGHBORS 111

Santee, Joseph Butler, Michael Loughry and Captain Luther White also were early settlers. The first recorded marriage was that of John French to Almira Dickey, in 1820. Malinda Will­ ard, daughter of Stephen Willard, taught the first school. The first annual election was held at the home of Samuel Pierson, a mile or so north of the village on the Bath road, in February, 1823. In this section of the town the Averell, Crandall and Mason families were early settlers of a very high grade. At the time the first settlers came, and for a number of years thereafter, scattered parties of Indians of the Seneca tribe still occupied the Valley at this place. While their main villages were located in the Genesee Valley, they had temporary camps on the knolls along the river whete they raised some corn. What has since been called "The County Road" was put through about 1822, and this led to an increased migration from the Finger Lake country. Starting at Wayne, on the Yates County line, the road led diagonally across the county in sub­ stantially a straight line, over hills and through valleys, to Troupsburg, near the Pennsylvania state line. For those days it was a fairly well-made road-in spots-and along it came swarms of settlers looking for cheap and well-watered land. Elisha Leach, the progenitor of a numerous clan, settled on South Hill in 182 5. Ten years later he was joined by his father­ in-law, Hirah Chase, a native of Rhode Island, and a distant kinsman, it is claimed, of Salmon P. Chase, the famous states­ man. South Hill really began to be settled in 1835, when John Stuart and family arrived from Barrington, Yates County. John had been born in 1773, in Somerset County, New Jersey. His father, also named John, had served in the Continental army during the Revolution, being at Valley Forge and the battle of Monmouth. John, Jr., after being out with the troops who suppressed the Whiskey Insurrection in 1794, removed to the Lake Country of New York, and at Hector, Seneca County, married Cynthia Miller. Later he removed to Barrington, then in Steuben County but eventually in Yates. In 18 3 5 he was sixty-two years of age and several of his children had married. In the migration to Cameron he was preceded by one son, Rev. Jacob Stuart, and accompanied by four others: Girden, Zeri, John Stout, Abraham. Eventually this clan grew to be the 112 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY largest family Cameron has ever produced. We shall later speak of these people in some detail. An early menace to the people of Cameron was the unusual prevalence of rattlesnakes. These reptiles congregated especially on the rocky bluff that lay to the north of the hamlet. This elevation was sometimes called "Rattlesnake Hill," and is yet so termed on occasion. Here nice, fat, overstuffed rattlers collected in numbers, sunned themselves on the hot rocks, and frequently slid down into the valley. A number of Cameron residents have from time to time been bitten by these pests, and some have died. It was perhaps forty years ago that Dr. Charles 0. Jackson, at the time practicing medicine in Cameron, had an adventure that he never forgot. Out hunting one fine autumnal day with his wife's young brother, he walked through a brush pasture located on the summit of the hill with the ominous name. This :field was covered with umbrella-topped weeds which grew so thickly that he could not see his own feet. The boy was out of sight, working farther toward the west. For October the day was hot; the river valley, a mile to the south, was filled with haze. Far sounds echoed though the hollow air. A sudden thump, heavy enough to jar him, told Doctor Jack­ son that something had struck his right foot. Impelled by a prompting he could not fathom, he instantly froze into statu­ esque rigidity. Fear gripped him and he scarcely dared breathe. He could not see the ground at his feet, but he knew full well that under the bushy plants death, a horrible death, lay in wait. There was no sound, no movement in the weeds, but instinct told him that if he moved, ever so slightly, he would regret it. Doctor Jackson had been carrying his shotgun on his right shoulder. Cautiously now he took the weapon down and with the barrel pressed aside the flaring tops of the weeds. Within a few inches of his leg were the open mouth and darting tongue of the largest rattlesnake he had ever seen. The snake had not rattled, but had struck blindly at Jack­ son's foot. The thick weeds served to deflect the blow, and merely the heavy folds of the mottled body had hit the shoe. Now, doubtless, the snake was of two minds what to do next. If the foot moved he would strike again; if not-well, he would consider. NEIGHBORS 113 For a few moments the doctor was so flabbergasted he could not even think. He felt paralyzed. His skin prickled. His mouth was dry. He found it difficult to breathe. The pound­ ing of his heart, he believed, could be heard by the thing which lay coiled in the grass at his feet. He realized that the slightest movement of his legs would provoke instantly a blow from those wicked teeth. What to do? His brother-in-law was out of sight, and Jackson feared to shout. But he must do something. Standing motionless where he was obviously got him nowhere. He wished he could fly, raise himself straight up out of those deadly weeds. He must try something that he could do. Slowly and with extreme caution he cocked both barrels of his single-action gun. He dared not try to aim, for he feared that would produce a slight movement of his legs. So he merely held the gun over to his right side, pointed the muzzle at about where he believed the snake was, hoped the shot would not hit his own foot, and pulled the triggers-both of them. With the stunning roar caused by the double explosion of the old twelve-gauge, Jackson leaped aside, at the same time yelling like mad. An answering shout and the boy came running in the doctor's direction. In the weeds a great commotion had com­ menced. Huge mottled folds rose and fell and the leaves were beaten as though by a flail. Loading his gun with trembling fingers, Jackson fired again and again at the disgusting thing until motion ceased and all was still. "Hey, Doc!" shouted the boy, as he drew near, "did you scare out a whole flock of rabbits?" The doctor had sunk down on a log. His gun lay at his feet. He drew out his handkerchief and mopped his face. "No rabbits," he said, weakly, as he pointed. "Just that! But it's enough for one day. Let's go home." CHAPTER VIII Terror by Night James Hall, Sr., better known as "Auld Jimmie Hall," sailed from Ireland for America in 1816, with his wife-formerly Betsy Foreman-and a large family of children. The family fortune consisted of a hundred guineas ( about $ 5 0 0) , and this Jimmie divided with Betsy, so that if either were lost at sea the other would still have some money with which to carry on. The trip across the Atlantic consumed about six weeks, but there was no unfortunate happening until after the ship had entered the St. Lawrence River, when a sudden cry, "Fire! Fire!" indicated that the craft was ablaze. The crew must have been poorly disciplined; for in panic they drove the passengers below deck, closed the hatchways, then be­ gan preparations to abandon ship. James Hall was then under forty; he was a vigorous man and a natural leader. Under his promptings the passengers broke down the doors, rushed again on deck, subdued the crew and compelled the cowardly sailors to remain and fight the fire. All combustible material was tossed overboard and after several hours the blaze was conquered. But it had been a stubborn fight; three of the passengers and one of the crew had lost their lives, and the ship in places had burned to the water's edge. It was decided to abandon the craft. Hall had several sons between the ages of 12 and 21. With their help he managed to construct a raft out of spars and rigging of the damaged ship, and on this clumsy contraption landed his entire brood in safety on the shore just before dawn. Knowing that it was Thanksgiving Day in the States, the fugi­ tives at once knelt on the sand and returned thanks to· their Creator for bringing them out of grave danger without loss of life to any of them. The boys then went into the forest, which loomed dark and forbidding just behind them, obtained armfuls of dry stuff and kindled a blaze. After they had dried themselves and were (114) TERROR BY NIGHT 115 feeling comfortable and hopeful, Jimmie suddenly bethought himself of the gold he had divided with his wife before the start of their trip. First ascertaining that his own portion was safe, he turned anxiously to his wife: "Betsy, have you your gold?" Betsy's eyes began to bulge. She paled as she threw up her hands,,, in despair. "Oh, Jimmie dear, I left the same in the bread b ox. Hall's anger flamed. "In the bread box! The devil fly away with ye! Ye ought to be with it. I told ye to carry it in your b usom. " Anger was useless. It would not bring back the gold. Jimmie relapsed into sullen silence. His wife cried. Thus disconsolately they spent two hours around their campfire. Then, the sun having come up, they decided to repair their raft and make a trip out to the ship to see, like the original Swiss Family Robin­ son, whether they could salvage anything of value to them. They were nearing the ship when one of the boys cried out that he saw something floating in the stream. "And," he added, excitedly, ''I think it's Mother's bread box." Hooey Hall, one of the older sons, at once sprang into the water, retrieved the box and brought it to the raft. A hurried investigation showed that the bread was spoiled but the gold was intact. A lusty shout told Mrs. Hall, on the shore, of the recovery. They went on to the ship and found some of their furniture there, or floating in the river. They gathered this and then­ so the family papers abruptly state-"they made for them­ selves a home at Inascilian, Canada." As fast as the boys became twenty-one, each took up a tract of 160 acres there in the northern wilderness. But one of them -John, who had been born in Ireland, January 4, 1804, and was therefore but 12 at the time of the voyage-decided to visit his mother's relatives who were living in the town of Howard, New York. As he had now reached young manhood, he made his way thither, liked the country and decided to settle there. He soon met a girl, Mary Ann Stewart, with whom he fell in love. But her brothers did not like John. They made a proposal to Mary that if she would not go with John Hall any more they would buy her a new silk dress. It was a great temptation. She agreed to the proposal and told her lover of it. At once he returned to Canada. As soon 116 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY as the dress was completed and delivered, Mary ran away and followed John into the North. There they were married. On their wedding day they walked sixteen miles to the near­ est town, and after the ceremony returned the same day, their only guide being the blazed trees which marked the way. Soon after their marriage they obtained a homestead from the Cana­ dian government, started in to clear the land and make a home for themselves. They were located twenty miles from the near­ est town, or, as they called it, "The Front." But they were liv­ ing happily in their small log house when their first-born came to bless them, during the second year of their marriage. This was in the spring of 1826. The young child was healthy, and during the spring and summer months grew amazingly. But when the fall rains set in he contracted a dangerous cold. There was no medical aid available. Such few home remedies as they had failed to check the malady. They feared that the end was near for their babe. After a night of worrying over the child's cradle, John started to "The Front," to obtain medicine, provisions, and possibly the aid of friends. He had delayed till dawn because during the night it would be impossible to see the blazed trees. Furthermore, between sun­ down and daylight, one was apt to be beset by wolves at any moment-the dangerous grey wolves of the Canadian forest. Save for a few clearings, woods covered the land all the way to town, twenty miles away. Striding rapidly along the forest trail, John Hall reached the frontier settlement before noon, but experienced some delay in getting his business attended to. It was one-thirty in the afternoon when he started for home. Besides the medicine, which he had stuffed into his pockets, he carried a fifty-pound sack of flour, a good-sized ham and a small jug of whiskey. Thus laden he was unable to make the same speed he had attained on the way out. He was yet a considerable distance from home when the sun went down, and darkness came with the rapidity characteristic of that northern clime. And now the ominous howling of wolves came to the ears of the hurrying and perspiring man. He was trying desperately to reach a clearing that he knew was only a short distance ahead. In the center of this clearing was a haystack. TERROR BY NIGHT 117 Constantly the howls came nearer, converging on the place where he was. Hall dropped his flour and broke into a run. Behind him the warning signals drew swiftly nearer. He cast aside the ham, then the jug of whiskey, and ran for his life. The ham delayed the beasts for a few moments. Hall dashed out into the clearing and saw, faintly defined in the gloom, the stack of hay. The wolves were almost upon him as he seized one of the hickory hangers of the stack, calculated to hold the hay in place during a heavy wind, and drew himself up the steeply sloping side of the mound of hay. Repeatedly the ferocious animals sprang at him. They might have scrambled up and accomplished their purpose had it not been for the hickory binding poles. Using these for clubs, John Hall swung at the slavering mouths and clicking teeth and so kept his place on the stack during all that long night. Years later, when telling his grandchildren of his adventure, he would add: " 'Twould have been aisier if I'd had me jug." But he was in no danger of failing asleep. The continual rushing of the wolves, with their frantic leaps high up the side of the stack, kept him pretty well occupied. As the night dragged along the cold wind chilled him and he sought to snuggle down in the hay, during the intervals of savage charging. It seemed like eternity before the east reddened and the dawn came up. With the first streaks of light the animals slunk off. Hall descended stifily from his perch and started home. In the meantime, how had fared his wife, alone with the sick child in that wilderness cabin? After the father had left, the baby continued steadily to grow worse. Mrs. Hall came to the conclusion that very soon the soul of the child would flee. She neglected all her work, croon­ ing to the infant continuously. Noon arrived but she ate noth­ ing. She was dreadfully oppressed. If her husband would only come! She knew he could not-yet. Forty miles through the forest would take many hours to compass. The afternoon was long indeed. Life no longer had charm for her. Then, just as the sun dropped out of sight, the babe died. For a few minutes the lonely woman wept silently. Then she arose and began preparing her little one for the grave. While she was engaged in this sorrowful task she heard from afar the howling of wolves. It was time that they should be abroad, for the shadows were 118 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY fast lengthening. She had a horrid thought: Perhaps the animals had smelled her dead child. She had heard stories about their power to do this. It must be so, for rapidly the howls were ap­ proaching the cabin. Owing to her constant care of the child Mrs. Hall had failed to replenish the fire; the blaze was getting low. She turned to run out to the woodpile to secure more fuel, but checked her­ self. She was too late; the wolves were at the door. She seized some props and placed them against the door, then turned to see if there was anything she might cast upon the dying blaze. If she could keep a fire it was unlikely the animals would try to enter. They feared the blaze. She ripped bark from the log walls of the cabin, she gathered splinters wherever she could find them, knowing all the while that she could not hope to keep the fire going till morning. As soon as the blaze should sink she knew the wolves would try to force their way through the door. They might accom­ plish it, for the door was flimsy; it was constructed of only a single thickness of slabs. Already they were gnawing at it. But they desisted as the bark caught and for a brief time a bright flame sprang up in the :fireplace, lighting the interior of the cabin with a ruddy glow. The bark and splinters vanished as swiftly as dew before the sun. Again darkness cloaked the interior of the forest home, and again the wolves began gnawing and wrenching at the door. She could hear their eager, panting yelps. Frantically she gathered papers, rags, even a piece or two of their scanty furni­ ture, and tossed the odds and ends upon the smoldering fire. All this amounted to was to afford a temporary respite. It must have been about midnight when the fire sank finally to a faint gleam in the ashes. Merely a few coals were left. Then Mary Hall took her dead baby and climbed a ladder to a beam that was ultimately to form the support for a chamber floor. At this time there was no chamber; merely several log beams reaching from wall to wall. Seated on this beam, with her dead infant in her lap, she pulled the short ladder up and rested it on other beams. Then she waited for what should befall. It was not long in coming. The wolves, working like beavers, tore and wrenched at the slab door until finally they had made a hole though which they TERROR BY NIGHT 119 could enter. In a moment the cabin was full of the ravenous animals. Mary Hall could not see their bodies, for all was now intense darkness below. But she saw the gleaming of myriad eyes; she heard the panting breath, the eager yelping, as they sprang again and again from the floor in their efforts to reach her and her dead child. Always they fell short, but their jaws snapped close under the beam on which she perched. She could do nothing but wait-and pray. She thought of her husband. Had he been overtaken in the woods by this or another pack? Or had he sought sanctuary in a tree? She felt that it must have been one or the other; for he would have been hours on his return journey before darkness fell. Sitting there on her beam in that stygian darkness lit only by the gleaming of the baleful eyes, actually feeling the hot breath of the wolves as they sprang repeatedly at her, Mary Hall felt to the full the futility of life. Her hopes; where were they? How she longed to be again in her father's com£ortable home in Howard Township! Could she ever survive that dreadful night? As terror of the wolves lessened she feared that she might doze and fall from the beam. The reaction from her ex­ perience was such that she felt she must lie down and sleep. More than once she caught herself nodding. But then the snapping of the wicked teeth just below her station would bring her back to full realization of her position. It had grown cold in the cabin, for the fire had now been out several hours. Mary Hall shivered. She repeated the prayers she had known as a child. She prayed that her husband had been spared. She prayed for dawn. But the hours seemed long. Then, she fancied she could make out the forms of the beasts below. Was this because her eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, or was daylight near? It must be that dawn was near at hand, for soon she could see the slaver in the red mouths of the ruthless beasts. The window on the eastern side of the cabin began to turn pink. One by one, the wolves slunk through the hole they had chewed in the door and vanished. A few disappointed howls and they were gone. They were lovers of darkness because their deeds were evil, but they liked not the day. Still Mary Hall hesitated to descend from her place of security. Some of the bolder ones among the animals might return. 120 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Another half hour passed. Or was it an hour? No longer could she estimate the flight of time. During the hours of dark­ ness time had not seemed to fly at all; it had crept on leaden feet. Hark! A quick footstep she knew. Her husband burst into the cabin. "Mary!" he called hoarsely. "Mary! Where are ... ,, your The Terror that came by night had passed. But never would the woman be able to forget it. Not many months after this event John Hall :finished proving up on his land. Then he made a decision, being, no doubt, in­ fluenced thereto by his wife. He decided that neither he nor his family should be eaten by wolves. Surely, there were other places in the world where he might make a living. He sold out and removed to the town of Howard, in civilized old Steuben County, New York. He bought his first piece of land on the Turnpike, a few miles from T owlesville, near the Bradley Dyer farm. He had a good knowledge of lumber and he decided to turn that information into money. He became a lumberman. Clearing his first hold­ ing of timber, he bought another tract. As fast as he removed the salable lumber from a tract he would sell and buy another. He made money. His final holding was that now known as the Kent Farm, located near Methodist Park, in Baker's Gulf Valley. Here he died on September 11, 1888, being eighty-four years of age. At the time of his death, John Hall had nine living children and twenty-nine grandchildren. Those of his children who be­ came well known in this locality were: James, a harness maker and real-estate dealer in Canisteo; Samuel, during the Rebellion a soldier in the famous regiment called "The Steuben Rangers," who had part of his jaw shot off at Gettysburg, but later lived in Cameron; Robert, a farmer of Howard; Isaac, a farmer living near Canisteo; George, a harness-maker in Canisteo. Some of the grandchildren also became well known in the Canisteo Valley: Ira and Eugene Hall, both of Canisteo; Charles Hall, now a funeral director in New York City; Frank L. Hall, the founder of the Hall Baking Company of Buffalo; Fred R. Hall, service representative for the Mutual Life Insur­ ance Company of New York, in Rochester. TERROR BY NIGHT 121 It was the latter who furnished me with the information contained in this chapter. The story was written out from memory, just as he recalled his grand£ather telling it to him when a small boy. John Hall, the grandfather, never knew a great deal about the ultimate fate of some of the members of the family who came with him from Ireland on the trip which ended so dramatically on the St. Lawrence River. He did know that one brother who remained in the neighborhood of the family's original location became wealthy. Two others went to New Brunswick. One migrated to Australia, and one became a prominent Presbyterian clergyman in New York City. Altogether, the descendants of "Auld Jimmie Hall" appear to have contributed much to their day and generation. CHAPTER IX The Killing of Joshua Stephens The Stephens family was the most numerous clan among the early settlers. The descendants intermarried with all the other "first families," hence a complete history of the Stephens clan would constitute a history of early Canisteo. In the first mi­ grations four heads of families of this name came to the Valley: Jedediah; Uriah, Sr.; Uriah, Jr.; Colonel John. The various members were exceedingly active in the affairs of the settlement, and the old Record Book shows that some one, at least, of the family was elected to town office each year. The name of Uriah Stephens appears as supervisor of the town from 1801 to 1810, inclusive, and from 1814 to 1819, inclusive; in all sixteen years. It has been shown that Jedediah Stephens was the first supervisor of the vague town known as Williamson, or Williamsburg, which preceded the organization of Canisteo Town. We must now consider an event in the life of one of the family, who because of this very event became perhaps the most noted of all. . . . Just when Bennett's Creek Valley was first settled is uncertain. As early as 1810 Charles Moore, who had married a daughter of Colonel William Stephens, owned the farm now known as the Joe Moore place. Later this farm was occupied by Charles' brother, the "Little Johnnie Moore" who subsequently achieved fame by sleeping with a bear (recounted in Chapter V) .. In 1813, William S. Thomas came from Connecticut and settled on the farm now owned and occupied by his son, Daniel C. Thomas, a justice of the peace in Canisteo. W. S. Thomas built his house on the slope of a hill well back from the present road, and part of the stone-and-clay chimney is still standing. The road at that time ended at the Thomas place, and there£ore skirted the base of the hill instead of following its present course straight across the flat. The road was put through to the famous salt spring near Greenwood in 1820. Shortly after this several pioneers settled beyond the Thomas place. (122) THE KILLING OF JOSHUA STEPHENS 123 William S. Thomas had served in the Connecticut militia dur­ ing the first part of the War of 18 12. He was a strong and forceful character, but in some ways differed from the other settlers. He rarely or never hunted. When he traveled he went on horseback, taking for protection two horse pistols. He seldom carried a rifle. He detested the Indians who frequently came to the Valley to hunt, and he did not hesitate to shoot their dogs when they used them to chase the deer. He believed that such a course long continued by the natives would serve to drive all deer from the neighborhood. On sundry occasions, when he came in from the field, tired, hungry and cross, and found several greasy, smelly Indian bucks sprawled on the kitchen floor in front of his fireplace, he promptly kicked them out of doors. Because of these things he grew unpopular with the noble red men, especially two-Curleyeye and Sundown. It would appear that these had been the most frequent callers. A short distance north of the Thomas farm lived Joshua Stephens-one of several of this name who have graced the his­ tory of the Valley. This Joshua's small log house was located on the west side of the road while the barn was directly opposite. Just when he settled there we do not know, but it was probably at least as early as 1812. He was deservedly popular with both his white neighbors and the red men. A son of the Reverend Jedediah Stephens and Abegail Corey, he had been born in Canisteo, December 21, 179 3. In 1811 he married a cousin, Rhoda Stephens, and it was soon after this that he settled on Bennetts' Creek. He was a member of the local Methodist Church society, an officer in the militia, and in 1817 he joined the Masonic fraternity, being a member of Evening Star Lodge, which the following year removed to Upper Canisteo. He was a good worker and gave promise of becoming wealthy. He enjoyed athletic sports and frequently competed with the Indians. He could outrun and outjump them all. He hunted a great deal and was rarely seen without his rifle and a little dog. It was owing to the agility and courage of this pooch that Joshua was once saved from the claws of a gigantic panther. The fact that Joshua Stephens rarely separated himself from his dog and gun should be borne in mind, for it has a bearing on this story. It is said, too, that he had a physical resemblance to his near neighbor, William S. Thomas. 124 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY The two Indians, Curleyeye and Sundown, previously men­ tioned, were especially friendly to Stephens. They probably thought they understood him. Evidently he understood them and, whether he liked them or not, he treated them with justice and patience. During the early autumn of 1825, they asked permission to hang in Stephens' barn the venison they were taking. Eventually they expected to pack this meat on horses to Squawky Hill, a Seneca village ·located in the Genesee Valley near Mount Morris. Joshua readily gave his consent, and the Indians stored considerable deer-meat in his barn. On the eighteenth of September, 1825, the Indians came for their venison. It so happened that just before they arrived Mr. Thomas came down to the Stephens' barn to talk to Joshua. The settler and the natives met there and a more or less bitter quarrel took place. At the end the Indian hunters warned Thomas: "You no live long!" A grandson of Joshua Stephens told me that this threat disturbed Joshua and he warned his neighbor to be on his guard. But Thomas laughed scornfully and walked back to his house. Sullenly the Indians loaded their meat on horses and departed in the direction of the Genesee Valley. Joshua owned a pair of oxen. A short time previous to this incident they had wandered away in the woods and he had not been able to find them. They could obtain their own food, but he needed the beasts for his fall work. Two days after the Thomas episode, late in the afternoon, Joshua fancied he heard the distant tinkling of his oxen's bells. Informing his wife that he would search for them, he immediately started off. Amazed that he had not taken his rifle and the little dog, she called after him and cited the omission. He paused for a moment in his stride, then muttering, "I must hasten," went on into the woods. He had been contemplating the buying of a tract of land from the Pulteney Estate, this plot abutting his own present holding. As he left his house he followed the lower line of this tract, finding his way by means of blazed trees. When bushes impeded his vision he broke them off. Later his course was thus determined by searchers. On the same afternoon that Joshua Stephens set out to find his oxen, some young men were holding wassail at a whisky still located in the Purdy Creek valley. While at the height of their THE KILLING OF JOSHUA STEPHENS 125 bacchanalian revels they observed two Indians passing toward Bennett's Creek. The Indians carried rifles and were walking rapidly. But the roisterers, with maudlin hospitality, insisted upon the Indians drinking with them. Obviously the savages, despite their love of firewater, did not wish to be restrained. They accepted one drink and hurriedly departed. Most of what now happened has to be deduced after con­ sidering available evidence. The September day was cloudy and it was getting along toward night when Joshua Stephens found himself in the vicinity of Little Johnnie Moore's house. He was probably in what is now a meadow on the upper side of the road -but was then woodland-and had just raised his hand to break off a branch, when a spurt of flame lit up the forest and a rifle cracked nearby. A bullet tore through his hand. He whirled in pain and alarm. Another rifle barked and a ball entered his side just above the hip, making a dangerous abdominal wound. He fell to the ground, writhing in agony. It is likely that he lapsed into unconsciousness for a time. We do not know. In the forest there was no further sound. Darkness began to settle. The stricken man revived a little and, being tortured by the thirst that always follows the loss of blood, began to drag him­ self toward a spring that lay farther down the slope toward the creek. This spring was in a little depression just below what is now a bend in the state road near the Moore house. Stephens drank from the spring, sank back against an oak tree and died. In this position his body was found early the next morning by Abram Stephens, some claim; by Joshua's brother, Nathan Stephens, others assert. In the meantime it appears likely that the assailants began to have grave doubts that they had shot the right man. They had seen no dog, nor had their quarry carried a rifle. But they did not closely approach the body, fearing to leave a tell-tale trail. With the coming of nightfall Mrs. Stephens had begun to worry. Now there came a knock on the cabin door. Rhoda opened the door and saw in the gloom the figures of two Indians whom she recognized as Curleyeye and Sundown. "Where Joshua?" demanded the natives. "He has gone to hunt for his oxen," answered Mrs. Stephens. "Have you seen h"1m. '" 126 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY The Indians ignored her question, but asked another of their own: "Take dog and gun?" "No. For once he left them at home." "Lessee um, d og and gun. " Trembling with apprehension, Mrs. Stephens secured and ex­ hibited the rifle and the little dog. Immediately the Indians began to show signs of sorrow and fear. They turned and stalked off down the road, but Mrs. Stephens thought she heard one mutter: "Me no hurt Joshua." They seemed to be disputing. Thoroughly alarmed now, Mrs. Stephens sought help, prob­ ably at the Thomas home. But her neighbors were few and mostly distant. Darkness precluded striking the trail. It was dawn before the body was found at the spring. The whole neighborhood seethed with excitement. There are divergent stories of what happened that day. Some are to the effect that dogs were brought to the scene of the murder. Not far from the spot where Joshua first fell a trail was struck which led eventually to Colonel Bill's Creek Valley and to a log barn where, snugly ensconsed in a strawmow, were found Curleyeye and Sundown. It has been asserted that the enraged settlers hung the Indians by the thumbs in an effort to compel them to admit the crime. They would say nothing ex­ cept: "Me no kill Joshua!" There was no direct evidence against them, but plenty of circumstantial evidence. They were arrested and taken to the county jail at Bath. On October 5th, they were indicted for murder. Represented by able counsel, their case came to trial in the "Oyer and Terminer" the following June. They pleaded "Not Guilty." There was no eyewitness to the crime. They were acquitted. It speaks well for the law-abiding character of the people at the time that these native assassins were allowed to escape with their lives. There could be little real doubt of their guilt. It is claimed that, years later, Curleyeye admitted that he and his companion had killed Stephens through error. They had mistaken him for William S. Thomas. Mrs. Stephens and her little flock of children were left to work out their own destiny. Had it not been for the fact that Joshua had planted a large field of wheat, his family would have suffered. As it was Rhoda was forced to sell two cows for nine THE KILLING OF JOSHUA STEPHENS 127 dollars in order to pay her tax. It would appear that the sym­ pathy of the community did not go so far as to raise any money for her. Eventually she remarried, possibly through necessity. The violent death of the popular young farmer caused a great sensation throughout the entire county. Local bards labored and brought forth alleged poetic efforts of many verses each. 11rs. Purdy wrote one of a fair grade. But it has not been remembered. The "Ballad of Joshua Stephens" that has been remembered to this very day was a crude affair of awkward construction. But, for some unknown reason, it appealed to the populace. Here it is; judge it for yourself:

From Squawky Hill two Indians came To Bennett's Creek to hunt for game; The Indians' names we can't deny, Were Sundown and George Curleyeye.

Come, solemn muse, assist my song, In pensive notes to move along; To sing of Stephens-lately fell­ And all our sorrows strive to tell.

He went from home one afternoon, His oxen in the woods to find; The Indian shot him in the side, Which caused his death can't be denied.

What consolation 'twould have been To have had a friend along with him; To have heard him bid this world adeau And every creature that he knew.

'Twas the next morning he was found, Lying near the road upon the ground; Beheld poor Joshua, slim and tall, And in him lay a savage ball.

An inquest called by Hallett, Squire, In Canisteo, we do declare; Behold young Stephens on the ground, Friends and relations weeping 'round.

His widow's sighs her heart doth rend, I've lost my kindest earthly friend; The best of husbands from me torn, In fruitless grief I will sit and mourn. 128 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY

His children cry, "Our parent's gone, And unto us will ne'er return; Alas! Alas! what shall we do? Our thoughts on him augment our woe."

His feeble father raised his moan To think the Indians killed his son: "Where shall I look? My hopes have fled To rest with him among the dead."

His neighbors all in grief complain, "O, how shall we our loss sustain? His peaceful labors now are o'er, His kind advice we'll have no more."

His townsmen all bid him adeau, And mourn that him no more they'll view; The object of their confidence, Resigning him to Providence.

His children of the martial band, Will need the guidance of his hand, To fit them for our land's defense, And drive the bold invaders hence.

Come, friends and Masons, drop a tear O'er a departed brother's bier; For he is sitting in the Lodge above, In the midst of bliss and eternal love.

You will probably agree that as poetry this isn't. Yet nearly everyone in the neighborhood learned it by heart, and many of their descendants can recite it now. It does have a certain charm, because of its lilt. The craftsmanship is wretched, yet it has something that has caused it to be remembered, and it has clothed its subject with a local immortality. The tragic death of young Joshua Stephens will always be remembered in the Canisteo Valley. There has been considerable dispute as to the authorship of this ballad. Judge Near, in his History of Steuben County, gives it subjoined to the longer poem of Mrs. Purdy's on the same subject, and by implication assigns the authorship to her. But it is not in the same style as Mrs. Purdy's effort. It is more crude, even though it possesses more virility. I very much doubt that it was written by any woman. THE KILLING OF JOSHUA STEPHENS 129 Ansel J. McCall, Esq., in an article published years ago in the Corning Journal, claims it was written by Joel J. Brownell, a river pilot of Addison. That may be so; for Mr. McCall was a local historian who seldom was at fa ult. Another authority gives the credit-such as it is-to Nancy Coston of Cameron. But one of Joshua's grandsons told me quite positively that he knew it was composed by Elisha G. Stephens, a nephew of the murdered man. It appeared in 1825, shortly after Joshua's death. Stephens was buried in the old cemetery which lies between the river road and the Erie railway tracks, a short distance east of Canisteo Center. His marble monument is still well pre­ served. Inscribed on it is, of course, another poetical effort, the final verse reading: On that fatal morning his prospects were bright; His wife and his children was (sic) all his delight. Ere the sun had returned to the western main, By a ball from a rifle unaimed he was slain. On the base of the monument are the words: "Died Sept. 20, 1825, AE, 32 years 8 months." It is perhaps just as well to make no comment on the gram­ matical error, or the odd statement that the rifle was unaimed. The early bard caught his worm by digging up sufficient words, even if they didn't mean anything in particular. CHAPTER X The Douglas Affair Robert A. Douglas was supposed to have murdered several peddlers before he committed his final crime. His career gave rise to countless stories and traditions that for more than a cen­ tury have been part of the folklore of the Canisteo Valley. He must have possessed talent of a sort, or at least a great store of energy, for his evil reputation was achieved before he was twenty-two years of age. He first emerged into the history of the Valley in the spring of 1824, when he came to the village of Addison and hired out to James Birdsall, at that time en­ gaged in the construction of a mill. Farther up the valley, seven or eight miles west of Addison, lived a family by the name of Mayberry. Their house, a large double log cabin, was located in a bend of the valley, well back from the river, flanked by rough wooded hills. The approxi­ mate site is now occupied by a schoolhouse located just west of the Stickney Narrows. The Mayberrys entertained travelers, and their place became known as an inn or tavern. Douglas was not long in making the acquaintance of this family, and only a few months had passed before he married Thomas Mayberry's eldest daughter. From that time on he made his home with his wife's people. Before the summer was half done he was arrested for passing counterfeit money. He v.ras arraigned and held for five hun­ dred dollars bail. It appears that at this time the neighbors be­ lieved in his innocence; for he had little difficulty in persuading one of them, James Hallett - who lived three miles to the west, near the location of the Standard Oil pump station of a latter day - to go surety for the amount. Hallet was a sober, hard­ working young farmer, but recently married, and he seems to have taken a fancy to the suave and affable millwright who had come into the community life. Douglas was released from custody. Thereupon he shoul­ dered a pack and traveled the country as a peddler, selling (130) THE DOUGLAS AFFAIR 131 not only dry goods and notions, but jewelry as well. In the light of later information, this was significant. Events now moved swiftly in that remote neighborhood. Certain other persons with reputations not too good had at­ tached themselves to the Mayberry family. These men - Hathaway, Cole and Wallace -were no kin of the Mayberry's nor did they appear to have any visible means of support. Several peddlers who were known to have entered the valley at Painted Post, and were supposed to have put up for the night at the Mayberry Tavern, were never again seen. A girl who had been employed as kitchen help at the inn, but had been discharged, told a weird story to some of the neighbors. She said that after retiring one night, she heard a noise in the living room. Rising to see what was the matter, she found that she had been locked in her room. But she peered through the keyhole and was horrified to see Robert A. Douglas, assisted by his mother-in-law, Mrs. Mayberry, engaged in cutting the throat of a peddler whom they had tied to a chair. Willing as they were to listen to tales of horror, this yarn seemed a bit too strong, and the people had not made up their minds to accept this at face value, when news of a tragedy brought them up on their toes. Samuel H. Ives, a resident of Griggs' Corners, in the town of Troupsburg, had made some purchases of Douglas on one of his rounds. After the peddler had gone Ives found that a five­ dollar counterfeit bill had been worked off on him. Being of a choleric disposition, Ives resolved to seek justice himself, if the law would not function. It was about the middle of September and Ives was eating his midday meal when his hired girl, chancing to glance out of the open door, exclaimed: "There goes that counterfeiter!" Ives heaved himself from his chair and rushed out of doors. "He'll give me back my money," he growled, "or I'll take it out of his hide!" He ran toward Douglas. "Hey, you! Wait!" He extended the bogus note toward the peddler. "Give me back my money. This bill is no good." Nonchalantly, Douglas inspected the note. "I didn't give jt to you. I never saw it be£ ore." Ives didn't believe in wasting words. He sprang for the 132 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY young man's throat. But the peddler avoided the assault and fled down the road. Ives gave chase, caught his man and hurled him to the ground, kneeling on his chest. Then Douglas, squirming like an eel in Ives' powerful grasp, drew a knife and stabbed his assailant. The weapon sank deep in the farmer's side. Ives groaned, staggered to his house, dropped on a bed and almost immediately died. A few days later he was buried in the cemetery at Austinburg, near the state line. When news of this event got out, the county howled with rage. The object of the people's wrath was the lawless May­ berry gang, especially the young peddler Robert A. Douglas, now garbed, in the imagination of the populace, with the habili­ ments of a demon. The servant girl's story was now accepted ~s fact. The report of other harrowing crimes perpetrated by Douglas, with and without assistance, was circulated and gener­ ally believed. The people were ready to believe anything. A reward, considered large for the time, was offered. The organ­ ized militia of the county to the number of about seven hun­ dred were ordered to rendezvous at the Mayberry Inn. Sheriff John Magee assumed charge of the campaign. Douglas had disappeared, but the rest of the gang were placed under observation. The house was searched and much stolen plunder recovered. It was found that, in some instances, two­ inch auger holes had been bored in the logs of the cabin's walls, the receptacles filled with watches and other jewelry and the openings closed with brown paper. It was evident that some, at least, of the stories concerning the disappearance of peddlers were true. The militia, encamped all about the isolated cabin, proceeded to show just how undisciplined they were. It was along toward the last of September and the nights had grown chilly. Few of the amateur soldiers had tents. Most of them had to sleep in the barns, sheds and corncribs of the neighborhood, or, rolled in blankets, under the hedges and trees on the ground. But there was plenty of whisky. They used the fence rails to make huge campfires. They drank, swore, boasted about everything un­ der the sun, fought, ran races, pitched quoits-and between times scoured the woods for Douglas. Sheriff Magee and the militia officers agreed that he was in the neighborhood. Although by this time common fame had made THE DOUGLAS AFFAIR 133 him out to be a veritable Wild Man of Borneo, thirsting for the blood of fresh victims, it was considered likely that he would sooner or later attempt to see his young and pretty wife. Both this young woman and her mother, now scarcely middle-aged, seem to have proved attractive to some of the younger militia­ men. Stories are yet told about the pranks played upon these amorous ones by their less romantic companions while seeking the society of the women of the beleaguered cabin. It became a problem to feed the troops. The settlers in the vicinity were almost eaten out of house and home. The mer­ chants of Corning and Painted Post, hearing that the soldiers must soon be withdrawn for the lack of rations, loaded a four­ horse wagon with food and sent it to camp. The ravenous militia devoured this supply in little im>re than a day. If they were to accomplish anything it must be done at once. Sheriff Magee now planned a great manhunt, much like the wolfhunts put on in some localities. He directed his little army to spread out in skirmish formation and comb the woods that covered the ridge from the Canisteo River to Tracy Creek, five miles to the south. Another detachment was ordered to per­ £orm a similar task on the northern bank of the river. If Douglas were hiding in the woods near his home, it was believed that he could not escape detection. The drive began near the hamlet of Rathboneville. Like deer drivers the militia, many of them more or less intoxicated, whooped, yelled and :fired their rifles as they crashed their way through the tangled forest on the ridges that flanked the valley. Falling over logs, mired in swamps, climbing ledges of rock, they moved in long ragged lines toward the west. But the sun dropped out of sight, leaving its glow behind, the shadows gathered in the woods, and the killer had not been flushed from his covert. Yet, at least one of the officers believed that the murderer of Ives was not far off. He must be lurking in the vicinity. This man was right. A little way up a deep and darksome ravine, which entered the river valley behind the Mayberry place, was a cave known only to Douglas and his companions. The location of this cavern is now unknown, but that it then existed there can be little doubt. Here for days the refugee cowered alone. His position was sufficiently elevated to permit 134 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY him to overlook the field of operations of the militia. He could gaze right down on their camp and see what they were about. But, in spite of lax discipline, the sentries were so vigilant that none of the Mayberry gang-even the children, who had not been arrested - could pass to the cave with food. At night Douglas ventured out and explored corn :fields and potato patches, to obtain the bare means of existence. Orders were now issued for the militia to disband. For the better part of a week they had searched for the slayer of Samuel Ives. He could not be found. All visible supply of food had become exhausted. There was no alternative; for the time be­ ing, at least, the quest must be abandoned. The Painted Post company was the last to depart. It was dark when they swung off down the river road, their :6.f e shrilling a tune and the drums beating out the step. That night two youngsters of the Adrian company - Samuel Taylor and Luther White, later both well-known men in the Valley-decided to stay with James Hallett until morning.. They were welcomed; but every person at the Hallett home retired early that night, Taylor and White to a bed in the loft. Hallett was restless and worried. He rose and sat by the dying flames in the fireplace. Presently he became aware of a faint tapping. He cocked his head, then strode to the door and threw it open. The form of a man stood faintly revealed in the gloom, his face drawn by exhaustion and exposure, his eyes unnaturally bright from hunger, his whole manner betraying one who had been hunted by his fellows. It was the killer, Robert A. Douglas. Instinctively James Hallett drew back and made as though to seize his rifle. But, "Jim," hoarsely urged the fugitive, "give me some food. I haven't had a morsel in three days. I can hardly stand." The heart of James Hallett fluttered within him. He thought of the bond he had posted to secure the liberty of this man. If he should have to forfeit that he would be ruined. Then there was the reward to consider. He sought to conceal his feelings and answered as evenly as he could: "Just nov,, Bob, I haven't got a thing on hand. The militia cleaned me out. But I'll kill a chicken, dig some potatoes and fix you up a meal. In the meantime you hide in the woods THE DOUGLAS AFFAIR 135 across the river. When I get the rations prepared I'll come down to the bank and whistle." "Good!" murmured Douglas. "I see I still have one friend." He turned and vanished in the darkness. With heart thumping aganst his ribs, Hallett climbed to the loft and awoke Taylor and White. "Boys," he whispered, "Douglas has been here!" The two young militiamen sprang out of bed, blinking in the light of the candle Hallett held near their faces. They sought to claw the stupor of sleep from their eyes. "Where is he?" they demanded in unison, as they groped for their rifles. They descended to the ground floor and Hallett explained what had happened. They held a conference and decided to take Douglas when he came for the food. Right there they ran up against a snag. The disturbance had awakened Mrs. Hallett and she had overheard the plan. With the compassion charac­ teristic of her sex, she interposed vigorously, inclining toward the path of mercy. "Jim Hallett," she snapped, "you sha'n't do any such thing. The idea! I'm ashamed of you, to think that you would be­ tray a starving man who came to you for help. Anyway, he's little more than a boy." "But, Mother..... " he expostulated. "The bond­ don't you understand?" "I cant' h e1 p 1t,. '' 1ns1ste. . d t h e woman. "You must not be a Judas. If you try it I'll go to the door and scream for Douglas to run for his life." Here was a condition rather than a theory, and Hallett was forced to make the best of it. He glanced sidewise at his com­ panions and closed his off eye. "Well, boys," he said with deep guile, "I guess we'd better humor her. Ma's sot in her ways, and you know it's me that's got to live with her." Taylor and White were nobody's fools. Soberly they nodded apparent agreement. "Mebby it wouldn't be just right," said Taylor with his tongue in his cheek. However, they so contrived that when Hallett took the food which he had prepared and went down to the river's bank, Taylor and White went along and hid in some bushes. Hallett whistled shrilly. On the southern bank of the stream the bushes parted and a shadowy form appeared in the dusk of 136 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY early morning. Looking furtively up and down the river, he stepped into the water and began wading across. He stumbled and slipped on the stones. Wisps of vapor curled about his legs. With difficulty he climbed the northern bank. Hallett gave him the basket of food. He was shivering violently because of the chill in the air and his wet clothing; but he snatched the food, dropped on a log and ate wolfishly, making strange gasp­ ing noises and panting for breath. Taylor and White remained hidden. In an incredibly short time Douglas finished the breakfast, wiped his mouth on his hand and looked around hungrily, as though in search of more. Hallett told him he had better hide in the cattleshed until the hue and cry had subsided. Never suspecting treachery, Douglas grunted his acceptance of the pro­ posal, walked to the shed, entered, burrowed in the straw and hnmediately went to sleep. Hallett cautiously signalled his companions. They appeared and another conference was held. It was decided to ask for help. They believed the killer was heavily armed, although Hallett had seen no weapons on his person while he was eating. It would be better to overpower him and avoid bloodshed. While Hallett remained at home to lull the suspicions of his wife, Taylor and White sped away in opposite directions. A neighbor was requested to mount his horse and try to overtake the Painted Post company of militia. Later it was found that the soldiers had encamped for the night not far down the valley. The two messengers soon returned with ten men, one of whom - old Captain Baker, a veteran of the Revolution - was regarded as a capable strategist. The party spread out, surrounded the cattleshed and rushed it. The pounding of feet apparently roused Douglas from his slumber. Through the cracks of the building the men could see that he had crawled from the straw and was moving restlessly about. "Come out and surrender!" bawled Captain Baker. "You're at our mercy." A moment of waiting, then Douglas, the terror of the Valley, came forth with uplifted hands. He was searched, but the only weapon found on his person was the pocket knife with which he had stabbed Samuel Ives. Very soon the Painted Post company of militia came march­ ing on the scene and the captain demanded the custody of the THE DOUGLAS AFFAIR 137 murderer. "Sir," boomed old man Baker, "he is not your prisoner." It was decided to take the captive to the county seat at Bath and turn him over to Sheriff Magee. So along the dusty road marched a detachment of militia, their drums banging out a ragged step. Then came a large, four­ horse wagon containing the prisoner and thirteen guards, the men who had captured him. Following the wagon strode an­ other squad of militia. From Cameron to Bath (a distance of eleven miles) , on that hot September day, plodded the strange column, perhaps the strangest ever seen in Steuben County. The news that the fugitive had been taken spread with un­ canny rapidity over the countryside. The farmers of the neigh­ borhood did little work that day. Having been fed, Douglas was in good spirits. He seemed to enjoy the notoriety he had earned. He laughed, sang, and shouted to the crowds of coun­ try folk that everywhere lined the roads: "I know what you want. You want to see Douglas. Well, here I am; look at me! It doesn't cost you a penny." He kept up his banter until the column wound down the long hill road into Bath, then he sobered. "Boys," said he to his captors, "I might better take off my hat and ask for your prayers." He was tried and convicted of the murder of Ives. His law­ yer secured a new trial and a change of venue. The second trial was held at Albany, the state capital, and resulted like the first. It is now difficult to understand just how first degree murder was established, since Douglas had clearly acted in self-defense when he stabbed his opponent, a man much more powerful than he. It is likely that the juries were influenced by the reputation for lawlessness enjoyed by Douglas and his companions of the Mayberry gang. It was universally believed, and doubtless was true, that Douglas had been guilty of other and more wicked murders. With the killing of Ives as an excuse, the people no\"\Y' had a chance to eliminate a man with a dreadful record, most of the items of which they could not prove. So preparations went forward to "hang Bobby Douglas in the mornin'." As for his partners in crime, Mr. and Mrs. Mayberry and the three hangers-on, Hathaway, Cole and Wallace, they were sent to the penitentiary for terms varying from three to ten years. Thus was the notorious gang broken up. 138 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY The hanging of Robert A. Douglas took place at "Gallows Hill" ( since that time so called), just outside the village of Bath, on the Hammondsport road, April 29, 1825. The great event had been well advertised; preparations had been made to render it an occasion long to be remembered. It was the first execution in the history of the county since its organization in 1796; but not the last ( contrary to general belief) , for a negro was hanged in the old jail at Bath during the eighteen-fifties. As though to a festival, people came from all over the county, even from adjoining counties, to witness the retribution to be exacted from the youthful murderer. All over the meadows and hillsides, now garbed in the green trappings of spring, a mighty crowd collected. The people milled like a swarm of bees, talked loudly in high-pitched, strained voices, strove to draw nearer the grisly scaffold, and craned their necks to see all that was possible. Among them moved venders selling ginger­ bread and cider. It was like a fair, only that the climax of the day's entertainment was to be more dramatic than any horse race or side show. While the people gaped there came a pounding of hoofs along the road that led from Bath. A terrible figure advanced at a gallop. It was a horseman dressed all in black, with a black mask over his face, while his mount also was sable. As he reached the scaffold he checked his steed, leaned over, pulled a rope, then thundered on down the road; and no man in all that vast crowd, save possibly two or three, could say who he was. The drop fell and, amid a great gasp from the crowd, Douglas was snatched into eternity. But not at once did he die; his neck was strong, and was not broken by the fall. He was strangled to death. Among the morbid sightseers on that April day was a young man of eight­ een, Jacob Stuart, a great-uncle of the present writer. In order to obtain a fair view of the scaffold he had, like Zaccheus of old, climbed a tree. After the drop fell the death mask worked up from Douglas' face, because of his writhing and struggling. The awful look of agony resting on the murderer's face so frightened the boy in the tree that he nearly fell from his perch. Never again did he have the slightest desire to witness an execu­ tion. But in later years, after he had become a dynamic and emotional preacher of tremendous power, he used that hanging THE DOUGLAS AFFAIR 139 more than once to illustrate in his sermons the stern truth that "The wages of sin is death." Through the vast crowd men shuddered and women sobbed, while babies cried fitfully. Presently a tempest rose in the west and raged with appalling violence. Some of the more timid souls believed that this was meant as a sign from Heaven that the execution of the young man was wrong. But the killer had passed. Justice had been satisfied. Douglas' body, with the assistance of a neighbor, was taken by his girl wife to her home in the Canisteo Valley and buried near the river at a point almost due south from the location of the cave where the outlaw had hidden. It is said that he was interred with a portion of the rope still about his neck. When the Erie Railroad came through, twenty-five years after Douglas had ceased to be, the track was laid over his forgotten grave, and now tons of gravel protect his bones from the gaze of the curious. Nor can even the earthquake's giant tread disturb his rest; though neighborhood. memories of this young and terrible man yet survive. CHAPTER XI The Loiver Valley The first legitimate settlement made by white men within the limits of what is now Steuben County was at Painted Post. The second was at Canisteo and the third at Bath. Long before the Anglo-Saxon settlers came, the so-called "Painted Post Country" was known along the Atlantic seaboard. How this community, which lies at the foot of the Canisteo Valley, received its name can be told only by reciting what is known of the famous Mon­ tour family. Beauchamp, in his History of the N eiv York Iroquois, says: That year ( 1708) the Indian Montour family first came to notice. The father was a Frenchman who had a son and two daughters by an Indian wife, and they became prominent .•. There may have been several families of this name. Joncaire killed the original Montour in 1721, by Vaudreuil's order. All through the early history of New York colony the Mon-­ tours flitted, and their origin and kinship have proved mooted points for discussion by historians then and now. As early as 1719, there was a certain Madame Mo~tour whom the French tried to induce to settle in Canada. She frequently was used as an interpreter and seems to have had considerable influence with the Iroquois. Her first husband was a Seneca chief (prob­ ably a half-breed) named Roland Montour. Upon his death she married Carundowana, an Oneida. She was supposed to have been of unmixed French blood, but had lived long among the Indians. Her second husband was eventually (about 1733) killed by the Catawbas. She had a daughter who became known as "French Margaret," and it is likely that she was the mother of several other children. Perhaps the most noted member of the Montour family was she whom early writers have delighted to honor as "Queen Cath­ erine." The absurdity of this lies in the fact that the Iroquois had neither kings nor queens among them. Catherine Montour did have a great ascendancy over the tribe among whom she lived, but it was the ascendancy of a first-rate mind over medi- (140) THE LOWER VALLEY 141 ocre ones. She lived with a sub-tribe of the Senecas at the head of Seneca Lake, in a place then distinguished as Catherinestown, but now known as Montour Falls. According to some historians, Catherine Montour (frequently spelled Catharine, or Catrine) was the daughter of Count Frontenac, Governor General of Canada, and an Indian woman. Says Parkman: Catharine Montour was a native of Canada, whence she was carried off by the Iroquois and adopted by them. She lived in a village at the head of Seneca Lake, and still held the belief, inculcated by the guides of her youth, that Christ was a Frenchman crucified by the English. It is not too much to suppose that Catherine was the daughter of Madame Montour and, if so, a sister of "French Margaret." Then there was the so-called "Queen Esther Montour"-she that wrought the deed of shame the night after the battle at Wyoming. No less an authority than Lossing says of her: Queen Esther, as she was called, was the celebrated Catharine Montour, whose residence was at Catharinestown, near the head of Seneca Lake, in New York. This is certainly an error. Esther was not Catharine. Beau­ champ says: She (Esther) is said to have been the daughter of French Margaret, and wife of Echogohund, king of the Munsey Indians, succeeding to his authority on his death and living at Seshequin. A captive, Mrs. Whittaker, often saw her there, and described her as a woman of fine appearance and pleasant manners. If this account is true, Esther was, quite likely, the niece of Catharine. Seshequin ( or Sheshequin), the place of Esther's abode, was located on the Susquehanna River, below Towanda, in what is now Bradford County, Pennsylvania. Lossing, who gives quite a long account of "Queen" Esther, really has con­ fused the histories of three different women: Catherine, French Margaret, and Esther Montour. It is fairly certain that Catherine Montour was the mother of that famous borderer who in 17 64 burned Kanestio Castle­ Andrew Montour, a captain in the colonial service of New York. During the troublous times that extended from the years before the French and Indian War to the breaking out of the Revolu­ tion, Andrew Montour was a master guide, interpreter and right­ hand man of the British governors and of Sir William Johnson. He was engaged on frequent expeditions, peace con£erences and 142 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY punitive raids. In 1750 he accompanied the trader Christopher Gist on an expedition to the then "Far West," sent out by the Ohio Company. The Moravian missionary Zinzendorf was personally acquainted with Montour and left what is probably the only written description of him. From this it appears that while Montour had the face of a European, he wore his shirt outside his trousers, smeared his face with paint and grease, and affected ornaments such as delight the untutored mind. With the outbreak of the Revolution, Montour elected to follow the king. He distinguished himself in the border war­ fare that followed; but in 1779 he was mortally wounded while engaged in a foray directed against the settlement of Freeling's Fort, located on the west branch of the Susquehanna in Pennsyl­ vania. He was taken by his companions, with whom he was exceedingly popular, to the confluence of the Conhocton and Tioga Rivers, which is a short distance below the point where the Canisteo enters the Tioga. Here he died, and here, under the noble elms, he was buried. In con£ormity with savage usage, his compatriots erected over his grave a large post, painting the rude monument with designs which commemorated the adven­ turous deeds of the leader. This post stood for many years, and gave the name both to the surrounding country and to the present village. This story has been questioned by Judge Near, in his History of Steuben County and Its People, but it is, nevertheless, sub­ stantially correct. McMaster, who wrote the :first, and by far the most literary, history of Steuben, says of the disputed post: "After the post rotted down at the butt, the remnant of it was preserved in the local tavern's barroom until about 1810, when it disappeared." It is true that there is some difference of opinion as to how Captain Andrew Montour can1e to his death. One account in­ sists that he was killed in Sullivan's battle below Elmira, and his body was brought in a canoe up the Chemung after the :fight. Which is the correct version is uncertain; but that Andrew Montour was the chief buried at the spot marked by the oddly decorated post, can scarcely be doubted. It was a :fitting place to bury the warrior; for it was the hub of the country over which he used to roam, and could easily be reached by the In­ dians who for many years thereafter visited the spot. THE LOWER VALLEY 143

The Painted Post was a favorite rendezvous for those who were minded to make treaties. In 1791, General Timothy Pickering, Secretary of War under George Washington, desired to obtain a new treaty with the Iroquois. The original intention was to hold the conference at Painted Post. But the Chemung River being low, making it difficult to take flatboats of supplies up to the confluence of the Conhocton and Canisteo rivers, the meeting was held at Newtown. Hither a large number of rep­ resentatives of the Six Nations repaired. They were given presents, allowed to talk and were talked to. But news of General Harmar' s defeat by the Ohio Indians having become known to the Iroquois, they were coy and few concessions were obtained from them. Their stiff-necked attitude was ac­ centuated by St. Clair's bloody defeat that very autumn; so the Treaty of Painted Post, as it was called, effected little. But when Mad Anthony Wayne, in 1794, conquered the confed­ erated tribes of the West at the battle of Fallen Timbers, the Indians of New York State developed meekness, and the settle­ ment of the Finger Lake region and the Genesee Country was achieved bloodlessly. Roberts, in his History of Steuben County, says: For many years "The Painted Post" was a noted landmark through­ out the regions of western New York and northern Pennsylvania. That it was a favorite haunt of the red men long previous to the settle­ ment by the whites is abundantly indicated by the great number of Indian relics found scattered in and around the place. Stone hatchets, flint arrow-heads, lance points, pottery, pestles, and many other me­ mentoes of the race, are gathered and preserved. The first white man to settle at Painted Post was William Harris, who built a store there and traded with the Indians be­ fore 1787. Frederick Calkins and George Goodhue located there soon after Harris came; and after the Phelps and Gorham pur­ chase, the surveyors for this company made their headquarters there. When the pioneers of Canisteo came through, they found the nucleus of the future village well established. Ontario County was formed and set off from Montgomery County in 1789. A year later the district of "The Painted Post" was formed, and this embraced all the territory later comprised in Steuben County. For six years Canisteo was included in the District of Painted Post, Ontario County. 144 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Another glimpse of the mysterious and romantic Montour family, around whose exploits a dozen novels could be written. Indeed, some of their doings have been chronicled in Robert Chambers' stories of New York in the Revolution. It seems quite sure that Captain Andrew Montour had several brothers and sisters. Some accounts say that both Roland and John Mon­ tour were in the battle of Newtown, and at least one story has it that it was John Montour who was buried at Painted Post. But this assertion rests on insecure foundation. After the Revolution the survivors of the family, or at least some of them, moved on farther west. In 1791, a missionary at the Moravian Towns on the Thames River, Upper Canada (Harrison's battleground in the year 1813), wrote-according to Beauchamp-as follows:

A Mohawk Indian worn.an, Mary Montour, sister of Catharine, and of the former Andrew Montour, who came here not long ago, upon her request and desire, got leave to be a dweller here. She knows how to speak many languages, for example, Mohawk, her mother tongue, Wyandot, Ottawa, Chippewa, Shawano, Delaware, English and French. Her sister, Catharine, and several of her friends, live not far from Niagara over the lake, and we have already many times heard that she would like to be here, for John Cook, her son, is here. That seems to be the final record we have of the famous Mon­ tour family of New York. When Steuben County was formed from the southern part of Ontario County, in 1796, it contained only six towns. The northern tier comprised Dansville, Bath and Frederickton; the southern tier, Canisteo, Middletown, Painted Post. The latter town then embraced all the tract now included in the towns of Erwin, Caton, Lindley, Corning, Hornby, Campbell and a por­ tion of Tuscarora. Erwin, the first of the Valley towns-ap­ proaching from the east-was formed from the old town of Painted Post, January 27, 1826. It was named in honor of Colonel Arthur Erwin, of Erwinna, Bucks County, Pennsyl­ vania, one of the original purchasers of Canisteo and one of the biggest men in the history of the Valley. Erwin had served in the Continental army during the Revo­ lution, and was a man of considerable wealth and much energy. In the summer of 1789, hearing that there was a good market for beef cattle at Canandaigua, where Phelps and Gorham were THE LOWER VALLEY 145 rapidly opening up an empire, Colonel Erwin decided to drive to that place a large herd and sell it. He proceeded by way of the Painted Post. Arriving at the Harris cabin, he decided to look over the surrounding country. He climbed the hill to the north and was pleased with the view. But, not content, he forded the Conhocton River, rode for a short distance up the valley of the Tioga, crossed the Canisteo River and climbed a bold-faced mountain on the southern bank of the stream. Ejaculating with delight, he feasted his eyes on the prospect. The waters of three rivers sparkled in the :fierce rays of the July sun, and a gentle breeze murmured in the pines among which he stood, and waved the foliage that covered the rocky hillside and the alluvial bottomland. Two rich valleys were at his feet. The land appeared to be of wondrous fatness. It was an Eden. Right then the Colonel decided to purchase the township that embraced this garden spot. He hastened after his men, who had gone on with the herd, and came at last to the land office in Canandaigua. Hoping that no one had beaten him there, he lost no time in preambles. "Is Township Number 2, of the Second Range, for sale?" he demanded. "If so, how much?" The land agent of Phelps and Gorham smiled at Erwin's eagerness. "It's for sale. The price is fourteen hundred pounds, New York currency." Colonel Erwin turned in his cattle on the deal, paid the balance in cash, and became the owner of the town since named in his honor. One day later Eleazar Lindley arrived at Canandaigua, anxious to purchase the same tract. He was too late. Colonel Arthur Erwin, twice married, was the father of ten children. His sons, Samuel and Francis, took charge of their father's holdings in the Painted Post Country. In 1799, Samuel received a commission -as a first lieutenant in the First Regular Infantry. He rose to the rank of captain, but eventually re­ signed and came back to Painted Post, where he resided until his death in 1836. At one time he was associated with his brother in the mercantile business. In 1801, he had married Rachael Heckman, of Easton, Pa., and had numerous descendants of a high type. Among these was Francis E., who became a militia general, supervisor of the town and member of the Legislature. He married Sophia, daughter of Ansel McCall of Painted Post. 146 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Another son of Captain Samuel Erwin was Arthur H., who married Frances M. McKeen and became the father of twelve children. A third son of the Captain, Charles H. Erwin, wrote a History of Painted Post which contained a wealth of historical data. As for Colonel Arthur Erwin, he did not long enjoy the beau­ tiful town he had purchased. While on his first visit to the Painted Post Country he ejected a squatter on some of his land at Tioga Point. It is believed that this man harbored a grudge against the Colonel. The latter, while sitting in a cabin of one of his tenants at Tioga Point, was shot through a window. The murderer escaped detection, although suspicion pointed strongly to the squatter. There are several old homesteads whose histories run back to the early members of the Erwin family. One of these, redolent with memories more than a century old, stands just east of the Erwinna Inn, located at the junction of Route 17 with the Sus­ quehanna Trail. Almost due north from the mountaintop on which Colonel Erwin stood and spied out the land, these build­ ings yet abide as reminders of the olden day. Stone fences and rich meadows now mark the valley where the Colonel saw only wild grass, scrub oaks and clumps of pine. Tourists journeying to or from the nation's capital flash in swift automobiles across the wide flat and stop at the Inn for lunch. The hoarse bellow of an Erie Railroad engine's whistle rouses the echoes where, in Colonel Erwin's day, only the screech of the panther disturbed the sylvan quiet. Concrete-topped roads have followed the ancient trails of the Iroquois; and in the dense pine grove which yet borders the main highway leading down the Valley, hot-dog stands, discarded newspapers and half-eaten sandwiches mark the haunt of the restless modern traveler. The old homestead, still in possession of the family, is now being repaired. It is said that among the distinguished guests who visited there in a for­ mer day was Henry Clay, the Great Pacificator. A grand ball was given in his honor . . . The old order has passed, but the Valley there, despite this hustling age, is as fascinating as it was when the Colonel found it. A noted man in the early history of the town of Erwin was Benjamin Patterson, hunter, Indian fighter, scout. Born in Vir­ ginia in 17 59, he came honestly by his love of the wild, for his THE LOWER VALLEY 147 mother was a cousin of Daniel Boone. When Charles William­ son became the secret agent of the Pulteney Association, he em­ ployed Patterson to guide a party of German settlers to the Genesee Valley. After accomplishing this difficult task, the scout located in what is now the North Side of the city of Corn­ ing. Here he kept a tavern. In 1803 he bought a farm in what later became the town of Erwin, dying there in 1830. Patter­ son was the authority quoted by McMaster in his account of the origin of the disputed Painted Post. The story had been told to Patterson by a man named Taggart, who actually witnessed the burial of Captain Andrew Montour. Edward Townsend, who married Eliza, eldest child of Cap­ tain Samuel Erwin, was an early settler in the town. He died from the effects of a kick of a horse. The village of Painted Post is the only municipality of any size in the town. Cooper's Plains is a hamlet. About a mile west of Painted Post is a cluster of houses called Gang Mills. Prior to Civil War days this was an important settlement. At this place was a combined saw, shingle and planing mill which gave employment to seventy-five men and turned out, it is said, eight to eleven million feet of lumber per annum. In that portion of the Valley where the hills first begin to crowd the river is located the village of Addison, a town that always has bulked large in the history of the county. The orig­ inal settlement here was called Tuscarora-a beautiful name -but in 1796 it became incorporated in one of the six original towns of the county and was given the prosaic and meaningless name of Middletown. In 1808 not much improvement was made when the name was changed to Addison. What the great British essayist had to do with this town does not appear. It is to be doubted that he ever heard of it. According to an old gazetteer of the state, the :first settlers of Addison were Elisha Gilbert, Samuel and Reuben Searles, John and Isaac Martin, William W ombough, William B. Jones, Israel Chauncey, Jesse Rowley, Amos Carr and Amos Towsley. The first birth was that of Stephen Rice; the first marriage that of Brown Gillespie and Miss Gilbert; the first death that of James Martin. William Wombough built the first saw- and gristmills in 18 0 5 and 18 06. The first store was kept by Samuel Smith, the first inn by Reuben Searles. 148 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY The first authentic town records, yet preserved, are dated Oct. 2 0, 17 9 9. It is claimed that the first school house in the county was erected in Addison. This is a proud boast. As at Canisteo and Upper Canisteo, there were some slaveholders among the early settlers. The town records prove it. The first bridge across the Canisteo River at this point was built in 1803. Prior to that time there was a ferry. The first post office was established in Middletown in 1804. For twenty-six years there­ after the community received only one mail a week. This was brought in from Painted Post by a mounted messenger. In 18 3 1 Addison was granted a service twice a week, the pouch now being brought in a stagecoach f rem the Post. Addison was incorporated as a village in 18 54, about twenty years before Canisteo. William Wombough, among the first settlers, was perhaps the most energetic one among them. At any rate he was the first capitalist. When he built his first mill he had to obtain the equipment at Philadelphia. He actually made the trip thither in a lumber wagon and brought his heavy machinery back with him through the forest, along almost impassable roads. He erected mills not only at Addison but also at Woodhull and Troupsburg. He has had many descendants. W ombough' s daughter Pamelia married Rufus Baldwin, who settled near Addison in 18 34. Their children included: Mrs. Rufus N. Weatherby; William W., a lawyer; Walter H.; Henry, a lawyer and banker, supervisor, a captain in the Federal army during the Rebellion, sheriff of the county, 1886-89; James, a banker; Rufus, Jr., who died young; Parmelia, who married Hon. Byron G. Stout, of Pontiac, Mich.; R. Haskill, who died in childhood. John W. Dininny came to Addison in 1832. An attorney. In the Civil \Var he became the colonel of the 141st Regiment. He married Sarah A. Coburn and had four children: Harper F.; Carleton V.; William B.; S. Georgiana. L. D. Coburn came from Cortland County in 1835 and erected the second business building south of the river. The following year George W. Farnham came in from Connecticut. He became an influential business man and a colonel in the militia. . . Rev. William R. Olmsted came in 1830. He mar­ ried Elizabeth Homes and had twelve children... Solomon THE LOWER VALLEY 149

Curtis was here as early as 1821. He purchased 5 00 acres north of the river. He donated the land for the cemetery and for the square named in his honor. His land was obtained from Har­ mon Pompelly of Owego, and eventually much of this was bought by Wiliiam B. Jones ... The first physician in the town

'\\7aS Dr. Frederick R. Wagner, who practiced from 1830 to 1865 . . . . The Presbyterian Church, organized in September, 1832, was the first religious body. It is remarkable that the churches were so slow in getting started in the Canisteo Valley. \Villiam Morton came from Cortland County in 1831 and worked at the blacksmith trade for William Stevens, in a shop located on the bank of the Canisteo River on what is now Wom­ bough Street. It is claimed that at this time there were but three buildings on the south side. Mr. Morton was also a musi­ cian, having played clarinet in the first orchestra that ever had an engagement in a theatre at Elmira. During the Civil War he played in the band of the home guards. His grandson, Harry L. Morton, of Hornell-an old bandsman and an Erie Railroad engineer - has this clarinet in his possession now. William Morton, soon after his arrival in Addison, married Mary Crane who had come with her parents from Cortland County and set­ tled in the wild region near Goodhue Lake. She was a direct de­ scendant of Stephen Crane, a soldier of the Revolution. The land upon which her parents settled, near what is now the Hib­ bard farm, two miles east of Goodhue Lake, was at that time isolated indeed, and wild animals constituted a serious menace. On one occasion a bear tried to break into the house. He was engaged in clawing the curtains aside when he was stopped. During his younger days William Morton did mechanical work on the Smithsonian Institution, at the time of its construction. While in Washington he pa tented several tools, one being a drill used by blacksmiths. After a few years in Addison, Mr. Morton removed to W cod.hull. In order to furnish his house there he drove to Wellsville to obtain suitable furniture. Some of this is yet in possession of members of the family. He resided in \Voodhull many years, but died at Cameron Mills, N.Y., in 1898, at the age of 86. Among his descendants who yet reside in the Canisteo Valley are Harry L. Morton, before referred to, and his son, Attorney Harry K. Morton, LL.B., of Hornell. Ashael Stiles, a pioneer of Addison, built his log house on the 150 STORIES OF THE K.ANESTIO VALLEY site now occupied by the Erie depot. His aged mother resided with him. One winter's day the family happened to leave the old lady alone for a few hours. When they returned she casu­ ally informed them that a large, black dog had been sitting for some time on the ice in the river. Whereupon the Stiles' youngsters darted to the window, looked out and yelled, "A bear!" A neighbor, Samuel Rice, happened to be in the house at this time. Immediately he fared forth with a club and smote the bear on the nose. Now a bear detests being hit on the nose, especially when he has done nothing but sit on the ice and think. This bear was decidedly peeved. He pitched right into Sammy Rice, chased him with the utmost abandon and was about to lunch upon him, when reinforcements arrived in the form of Mr. Stiles carrying a hoe. This hoe must have been a mighty implement, for Stiles hauled right off and gave Bruin the k.o. Whereupon the entire family - probably including the badly scared Sammy Rice - participated in the festivities incident to killing, dressing and eating the bear. A fine time was had by all - except the bear. Save for the older settlements of Addison, Canisteo, Upper Canisteo and Arkport, the Canisteo Valley must have been a wild locality for many years after the original pioneers made their way through its tangled thickets. In this connection Professor Clayton offers the following bit of local color: Abner Chase, the pioneer preacher, who visited the valley for the first time in 1812, relates that in making his way up the Canisteo, through an almost unbroken forest of pine and hemlock, interspersed with oak, he inquired at a little log cabin if he could be kept for the night, and was answered that they were in the habit of entertaining travelers. They proceeded to turn his horse upon the grass down by the bank of the river. A few minutes later a peddler who was passing through the country, exchanging his goods for furs and deerskins, drove up and also stopped for the night. Before they lay down £or the night the family informed them that they might hear the howling of wolves or the screech of a panther, but not to be alarmed, as they could not break in. They also informed them that rattlesnakes some­ times crept from under the floor. But they might (if they chose) sleep upon the crossbeams, upon which was laid a piece of rude flooring over­ head, supporting a pallet of straw upon which they were to sleep, out of the reach of the snakes. The town of Rathbone was formed from Addison, Cameron and Woodhull on March 28, 1856. This section had been settled THE LOWER VALLEY 151 as early as 1793, when William Benham and James Hadley located there. Among the early settlers were the Northrup and Allen families, Isaac and Jonathan Tracy, Martin Young, Wil­ liam Morey, Moses Powers, Zephanah Townsend, Thomas May­ berry (the father-in-law of Robert A. Douglas), and Samuel Colgrove. The town was named in honor of General Ransom Rathbone, who built the first store there in 1842. He is said to have been a general officer in the War of 1812. If so, he must have served in the militia, for his name does not appear in the register of U. S. Army officers. The Major Henry R. Rathbone who was with President Lin­ coln the night of his assassination at Ford's Theatre, is said by the county historian Roberts to have been of the Rathbone family of this town. I believe this statement to be an error. The Rathbone family genealogy indicates that Major Henry Reid Rathbone was born in Albany, July 1, 1837, and there is nothing to show that he was ever in his life in the town of Rath­ bone. Besides the hamlet of Rathbone, formerly called Rathbone­ ville, there is the hamlet of Cameron Mills, located in the west­ ern part of the town, perhaps three miles up the river from the site of the old Mayberry Inn and Douglas' cave. Originally this place was called Hubbardsville, in honor of Daniel Hubbard who came from the vicinity of Binghamton and built the first grist mill and store in the settlement. CHAPTER XII Wolf! Wolf! Several references have been made to Captain Samuel Baker, who first settled in Howard, removed to Cameron in 1816, and achieved a degree of fame by becoming one of the captors of the outlaw, Robert A. Douglas. His son, Urbane Baker­ almost universally called "Bane"-became much better known than the father. The Captain lived near the Wheeler Crossing, a half mile east of Cameron, but Urbane, after his marriage to Sarah K. Jones, resided in the hamlet, in what was later known as the Albert Wilson house. Eventually he removed to the Bowyer farm in the Gothic district, on South Hill. He was a carpenter and is said to have built the first framed building in the town of Jasper. Working, be it said, did not have the appeal to him that hunting did. He loved the out-of-doors; it was full of romance. He owned a rifle which he affectionately dubbed "Old Susan," possibly because it was always shooting off its mouth. It had to be named after some woman. With this accurate weapon he killed much game. Wolves, bears, deer, panthers, as well as lesser breeds, were all grist for his mill. Thrilling stories and traditions still cluster about his memory, and he is to Cameron what Daniel Boone was to Kentucky. The last of the great hunters of this vicinity, he lived to be ninety-one years of age, and he rose from his final sick bed to chase a deer that ran past his house. He was found lying exhausted on the ground far down the trail, his beloved rifle at his side. He was buried in the Stuart Cemetery on South Hill. His memory is still green among those who love adventure for adventure's sake. While living in the village of Cameron, Bane Baker had an experience calculated to quicken the blood, and the story of this has been told to several generations of sensation-loving boys. This .took place in the autumn of 1829, about a year after his marriage. It was a :fine clear afternoon with a tang of winter in the (152) WOLF! WOLF! 153 air. A dreamy haze peculiar to Indian summer cloaked the coun­ tryside. The County Road had been put through seven years before, and just south of where the Erie Railroad station now stands a bridge spanned the river. Both bridge and road are now only memories, for the original structure burned in 18 3 5, and the location of the road was subsequently changed. Like most bridges of that day, the one that echoed to the tread of Bane Baker resembled a long, low barn or shed. The sides were boarded up and there was a roof. It is probable that the builders of that day had a two-fold object: The roof was calculated to protect the planking of the driveway from the weather, thus retarding decay; it could serve as an emergency shelter for travelers overtaken by a storm. The hills which rose almost like a wall from the southern bank of the river seemed on :first inspection to shut off further progress. Even the hardy spruce, pine and hemlock trees could scarcely find a place for their roots among the rocks. Yet where the bridge-end met the bank a deep ravine broke through the rocky barricade and formed a natural grade, rather steep to be sure, for the road to climb to the summit of what marked the beginning of South Hill. The end of the bridge was shadowed by the trees which cloaked the entrance to the ravine. The distance from the river to the top of the ridge was about a half mile. In spite of his athletic condition produced by constant hunt­ ing trips, Bane was puffing from the effect of his climb when he at last attained the plateau. He sank on a rock by the side of the road and gazed down on the cluster of buildings which marked the tiny settlement, the green meadows of the bottom land, the river gleaming in the garish autumn sunlight. It was a beautiful scene, peaceful and com£orting. After he had rested, he whistled to his dog and strode briskly along the highway that led due south to the Hubbard Settle­ ment, now known as Boyd's Corners. For miles there were no houses, no clearings; merely an unbroken forest of mixed ever­ green and deciduous trees, through which the road cut like a knife. The trail was poor; stumps rose in the path and slough holes, partly frozen, were frequent. Bane was out for deer. Rabbits darted across the road; part­ ridges drummed in the underbrush; squirrels, grey and black, 154 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY scolded in tall pines. But the hunter, like Hiawatha of old, ig­ nored them all. Mid-afternoon found him well down on the slope that drains its water into the north branch of Tuscarora Creek. He was :five miles f rem home, in that portion of the forest later embraced by the farm of John Stuart, a grandson of the pioneer of the same name to whom a reference was made in Chapter VII. He had obtained no game. But now, as he sat on a log waiting, his dog began to yelp in a distant ravine. Soon the form of a fine, eight-point buck was seen glancing among the trees. "Old Susan" barked viciously and the deer fell in its tracks. Seldom did Bane Baker waste a bullet. He skinned the animal, cut off several pounds of choice flesh, wrapped it in leaves and stowed it in a pocket of his fringed hunting coat. The animal was a large one and Bane decided to hang it in a tree until such time as he could conveniently re­ turn for it. But, after gazing gloatingly at his prize, he con­ cluded that he would take a quarter along with him, in spite of the lateness of the hour and the distance from home. His task completed, he reloaded his rifle, slung the quarter of veni­ son to his shoulder, whistled to his dog, made his way to the road and struck out for Cameron. The sun had set and shadows were gathering rapidly. A mile was covered in good time, when through the darkening woods echoed a long quavering howl. Man and dog knew the ominous sound and its significance. Although January was supposed to be the great wolf month, these predatory beasts made their forays at any time. Just now, Bane fancied, the wolves had smelled his kill and were tracking him. Only the previous week a resident of Cameron, making his way toward home at night­ £all, had been beset by a pack and forced to spend the night in a tree. The canis griseus, or, in plain English, grey wolf, which at that time abounded in Canada and all the northern states, was no mean antagonist for man or beast. Unlike the cowardly prairie wolf, this fellow, when hungry and accompanied by a pack, would attack man, armed or otherwise. But almost in­ variably he chose the hours of darkness for his assaults. To the wolf's natural ferocity was added an intelligence sufficient not only to permit him to detect traps, but to rob them of their bait WOLF! WOLF! 155 with impunity, and even to pull set lines from holes in the ice and devour the fish. Bane well knew these facts, hence he accelerated his pace. The dog, while probably unacquainted with all the facts, yet possessed an intuitive knowledge of the ominous qualities of that distant howl. Being just an ordinary dog, and no canine hero, he clapped his tail between his legs-supposedly the cor­ rect thing for cowards-bolted down the road and vanished. Bane shouted in futile wrath after his timid companion, then, as another far cry seemingly nearer than the first, came to him on the breeze, he dropped his quarter of venison by the side of the road and broke into a trot. Perhaps the meat would delay his pursuers for a time. Twenty minutes passed during which the hunter heard no further sound. He arrived at the brow of the hill overlooking the Canisteo Valley and saw before him the red candlelight gleaming in the windows of the few houses. It had now grown dark, but the autumn moon cast a weird radiance over the forest and road. Baker turned and looked back down the trail. He saw a shadow not made by the trees, for it moved. Rapidly it came nearer. It could mean but one thing: wolves! Bane turned instantly and plunged down the hill road, his objective the bridge over the river, a half mile away. How large the pack might be he did not know, but he realized that after he should fire his rifle there would be scant time to re­ load. If he could gain the bridge he would probably be safe; for the suspicious animals would scarcely venture into the dark and forbidding entrance of what they would regard as a trap, nor trust themselves upon the resounding planks. The road was steep and slippery, for the earth was solidly frozen. At times the fugitive slipped and almost pitched head­ long, for he ran recklessly. Behind him, too close for comfort, sounded eager yelps and the scratching of claws. Bane checked himself, whirled, threw up his long rifle. The spurt of flame from the potent muzzle of "Old Susan" showed him he had made a hit. There was instant confusion in the pack. The desperate man knew that if the wolves were hungry enough, they would pause to devour their stricken fell ow. Again he turned and dashed down the road. Soon they were after him with renewed vigor. Their scratch- 156 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY ing claws and eager yelps made his flesh creep. In imagination he could feel those tearing claws, those dripping fangs. They were close; he fancied he could feel their breath. He dared not look behind. His heart was in his throat, choking him. But he hung to his rifle. Never would he relinquish that. In the final scuflle that would serve him well as a club. Calling into play every atom of reserve strength, Bane Baker ran as he had never run before. He hardly seemed to touch the ground. The dark bushes by the side of the road were a mere blur, but they appeared to clutch at him, to retard his speed. The moon grinned. In the valley ahead points of light gleamed through the gloom. One of those points of light must be in his own house. His young wife, what was she doing? What would she say when neighbors gathered his remains, torn apart like a rotten sack? A terrible way for a man to die! He seemed to be in the midst of a great uproar; it was the pounding of his own feet on the frozen soil, the beating of his own heart, the rushing of blood in his own head. He was almost exhausted. But still those yelps, those scratching claws. . . Just ahead-the bridge! Barn-like, dark, yawning like the entrance to a cave. Good old bridge! Three. . . six des­ perate leaps, then the planking of the bridge roared out on the frosty air, like a fusillade of musketry, as his plunging feet smote the floor. On the riverbank sounded baflled howls. The pursuers made no attempt to advance upon the bridge. To their wolfish minds the contraption suggested a trap. They turned back into the woods. Their cries echoed in the hills, then silence. Pausing to regain his breath, Bane shouldered his gun and passed on out into the moonlight. From somewhere came his dog and crouched at his feet, seeking forgiveness. Bane patted the animal's head; for it was, after all, merely a dog. To be a hero one has to be born that way.

Thomas Allen came from New Jersey and settled on the line between the towns of Woodhull and Cameron during the year 1826. In due time he became the head of a large family, and many of his descendants yet reside in Cameron and neighboring towns. He grew quite wealthy for the times, although-until WOLF! WOLF! 157 the line was correctly surveyed-he was compelled to pay his taxes twice, in Woodhull and in Cameron. It was during the winter of 1829-the same year in which Bane Baker had his race for life with the wolves-that Mr. Allen felt constrained to go to Painted Post with a grist. Whether W ombough's mill at Addison was out of order at the time, I do not know. In any event, it was to Painted Post that he was forced to go. He took the road that led over the hills from his settlement and struck the Canisteo Valley at Saunders Crossing, in the im­ mediate vicinity of the Mayberry Inn which had sheltered Douglas and his lawless gang. The road followed by Thomas Allen was only by courtesy so called; really it was nothing but a trail hewn through the woods and marked by blazed trees. Of course there was no bridge across the river at Saunders'. In fact, the bridge there is of comparatively recent origin; the writer of these stories, when accompanying his father as a boy, more than once forded the stream at that point. But Allen had no difficulty in crossing. It was winter, the river was solidly frozen, and the pioneer crossed over with his rig and team on the ice. He struck the river road near the Mayberry place and from there on down the valley made good progress. He arrived at Painted Post, had his grist ground, stayed that night at the village tavern, and the following day started on his return trip. The sun had retired from a flaming sky and the shadows had fallen before he reached the crossing at Mayberry's-or Saun­ ders', as we now call it. It was growing steadily colder. Allen slapped his mittened hands against his body and walked beside his load in order to keep warm. He crossed the river and struck into the trail leading up into the hills. With uncanny rapidity the darkness fell. There was no moon that night, and as soon as Allen entered the forest the blackness was intense. The bumping of the sled and the floundering of his team told the farmer the horses had strayed from the road, such as it was. He could not see the blazed trees. He was lost and might as well make the most of it. He resolved to camp for the night where he was. In his rig he still had a quantity of hay, and there were a number of blankets and robes. He did not expect to be particularly uncomfortable. He blanketed the horses and gave them some of the hay. 158 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Then he rolled himself in a robe, snuggled down amidst the remaining hay in the back of his sled and tried to go to sleep. He had no supper, but this was not the :first time he had gone hungry to bed. Sleep did not come readily. He was not cold, but he was wor­ ried. He had no gun; he did not even have flint and steel, with which to kindle a fire. A strange oversight, truly! He listened to the crunching of teeth as the horses ate their hay. Somewhere in the hills sounded a long-drawn, quavering howl. Allen sat up in his sled. "Wolves!" he ejaculated. The first cry was answered by another. Presently the hills echoed as though with the bugles of an army. Allen was now thoroughly alarmed. It had been a great year for wolves. More numerous than usual, they had caused great damage. Later, 1829 was referred to as "The wolf year." Allen hoped the animals had not scented him and his team. Vain hope! The cries had not only swelled to a chorus, they were converging upon the spot where he was. He sprang from his sled, fumbled in the darkness and cut a stout club. The horses :fidgeted, stamped and snorted. Soon a pair of gleaming eyes burned in the darkness . . . another. . . another. . . a legion of them. An odd rustling sounded all about the encampment. How sinister those baleful eyes in the darkness! They seemed like specks of fire; motionless :fireflies. They were motionless only for a moment. Then they drew nearer, constantly nearer. Allen could hear the snapping of the wicked teeth. The wolves were anticipating the killing. The team had become frantic. Had they not been securely tied, they surely would have broken loose and run-and that would have insured their fate. With appalling suddenness and vigor the off-horse uttered that cry which only severe pain or the imminence of a great danger can bring forth. Many farmers have never heard it, but soldiers say it frequently is heard on the :field of battle. In the depth of the black forest that winter's night, amid the silence, the gloom, and the flickering of those ominous eyes, the scream of his frightened horse struck Allen as peculiarly terrible. The wolves had ceased to howl. No further need for that. They had gathered their forces for the slaughter. All that re­ mained was the grim work that now seemed near at hand. WOLF! WOLF! 159 Desperately, Thomas Allen raised his club, shouted loudly and rushed at the besiegers. The gleaming eyes retreated before him. But when he, mindful of the safety of his team, returned to the sled, the wolves followed. It was futile, but he longed for a gun, for material with which to build a fire. Without either, how could he hope to stand the ravenous animals off un­ til morning? They did seem a bit timid. Allen believed it likely that they had recently fed. Had they been sufficiently hungry they would have charged be£ore this. But just let one of them sneak up and draw blood from a horse and all would be over but the shouting. Allen now observed an odd thing. As the wolves silently drew nearer and yet nearer from out the darkness, constantly lessen­ ing the diameter of the circle of terror, the excitement of the team naturally increased. That was to have been expected. At first Allen had feared that the horses would get entangled in their harness and throw themselves. They had not done this, but Allen noted that the rattling of the trace chains appeared to intimidate the wolves. The wolf is fearful of that which he cannot understand. Just as the other pack had feared to charge upon the covered bridge when chasing Bane Baker, this pack flinched and drew away when the plunging horses made the trace chains rattle. These wolves had never heard that sound before. Perhaps it might indicate a new kind of trap. Allen was quick to grasp his advantage. Swiftly he removed one of the chains, fastened it to his club, then rushed at the wolves, crying out, rattling the chain and beating it against the trees. Hastily the gleaming eyes retreated before him. He dared not follow them far. Some might dash in behind him and spring upon the horses. But he felt sure that as long as he could continue his performance he could protect both himself and his property. Not for a moment was he permitted to relax his vigilance. All that long, bitterly cold night he sprang quickly from one part of the bivouac to the other, rattling the trace chains, smit­ ing them against the trees and shouting lustily. He grew hoarse at last, but the exercise served to keep him more than comfortably warm. These wolves, in character with all of their kind, were lovers 160 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY of darkness but liked not the day. When the first pink streaks of dawn mantled the east, and light crept into the dark recesses of the snowy forest, the baffied animals gave up their vigil and vanished. Thomas Allen wiped his brow, replaced the chain, unhitched his team, located the road, and drove soberly homeward. He highly resolved that never again would he leave on such a trip without taking a gun, plenty of ammunition, and the means of kindling a fire. CHAPTER XIII The Abduction of William Morgan The Ontario Messenger, in its edition of the middle of Au­ gust, 1826, printed the following notice: If a man calling himself William Morgan should intrude himself on the community, they should be on their guard, particularly the Masonic Fraternity. Morgan was in this village in May last, and his conduct while here, and elsewhere, calls forth this notice. Any information in relation to Morgan can be obtained by calling at the Masonic Hall in this village (Canandaigua) . . . . Morgan is considered a swindler and a dangerous man. There are people in this village who would be happy to see this Captain Morgan. Canandaigua, August 9, 18 26. The chain of events, the inception of which was first called to the attention of the people by the above notice, ultimately was to convulse the nation by a wave of hatred, and lead to in­ tolerance, suspicion and persecution, from which the Canisteo Valley was by no means exempt. William Morgan, born August 7, 1774, in Culpepper County, Virginia, was by occupation a bricklayer and stone mason. There is a story to the effect that he served as a captain of militia under Jackson at the battle of New Orleans. Another account holds that he was an Englishman and served in the British navy on the Great Lakes during the War of 1812; but this claim has slight foundation. He was undoubtedly an American. He married Lucinda Pendleton, in October, 1819, and became the father of two children. In 1821, he removed to York (now Toronto), Upper Canada, but failed in business there. He then removed to Rochester, N. Y., and from there went on to Batavia, N. Y., in the summer of 1823. Professing to be a member of the Masonic fraternity (although no one has yet dis­ covered where he was made a Mason) , he was welcomed by that order and even was permitted to join a chapter of the Royal Arch at LeRoy, N. Y. But when a petition was started for a new chapter at Batavia his name was omitted; the reason being that in the meantime his true character had become known. He (161) 162 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY was little better than a shiftless, drunken sot. The Masons had been contributing to the support of his family, but now they would have nothing more to do with him or his dependents. Morgan decided to gratify his spirit of revenge, and at the same time make some money, by publishing an expose of Free­ masonry. He enlisted the support of David C. Miller, the edi­ tor of a small newspaper at Batavia, who had been stopped after taking the first degree in Masonry. The news of the purpose of these two plotters soon leaked out and quite naturally caused indignation among the local Masons. Some of them evidently decided to halt the plan, for an attempt was made to burn Miller's office. A portion of Morgan's manuscript was stolen. Morgan was next arrested for debt several times in succession and clapped into jail at Canandaigua. From his last incarcer­ ation he was released on the night of September 12, 1826, by several men who paid his debt. This party hurried Morgan from the jail and one of them gave a distinct rap on the curb of a well, whereupon a two-horse carriage was driven up by a man named Hiram Hubbard. Morgan was thrust into the car­ riage, his cries were stifled by a gag, and Loton Lawson, Burrage Smith, John Whitney, James Gillis, and probably one or more other persons whose names were then unknown, either entered the carriage or mounted horses.1 It was about nine o'clock; most of the ii;ihabitants of Canan­ daigua were in bed. It was a bright, moonlit night. The two­ horse wagon, accompanied by outriders, rapidly left the town and headed for the open country. No one interfered with or molested them. Canandaigua then had no police force; and if some half-drunken reveler returning from the villa_ge tavern saw the procession, he thought nothing of it. The party stopped for refreshments at a tavern in Victor, remaining an hour, then drove on, arriving at about dawn at a livery stable in Rochester. Here a change of horses and rigs was made and then the journey was resumed, westerly along the ridge road. In a piece of woods not many miles out of Rochester breakfast was had. As indicating that the plot was known in advance by some persons not members of the original abduction

1 Indictments for conspiracy later were found against Nicholas G. Cheseboro (Master of Canandaigua Lodge), Colonel Edward Sawyer, Loton Lawson, and John Sheldon. THE ABDUCTION OF WILLIAM: l\iIORGAN 163 party, the odd procession was joined at different places by various men, presumably all Royal Arch Masons, including Eli Bruce, the sheriff of Niagara County. The cavalcade came at last to Youngstown and stopped at the house of Colonel William King. He joined the others and all went on to the burying ground of Fort Niagara. Here the carriage was discharged and the party, including the captive, walked to old Niagara Castle, then ungarrisoned and under the supervision merely of a caretaker. William Morgan was locked in the dungeon of the old castle. This was some time be£ore dawn on the fourteenth. The prisoner was left in charge of one Edward Giddins, who later recanted and published an Anti­ Masonic Almanac. Morgan's abductors crossed the Niagara River and had a con­ ference with Canadian Masons, who were urged to accept the custody of Morgan. It would appear that originally this was part of the plan, but the Canadians would not now go through with it. The American party returned to the fort and later, it is charged, 1 they tried to induce an attorney named Brant-a son of the famous Joseph Brant, or Chief Thayendanegea, of Revolutionary record-to come with a party of Indians and make way with Morgan. Dissuaded by the Canadians, Brant declined. On the very day that Morgan was placed in Fort Niagara, a Royal Arch Chapter was installed at Lewiston, seven miles dis­ tant. Giddins, finding that his captive was noisy, sent for help. Several of the Masons at the Lewiston meeting, including Loton Lawson, of whom Morgan had a great dread, came down and entered the dungeon. 2 Right there all authentic record of Morgan ceases. What be­ came of him? Who knows? One eminent authority3 suggests that Morgan may have been strangled by a gag too energetically used. His abductors later asserted that he was bribed to go into Canada, and they were unacquainted with his ultimate fate.

1 A Key to Masonry, page 100. Published by Rev. John Levington, Dayton, Ohio, 1871. 2 Anti-Masonic Almanac for 183 3, written by Edward Giddins and published by William Williams, Utica, N.Y. 3 Ossian Lang, Grand Historian of the Grand Lodge of New York, F.&A.M., in his History of Freemasonry in the State of New York, page 120. 164 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY But popular opinion at the time, and many subsequent histo­ rians, held that he was foully murdered by being thrown weight­ ed into the Niagara River. His true fate will always remain a mystery. Certainly, no Mason now alive, of high degree or otherwise, can solve it. Thurlow Weed, a fading light in the political "\\rorld, immedi­ ately seized the opportunity to organize the Anti-Masonic party. Owing to a sudden burst of anger and hatred from the people, urged on by the Protestant churches, this new party threatened to sweep the country. Weed pounced upon a body cast up by the waves of Lake Ontario and induced Mrs. Morgan to say that it was the body of her husband. When later it was defi­ nitely proved that the corpse was that of a drowned Canadian named Monroe, Weed slyly observed: "It's a good-enough Morgan until after election." From. which the famous saying: "A good-enough Morgan." The Masonic fraternity generally disavowed the act. DeWitt Clinton, a prominent Mason and then Governor of the state, offered a reward for the arrest and conviction of Morgan's ab­ ductors or murderers. The abductors-as many as could be identified-were arrested and punished. Sheriff Bruce was re­ moved from office. But no one ever was convicted of Morgan's murder, for the simple reason that it was never shown that he had been murdered. The corpus delicti was wanting. Nevertheless, Masons everywhere were shunned, ostracised and persecuted. They were denied justice in courts of law. In some localities even their children were driven from the schools. To be known as a Mason was almost as bad as being known as a Tory in the days of the Revolution. As might have been ex­ pected, many fair-weather Masons, or those with political as­ pirations, could not, as we now say, "take it." They quit the Order in droves. In 1826, there had been 480 Masonic lodges in the state of New York, with a membership of 20,000. Thirteen years later there were only 75 lodges with a member­ ship of 3,000. The Anti-Masonic party, led by Weed in New York and Thaddeus Stevens in Pennsylvania, grew by leaps and bounds, and even carried the state of Vermont in the Presi­ dential election which put Andrew Jackson ( a Mason) in the White House. In the South the movement did not make much progress, but in many of the Northern states Masonry was al- THE ABDUCTION OF WILLIAM MORGAN 165 most destroyed. In Steuben County every lodge was closed save the two in the upper part of the Canisteo Valley: Morning Star Lodge at Canisteo, and Evening Star at Hornellsville. These bodies continued to work and retained their charters. But even the memberships of these lodges ultimately were forced to hold their meetings with the utmost secrecy in the woods or in the fields at night. Colonel William Stephens, the first Master of Morning Star Lodge at Canisteo--which was organized in 1825, a year before the storm broke-was a tower of strength to the fraternity in the Valley. His character was unassailable and his courage un­ questioned. He and his brethren kept the Masonic light burn­ ing and in due time tossed the torch to those who came after. The agitation largely died out before the Civil War came on, except in certain rural districts where from time to time it underwent revivals. It is only in recent years that all traces of this strange wave of hatred have entirely disappeared. Writers of good standing now hold that while the original outrage was unquestionably perpetrated by Masons, doubtless of the Royal Arch degree, the members of the fraternity in general were in­ nocent, even ignorant of the existence of a plot. Masons were victimized as well as their neighbors. Their reputation for probity and their standing in their respective communities even­ tually won the day for these much-persecuted men; and ulti­ mately the badge of a Mason again achieved respect. CHAPTER XIV Rafting on the Canisteo River The year 1816 marked in the United States the beginning of what has been called "The Era of Good Feeling." Although the War of 1812 had ruined general trade, commerce had about expired, little specie was to be seen, and at first there was the usual depression which follows war, the nation rallied with marvelous rapidity. For it was then young and lusty. During the progress of the struggle extensive manufactories had been established to supply goods cut off by the British blockade, and after the coming of peace this branch of industry continued to thrive. America ceased to be merely an agricultural land and entered upon a period of manufacturing which has continued to the present time. But the year which marked the inception of the "Era of Good Feeling" was sufficient to cause plenty of bad feeling. It has since been called "Eighteen hundred and froze-to-death." Vir­ tually there was no summer that year, especially in the Middle West. In May it still was impossible to reach the soil. By June the snow had vanished, but the ground was frozen hard, and toward the latter part of the month another fall of snow furnished good sleighing for several days. On the morning of the 4th of July, water froze in the wells, even in pitchers on the kitchen table, and there was good skating on the ponds and creeks. In some localities snow fell at noon, and at Danville, Illinois, the patriotic exercises of the day were held in a church warmed by a huge :fireplace full of blazing logs, and were at­ tended by people garbed in winter clothing. Crops simply could not grow, scarcely could they be planted. The prices on standard food commodities soared to unbelievable heights. Those who, because of empty granaries, had to pur­ chase wheat, were most unfortunate. Reference has been made to the fact that the founder of the Goff family in Howard pro­ vided flour for his neighbors on merely their promise to pay him when, and if, they could. (166) RAFTING ON THE CANISTEO RIVER 167 The health of the people was good and they were not dis­ mayed. The usual social gatherings, such as quiltings, spelling bees, log-raisings, went on seemingly with renewed enthusiasm. After the horrors of war, what was a summer without heat, especially between friends? Judging by the old records, in the Canisteo Valley proper the settlers suffered rather less than those in other parts of the country. The elevation is only 1100 feet above the sea, and that may have helped. But even here the crops failed. Men began to cast about for other means of raising money. It was now recalled by some that Judge Hurlbut's arks, sent out from Arkport as early as 1800, had proved :financially suc­ cessful. On the seaboard the building of many factories required vast quantities of lumber. Why could not the immense growth of timber that covered the hills along the valley be converted into lumber, made into rafts and floated to tidewater? This thought was the origin of one of the greatest industries of the early days in the Valley. It reached its peak during the period embraced by the years 1840 to 18 5 5, and reared a type of men who were cunning, courageous and resourceful: the River Men. Even yet one can occasionally hit upon an aged man who likes to tell of the romantic age when he "went down the river on a raft." It was the only romance that many resi­ dents of the Valley ever had, and its thrills long remained in their memory. The timber was cut during the winter and hauled to the river bank. Frequently the logs were sawed into boards and planks before spring came. At places, for instance in the towns of Cameron and Rathbone, the logs were hauled merely to the top of the high bluffs and then sent rolling and plunging into the valley below with a noise like thunder. Sometimes men, even teams, were caught by the rush of logs and hurled to a dreadful death. Before the period of high water in the spring, the lumber­ either sawed, or plain logs-was made into rafts, a crew placed on board, and was then floated down the Canisteo to the Che­ mung, thence to the Susquehanna and so on to Chesapeake Bay. A majority of the men went only to Columbia, Pennsylvania, were there paid off and allowed to make their way home as best they could. 168 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY There were few railroads during the early days of rafting, and the men could secure transportation by rail only from Columbia to Harrisburg. From the latter point they made their way by canal or by walking. The latter was no hardship to them. Mostly they were young and adventurous; and it was not at all unpleasant, after a day of hiking along the dirt roads, to come to a comfortable tavern at nightfall, with its roaring fireplace, coarse but bountiful food and cheap drinks. The fellowship of others like themselves, amorous adventures with barmaids, an occasional poker game. True, fights often occurred; sometimes they were "rolled" and lost their money; perhaps card sharpers plucked them. But they had their romance in sufficient quanti­ ties to last them a year, and they never ceased to talk about it. It was their fling at traveling in far countries; for the land of the so-called "Pennsylvania Dutch" really seemed like a foreign realm. The pay was fairly good. What if they seldom brought much of it home? They had memories. It staggers the imagination to contemplate the amount of lumber sent out of this region. To this rapid, and ultimately complete, deforestation of our hills, we doubtless owe the disas­ trous freshets of the present. Greed prompted the act in the ancestors; the descendants have to pay the price. A contempo­ rary writer insists that during the season the Canisteo River was a complete sheet of rafts extending from Hornellsville to Addi­ son; the different units being so close that a man could walk dry-shod the whole distance on the lumber, except where there were dams across the river. The raft drivers of the Canisteo River became known as the best in the country. Mr. Stacy L. Jackson, of Hornell, wrote a history of Cameron that contains much interesting data concerning the rafting in­ dustry. While his work is as yet unpublished in book form, having appeared serially only in a local paper, it contains mate­ rial that should not be permitted to fade from men's minds. His complete description of the construction of a raft of sawed lumber is here quoted: A raft was composed of from two to ten platforms, each 12 feet by 20 feet, connected and floated endwise. Usually, in this vicinity, five platforms were connected. These the old river men termed 'Canisteo Colts.' At Jack's Eddy, near Erwin, owing to the width of the stream, after the Tioga had added its waters, another raft was brought along- RAFTING ON THE CANISTEO RIVER 169 side and connected to the first, when it was termed a fleet, and so con­ tinued to its destination, unless disconnected to allow the passage through the chute of a dam. The construction of a raft was begun on the bank of the stream. Three runners were laid for the platform, and on them were placed a few courses of lumber. It was then launched, to be completed in the water. The runners were the length of the platform and 3 x 8 inches thick. Near each end and in the middle two-inch holes were bored for the insertion of grubs, or stakes for binding the platform. The plat­ forms were from 20 to 30 inches thick, with each course laid at right angles to the previous one; and when about half had been laid, a cou­ pling board of 1 ½ inch Norway pine, 16 feet long by 8 inches wide, was placed to connect the two platforms. When the platform v.ras finished, three headlocks of pine, 3 x 10 inches, were laid across the platform and secured by grubs extending from the runners. The plat­ form was further secured by a "witch," which was a contrivance of links and hooks, easy to make, the old raftsmen said, but hard to ex­ plain to the novice. To the front and rear platforms of a craft were attached oars or sweeps, for steering the era£ t. The oars were of pine and made in two parts; the oar blade and the stem. The former was 12 inches wide and 12 feet long. . . . The stem was of Norway pine, 24 feet long and 8 inches square from the blade to a point near the pinhole, when it ta­ pered to about 2 inches in diameter. The oarpin was of boxwood.... about 2 inches in diameter, and was inserted in the headlock, above which it projected 7 or 8 inches. To man the sweeps required a force of five or six persons, according to the height of the stream and the size of the raft. It was sometimes necessary to put five men on the front oar. Upon the formation of the fleet at deep water the services of about half the force were dispensed with. On each fleet was a shanty, about 12 feet by 12 feet, fitted with bunks, a table, stools, cooking utensils, a sheet-iron stove. Rafts of squared lumber, spars and logs were sometimes run. These were laid but one course deep and 8 or 10 pieces wide. The pieces were interlocked as much as possible, and were secured by lashpoles every three or four feet the entire length of the raft. The above description of the old-time river rafts is the only minute and accurate account that the author of this book has ever seen. Mr. Jackson obtained his data from men who actu­ ally had made the rafts and piloted them to tidewater. As for the riverman, his life was always exciting and romantic, and often short. Many lost their lives while running the rafts. But the lure of the calling was potent. The sharp tang in the spring air which made for a good appetite; the smell of the newly sawed lumber; the high, wooded hills on either 170 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY side of the yellow, swirling river; the calls and songs of the men; the coarse but bountiful meals served in the little cabin; the freedom; the excitement of venturing far from home with the hazard one's life; the girls of the river towns; adventures on the road when coming home. It all served to satisfy the longing for adventure which then, even as now, abode in the hearts of young Americans. The veterans of the profession loved to haze the younger men who, perhaps, were making their first trip. There was, for in­ stance, the case of a young schoolteacher from Adrian who de­ cided he would like to make a trip on a raft. As the "fleet" up­ on which he was employed approached Buttermilk Falls, far down the Susquehanna, some of the raftsmen began to show concern. "What's the matter?" demanded the novice. "Matter enough," answered a veteran. "When we shoot the falls, the which you can hear aroarin' down the river, the waves'll come abustin' in on the raft and sweep the fire outta the galley. Then what'll we do fer supper ?77 "Can nothing be done about it?" The lad did relish his meals. "Yes. Just one thing. If some feller has nerve enough to take a pan of live coals and sit on the roof of the cook shanty, we'll be all right. But it's dangerous. A feller might get pitched into the river, what with the raft a jumpin' and bobbin' around like a skittish,, colt. More'n one smart aleck has lost his life t h at way. "I'll do it," firmly announced the former schoolteacher. He obtained a pan of coals, climbed to the roof of the cabin and sat there patiently for a long time. He grew curious at last. "Aren't we almost to the falls?" he asked. They had just passed a place where a mountain torrent tumbled into the river with an awesome roar. That was Buttermilk Falls. The raft was not forced to navigate a hazard­ ous passage. Amid a hoarse laugh from the others who possessed, the youth believed, a perverted sense of humor, young Samuel Hallett descended from his perch. Years later he became the millionaire builder of the Kansas Pacific Railroad. A mansion which he constructed at Wayne, this county, still stands. I once was permitted to scan a curious old pamphlet entitled, RAFTING ON THE CANISTEO RIVER 171 The Chart or Navigator of the Susquehanna River fro1n Tioga Point to Marietta, revised, improved and extended. The little book has sixteen pages, and was written by John Thompson, probably a river pilot. It was published at Addison, N. Y., in March, 1841. It gives directions for the successful navigation of rafts. Here is a typical course, as given: Left of an island just below Fasset's Eddy. (If you land in the eddy, keep to the right of the island.) Keep the left shore from Sterling's Island, to avoid the sagg, and cut the next right-hand point above Meshoppen Creek, to save the sagg, unless you want to land. (Meshop­ pen Eddy on the left just above the creek, and another at the head of the left mountain below.) And then turn round the left-hand moun­ tain to the le£ t of an island above the Horse Race, and run toward it. All of which has the clarity of good thick mud to us, but prob­ ably spelled safety to the navigators of the "forties." A most difficult feat was the running of falls and rapids. Directions in the little book, for running Hunter's Falls, urge: Cut close the right-hand breaks at the head of the falls and nearly opposite the lower house on left shore, and pass to the right of three large rocks some distance apart and near the canal wall. (The current bears strongly on them.) From the foot of Hunter's, point the craft to the largest rock in sight in the reef below, called "The Old Hen," pass to the left of it four rods, then point at the largest pitch pine till past two breaks on the left, about 12 rods below, and then to shore. The last phrase is reminiscent of Samuel Pepys. But the little book undoubtedly saved many lives. The calling of a river man must have been hazardous indeed be£ore any charts or aids to the pilot had been compiled. Many a raft split on unseen rocks and hurled its crew into the swirling current that knew no mercy. Rafting-dangerous, thrilling, romantic as the life was­ marked an important epoch in the development of the Canisteo Valley. CHAPTER XV How They Lived In 1836, John Sanford Rowley, Sr., together with four others -John Campbell, Sr., James York, William F. Scheanck and Uriah Broughton - purchased a tract of 250 acres lying at the headwaters of Colonel Bill's Creek, and founded what has since been known as South Canisteo. The land was divided equally among the :five purchasers. John S. Rowley, Sr., had married, at Duanesburg, N. Y., Nancy Anne Lason. He was very pro­ nounced in his views, and later was known as a "Copperhead" Democrat. His son, John, Jr., however, became a Republican after the organization of that party, was very religious and en­ tertained a notion of becoming a preacher. He married Nancy Bennet VanHouten. John, Jr., accompanied his father to the new settlement, coming here from Mount Washington, near Bath, N. Y. The year following their arrival, or in 1837, the Rowleys built a gristmill with three sets of stones. This was a great convenience to the settlers, who came from as far as South Hill, Cameron, to have their grist ground at "Rowley's Mill." They also built two sawmills, and the infant settlement became a center of industry. The members of the Christian Church :first held their meet­ ings in the barn of John Rowley, Jr., and later in the school­ house. The Rowley home was always filled with guests at the time of the quarterly meeting. Among these guests was a woman preacher named Sarah White, who supposedly had negro blood in her veins. She had black, curly hair and always dressed neatly in black with white kerchiefs, or perhaps ministerial bands. While at the Rowley home she was always engaged in washing her kerchiefs, spraying water through her teeth as she ironed them. Occupying the unique position of a pioneer woman clergyman, she had strange experiences as she rode on horseback through the woods from meeting to meeting. One black night, as she entered a dense forest, the nervousness of her horse indicated that she was being fallowed. Glancing back she (172) HOW THEY LIVED 173 saw two eyes burning in the gloom, and the shadowy outline of a slinking :figure which she knew to be that of a panther. Aware that flight would be futile, and having heard that music would subdue the savage beasts, she lifted up her voice in psalm tunes. The panther came no nearer, yet by no means gave up the pur­ suit. He appeared to enjoy to the full the concert. So through the dark forest moved the strange procession; the frightened woman trying to control her voice, singing with all her might every tune she could remember, while just behind stalked the dangerous animal. At last the gleam of light in a settler's cabin shone among the trees and the concert was over. One can scarcely escape the conclusion that the early settlers of the upper Canisteo Valley were more or less ungodly. Taverns were built almost at once, but churches - the build­ ings - were unknown for many years. It is true that Jedediah Stephens and Jeremiah Baker, Sr., used to hold meetings in their homes, and Stephens preached to the settlers. Later Jeremiah Baker, Jr., organized a Methodist society and held more or less regular services on the Sal:,bath. But it was not until about the year 1800 that itinerant preachers began to make visits to the community. The first of these was John B. Hudson. The Presbyterians organized a church in 18 3 6, but it was not until 18 5 2 that their building was dedicated. The Methodists erected the second church structure in Canisteo in 18 56. The Baptist and Catholic churches were not erected until 1880. Perhaps the poverty of the people tended to delay the construction of churches, but there were other potent reasons. For many years the community was Not essentially religious. James Moore, Jr., who was born in Canisteo, near the site of the Methodist Church, used to tell his descendants many stories illustrating the early Ii£ e of the settlers. He was born in 18 0 5, and his playmates were Seneca Indian boys. He said that the settlers were hard workers, but they rested on Saturday, hung around the taverns and boasted of what they had done the pre­ vious five days. Whiskey sold for twenty-five cents a gallon and nearly everyone used it, including the preachers when they came along. It inspired the workers to great feats. East of the location of the present Flohr building in East Main Street, there was then an open field. Here James Moore and Orra Cook once covered twenty acres of corn in a single day, having no 174 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY other implement than the sunpie hoe. Mr. Moore asserted, further, that he bound ninety dozens of rye in one afternoon on the Low Riddell farm, in Bennett's Creek Valley. Perhaps the greatest feat of sheer endurance on record, in the line of agricultural work, was not performed in the Canisteo Valley, but was wrought on the 12th day of July, 1858, near Mercersburg, Pennsylvania, when Michael Cromer, between sun­ rise and sunset, cradled twelve and a half acres of wheat! This is nearly double what a man driving a three-horse team hitched to a modern binder accomplishes in an average day. Thirty years of age, six feet three in stature, with a weight of two hun­ dred and thirty pounds, Michael was a proper figure of a man. He cut a swath eleven feet wide and five deep, and his swing­ ing was at the rate of twenty-two a minute. Although he paused every two hours to swallow a bowl of broth and to whet his scythe, he took no nooning. He did not even stop when a thunderstorm swept over the countryside. Rather, with clock­ like regularity, the ponderous blade of this nineteenth century John Ridd, 1nade especially for him, flashed through the murk of the storm. And when at last the sun sank to rest, the field of wheat, each stalk cut short just above the ground, lay in myriad swaths. In his own country this man achieved a fame that lingers to this day, and metropolitan newspapers have not hesi­ tated to acclaim his exploit. His feat makes the modern efforts of wrestlers, boxers and marathon runners seem like the puny strivings of pigmies. Never, before nor since, has his record been equaled. There were giants in the land in those days. To return to the Canisteo Valley: Moore asserted that the settlers were fond of trials of strength and agility. An Indian wrestler called Strayback once tried a back-hold with Hugh Jamison, and the contest was protracted for an hour before Jamison could demonstrate his supremacy. A member of one of Canisteo's First Families, Hugh Jamison was honored in the community. He was the first Senior Warden of Morning Star Lodge, F. & A. M., organized in 18 2 5. Hangings seemed to have a morbid fascination for the people of that period. A famous killing of this sort took place at An­ gelica about the year 1820, when a murderer named Howe was executed. He had killed a neighbor by firing through his win­ dow at night, after having endured persecution for a long time.. HOW THEY LIVED 175 Public opinion was strong for Howe; the people believed he had been goaded into his action. Several sleigh-loads of excited citizens went from Canisteo to witness the execution. An early start was made and breakfast was deferred until reaching Almond. The crowd waiting to eat was so great that Moore, who at the time was a mere lad, stood small chance of getting any­ thing. But he was spied by Hugh Jamison, the good-natured giant wrestler, who shouldered a way through the crowd for him. On account of Jamison's fistic reputation, the protest from less-favored ones was negligible. . . . The trip to Angelica was :finished in time to see Howe lose his life after the a pp roved manner. Moore stated that the sheriff was so overcome by emotion (I would sooner think it was twenty-five-cent whiskey) that he fell off his horse when releasing the drop. Convulsions of nature gave the people many thrills, back in those days when thrills were few. One such was the shower of meteors which took place on the night of November 12-13, 1833. During the space of nine hours 240,000 meteors fell. The sky was lit with an unearthly glare, and many people be­ lieved that the end of the world was at hand. It is said that in the South the negroes were driven frantic. Even the hard-boiled settlers of the Canisteo Valley received a thrill they never for­ got. Thereafter the event was referred to as "the night the stars fell." Baron von Steuben was the author of a Militia Act which brought into being that strange institution called "General Train­ ing Day." It continued in vogue from before the War of 1812 down to the Mexican War. All able-bodied men of that time­ barring certain exempt persons-were enrolled in the militia. Every locality had its company which met from time to time for drill. But once every year all the militia in given districts were forced to meet at a central place for a general training in brigade or division tactics. It was an exceedingly popular an­ nual event. The leading men of the community were the com­ missioned officers-for this was a sure-fire way to political pre­ ferment. Considered in the light of military efficiency the whole thing was a farce. As soldiers the men would make good hay-pitchers and blacksmiths. Regulars would die alaughing just to watch their antics. On the occasion of these great days Canisteo and Hornellsville 176 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY nobly did their parts. A clever little poem entitled, "Gin'ral Trainin'," printed by the Hornell Tribune-Times in 1918, gives a pleasant picture of one such occasion in 1844. The drill field was on the Alley farm, where the Erie Railroad shops now stand. General Philander Hartshorn was the commander-in-chief. He was ably seconded by Captain Russell Amidon, of Hartsville, and Captain Samuel Taylor, of Adrian (one of the captors of Douglas). As for the rank and file, each man furnished his own equip­ ment, consisting of no uni£orm at all, any kind of a gun, or in lieu of a firearm, a pike, pitch£ork or scythe; no bayonet, knap­ sack or canteen. Few had much of a notion how to handle their guns in a military way, if they had them. Every man was much inclined to "sass" his officers, just to show his American independence and impress his best girl (who always was in the crowd of onlookers) with his own importance and rugged indi­ vidualism. But there was joy when the shrill fifes broke into the strains of "The Girl I Left Behind Me," and the drums rolled and throbbed as the amateur soldiers formed into line and swept across the field with the mounted and bedizened officers riding their prancing steeds well out in front. "And the golden sun of autumn shone On a field of happiness!" As soldiers these farmers, mechanics and yokels didn't click; yet their sons, grandsons and great-grandsons were destined to scale the heights of Chepultepec, save the nation at Gettysburg, and in the forest of the Argonne send scampering the best troops that Germany could produce. So, after all, they had good stuff in them. It was merely the system that was absurd. One rather gains the impression that murdering peddlers was a great indoor sport of early Valley days. In connection with this the following story is submitted: It was late in the afternoon when William Jackson reached the village of Hornellsville. He had tramped with his heavy pack from Dansville that day, but he stopped only for a brief time in Hornellsville. He was on his homeward trip and he wished to get as far along as possible before dark. So he merely took a drink of water, adjusted his pack and struck off down the valley road towards Bennettsville. HOW THEY LIVED 177 It was a typical fall afternoon, with a dark sky, a sharp wind, and dead leaves blowing across the road. In a :field to the left a man was burning stumps, and the pungent odor of pine smoke was heavy on the air. Just as Jackson reached the narrows west of the Half-way House, he chanced to look behind. A hundred yards or so to the rear a rough-appearing individual was following him. This in itself was nothing remarkable, yet Jackson experienced a sensa­ tion of alarm. They were in a lonely place, save themselves there were no travelers on the road, dusk was already at hand, the peddler had valuable goods and considerable money in his possession. The times were hard, for it was during the de­ pression that preceded the coming of the railroad. In 1840 there were many vagrants in the Canisteo Valley. There were stories current concerning the mysterious disappearance of peddlers; memory of the odious Mayberry gang was still fresh. Jackson urged his tired legs to greater speed. Another backward glance told him that the other man also had accelerated his pace. Jackson then walked slowly for a time. So did the other. What was the fell ow's game? The peddler had an old horse pistol, but it was unloaded and he had no ammunition. They came to the McBurney place. The windows of the mansion were alight and the intriguing odor of fried potatoes was on the air. Jackson's mouth watered and he was on the point of stopping. But, reflecting that this was the abode of aristocrats, he decided to go on. His pursuer was in sight, just coming around the bend. Within :fifteen minutes Jackson entered the Bennet Tavern at the crossroads. He threw off his pack and sank into a chair in front of the :fireplace. The proprietor of the hotel at this time may have been William Bennet (he died on Dec. 7 of this year, 1840) or it may have been his son, W. W. Bennett. The hostelry was com£ortable indeed, after the hard day's tramp in the chilly air. Jackson sighed with relief as he lit his pipe and watched the mounting flames in the :fireplace. The door opened and another guest entered. It was his pur­ suer of the road. Jackson ate a hearty supper and retired early, leaving a call for 4:30. 178 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY It was scarcely light the next morning when the suspicious peddler paid his reckoning and strode off down the river road. Fog rose from the stream and the air was cool and moist. With a foolish oversight Jackson had failed to obtain ammunition for his pistol. But he believed he had secured the jump on his pur­ suer and would not need his weapon. Coming to Center Can­ isteo, he stopped for a cup of coffee and a bit of meat at the tavern, then hastened on. He had passed the Baker Homestead-built but five years previously-and was nearing the hill west of Crosbyville when something caused him to glance behind. Sure enough, there was the man with the evil face, coming on fast and with an antici­ patory leer on his ugly countenance. Jackson halted in his tracks, deciding to put the matter to the test. "Howdy!" greeted the fellow, as he came up. "Pack heavy?" "Yes, '' sa1.d Jac k son. "Must have a lot of goods in it." ''I h ave. " ''M oney, too.~'' "That, sir,· d oes not concern you. " "No offense," growled the man. "I thought maybe you'd be afraid of bein' robbed one of these times." "Afraid! Did you say afraid?" Jackson produced his un­ loaded horse pistol. "I'm never afraid when I have this toy with me." He proceeded to expand. "I can hit a dollar every time at twenty paces. On the average I shoot two highwaymen a week. Last week I killed one at :fifty paces-when he was run- nmg. away. " Instead of reassuring the man with the ingrown face, the information appeared to depress him. He lost interest in the conversation and something seemed to weigh heavily on his mind. As they entered the hamlet of Crosbyville the fellow lagged behind and soon faded out of the picture. . . . On another occasion, I believe later in the same year, Jack­ son was forced by the approach of darkness to put up at a questionable tavern, lower down the valley. Several tough­ looking men were hanging around, and the fat and greasy pro­ prietor was the worst of the lot. The supper was fairly good, but the room to which Jackson was shown had, he quickly HOW THEY LIVED 179 noted, no lock on the door. Instantly he resolved to be on his guard. Before _tumbling into bed he placed several heavy articles of furniture against the door, made sure that his pistol was loaded this time, then pulled the covers over him and almost imme­ diately dropped off to sleep. It is likely that a considerable noise would not have awak­ ened him; but the unusual sound of furniture sliding on the floor brought him out of bed in a jiffy, his pistol in his hand. "Who's there?" he bellowed. No answer. "Begone instantly, or I'll fire. I'm armed and will not be trifled with." Another moment of silence, then footsteps moved ever so cautiously away irom the door, which had been forced partly open. Jackson did not sleep any more that night. With the coming of dawn he slipped out of a window and was on his way to his home in Cameron. Back in those days of almost universal poverty a member of a good old American family might engage in peddling without losing caste. William Jackson was one of the early settlers of the South Hill region of Cameron. He married Lydia, the old­ est child of John Stuart, one of the pioneers, and had numerous descendants who, quite generally, have done well in the world. Among these have been: Two clergymen, three physicians, one lawyer, one regular army officer, two veterinarians, numerous schoolteachers and town officials. CHAPTER XVI Anti-Renters The trouble originated in the valley of the Hudson, the cause being remote. The patroon system was at the bottom of it. In the early days of the Dutch occupancy of New York, then called New Amsterdam, the authorities offered to any man who would bring to the colony fifty settlers, a tract of land front­ ing sixteen miles on the Hudson and running back indefinitely; provided he induced the settlers to rent his land and live on it, and also purchase from the Indians their title. Many took advantage of this offer, and the patroon estates, as they were called, soon lined both banks of the river. Some of these holdings grew to be larger than many of our modern counties, for the proprietors did not stop with the original grant, generous as that was. Livingston Manor, confirmed to Robert Livingston in 1686, ultimately embraced more than 160,000 acres. Rensselaerwick, patented in 1630 to Killian Van Rensse­ laer, became almost as vast. For the most part the land was leased to the settlers for long periods and a nominal rent. A tract of about 160 acres was leased for the period of several lives, that is, for several genera­ tions. One authority says: "The rent consisted only of a few bushels of wheat, three or four fat fowls, and a day's work with horses and wagon, per year." The patroons had so much land that frequently they overlooked a tenant who paid no rent at all for several years. With little trouble this un-American sys­ tem continued until after the War of 1812. At about that time some of the descendants of the original proprietors decided to take stock of the amount of their hold­ ings and collect the accumulated rentals which their more indul­ gent forebears had ignored. As a matter of fact, it was not al­ ways easy to identify one's own tenant, since the exact bound­ aries of the Government grants were not plainly defined-and for lines to run east or west indefinitely clearly was absurd. The new American idea, started in 1776, had now developed and (180) ANTI-RENTERS 181 grown lusty; public opinion decidedly was against the holding of large estates. These smacked of European feudal baronies. Trouble ensued. Some of the renters could not pay. Others did not wish to do so. The spirit of unrest spread to the up­ state regions, wherever large estates were held by a few privi­ leged men. In Delaware County there was the Hardenburgh Patent, ten miles square, which had been granted in 1708 to Johannes Hardenburgh, of Kingston. There was another tract of 250,000 acres, supposed to have been bought by John Harper and others from the Indians at Johnson Hall, in 1768. Many settlers on these estates had "squatted" there and paid no rent whatsoever. So the nucleus of trouble was hatched. In the Genesee Country there was the original Phelps and Gorham purchase and its successors, the Holland Purchase and the Pulteney Estate. The latter tract lay in Steuben and bor­ dering counties, and many of the farmers in the Canisteo Valley derived their land titles from this association. It has previously been noted that this company obtained its land by a species of fraud. When Robert Morris deeded 1,200,000 acres to Charles Williamson, on April 11, 1792, he dealt with a naturalized American citizen. The nigger in the woodpile, or joker in the pack, was that \-x;rilliamson was a secret agent for Sir William Pulteney, John Hornby and Patrick Colquhoun, foreigners and thereby precluded by the laws then in force from owning land in this state. In March, 1800, a new law having been passed authorizing conveyances to aliens, Colonel V/illiamson presently transferred the estate, openly and legally, to the real owners. This little sleight-of-hand performance should not be forgotten when we take up the consideration of troubles that were long in ironing themselves out. Charles Williamson was one of the real builders of Steuben County, and his services should not be overlooked; but he served as the trusted agent of capitalists who were thoroughly unscrupulous in matters of high :finance and cared not a fig for the rights of the common people. It is true that even after Wil­ liamson severed his connection with the Estate, the Pulteney people did much to develop the raw country ( it was in their interest to do so). Recently I chanced upon the following in­ teresting item, which had been written with ink by some party 182 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY unknown in the back of a copy of Attorney Clarence Willis' pamphlet, The Pulteney Land Title. November 13, 1809, a letter from the former files of the Pulteney Land Office at Bath states that the Lake Erie Turnpike from Bath to Angelica was then in process of construction. The Pulteney Estate gave $27,500, and the Church Estate (at Belvidere) gave $13,750. A small distillery was erected on the Nicholdson farm on the Turnpike to furnish whiskey for the workmen. During the first three decades of the last century the residents of most of the towns of Steuben County grew dissatisfied with the way affairs were conducted by the agents of the Pulteney Estate, Colonel Troup and his subordinates. They held that too large a price was charged for the land. Then, too, the opening of the Erie Canal had developed the northern part of the state but had lessened the importance of the Southern Tier. The settlers were unable to dispose of their crops to advantage. Often they were unable to meet their interest payments on land they had purchased from the Estate. The Land Office made matters worse by charging interest on the principal sum and back interest as well-the odious compound interest. The trouble at this time (there was more in the future) cul­ minated in a meeting called "The Anti-Rent Convention," which was held at Bath on January 19, 1830. Representatives from most of the towns in Steuben and Allegany counties were present. The delegates from the <:;:anisteo Valley towns were: Erwin-John E. Evans, John Cooper, Samuel Erwin. Addison-Daniel Burdick, Eber Scofield, Lemuel B. Searls, David Shumway, William Wombough. Canisteo-Jeremiah Baker, Moses Hallett, Henry D. Millard, William Stephens, George Santee. Cameron-Hiram Averell, Joseph Loughry, Isaac Santee, Sheldon Porter, Jacob Thayer. Hornellsville-Oliver Coon, Othniel Call, Jabez Lamphere, Oliver Pettibone, J. J. Sharp. The courthouse being inadequate, the convention was held in the Presbyterian church. Henry A. Townsend, of Urbana, was selected as chairman. Resolutions were adopted and forwarded to the agent of the Estate. The agent appears to have "stalled," and relief was slow in coming. It did not amount to much in the end. The Pulteney people agreed to sell the land a bit cheaper and to accept farm produce at market prices as payment ANTI-RENTERS 183 on either principal or interest. Quiet of a sort ensued for some years, but the trouble was not yet over. Again the valley of the Hudson was to set the pace for up-state to follow. Forty years passed before the Anti-Rent difficulties finally were adjusted. In the year 18 3 9, some of the descendants of the patroons in Columbia and Rensselaer counties, observing that their lands had grown valuable while they slept, began to collect rents long neglected. The poor farmers were threatened with ruin. They banded together, drove away officers who attempted to collect the rent, and in an armed collision at Grafton killed a man. In Albany County, 1500 Anti-Renters, disguised as Indians, gath­ ered at Reidsville with the intention of making hard the way of the sheriff. Governor Seward resorted to the militia, and for a time obtained peace of a sort. But the trouble soon broke out again, and during the adminis­ tration of Governor Bouck, disturbances occurred at various places. The movement spread through Albany, Rensselaer, Columbia, Delaware, Green and Schoharie counties, with lesser agitation in Steuben and Allegany counties. Some historians have dignified the movement by calling it the "Anti-Rent Re­ bellion." A contemporary writer says:

. . . . They kept arm.ed and mounted bands, disguised as Indians, scouring the country; and the traveler, as he met them issuing from some dark wood, with their hideous masks and gaudy calicoes, was re­ quired, on penalty of insult, to say "Down with the Rent." These law­ less rangers forcibly entered houses, took men from their homes, and tarred and feathered, or otherwise maltreated them. In Rensselaer County, at noonday, a man was killed where about 50 "Indians" were present-some of whom were afterwards arraigned, when they swore that they knew nothing of the murder. When Silas Wright became Governor of the state, he decided to hold a firm rein on these disturbers. He called out the militia, arrested many of the ringleaders and brought them to trial. But the worst was yet to come. On August 7, 184 5, Sheriff Moore, accompanied by one deputy, went to the town of Andes, Delaware County, to sell the property of Moses Earl upon an execution for rent. He found awaiting him at the farm nearly 200 men disguised as Indians. They offered him no violence, but theatened any who should bid on _the property. Some cattle that were to be sold 184 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY were driven by the crowd to the road and there surrounded. At this juncture two more deputies-Steele and Edgarton-came riding hard up the road, forced their horses into the crowd and :fired their pistols in the air. The leader of the Anti-Renters or­ dered some of his men to shoot the officers' horses. A fusillade rang out. The mounts of both deputies were killed, and when the smoke lifted it revealed Steele mortally wounded. This was rebellion. Governor Wright issued a proclamation declaring Delaware County in a state of insurrection and placing it under martial law. A battalion of militia, three hundred strong-half the men being mounted-was detailed to patrol the rural districts night and day. Further, they were directed to assist the local officers in ejecting renters who would not meet their obligations. About ninety persons were indicted for the killing of Steele. Two were convicted and sentenced to death. Their sentences were commuted by the Governor to life im­ prisonment, and his successor pardoned them. For four months Delaware County remained under martial law. In the mean­ time a new statute had been enacted which limited the leasing of land to not more than twelve years. It was believed that the trouble was over. The Governor's message for 1846 was largely taken up with a detailed account of the "Anti-Rent Rebellion/' When he ran for re-election he was defeated. During the dramatic occurrences farther east, Steuben County was, on the surface, comparatively undisturbed. But people were beginning to say that the Pulteney Estate had no right to the land it held. We can imagine what the soap-box orator of the time told his audience: "We licked the British in the Revolution. Now are we going to stand by and let them steal our land, or at least sell it to us for twenty times what they paid for it? . . . The Land Office came by its holdings in an illegal way. . . . It was chicanery, pure and simple. We who have taken up the land, cleared it and erected buildings and fences, and made it valuable, have a far better right to it than these foreigners. Down with the whole pack, I say! We shall NOT pay them for the land they stole. Its ours. Let them try to evict us. We'll :fight!" Thus the excitement grew. Already the public represented by the farmers had increased its demands and augmented its threats. At the beginning, in 1830, the farmers requested lower prices ANTI-RENTERS 185 on the land and easier payment of rentals. Now they declared that they owed the Pulteney Estate nothing. The British com­ bine had obtained the land fraudulently, had stolen it from men who had an inherent right to it. It should not be thought for a moment that the Anti-Renters were bad people. On the contrary, many of them were mighty fine people who believed they were defending their rights as American citizens against foreign capitalists. There was an element of truth in their contention. Matters just drifted along until after the Civil War. But about 1868 the whole dispute broke out afresh. The Anti­ Renters now organized secretly on the lodge system. Imitating the Masons, Odd Fellows, and other fraternal orders, they held lodges, conferred degrees and took obligations to protect their members against the agents of the Land Office or the officers of the law. Should one of their number be evicted for defaulting on his contract, the others would proceed by intimidation, petty annoyances, or worse, to harrass the man who had bought the land "out from under" the Anti-Renter, until he would throw up his contract and get out. That, in brief, was the program. There were probably several lodges of Anti-Renters in the Canisteo Valley. It is certain that there were at least two. William F. Taylor, now of Canisteo but formerly of Adrian, who furnished much of the material for the chapter on the Douglas Affair, told me that during the year 1868, the Anti­ Renters held a lodge for three months in the home of Jedediah Buck, located on what is now known as the Jefferson Hadley farm, east of Adrian. The organizing master of the lodge was named Beecher, and he was from Fremont. Some of the mem­ bers were J. M. Buck, Benjamin Buck, Robert Watts, Josiah D. Millard, M. B. Millard, Erastus Dickey. Mr. Taylor also informed me there was a lodge in Howard. Here, he says, a deputy sheriff had a horse shot under him while serving eviction papers. The militia were called out. This in­ cident resembled closely the one that took place at Andes, Dela­ ware County, in 1845, and I at first believed that Mr. Taylor had confused that happening in his recollections. However, a few years ago an elderly employee in the Steuben County Clerk's office in Bath told me of his recollection of the Howard affair. He was then a small boy, residing with his father on Campbell 186 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Creek, in the town of Howard. Hearing a nearby commotion one day-the shouts of men and the barking of dogs-he looked out of the window on an animated scene. The road was full of mounted men. There was a wagon with a box from which pro­ truded the muzzles of guns. His father told him it was a posse going to arrest .....i\.nti-Renters. That night he heard that the sheriff's horse had been shot by the rioters. There was much excitement in the neighborhood. Although the man is now old, he distinctly recalls the warlike scene. At that time the sheriff was Major Willis E. Craig, of Jasper. There was a strong lodge of Anti-Renters in Cameron viilage. I had the following facts concerning this organization from a man who started to join the lodge at Cameron, but withdrew when he learned that he must take an obligation which included a clause about shooting. At this point he refused to go further; he declined to shoot a fellow-citizen under any circumstances. In vain the others assured him that it probably would be un­ necessary for him to shoot anyone; that portion of the oath was merely for effect. Only in case of dire necessity, to protect the inherent rights of free-born Americans, would he be expected to pull trigger. The poor, blind candidate persisted in his re­ fusal, and so was led into outer darkness. This man was William A. Burley, then but twenty-two years of age. In his old age he resided in Canisteo and died there when well along in his eighties. It was in 1868 that he decided not to join the Anti-Renters. He expected persecution, but he was not molested-at the time. Mr. Burley stated that the Cameron lodge was held in the hotel of Daniel Ordway, who was the master. His son, William Ordway, also held office. Other members were: George Punches, George Pierson (father of Luther Pierson, who con­ ducted both a store and a hotel), a Mr. Smith, J. B. Wheeler, Henry Charles (later a gunsmith in Canisteo) and his brother, John Charles, Jack Coville, Sim Jones, Daniel Burley-father of William A. There were others whom Mr. Burley did not recall; but he thought Mr. Burlingame, father of Leroy and John, was also a member. There were four or five degrees to the ritualistic work, and they were based upon the obligation one Anti-Renter owed an­ other; namely, to protect him in the event that his land was "bought out from under him." The meaning of this should be ANTI-RENTERS 187 clear: If an Anti-Renter failed on his contract, the Pulteney Estate sold the land to another, and the officers were supposed to eject the derelict one. Whereupon the Anti-Renters were ex­ pected to pitch in and make a hot time in the old town for the buyer until he would quit in disgust and permit the former tenant to return. Just west of the river bridge which spans the stream a half mile west of Cameron. village, Owens Creek enters the Valley. Formerly the road leading to North Jasper followed the creek quite closely. But frequent storms tore out the clockings that protected the road from the stream. So, about thirty-five years ago, the road was removed from the creek valley and placed on the high bank north of the stream. In 18 69, Samuel Reynolds, universally called "Uncle Sammy," lived in the Owens Creek Valley, about a half mile from the river road. His little low-slung house was situated on the northern side of the creek, well back from the stream. In more recent years the place was owned by Supervisor H. G. Butterfield, but is now the property of Amasa Travis, who oc­ cupies a modern house further up the slope of the hill. Uncle Sammy was an odd character, a wildly enthusiastic participant in protracted camp meetings. It was in 1870 that he bought a small farm "out from under" one of the Cameron Anti­ Renters, Sim Jones by name. This tract was later known as "The Lower Lot" of the S. M. Stuart farm. Shortly after the consummation of his purchase Reynolds be­ gan to suffer annoyances. His honey disappeared in the night, several of his sheep were killed, voices threatened him from the woods. But Uncle Sammy was stubborn and would not go. Along in September came a fair Sunday on which Sammy journeyed to the North Jasper neighborhood to attend divine service. He enjoyed himself so well and got worked up to such a high pitch of enthusiasm that he tired himself out. So that evening, when William A. Burley, who had married Sammy's daughter, announced that he would take a load to a meeting at West Cameron, Reynolds felt constrained to pass up the invi­ tation to go along. Burley drove a wagon drawn by a team of mules. In the rig were Mr. Burley, himself, his wife, Mrs. Sammy Reynolds and Mahlon, the son. Upon the conclusion of the church services the party jour- 188 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY neyed toward their home without mishap until after they had entered the Owen Creek Valley and had reached a point near the Ghost Spring, when eight men suddenly rose from the bushes, seized the bridles of the mules and surrounded the wagon. They said little and offered no further violence. They merely directed the occupants of the wagon to remain as they were. The moonlight was sufficient to permit Burley to see that his captors wore masks and carried guns. There in the road all waited until loud cries from the Reynolds place told Burley that Uncle Sammy was the real victim. Sev­ eral times Reynolds cried out as though in pain or fear, then through the night came his quavering tones in a warning to his son: "Mahlon, flee to the woods!" What seemed like a long time passed. Then another party ot men came down the road, joined those around the wagon, and Burley was gruffly told: "Well, go on!" What had happened to Uncle Sammy Reynolds? A commotion among his sheep had awakened him. He rushed out and shouted. Then out of the gloom, springing up from behind bushes, dropping from trees, shadowy forms sprang at him. Thinking first of the safety of his son, he uttered the thrilling warning to Mahlon. The next moment he was thrown to the ground and beaten. Finally a rope was tied about his neck, he was led under one of his own apple trees and told that unless he relinquished the contract to the Sim Jones place he would be strung up. Badly frightened, Uncle Sammy reflected only a moment. Clearly, this was no camp meeting. He promised. The men went away. His attackers had been masked, but Reynolds thought he rec­ ognized some of them. He took the matter to court. Two hearings, or investigations, were held at Corning, two at Bath. Burley was sworn as a witness. He was unable positively to identify any of the raiders. Neither could Uncle Sammy. So the Grand Jury failed to return an indictment against any of the suspects. But the outrage aroused so much anger among the people that the Anti-Rent movement speedily died out of the Canisteo Valley and the surrounding country. Only a few years ago the last of the Pulteney holdings were sold, and the Land Office became a thing of the past. ANTI-RENTERS 189 I know better than to bring this chapter to a close without telling something about the Ghost Spring, which, incidentally, did not earn its name until about twenty years after Burley was held up at that point. It was merely a nice spring that bubbled out of the wooded bank in a curve of the road, on the right-hand side when one was headed toward Cameron. It was located about two hun­ dred yards east of the place where Uncle Sammy Reynolds forded Owens Creek when going to and from his house. After making a little pool where horses could drink in the shade of the trees, the surplus water ran for a rod or so by the side of the road, then led under a sluice bridge and into a pasture bordered by a hedge. It was a mighty pleasant spot on a hot day. The ghost was first seen there about 1890. Several men saw it and were willing to swear to the facts. It was always on moonlit nights, when the traveler was headed toward the village. It was a perfectly well-behaved ghost. It didn't cavort around, moan or anything; merely swayed in the pale moonlight, and frightened farmers and their teams almost -co death. People took to going to town in the good broad daylight, rather than at eventide. But the William A. Burley that we have been talk­ ing about decided to lay that spectre. So he took his shotgun along with him. Right on schedule the wraith appeared. Burley stood up in his buggy and, despite the snorting and shying of his horse, sent charge after charge of BB shot hurtling through that ghost's skin. It is likely that ghosts don't have skins. Anyway, the bombardment failed to dent the spook. Burley was flabbergasted. So was his horse. So was the neighborhood. But every locality has at least one valiant man. This particu­ lar locality had one. The hero marched right up to the spectre with the firm intention of pulling its nose. He found no nose to pull. As he came close the vision just faded out. He found that it was merely a bush of rather peculiar shape. \Vhen the moonlight was strong enough, but not too strong, the light and shadows did the trick, creating a ghostly optical illusion. That's how the spring got its name. Now let's discuss something else-say the coming of the rail­ road. CHAPTER XVII The Coming of the Railroad The opening of the Erie Canal in 182 5 started a wave of prosperity for the central and northern portions of the state. Even the Southern Tier benefited to a certain extent, for the heyday of the canals was at hand. Branches and feeders of the "big ditch" led off at various points, and the romance of the tow­ path was in the air. The success of the Erie Canal caused others to be built in almost every available place and soon it was possible to make long journeys by water, transferring occasionally t~ stagecoaches. Traveling by canal became exceedingly popular, the industry reaching its peak between 1830 and 1840. Steuben County was entered by a branch of the Chemung Canal which ran from Horseheads to Corning, and there was an immense traffic by this ditch. In 18 5 2, the village of Corning, with a population of about 3,000, was rated the fifth port in the state in the matter of canal commerce. Freight rates on the canals were cheap indeed. On salt and gypsum the rate was 5 mills per ton per mile. On flour, meal, grain, salted provisions, pot and pearl ashes, the rate was one and a half cents per ton per mile. Shingles cost two mills per thou­ sand. Iron castings were a cent a ton. The highest rate on any article was six cents, the lowest two mills. Early in the canal era a ditch was constructed from Penn Yan, Yates County, to Dresden on Seneca Lake. Boats loaded at Hammondsport, on Keuka Lake, could now travel through the new canal to Seneca Lake, thence through the Seneca and Cayuga Canal to the Erie Canal, and ultimately discharge their cargoes at New York. Thus Hammondsport became the shipping point for an immense region. Farmers from the Can­ isteo Valley, from all over Steuben and Allegany counties, drew their produce to Hammondsport, which little village of northern Steuben began to grow with wondrous speed. Finan­ ciers, believing that it was a future metropolis, purchased all available land in the vicinity. In 1 8 3 1 Hammondsport was a rival of Chicago. (190) THE COMING OF THE RAILROAD 191 Passenger traffic on the canals developed into great propor­ tions; it was so much safer and pleasanter than travel by stage­ coach. The packet boats were usually about 80 feet long. The roof of the cabin was the deck, where in fine weather the passen­ gers sat in chairs and viewed the scenery. The interior of the main cabin served as the dining room by day, as the men's bed­ room at night. There was also a women's bedroom-and, of course, a bar and a kitchen, both tiny. The crew's cuddy was in the bow of the craft, and this was the habitat for the force of seven men, including two drivers who took turns in whipping the mules or horses along the towpath. The nearest that any of the canals came to the Upper Canisteo Valley was the Genesee Valley Canal, which reached Dansville, thirteen miles from Arkport. In the New York Pictorial Almanac, for 1846, published by M. Miller, of Rochester, we find this description of the Genesee Valley Packet Boat Line: Packet boat Perry______Captain Wiggins Packet boat Dansville ______Captain Millard Packet boat Rochester______Captain Dickey One of the above Packet Boats leaves Rochester every morning at eight o'clock for Mt. Morris, and every evening at seven o'clock for Dansville, arriving there about nine o'clock the next morning, and leaves Dansville on the afternoon of the same day at two o'clock, arriving in Rochester the following morning in time for passengers to take the morning Packets going east or west on the Erie Canal. (By this route Dansville was 52 miles from Rochester). Between Mt. Morris and Dansville the boats pass going either way in the daytime, giving the traveler an opportunity of viewing the cele­ brated Genesee Flats, and the enchanting scenery which skirts them on either side. Those traveling for pleasure, and to see the country, cannot make a more delightful excursion than to take a trip up or down the Genesee Valley Canal. The Packets are nearly new, well furnished, and under the management of men ever intent upon the convenience and comfort of those who patronize them.... Fare to Mt. Morris, with board, $ 1.00; without board, $.75. To Dansville, with board, $1.50; without board, $1.2 5. Let us imagine a newly-wed couple setting out from Canisteo, Hornellsville or Arkport, on their honeymoon via the Genesee Valley Canal. The man hitches "Old Dobbin" to the top car­ riage, packs therein his crinoline-clad and blushing bride, fixes his high fur hat on his poll and says "Giddap!" Driving along the dirt road which follows the old Iroquois trail, they come at last to Dansville. Here the man stables his horse, buys tickets 192 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY

"with board" at $1.50 each, and ushers his rustling wife aboard the packet boat. They climb to the roof of the cabin-the passenger deck­ and the bride is presently seated in a chair with her tiny pink parasol over her, to protect her delicate complexion from the hot rays of the afternoon sun. Ostentatiously the groom lights ;i cigar and hovers over his wife for a time, striking an unnatural attitude and trying to look traveled. Finally he takes a news­ paper from his pocket and reads of Taylor's desperate fight at Buena Vista, or Scott's progress toward the Valley of Mexico. Sundry explosive sounds from the driver of the mules, and the boat glides along the glassy surface of the canal, starting little waves which wash against the dirt banks. It is mid-afternoon. In the meadows which lie on either side of the canal farmers are at work making hay. They wave horny hands at the passengers. Dogs run alongside the boat, barking furiously. The pleasant smell of the curing hay is strong on the air. The leaves of the noble elms along Canaseraga Creek wither in the heat. Occa­ sionally a low bridge looms just ahead. The passengers bend low to avoid being scraped off the roof. Hours pass, and in nearby pastures herds of cows are being driven by barefoot lads to the barns. It is milking time. Then the red sun sinks behind the hills west of the Genesee River, shadows gather, and the voices of the peepers are heard, together with the mournful cry of the whippoorwill. In the cabin below a bell jingles. Dinner is served. At last it is time to retire. Is the groom allowed an apart­ ment with his wife? Not so! There are no separate cabins for individuals or couples. He bunks with the men, she with the women. Let us see what an English woman, a writer traveling in our land at about that time, says of the matter: We sat in the men's cabin until they began making preparations for bed, and then withdrew into a room about twelve feet square, where a whole tribe of women were getting to their beds. Some half undressed, some brushing, some curling, some washing, some already asleep in their narrow cribs, but all within a quarter of an inch of each other; it made one shudder.... 1

1 Quoted from A Journal of a Residence in America (Pub. by Henry Holt, 183 5), written by Frances Anne Kemble, usually called Fanny Kemble. She was a celebrated actress-author at this time, and ultimately became the grandmother of Owen Wister, the well-known author of The Virginian. THE COMING OF THE RAILROAD 193 Perhaps fourteen hours after leaving Dansville, the newly­ weds arrive at Rochester and catch the westbound packet on the Erie Canal. We can imagine that the groom reflects with sat­ isfaction that at Niagara Falls he will find a hotel with plenty of rooms. At this time there were stage routes, fast losing popularity, all over the state. There was a line from Geneva to Bath, via Penn Yan, 46 miles in length. Another operated between Geneva and Corning, 3 3 miles. There was a through line from Newburgh on the Hudson to Mayville, at the western end of Chautauqua Lake, near Lake Erie, 387 miles; but this line avoided the Canisteo Valley, going by the way of Corning, Bath and Ellicottsville. Conditions were not satisfactory in the Canisteo Valley; the wave of prosperity had passed by on the other side. The mar­ kets for produce were distant, at times even the lumber market was closed, and it was difficult to raise money. For an example: Mr. Bowyer, a resident of the Gardiner District, Cameron, cut a quantity of excellent pine lumber at his sawmill, hauled it to the river and rafted it to Chesapeake Bay. This was during the period that marked the decline of the rafting industry, and Bowyer found that he could not dispose of his lumber at any price. He thereupon had the raft towed to New York City, thence up the Hudson to Troy, where he finally sold for four dollars a thousand. From Troy Mr. Bowyer walked home, stop­ ping at Hammondsport to purchase some flour, for which he was forced to pay four dollars a bushel. Such being the conditions in the Valley, the people heard with joy the first rumors about the coming of a railroad. This would solve the transportation problem. Through the efforts of Eleazer Lord, of Ramapo, Rockland County, N.Y., a charter had been granted the New York and Erie Railroad Company, as early as April 24, 1832, to build a line from Piermont, twenty-four miles up the Hudson from the metropolis, to Dunkirk on Lake Erie. At this time Dunkirk boasted a population of 400 souls. On November 7, 183 5, land was broken at Deposit, N.Y., in the Delaware Valley, but actual grading was not begun until the spring of 1839. On June 30, 1841, the first train to carry passengers steamed from Piermont to Ramapo, but it was not until December 27, 1848, that the 194 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY first train reached Binghamton, in the Susquehanna Valley. Ac­ cidents were common, as the telegraph was not in use and con­ ductors ran their trains with a time-card and a set of rules. The road was carried forward to Corning on December 3 1, 1849, to Hornellsville in September, 1850, and to Dunkirk on April 22, 18 51. The gauge was six feet, while the standard else­ where was four feet, eight and a half inches. Cars of the standard gauge could not be run over the Erie tracks, but had to be unloaded and the freight transferred to other cars. To avoid this difficulty a third rail was laid, the work being com­ pleted in 1878. The track was now both wide and standard gauge, and cars of both types were used in the make-up of trains. It was not until 1885 that the Erie became a standard­ gauge line. The completion of this railroad from the Hudson to Lake Erie marked an epoch in the commercial history of the country. It was the first trunk line in the nation, the Pennsylvania Rail­ road being at that time merely a local line from Philadelphia to Hollidaysburg. The only other road of equal importance in the whole world was the Imperial Railroad of Russia, which ran from Moscow to St. Petersburg and was completed the same year the Erie reached Dunkirk. The Russian road had been initiated and carried forward by a West Point graduate, George W. Whistler, the father of the eminent Ame~ican artist, James A. McNeill Whistler. Although the residents of the Canisteo Valley were greatly elated when it became known that the railroad was to come through, there were some who were disposed to reap a harvest before yielding the right-of-way. The company held that the land should be donated, and to secure this desirable end gave out the rumor that it had been decided to abandon the Canisteo Valley route in favor of the Conhocton Valley. A loud outcry ensued and things began to happen. A mass meeting was held in Cameron village, to which the big shots from Hornellsville, Canisteo and Addison hastily re­ paired. The uproar was sufficient to produce resolutions aggre­ gating seventy-five printed pages. Considerable money was raised, the right-of-way was donated, the Erie Company was informed of this action, and all atwitter the people waited for what might ensue. Under the changed complexion of affairs THE COMING OF THE RAILROAD 195 the management of the road yawned and condescended to follow out the original plan in favor of the Canisteo Valley. Later it developed that at no time had a serious thought been entertained of doing otherwise. It was merely a subterfuge to coerce the close-fisted. In 18 5 0 the population of the Valley towns had reached these figures: Erwin, 123 5; Addison, 3721, the greatest in its his­ tory; Cameron, 1701, the peak; Canisteo, 2 0 3 0; Hornellsville, 2637. The village of Hornellsville in 1850 probably did not exceed 500 persons. Ten years later the town of Hornellsville had a population of 423 0, showing clearly the effect of the com­ ing of the railroad. In 18 50, Canisteo had two considerable settlements: Center Canisteo and Bennettsville. The rivalry between the two settle­ ments was keen, to decide which one should have the railway station. Bennettsville won, the place was styled Canisteo by the railroad people, and the decline of Center Canisteo dates from that time. The first through excursion train on the Erie left Piermont for Dunkirk on the morning of May 14, 1851. It was a tre­ mendous occasion. Everyone who could possibly beg, steal or borrow a pass was there. Among the guests of honor were: The President of the United States, Millard Fillmore; Secretary of State Daniel Webster; the Secretary of the Navy; the Post­ master General. The train was all cluttered up with two or three hundred of the lesser fry, including-it has been said­ " six candidates for the Presidency, at least twelve candidates for the Vice-Presidency, U. S. Senators, governors, mayors, capi­ talists, merchants, President Benjamin Loder and other officers and directors of the company." A famous brass band was there, a caterer of repute, with a corps of waiters, and of course a great many bottles. Two sections of the train left Piermont at eight in the morn­ ing. Webster, seated in a rocking chair on a flatcar, was on the first section. Hardly could the great Daniel have been expected to be elsewhere. This section, because of engine trouble, reached Port Jervis an hour late. There Josh Martin, with engine No. 71, took the train. It is 34 miles from Port Jervis to Narrows­ burg, and the way thither is hewn out of the rocks overhanging the Delaware River, in many places; but Martin covered the 196 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY ground in 3 5 minutes. It is asserted that his record has never been surpassed on this section of the road. By the time he reached Deposit the hour had been made up. The train arrived at Elmira at seven in the evening, and there the night was spent in revelry. Revelry or wassail. At 6:30 the next morning they started for Dunkirk. It is likely that the engine crew had not participated in the festivities of the night before. Touching the condition of Webster, the records are silent. At every station crowds had gathered, to gape and ask questions. It was the first train that many people from the hills had ever seen. Horses had no liking for it, and tried to climb the nearest tree. Dunkirk was reached at 4:30 in the afternoon. That night marked another festive occasion. Two oxen, ten sheep and a hundred fowls had been slaughtered to feed hungry politicians. There were loaves of bread ten feet long and two feet wide, barrels of cider, tanks of coffee, ham, corned beef, sausage, baked beans in enormous containers. After eating this food and drink­ ing the cider everyone wanted to make a speech, and most of them did. It sounded like a political convention, a D.A.R. con­ gress and a W.C.T.U. meeting rolled into one. Indeed, it was a great occasion. Yes, yes! A final word about the Susquehanna Division, usually called by the railroaders themselves, "The Swale." Why the Swale? The Swale is a high ridge of hills that parallel the Canisteo River all the way from Canisteo to Cameron. On the north it is merely a steep, wooded bluff; but on the summit and the south­ ern slope, a fine farming country. It was discovered and named in 1822 by Isaac Jones, a native of Francistown, New Hamp­ shire, accompanied by James Lawrence. Jones finally settled there, and there many of his descendants yet abide. He called the locality the Swale because he found many low marshy spots on the slope of the ridge. Ever since it has been so called. When the Erie came through, so many of the farmer boys from the Swale entered the employ of the railroad-and were mostly as­ signed to the Susquehanna Division-that the division itself took the name. To this day men who run on that division term themselves "Swalers." CHAPTER XVIII The Mystery of David Weatherby About eighteen months after the Erie Railroad was put through the Canisteo Valley, an event occurred that has given rise to countless stories, but still remains an intriguing mystery. This took place in February, 18 5 2. The setting was Canisteo. There were several characters in the drama. The Weatherby family had been well-known in Addison for years. In early days Caleb Weatherby kept a hotel on the north side. Then there was George H. Weatherby, who married Elizabeth Erwin. He was town clerk of Addison in 1849. He had a son, George H., Jr., for many years a business man of Ad­ dison, now a public official who yet resides there. He comes into this story more or less. George H. Weatherby, Sr., had a brother, David, who had been born in 1826, and in June, 1851, married Mary McCollough, of Lancaster, Pa. He was an in­ fluential man in his locality, and was employed by the Harvey Roland Lumber Company, of Port Deposit, Maryland, as a buyer. He was also school commissioner of Addison, and at the time the story opens he had in his safe at Addison the sum of $2 5 0 0 belonging to the schools, as well as $10,000 belonging to a subnormal brother. He was but twenty-six years of age, in good health, and had been happily married but eight months previously. These items should be borne in mind, as they have an important bearing on the mystery. In the month and year before mentioned, David Weatherby came to Canisteo to buy lumber for his concern and count it; that is, supervise the making of rafts out of the lumber he had purchased. The rafting season was just ahead. While in Canisteo Weatherby boarded at the Bennett Hotel, constructed by Wil­ liam Bennett in 1826, but since his death operated by his son, William Wallace Bennett, almost universally called Wallace. By this time the name carried the second "t," although, as has been shown, Solomon Bennet, Wallace's grandfather, used but one "t." It is a small matter. The family was one of the oldest (197) 198 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY and best known of all the clans in Canisteo. Wallace's father, William, was the one who was supposed to have been shown the lead mine by the Indians. He liked to hunt, and it is said that frequently he was gone for a whole week with the Indians on hunting trips. Wallace, however, went in for other things. He was an in­ fluential business man. He operated the brick hotel, John Samons being his bartender for many years. Together with Mortimer Allison, he purchased the Mead flats. He also owned a large farm at South Canisteo and cleared 100 acres of it in one year, rafting the timber down the river. He operated a general store on the site now occupied by Mrs. Wilcox's shop. He was supposed to be wealthy. His character, as I have been enabled to estimate it by combining the statements of those who knew him, embraced the following points: He was a mild-mannered man and had a curious trick of repeating part of a statement, appar­ ently for emphasis. He said: "If I had a dozen daughters I would name 'em all Mary, I would, so I would." He apparently was not at all belligerent, and some of his collateral descendants have said of him: "He would not harm a fly." He was a shrewd business man, quick-witted, free-hearted. He drank consider­ ably, loved to play cards, and his contemporaries asserted that he was a philanderer. One tells me, quite positively, that he "kept" a woman who lived on Bennett's Creek. He was twice married, his first wife being Minerva Harding, of Fremont, this county. One of his sisters married Hiram C. Whitwood, another (Mary Jane) married Benjamin C. Richey, one of the founders of the Presbyterian Church in Canisteo. Bennett's hotel was sometimes the resort of men with question­ able records. A few years ago a man died in Canisteo who told a personal friend of the writer's that he had actually seen coun­ terfeit money being passed in this tavern, as much as a thousand dollars of the bogus money being sold for twenty-five dollars. The bills were made in Pennsylvania and brought here to be dis­ posed of. Whether Bennett was aware of this illicit traffic we do not know. During his stay at the Bennett Hotel in Canisteo, David Weatherby grew more or less friendly with some poker players who customarily gambled for small stakes, among these men being W. Wallace Bennett himself. These social meetings THE MYSTERY OF DAVID WEATHERBY 199 usually took place in the house of John Lewis, a harness maker, formerly of Prattsburg. This house was located on Main Street, one wing being situated where the A. & P. store later operated. On the eventful February night which ushers in our tale, there gathered at Lewis' place for the usual game of poker a group of men fairly representative of the Canisteo of that time, barring church members. The stories do not quite agree con­ cerning the personnel of this convivial party. One version gives the men as: David Weatherby, W.W. Bennett, Miner Samons, Archibald Stephens and H. C. Whitwood. Another account omits Whitwood and Archibald Stephens and substitutes another member of the Stephens family. It is assumed that these men were in addition to Lewis, the owner of the building. It is sup­ posed also that Bob Barr, the enterprising negro with a penchant for killing rattlesnakes, who had been born as Colonel James McBurney's slave, was present, although probably not in the game. At this time he was a sort of handy man for Mr. Bennett. The game broke up at a reasonable hour and several of the men left. One of these later claimed no person had won more than twenty-five dollars when he dropped out. The men who went home on the conclusion of the game were never suspected of being involved in what may have happened subsequently. Weatherby, Bennett and Barr seem to have tarried. Lewis, too? Perhaps so. No one knows. It is believed that Weatherby had a large sum of money with him. Of course, he would have, since he was in Canisteo to buy lumber. But do not forget that m his safe at Addison was the sum of $12,500 which he could have taken had he cared to. Now, what did happen in that lonely building that February night, so long ago? Was there a quarrel? Did someone, possi­ bly the negro Barr, murder Weatherby for his money? Was Weatherby accidently killed in a scuffle? Did he lose so much money at cards-money belonging to his company-that he de­ cided to sneak out, go west, change his name and lose his identity? In so far as has been positively shown, he was never again seen after that night. He disappeared as completely and as mys­ teriously as had William Morgan, of Batavia, a quarter of a cen­ tury previously. A well-known and popular man like Weatherby could not 200 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY drop out of the community life without a considerable commo­ tion being kicked up. It was kicked up! But, possibly owing to the influential position of Bennett's family, there seems to have been no formal investigation. To clear his own skirts, Bennett should have demanded one. His relatives say that he did not take the matter seriously; did not believe that any of his neigh­ bors would for a moment entertain doubts of him. So he did not talk. But others did. The whole case has been talked about ever since that time. Sentiment in Canisteo was divided; some scoffing at the notion of Wallace Bennett's having anything to do with Weatherby's disappearance. Others told diabolical tales, or made suggestions, which at least tended to smirch Bennett's reputation. What actual proof is there, one way or another? Little enough. William Taylor asserted that he saw Weatherby the next morn­ ing after his supposed disappearance, with his overcoat over his arm, on his way to the railway station to take the train west. Isaac Allison and Hiram Whitwood also stated that they had seen Weatherby leaving the hotel, and supposed he was going to catch the train. A good lawyer would have cast much doubt upon that evi­ dence. He would have pointed out :first that, as it was a cold morning in February, Weatherby would have worn his overcoat and not carried it on his arm. Furthermore, Taylor, being a neighbor and friend, would naturally desire to protect Bennett. As for Whitwood, he was a brother-in-law, and may have been one of the card party. Isaac Allison was a brother of Mortimer Allison, at one time a partner of Bennett's. Then, too, all might have been mistaken in the identity of the man they had seen. As a matter of fact, Weatherby did not take the morning train. Being an extensive lumber buyer, he was known to a multitude of people in the Valley. Neither the trainmen nor anyone else saw him on that train. Also, a man who was actually on the train that morning, looking for Weatherby, failed to find him. This important item was supplied to me by that George H. Weatherby, Jr., a nephew of David, to whom reference has been made. In a letter to me, Mr. G. H. Weatherby said: "In contradiction to Taylor's story, Erastus Brooks, of Warren, Pa., and later of Addison, N. Y., said he had gone to Canisteo to see "W' eatherby the morning he was found missing THE MYSTERY OF DAVID WEATHERBY 201 and, not finding him, took the same train Taylor said Weatherby went to the station to board, but saw nothing of him. Upon reaching Warren, Brooks heard that foul play was suspected." Now, from two sources, I have an exceedingly important item: That Weatherby' s overcoat was still hanging in the hall of the hotel the morning after his disappearance. To my mind, much depends upon the truth or falsity of that claim. One source I consider reliable; the other apocryphal. This latter yarn I give as it was given to me, almost in the exact words of the narrator: "I was once talking with an old schoolmaster who was teaching a few miles east of Andover at the time of the Weatherby case. He said a young woman named Van Campen, and another who resided in his district, were working in the Bennett Hotel at that time. On the fateful evening they knew that Weatherby, Dr'i Shaw ( a new name), Miner Samons and Bennett were having a game of cards. The girls had boy friends that night, so retired rather late. After getting into bed, they heard the sound of a heavy body falling and then being dragged across the floor. In the morning the girls discovered that the floor of the room occu­ pied by the poker players had been mopped during the night. They also discovered the hat and overcoat of Mr. Weatherby still hanging on the rack, as they had been the night before." Personally, I don't take any stock in this wild tale. It smacks too strongly of a typical servant-girl's yarn. If murder there was, it was not done in the hotel. But the air was full of stories. Here's one: Henry Hamilton owned a farm and tavern on Bennett's Creek, located where Bert Whitman many years later resided. On the night of the mysterious disappearance, Bennett and Barr drove past, going south, and on their return stopped at the tavern to get warm. They were covered with ice . . . . Another tale says that Barr was seen coming from the direction of Jack Moore's millpond the morning after the game, his cloth­ ing wet. February was a bad time to have wet clothing. Yet another weird story, utterly inconsistent with the others, indicates how inflamed the minds of the people must have been, and how ready they were to believe anything sensational. A widow (name unknown) had moved to town shortly be­ £ore the event. She lived near the schoolhouse, which stood 202 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY where the residence of Nicholas Weynand is now located. She was very poor. She is reported to have said that on the night of the poker game she saw a light in the schoolhouse, so she went over and looked in the window. Later she wagged her head and claimed that some people would give a lot to know what she had seen. A few days later she and her family had disappeared, but her numerous debts had been paid by someone. This yarn could be dismissed with a shrug, were it not that it indicates how ready gossip mongers are to believe the most absurd tales about their neighbors. In this year 19 3 5, they still are ready to believe equally preposterous stories about persons they have known all their lives. It is sometimes very discourag­ ing, but I suppose it is human nature-the nature of certain kinds of humans. It has been said that, on the morning after the game, Bennett paid a considerable debt, stating at the time that he had won three hundred dollars from Weatherby the night before. This in spite of the fact that some of the other players claimed no one was more than twenty-five dollars richer. In all probability Bennett did not make this remark. If he did he either had poor judgment, or he was ignorant of the fact that Weather by had disappeared. It is difficult to make sense out of the conflicting tales; but it is necessary, I think, to weigh the probabilities re­ lating to two possible happenings: Did Weatherby abscond with money he held in trust? Or, was he killed--either by design or by accident? A disinterested person would almost inevitably arrive at the conclusion that Weatherby did not abscond. He had nothing to gain and everything to lose, by fading out of the picture. He was young, in good health, recently married, held a remunerative business position, as well as a public position of importance in Addison. Had he planned to go away, he ~ost certainly would have taken the $12,500 which remained in his custody in his home town. In the event that his resolution had been taken suddenly, he still would have returned for the money. And would he not have worn his overcoat? Furthermore, how could such a well-known man leave the Canisteo Valley without being recognized? It has been shown that he did not take the morning train at Canisteo. His only alternative would have been to walk to Hornellsville, or hire a rig to take him thither. In either case THE MYSTERY OF DAVID WEATHERBY 203 he would have been seen and recognized by a number of persons. Yet no one save Allison, Taylor and Whitwood professed to have seen him. Hence, it follows that those men either were mistaken or deliberately lied to save a friend. We have, I think, now reduced the matter to a syllogism which may be stated thus: Major premise-Weatherby disappeared because he absconded or was killed. Minor premise-He did not abscond. Conclusion-He was killed. Leaving, after all, the big questions: Who killed him? Where was he killed? Where buried? I do not believe Wallace Bennett killed Weatherby. He was wholly incapable of such an action, judging by his character as established by reliable witnesses. Who, then? Had the case ever been taken into court, a shrewd district at­ torney, like George W. Pratt, for instance, would certainly have pointed the finger of suspicion at the negro, Bob Barr. From what we know of him, he seems to have been a bold, aggressive "nigger." It would not have been difficult for the district at­ torney to recast the probable scene, something after this fashion: All the cardplayers save Weatherby and Bennett had gone home. It is likely that even Lewis had retired. Weatherby and Bennett resolved to play for higher stakes. Bob Barr, always at his master's heels, looked on. Perhaps someone cheated. There was a quarrel and the negro butted in. Weatherby, like all well­ born white men, resented this mightily. Barr struck him, either with his fist or a weapon, but purely on the spur of the moment. The lumber-dealer's head may have hit some obstruction, like a stove. He was killed. Overcome with fear, Bob Barr begged of Bennett not to betray him. The latter, considering the a:ff air in the nature of an accident, consented, and helped the negro secrete the body of the victim. "Nothing but a hypothetical explanation!" cries the cr1t1c. Certainly. Just that. But let the critic furnish a more plausi­ ble answer to the riddle. After the disappearance, Bob Barr more than once, especially when in his cups, intimated with negro cunning that he knew something about the case. But he did not live a great while to talk about it. On Sunday, February 6, 1853, about a year after the Weatherby explosion, an event occurred which tended to re- 204 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY new suspicion against Bennett. Because of an early and unsea­ sonable freshet, a raft of lumber was being taken down the river. Wallace Bennett and Bob Barr manned the rear sweep. When about two miles east of Adrian, the raft, poorly managed, ran against the head of an island, tilted and Barr slid off into the water. He tried hard to swim to land, but, chilled by the water and buffeted by the strong current, he sank. It was three weeks before his body was found. Samuel Taylor-who has appeared more than once in these pages-was engaged in repairing a raft at Brown's ~rossing, when he noted an object floating in the water. He retrieved it and made the discovery that it was the negro' s body. Certain ultra-suspicious ones started the story that Bennett had caused Barr's death because the black man talked too much. But Samuel Taylor, who knew all the circum­ stances, and incidentally was a man of excellent judgment, al­ ways held that it was an accident and nothing else. Long before the death of Barr, the Addison people, inflamed by the lack of action on the part of the Canisteo authorities, and doubtless having in mind the original reputation for lawlessness enjoyed by the "Canisteers," or "Six Nations," decided to insti­ tute an investigation on their own hook. Wholly without legal authority, but in sufficient numbers to enforce their will, they boarded the train and came to Canisteo. It was a mob. They first searched the Bennett Hotel from cellar to garret, not ne­ glecting to peer into the pork barrel. They thought it possible that Weatherby's body had been cut into pieces and salted down. Finding nothing incriminating in the hotel, they dragged Jack Moore's millpond without avail. They then entered the home of Bennett's sister, Mrs. Benjamin C. Richey, who at that time lived on Greenwood Street, in a house located just south of the present marble works. The mob searched this house thoroughly, and even dug under it. They found nothing. Going wherever their fancy directed, and intimidating the Canisteo residents by their numbers and :fierceness, they nevertheless had to give the matter up as a bad job. Weatherby' s body was not located. It may be that Wallace Bennett found conditions in his home town too unpleasant, it may be that business reasons impelled him to take the step; but in any event he went west and re­ mained there a number of years. While there, his wife having died, he married again, his second wife being Elinor Jones, of THE MYSTERY OF DAVID WEATHERBY 205 Galesburg, Illinois. Eventually he returned to Canisteo. An­ other yarn is to the effect that after his return he stated he had seen David Weatherby at a certain place in Iowa, alive and happy. Soon after this a stranger blew into town, accosted Ben­ nett and asked him if he had made such a statement. Upon be­ ing answered in the affirmative, the stranger said: "Mr. Ben­ nett, you are a liar! Weatherby' s body is somewhere in Steuben County and you know where it is." Bennett walked away with­ out replying. So the story has it, but it suggests carrying coals to Newcastle. As to what the stranger ( who is nameless) knew about the matter it does not appear. A few years ago, the author of this book had a conversation with an aged man concerning the Weatherby case. He said that an acquaintance of his who was a contemporary of Bennett's, claimed the search for the body had not been made in the right place. If, opined this sensation-loving person, they had gone down to the old mill at The Center, turned off the water to the flume and taken up some of the planking, they would have made a discovery. Doubtless, Weatherby would have risen up and said "Boo!" Such tales are silly. Had this man known of such a thing, he couldn't have slept until he had told the authorities. Anyway, it is entirely obvious that the search was not made in the right place. Eighty-three years have passed since the event and David Weatherby still slumbers in an unknown grave. William Wallace Bennett lived on until June 23, 1883. Taken ill while on a visit to Elmira, he soon died. He was buried by Undertaker Julius Hitchcox, of Canisteo, who still survives and who furnished me with some of the items I have used in this chapter. Many years after Bennett's death, there was a recrudescence of excitement over Weatherby's disappearance. Adelbert Allen, while excavating for a building on his farm, unearthed a skele­ ton. At first Mr. Allen thought the bones belonged to an ani­ mal, but soon decided that they were the remains of a human being. Immediately the entire neighborhood jumped to the con­ clusion that Weatherby had at last been found. Mr. George H. Weatherby, Jr., of Addison, nephew of the deceased lumberman, was notified. When writing the first edition of this book, some sixteen years ago, I corresponded with Mr. Weatherby about the matter. 206 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY The following two paragraphs I quote from his letter to me on that occasion: Ten or twelve years ago, I received word to come to Canisteo; a skeleton had been found which might be that of David Weatherby. The next morning found me there, and I took dinner in the same hotel where he had had his last meal so many years before. Then I visited the spot where the old harness-shop stood.... and later drove to the place, about three miles up a ravine toward Howard, where the bones had been found. The body had been buried in a pine box, judging from the knots and nails, many years before. The poor victim, who­ ever he was, had come to an untimely end. There was a bullet hole in the large bone below the knee; another had gone through the skull on one side, making a dent outwardly on the opposite side. The :find did look, indeed, promising. I brought the bones to Ad:lison and in conjunction with Dr. H. A. Ainsworth, took some daguerro­ types I had of David Weatherby and spent many evenings trying to es­ tablish a relationship between the two, but finally had to come to the conclusion that the bones belonged to a shorter and older man. So perished the last clue to a mystery extending over a period of nearly seventy years. Undoubtedly the skeleton marked another one of those mys­ terious murders with which the early Valley days were plagued. Likely, a peddler slain for his pack. If only the dead should speak, there could be told stories of the Kanestio Valley that no one would have the hardihood to read. Wallace Bennett has no living lineal descendants. There are relatives; grand-nieces and nephews, and they hold to the belief that David Weatherby absconded. In any case, they do not be­ lieve that Bennett murdered David Weatherby. With the first of their conclusions I do not agree, with the second I do. The real nigger in the woodpile, which is to say the negro in the har­ ness shop, was Bob Barr. In my opinion, he was the author of the crime, which I have no doubt actually was committed on that February night, eighty-three years ago. CHAPTER XIX The Man Who Bluffed Lee Should a history-minded tourist drive into Cameron village, stop his car in front of Dave Scribner's store and ask the first resident of the town he sees, the way to General Averell's birth­ place, the citizen would probably remove his hat, scratch his head and answer: "Hanged if I know. Who was General Averell, anyway.~,, Sic transit gloria mundi! Major-General William Woods Averell was not only the biggest man that Cameron ever produced, he was probably the most distinguished person ever born in or near the Canisteo Valley. His record merges with the history of the Republic, and his name is to be found in a multitude of books. Nevertheless, I see that the author will have to instruct you how to reach the spot where the General first saw the light of day. Well, back up your car to the corner of Bath Street. Now, if you have a good machine, you shift into high gear; if the car is not so good, go into second. Here we are, on the Bath road, with Downes Creek in its deep ravine on the left, Rattle­ snake Hill on the right. In summer it's a pleasant drive. After clocking 1.8 miles from Cameron Corners you will have arrived at the top of the hill. The road is a good one-county aid . • Speed right along now for a mile or so, until you come to a right angle where the hard-surface road turns east to the Annabel dis­ trict. Don't make that turn. Rather, take a dirt road leading straight up an abrupt hill which rises from the rolling country through which you have been traveling. This hill, though rather steep, is short. When your mileage reads 3 .4 from Cameron hamlet, you will have come to the top of the pitch and reached your objective. Stop your car. On the right side of the road is the Thompson farmhouse; on the left a group of trees, a decrepit fence with sagging picket gate, and farther back from the road an old barn. The farm is no longer owned by the Averells, but it is the General's birth- (207) 208 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY place. The clump of trees and the picket gate are all that are left to remind us of the :fine house that formerly occupied the site. The house burned in 1880. We visited the place on August 17, 1928, and had an inter­ esting conversation with Mrs. Martha Thompson, nee Ellison, who lives across the road from the former Averell place. She told us she was in the house the day it burned. At the time she was a schoolgirl, and liked to play the piano in the Averell house. A Mrs. Taylor was engaged in boiling clothes in the kitchen on this day, and had a very hot :fire. After playing around for a while, little Miss Ellison went on to the school­ house, a few rods down the road. Presently she heard a cry, "Fire!" The fine old building was all a-blaze cind could not be saved ... The year previous to our visit, Mrs. Thompson had been bitten by a rattlesnake. She showed us the first finger of her right hand which is still crooked and more or less useless from the effect of the poison injected into her system by the snake. Only by fetching antitoxin from Philadelphia by air­ plane, was her life saved. The immediate locality, now known as "French Hill," for­ merly was distinguished as "Averell Hill." In 1878, Professor W.W. Clayton visited the spot and described it in his History of Steuben County in the following words:

From Averell Hill to the south and southwest may be obtained a fine view of the steep, broken hills bordering the Canisteo River, from two to four miles distant, forming a magnificent circle around a lower pine­ clad hill in front, while near by, on either side, cultivated farms slope toward a common center. To the right, near the west line of the town, the distant hill is broken off abruptly by a bend in the river, leaving a prominent headland. Far to the south are blue lines of hills in Penn­ sylvania....

I don't believe I can better that description, so I shall let it go at that. An old cemetery is located on the southeast slope of the hill. It has recently been cleared of briars and weeds and modernized by the women of the community. It is now a neat rural burying ground. When we were there a buckwheat field lay between it and the county road at the foot of the hill. In a prominent place is a polished granite slab erected by the General to the memory of his grandfather. The inscription reads: THE MAN WHO BLUFFED LEE 209 Ebenezer Averell Born At Mansfield, Conn. March 29, 1761 Died At Cameron, N.Y. December 10, 1839

Comparatively little is known about Ebenezer Averell. From his native town in Connecticut he removed to Delaware County, New York, and from thence to Black Rock ( near Bu:ff alo) . There he resided during the War of 1812. It is a matter of record that he furnished supplies to the army of General Winfield Scott during the Peninsular Campaign of 1814. During the Revolution a man of this name served with the Green Mountain Boys, under Colonel Ethan Allen. He may have been the sub­ ject of this paragraph. When Ebenezer's son came to Cameron, the father came also, and resided here until his death. Hiram Averell, son of Ebenezer and father of the General, was born in Delaware County, N.Y., in 1795. He married Elizabeth Young, of Addison, N.Y., and resided in that town in 1816. From 1818 to 1823, he served as collector for the town of Addison. It was probably as early as 182 5 that he removed to Cameron township and settled on the hill soon named in his honor. During this year he took the state census for the town of Cameron. He became one of the most prominent men in the town and served as a magistrate for several years. He must have been an original sort of person, if the following story con­ cerning him is true. A certain lawbreaker, haled before Squire Averell, began to swear profanely. Averell quietly made a note of the objectionable words and when the performance was over, informed the man that he was fined fifty cents for each cuss word, a total of fifteen dollars, which he must pay or go to jail. The culprit paid. As noted in Chapter XVI, Hiram Averell was one of the dele­ gates from Cameron to the Anti-Rent convention held at Bath, January 19, 1830. His first wife died shortly after he settled in Cameron (January 26, 1826.) His second wife was Huldah Hemingway, of Rathbone, and she bore him the following children: 210 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY 1. William Woods, the subject of this chapter. He married Kezia Haywood, an English woman. 2. Sarah, who married Leander Dascomb. · 3. Oscar J., married Helen C. Thompson. 4. Lucy, married (1st) William Crandall; (2nd) George Henica. 5. Martha, married Samuel Nichols. In their later years Mr. and Mrs. Hiram Averell removed to Bath village. He died there in 18 87, and was buried in Hope Cemetery. Here also his second wife was buried, the first one having been interred in the Baldwin Cemetery, about a. mile west of Addison village. Oscar J. Averell, the second male child, was born July 15, 1834, on the farm in Cameron. He, too, became prominent. In 1861, he was Steuben County Clerk. Twenty years later he was Clerk of the Superior Court of the Territory of Utah, but in 1883 returned to Bath. He died at Washington, D.C., December 20, 1892, and was buried at Bath. William Woods Averell, the first child of Hiram Averell, and the subject of this sketch, was born on Averell Hill, Cameron, N.Y., November 5, 1832. Only by inference do we know how he came to receive his Christian and middle names. The Honor­ able William Woods was one of the early and prominent at­ torneys of Bath. He was a member of the Legislature in 1823 and 1828, and Member of Congress, 1824-25. It is likely that he was a close friend of Hiram Averell, and the latter named his first-born in Woods' honor. Young William Woods Averell decided he wanted to obtain an appointment to West Point. The Honorable David Rumsey, of Bath, later a Justice of the Supreme Court of New York, was elected to Congress in 1846, and again in 1848. To him Hiram Averell made representations in behalf of his son. The best that Judge Rumsey would do was to appoint young Averell as first alternate.. The lad, full of hope, began a strenuous course of home study. It was his wont to fasten a text book to the handles of the plow and study while following the team in the field. His industry was rewarded. The principal candidate to West Point failed in the examination and Averell was thereupon appointed. He was admitted July 1, 18 51, successfully finished the prescribed course, and was graduated in 18 5 5. THE MAN WHO BLUFFED LEE 211 He was appointed brevet second lieutenant in the Mounted Rifles, and on the following second of May was commissioned a regular second lieutenant. He soon saw active service against the hostile Indians of Oregon and was wounded in action. A gigantic chief was about to brain the wounded "shavetail" with an axe, when another officer shot the assailant through the wrist and thus saved Averell for a life of usefulness. He recovered from his wound and upon the breaking out of the Civil War was :first sent upon a secret mission into the Sou th. He was trailed by the Secessionists and only by using his head on several occasions managed to escape with his life. On May 14, 1861, he was promoted :first lieutenant in the Third Regular Cavalry, and with his troop participated in the Battle of Bull Run. His letters to his relatives at this time are still preserved by the family. They are extremely interesting, but have never been published. The author of this book has been privileged to see some of them. Averell criticised McDowell severely for his handling of the Federal forces in this battle. He also makes a statement that I have not elsewhere seen. He says the National forces, because of poor discipline (being mostly what we now term National Guard troops) straggled to such an extent, that McDowell did not have engaged more than 10,000 or 15,000 men. If this is true, it affords a new reason for the defeat of the Northern army: it was vastly outnumbered. In August, 1861, Averell was appointed Colonel of the Third Pennsylvania Cavalry ( 60th Pennsylvania Volunteers). From that time on his advance was rapid, his life colorful. We will anticipate enough to say that the young officer from the hills of Cameron, entering the war as a :first lieutenant, came out a brevet Major-General of Volunteers. Some of the high spots in his career will be narrated. Colonel Averell participated in McClellan's Peninsular Cam­ paign and here :first established his reputation as a daring and resourceful cavalry leader. Possibly the most dramatic moment of his life occurred after McClellan's "change of base" move­ ment that virtually was a retreat. The bloody :fight at Malvern Hill took place July 1, 18 62. Although Robert E. Lee, the new commander of the Confederate Army of Northern Virginia, here sustained a dreadful repulse, his army lingered hard by while 212 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY McClellan attempted the difficult withdrawal of his army to Harrison's Landing. Colonel Averell was left to watch Lee's forces and hold them back, should they attempt to attack the retreating Federal troops with their long lines of wagon trains. It was an extremely important assignment; perhaps the fate of the Federal army depended upon the intrepidity and skill of this boyish colonel. He was equal to the emergency. I do not know whether he was a poker player, but he proved he was a bluffer par excellence. On the morning of July 2, a dense fog cloaked the position of the Con£ederates. Averell had no cannon, merely his regiment of cavalry. As the mist gradually dis­ persed, Averell kept his horsemen in continuous activity, creating the illusion ·that artillery in numbers was being brought up. The Confederates sent over a flag, requesting a two-hour truce so that they might bury their dead which they had left on the slope of the bloody hill the day be£ore. With apparent re­ luctance, Colonel Averell agreed to the truce. The Con£ederates could not perform their task in the time allotted; they asked for an extension of another two hours. With seemingly increased reluctance, Averell :finally granted this. Hoping that McClellan was well on his way to safety, the Colonel kept up the bluff. Then a battery of light artillery came to support him, and at the same time news arrived by a mounted messenger riding hard that the Army of the Potomac was safe. It is extremely prob­ able that Colonel William Woods Averell was the only man ever to successfully bluff that great military genius of the South, Robert E. Lee. Soon Averell was a Brigadier-General. On March 17, 18 6 3, with 2,100 men, he forced the crossing of Kelly's Ford and drove in confusion the Confederates under General Fitzhugh Lee. During the Chancellorsville Campaign, General Hooker had a cavalry corps of from 10,000 to 13,000 men, divided into four brigades, the units being commanded by Pleasanton, Buford, Averell and Gregg. Averell, with 4,000 men, moved on the Orange and Alexandria Railroad. At Rapidan Station he met the Confederates under General W. H. F. Lee and forced them to retire. Shortly he was recalled and ordered to rejoin Hooker at Chancellorsville. Before he was enabled to comply with this order, he was attacked by General J. E. B. Stuart at Ely's Ford. After Stuart retired, Averell remained quietly in camp during THE MAN WHO BLUFFED LEE 213 the battle of May 3, notwithstanding Hooker's orders; and for this he was relieved of command, his troops being assigned to Pleasanton. But, during August, 1863, Averell was engaged on important cavalry raids in Virginia; and from December 8th to the 21st of the same year he led an important campaign against the Con­ federate General John D. Imboden, in West Virginia. Averell lost but 11 men, while he inflicted severe loss upon his opponent, including 200 prisoners. Excerpts from Averell's report indi­ cate the nature of this expedition: I cut the Virginia and Tennessee Railroad at Salem on the 16th instant, and arrived safely at this point (Edray, Pocahontas County, W. Va.) with my command-consisting of the 2d, 3d, and 8th Virginia Mounted Infantry, 14th Pennsylvania, Dobson's battalion of cavalry, and Ewing's battery at Salem. Three depots were destroyed... the telegraph wire was cut, coiled and burned for half a mile.... My march was retarded occasionally by the tempest in the mountains and the icy roads. I was obliged to swim my command, and drag my artillery with ropes across Craig's Creek, seven times in twenty-four hours.•. We captured about two hundred prisoners, but have retained only forty officers and eighty men, on account of their inability to walk. We took also about one hundred and :fifty horses ... My horses have subsisted entirely upon a very poor country, and the officers and men have suffered cold, hunger and fatigue with remarkable fortitude. My command has marched, climbed, slid and swum three hundred and :fifty-five miles, since the 8th instant. On May 10, 1864, Averell, with 2,000 cavalry, was defeated at Wytheville, W. Va., by General Morgan. On the 17th and 18th of the following month he was in action at Lynch­ burg, Va., against General Early, and was wounded. But his wound did not long deter him. On July 19, he was in the Shen­ andoah Valley and repulsed a Con£ederate force at Darksville, inflicting a loss of 600 upon the rebels. The following morning General Jubal Early rushed out of his entrenchments at Win­ chester and attacked Averell. After three hours of hard :fight­ ing, Early gave it up as a bad job, having lost 400 men killed and wounded, together with 2 0 0 prisoners and 4 cannon. . . . On August 7, 1864, occurred what may perhaps be regarded as Averell's greatest feat in arms. The Confederate General Johnson had led an expedition into Maryland, raiding, burning, working general destruction. He was retiring along the Romney Road, on his way to Moorefield, 214 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Va., when Averell and his cavalry suddenly appeared, as though out of the thin air. The bugles brayed, the guidons were ad­ vanced, and in a roaring, flashing charge, Averell's troopers swept down through the dust clouds upon their prey. Followed the popping of revolvers, yells of men, the terrifying screams of wounded horses, the splintering of baggage wagons. Fairly overrun, Johnson was driven into headlong rout, losing all his artillery, most of his wagons and plunder, and 500 men taken prisoners. For this brilliant action Averell was brevetted a Major-General in the volunteer service. The battle of Moorefield was Averell's last dramatic action. During Sheridan's famous campaign in the Shenandoah Valley, Averell's and Merritt's cavalry divisions had much to do with Early's defeat, but Averell failed to get along well with Sheridan. Because of Averell's apparent reluctance to obey orders promptly, and more particularly the dilatory manner in which he pursued Early after his defeat, Sheridan, peppery Irishman that he was, flew into a rage. He flopped down at his military desk and wrote the following letter: Headquarters, Middle Military Division, Woodstock, Va., Sept. 2 3, 18 64. Brevet Major-General Averell: Your report and report of signal officer received. I do not want you to let the enemy bluff you or your command, and I want you to distinctly understand this note. I do not advise rashness, but I do desire resolution and actual :fighting, with necessary casualties, before you retire. There must no·w be no backing or filling by you without a superior force of the enemy actually engaging you. P.H. Sheridan, Major-General Commanding. Averell was a West Pointer, and he knew what strict con­ formity to orders meant. Moreover, he was a strict disci­ plinarian himself. I once talked to an aged veteran who as a mere lad served under Averell. He said his commander was such a martinet that he considered an ordinary enlisted man "little better than a dog." Yet, in spite of his bitterness, this aged soldier upheld Averell in the matter of the dispute with Sheridan. He claimed that Averell was an excellent soldier, a knock-down­ and-drag-out :fighter, but presumed he did not like to take orders from an Irishman. Such an attitude would indeed be strange in a West Pointer. There was no question of Averell's bravery, nor THE MAN WHO BLUFFED LEE 215 -in most cases-of his energy. And, as for permitting anyone to bluff him, we have seen what he did to Lee. His strange actions at this time were doubtless owing to ill feeling caused by a question of seniority. In any event, he failed to please Sheridan, and was promptly relieved of his command. This was the second time that he was thus humiliated. Sheridan ordered him to Wheeling and put Colonel William H. Powell in his place. Sheridan reported the matter to Grant in a letter: Headquarters, Middle Military Division, Harrisburg, Va., Sept. 25, 1864-11:30 P.M. Lieut.-General Grant, Comd'g, Etc., City Point, Va. I have relieved Averell from his command. Instead of fol­ lowing the enemy when he was broken at Fisher's Hill (so there was not a cavalry organization left), he went into camp and let me pursue the enemy for a distance of :fifteen miles, with infantry, during the night. P. H. Sheridan, Major-General. Grant sustained Sheridan's action. From this time until the close of the war little is heard of Averell. Averell's permanent rank in the regular army at the end of the war was that of captain. He resigned May 18, 1865. His career subsequent to the war was useful and brilliant. In 1868, he was appointed by President Johnson Consul-General of the United States to the Dominion of Canada. The following year he returned to the States and engaged in business. He invented a paving process and became President of the Asphalt Pavement Company. He also invented a system of electric conduits, and later perfected a process whereby iron ore can be converted into steel at a single operation. Deeming himself wronged, he en­ tered into litigation about his asphalt invention. The case hung :fire in the courts for a number of years, but ultimately the General obtained a judgment for a large amount. He had been placed on the retirement list with the rank of captain and Brevet Major-General. Late in his career he was appointed Inspector-General of Soldiers' Homes in the United States. He married rather late in life and had no children. He owned a fine residence in Liberty Street, Bath, and this house is still standing. He spent some of his spare time in literary work, writing several articles-notably on the Salem Raid-for New York magazines. He began work on his Memoirs, and carried 216 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY the narrative through his West Point days, early life in the army, and a portion of his career in the Civil War. Unfortunately he died before completing the work, and he has remained to this day without a biographer. The General's manuscript was, the last I was advised, in the possession of a nephew, Mr. William S. Crandall, of the Lincoln Publishing Company, Dayton, Ohio. Mr. Crandall is a son of the General's sister, Lucy. He, at one time, contemplated the publication of the manuscript, but I do not know that he did so. I believe I once saw the General, although at the time I had no idea it was he. In fact, I presume I had not then heard of him. As a mere lad I went with my father one day to Bath, to deliver a veal calf. As we drove down the long hill road that leads to the county seat from the direction of Cameron, we met a distinctive rig driven by a young woman, while at her side was one of the most distinguished appearing men I had yet seen. But this august person roused my bucolic scorn by remarking, as we passed him= "See the little cow!" Farmer's son that I was, I hastily concluded that a man who didn't know the correct appellation of a calf was woefully ignorant. It must have been as much as twenty years later that, when scanning that ex­ tremely valuable work, Miller's Photographic History of the Civil War, I discovered on page 3 3 9, of Volume I, a picture of General Averell and his staff. The face of the man of the "little cow" episode looked squarely out at me. Since learning of the General's career, which started on a farm, I know that he was merely joking for the benefit of the girl. She, I believe, was his niece, Miss Henica. (I have since had the privilege of meet­ ing her.) Doubtless, they were even then on their way out to the family farm, located on Averell Hill. General Averell was by no means an old man when his final illness set in. He died at the sanitarium in Hornell, N. Y ., on February 3, 1900, being in the sixty-eighth year of his life. There is a commemorative plate with his name and title in Cullum Hall, West Point Military Academy; and in the Daven­ port Library, Bath, is a memorial volume containing a brief sketch of his career. During the summer of 1934, the author of this book took up with the Bureau of Archives and History at Albany, the subject of erecting to the memory of the General a suitable marker at THE MAN WHO BLUFFED LEE 217 or near his birthplace. After some correspondence, the Albany officials agreed to do this, and ordered a plate cast. As soon as all the necessary red tape is unwound, the marker will, we hope, be placed at the foot of the pitch in the dirt road which leads to the top of the hill. It will read: AVERELL HILL Birthplace of WILLIAM Wooos AVERELL Major-General U. S. A. Noted Cavalry Leader Of The Civil War CHAPTER XX The Brazilian Adventure Brazil has an area which is 250,000 square miles greater than that of continental United States, exclusive of Alaska. She has a population in excess of thirty million souls, all but a million and a half of whom are native born. The largest city, Rio de Janeiro, contains well up toward two million persons. The country was discovered in the year 1500 by Cabral, a Portuguese navigator; and the language, customs and traditions still are largely Portuguese. Brazil has been an independent nation since 1815, and a republic since 18 89. Its constitution is patterned after that of the United States. There are 20 states, one terri­ tory and a Federal district. Nearly all the people are Roman Catholics, but freedom of religious worship is guaranteed by the law of the land. A great portion of the country is unsettled and even unexplored; there are vast reaches where the feet of white men have never trod. Less than 20,000 miles of railroad are in operation in all that vast territory~ The regular standing army numbers 35,000 men, and the reserve 560,000. Military service is compulsory. The navy includes some modern vessels and is manned by about 10,000 officers, sailors and marines. Brazil originally joined the League of Nations, but withdrew in 1927. The Amazon River, with its tributaries, furnishes free navi­ gation for over 30,000 miles within the limits of the republic. The lack of land transportation facilities was felt as long ago as prior to our Civil War. In 18 5 2, an officer of the American Navy had advocated the building of a railroad from the head of navigation on the Madeira River, a tributary of the Amazon, to the frontier of Bolivia, in order to tap the great wealth repre­ sented by the coffee and the mines of the latter country. At a later period, an English concern began work on this proj­ ect, but soon failed. An American company took up the work in 1878. An expedition set out from New York, under the leadership of Colonel G. C. Earl. The principal contractors were (218) THE BRAZILIAN ADVENTURE 219 the Collins Brothers of Philadelphia. Believing that the old­ stock Yankees would prove to be the best workmen, this :firm, through its agent, Wyman Edson, advertised for men to go on the Brazilian expedition. Excellent wages were promised. The spirit of adventure lurked then, even as now, in the breasts of young Americans. When has it been otherwise? A band of about forty men was collected in the Canisteo Valley and vicinity. Among these adventurers were J.E. Colegrove­ many years later Erie station-master at Canisteo--Elijah Hallett, James Coote, Seymour Orvis, Albert Orvis, Fred Pierce, Edward Pierce, Marcella Arwin, Charles Benson, Edgar Smith, Albert Comfort, Henry Ploof, J. E. Brown, Isaac Chatman, Floyd Davis, Mark Turner, Herbert Eason, John Hadley, and Colonel Spear. The latter, who had served in the Confederate Army and claimed to have learned his profession of civil engineer under Robert E. Lee, was expected to act as assistant engineer of the project. Besides the members of the Canisteo Valley contingent, there were about 15 0 other Americans from various sections of New York and Pennsylvania. The Canisteo Valley group left for Philadelphia on December 26, 1877, their Christmas dinners scarcely yet digested. Arriv­ ing at the Quaker City, they embarked on the steamship Mer­ cidita, on January 2, 1878. To many of these young men, scarcely more than boys, this promised to be as great an adven­ ture as the conquest of Normandy had been to their Norse ances­ tors. On January 5, stormy Cape Hatteras was approached. Gales were prevalent and many of the farmer boys from the hills of Steuben were overcome by seasickness. Some thought they were about to die, and most of them wished to. J.E. Brown, of Addison, was washed overboard by a monster wave-presumably while he was leaning over the rail-and was saved only by prompt action on the part of the crew. One of the party threw out a chair, and to this Brown clung until a boat reached him. When the adventurers left Philadelphia, the weather was ex­ tremely cold; but as the ship plowed her way into the Southern Sea the change in temperature became rapid and pronounced. The steamer put in at the Barbadoes and there remained for three days. The boys from the North were intrigued with the tropical fruit which abounded, the balmy air, the clear blue sky. Eating fresh fruit in the winter was a novelty to the lads from 220 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY the Swale or Call Hill, with memories of the Northern-Spy apple barrel in the cellar. After a voyage of thirty days, the blurred outline of the forest-clad land of Brazil came in sight and the ship dropped anchor in the harbor of Para, at the mouth of the Amazon. After a brief stay here, the voyage was continued up the mighty river. Except for a slight accident when the ship ran upon a sand bar, the trip up the Amazon proved uneventful. After proceeding about 1200 miles, the steamer turned into the Madeira River. This stream was bordered by matted forests of rosewood, redwood, lignum vitae, Brazil nut, and black palm. Parrots of all colors chattered in the trees, monkeys hung by their tails from high branches, huge snakes rustled through the marsh grass, and a strange, anvil-like sound made by the ura­ ponga echoed through the woods. It was indeed an odd world into which the Canisteo boys had come. Steadily the steamer forced its way against the current. After ascending this river for 800 miles, the boat at last came to anchor at San Antonio, a small native village just below some rapids which blocked further navigation. The whole voyage had con­ sumed fifty-eight days. Already some of the men were sick of their bargain and longed for a good old-fashioned blizzard. San Antonio was the northern terminus of the road that was to be. There was nothing inspiring about it; merely miserable shacks, half-clad or entirely naked children, heat, fleas, dirt. It was situated in the state of Alta Amazonas, which is about three times the size of Texas. Everyone had all he wanted of distance. Here the river was a mile wide. After the vessel had been unloaded, about seventy-five cords of wood were cut and put on board, for ballast. Tents were then pitched and some abandoned buildings cleaned out, to serve as quarters for the men. A sawmill, abandoned by the English, was tinkered until it would run. Then work was com­ menced, clearing the right-of-way through the forest. The jungle was almost impenetrable, the heat terrific; the thermometer frequently registered 120 degrees. Oozy swamps, monstrous plants, reptiles, vermin. Malarial fever put in its ap­ pearance and several of the men succumbed to its ravages. Homesickness added to the misery that soon became universal. The Northern lads lay in their hot beds at night and dreamed THE BRAZILIAN ADVENTURE 221 of snow, popcorn, cider, maple syrup-and awoke to mop the sweat from their brows, and hear the savage cries of fierce and unknown animals prowling near the camp. Of all the predatory beasts the Brazilian tiger was the most dangerous. The tapirs were numerous but of a mild disposi­ tion. Enormous snakes frequently were seen. One was shot whose skin measured twenty feet in length and was twenty­ seven inches wide. The river was full of fish and some were caught which weighed two hundred pounds. Turtles were ob­ tained in numbers, and from these excellent soup was made. After the right-of-way had been cleared, grading was begun. Soon a short piece of track was put down, then an engine and cars hauled the material into the jungle. Other workmen had been sent out by the contractors, the total force being now about 950 men. Some workmen had been drowned in a shipwreck off Hatteras. Of those who won through, many were the gleanings of city slums, unintelligent, of poor physique, rotten with syph­ ilis, practically worthless. The Up-State boys did most of the work. But the company failed to pay promptly. Discontent was rife. Yet much was accomplished. In ten months five miles of track had been completed. Five miles additional had been cleared to a width of a hundred feet along the right-of-way. Surveys for fifteen miles farther had been made. All this had been done under heart-breaking con­ ditions and during the rainy season, when for miles the low ground seemed like a shallow lake. But during all this time the men had received no pay what­ soever. They now demanded to be returned to the States. The contractors agreed, and the men were sent down to Para on a native boat. There they had to wait a month for a steamer to take them to New York. When this at last came, the dingy, badly-painted craft seemed like a palace. On the way north the ship put into the harbor at St. Thomas Island, one of the Danish West Indies. The group of which St. Thomas is one, has since been acquired by the United States and renamed Virgin Islands. It was here that the notorious pirate of Colonial days, Black beard, had a castle where he sometimes rested after a foray. His real name was Thatch, and for years, back in those old days, he had been a terror to the Carolina coast. Eventually he was killed in a personal encounter with 222 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Lieutenant Maynard, of Virginia, who had been sent after him with a man-of-war. The survivors of the Collins Expedition, with much experience but weakened health to their credit, arrived at New York the last of January, 1879. They had been absent from the soil of America nearly thirteen months. It had been a great adventure. · They secured free transportation to Philadelphia, where a settlement was made with the company. Then the Canisteo Valley contingent turned their faces toward Steuben. The good old Valley, frosty and snow-bound as they found it, with the afternoon sun retiring from a flaming sky, and the wood smoke from the chimneys rising straight into the biting air, seemed like a veritable paradise to the men who had for so long been marooned in the tropical jungles of Brazil. CHAPTER XXI Average Americans Just why the Stuarts left the fertile and comparatively old­ settled region of Barrington, Yates County, for the forests and hills of Cameron, was a question that long puzzled their de­ scendants. Perhaps it was because they had heard the new loca­ tion was well watered by springs. Possibly it was the lure of cheaper land. ~1:ost likely of all, it was simply the pioneering in­ stinct; the thickly settled community no longer appealed. They must move on and conquer anew. Reverend Jacob Stuart was the :first to strike out for South Hill, some time in 1834. Possibly he had discovered the region when out circuit riding. Preachers used to travel far afield in those days. He first settled on what later was known as the Quick farm, about half a mile south of the present site of the church. Eventually he settled on the lower end of the Swale. The winter that followed his settlement on South Hill was one of the hardest ever experienced in America. On January 4, 18 3 5, the mercury congealed at the town of Lebanon, Madison County, New York. Domestic animals froze in their stalls, wild beasts perished in the forest. It was a great wolf year; the fierce grey wolves seemed unusually numerous and savage that winter. They roamed the forest in large and ferocious packs, rendering it highly dangerous for men to venture from their dwellings at night. Their terrifying howls echoed from the hills, and they even crept around the cattle sheds at night, in an endeavor to pounce upon the animals within. In the spring John Stuart, the head of the family, together with Girden and his young wife, left Barrington and set out along the County Road to the land whence their kinsman had already gone. At the time of the migration John was sixty-two years of age, his wife nearly fifty-four. Girden, although mar­ ried, was but a few months more than twenty-two. As yet he had purchased no farm in Cameron; he was to live with his father for a time, while on the outlook for a suitable place. Of (223) 224 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY the young children at home, John Stout was sixteen, Zeri four­ teen, Abraham six, and Rebecca five; the other members of the clan being married and out on their own. The ones enumerated constituted a modern Swiss Family Robinson, as they loaded their household goods and farm implements into two large ox­ wagons, drove the cows, young cattle and sheep out into the road and turned their faces toward the south. We will not describe their journey, but jump with them at once to South Hill. Suffice it to say that, after passing the hamlet of Cameron, and climbing the steep hill where Bane Baker had had his thrill­ ing race with the wolves, they came at last in sight of a cluster of log buildings topping what was later called the "Campbell Pitch," and realized that they had arrived at their new home. The boys cast appreciative eyes at Tracy Creek, which washed the base of the pitch, and decided that trout lurked therein. It still was a wild, raw country thereabout, but all felt the thrill of the explorer and were not downhearted. The desire to con­ quer the forest and subdue the land: was in their blood. As for John, he minded his sixty-two years not at all, but was more than anxious to start in with all his old-time vigor. He was to live more than twenty-two years in his new environment. Concerning the County Road, which bounded John's farm on the east, there seems to be some dispute as to just when and by whom it was put through. Some claim the work was done by the agents of the Pulteney Estate, to develop their holdings. These authorities say the road first entered the Valley at West Cameron. It is quite generally agreed that it was cut through the forest, at least as far as Cameron hamlet, as early as 1822. It is fairly well established that Dennis Vandyne, who sold his farm to John Stuart, was the contractor who cut the road from the Canisteo Valley over South Hill. Elisha Leach, one of the first on South Hill, settled on what is now known as the Frank Monahan farm, and was said to be one of the workmen who cut the road through the forest. He had thereby been attracted to the locality. There is some doubt whether he settled on the Hill in 18 2 3 or in 18 2 5, but in any event he antedated the Stuarts considerably. He had married Sarah, a daughter of Richard Winship, of Milo, Yates County, and was the father of Girden Stuart's first wife, Katherine, or "Katie," as she was usually known. AVERAGE AMERICANS 225

In the outside world 183 5 was a busy year. Andrew Jackson was serving his second term as President of the United States, and the common people were supposed to be in the saddle. It was the "new deal" of a century ago. The following winter marked the beginning of that bloody and costly struggle known in our history as the "Florida War," the second, and last, con­ flict with the Seminole Indians. But the South Hill settlers knew little or nothing of these things, for newspapers were rare. Roberts, in his History of Steuben County says: There were only a few clearings along the highway when Mr. Stuart settled here. He was obliged to go to Troupsburg, to Wombough's mill at Addison, and to Rowley's at (South) Canisteo, to have his grist ground.•. What journeys they were! Starting before the dawn, perhaps two days on the trip, passing but few settlers' cabins, the con­ stant danger of breakdowns alone in the forest and no help near, the menace of wild animals, the worrying of the family while the father was gone. At Cameron settlement, two miles away, there was a grocery store kept by Andrew Erwin. The whole hamlet probably did not number a dozen houses. Two miles in the opposite direction, south from John Stuart's farm, was a very energetic man who had settled near what we now call Boyd's Corners, about :five years prior to Stuart's arrival. This was Chauncey P. Hubbard. He erected a sawmill on the North Branch of the Tuscarora Creek, was a Ruling Elder in the First Presbyterian Church of Woodhull, organized at Hedgesville in 18 3 1, and was the first postmaster of South Hill; the office being established May 10, 1843. Later, during the Civil War, the office, which had been discontinued in 1860, was reestablished further up on the Hill, toward Cameron, and \Villiam Knapp was postmaster. It was not :finally discontinued until 18 87. In 183 5, the wild animals constituted a serious menace in the South Hill neighborhood. It was sometime during the sum­ mer of the family's arrival that John requested Cynthia, his wife, to go to Cameron on an errand. He was too busy in the field to go himself, and he needed the help of his boys. Cynthia, as yet in her early fifties, was a strong and healthy woman, and minded the two-mile walk not at all. So she set out along the woodsy road, accompanied only by a little whippet dog. 226 STORIES OF THE K.ANESTIO VALLEY She made the trip to the settlement in short time, performed her errand and started home. While she was climbing the hill road which led up from the river through the dark ravine, she heard an ominous crackling in the underbrush below the trail. Frightened at once, Cynthia paused to catch her breath. The crackling continued and presently she caught a glimpse of a tawny form moving in the shadows of the wood, apparently moving toward a point in the road ahead of her. The beast, Cynthia was sure, planned to cut her off. Thoroughly terrified, Cynthia strode as rapidly up the trail as the steepness of the grade and her failing breath would per­ mit. The little whippet seemed to realize that his big moment had come. If the stalking beast were a bear, the dog would slide down his gullet as easily as a pill. But the canine's spirit was un­ daunted in this emergency. He began the most terrific uproar, he raced up the road, he ran back to his mistress. Never before had Cynthia known that the cur could bark and growl so f ero­ ciously, so impressively. Almost she was frightened at him her­ self. The demonstration of savagery that he now staged seemed to cause him to swell in size, like a politician when he begins to speak. He appeared to lust for gore; nothing short of blood would appease him. It soon became apparent that the sneaking beast in the under­ brush also was impressed. For a time the crackling and snap­ ping of twigs continued, but the sound came no nearer the trail. Keeping his small but dynamic body ever between the danger and his mistress, the faithful purp continued such an eruption of canine violence as should have served to appall either bear or panther. It did. Cynthia arrived at her home tired and excited but sound in body and limb. John, too, had an adventure. While hunting strayed cattle one day, he spied at the foot of a tree a fine specimen of bear cub. Rebecca and Abraham, he thought, would appreciate just such a playmate as that cub would make. So he tucked it under his arm and proceeded as before. But his pleasant frame of mind was soon rudely disturbed. He was woodsman enough to realize the significance of the growl which sounded not so far behind. He whirled and faced a female bear with determination and un­ holy purpose smeared all over her face. John concluded to drop the cub. He did so. He took to his heels. Notwithstanding AVERAGE AMERICANS 227 his years, and aided mightily by those same long legs which are a heritage of the family, he made very good time. But Ma Bear, pausing only to sniff appreciatively at her discarded cub, proceeded anon to make better time than John possibly could. He began to grow desperate. His breath would not last for­ ever, and the villain still pursued him. Then came inspiration. Snatching his fur cap from his head, he dropped it in his wake and tried to mend his pace. Glancing back over his shoulder as he fled, he was gratified to observe that the female bear was having a mighty tussle with the cap. Perhaps it was reminiscent of a former mate. Possibly that very fur had once encased the fat sides of a potential rival. At any rate, she proceeded to make shreds of that per£ectly good cap, for got the man who had abstracted her cub, and permitted him to make his breath­ less and trembling escape. The Stuarts had been located on South Hill for two years when the panic of 18 3 7, probably the worst the country has ever seen, broke with sudden fury. The causes of this panic were three: Jackson's order of 1836, that payments for public land could be made only in gold and silver; the act of Congress whereby the treasury surplus of $28,000,000 was to be with­ drawn from the local banks and distributed among the several states-with the consequent inability of the banks to meet the demand; a fire in New York City, December 16, 1835, which caused property damage to the amount of twenty million dollars. While business men could not pay their debts, several of the individual states failed, the Federal government could not meet the demands upon it, and consternation reigned in the thickly settled districts, it does not appear that the Stuart family suffered to any extent. John's property consisted of land and livestock. He was out of debt and did not need to borrow money. His sons rendered it unnecessary for him to hire :field hands, he pro­ duced nearly everything the family consumed. Isolated and self­ sufficient, the family paid little heed to the hard times which almost wrecked the nation. But it is not believed that Cynthia subscribed to Godey' s Lady's Book. Just at this time, hand­ colored fashion plates were not in demand on South Hill. The County Road, which ran the length of the Hill, proved a popular thorough£are. Along it came settlers whose objective was Troupsburg, Woodhull, Talbot Creek, or the Hubbard 228 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY

Settlement. Some of them paused and settled on the Hill, or along the road that branched off to the Dennis Settlement in North Jasper. Soon the Hill rang from morn till eve with the merry sound of axes and the crashing of falling trees. At night the glare from numerous fallows reddened the sky. Every few days a raising was held, to which all the neighbors were expected to repair. Here hearty food, strong drink and coarse frolic were enjoyed by all these simple but sturdy folk. A schoolhouse was erected, flanked on one side by the road, on the other side by a cemetery, while just beyond was a swamp. The land for both the schoolhouse and the graveyard was do­ nated by the Pulteney Estate. Within a few years there were nearly sixty pupils, and of these, almost two-thirds were descend­ ants of John and Cynthia (Miller) Stuart. The schoolhouse, with its setting of swamp and cemetery was the South Hill community center. Not only was school held here, a school liberally attended alike by children and lanky youths with whiskers, but mock trials, debates, spelling bees, were staged in the little building. Here also, in want of a church, Reverend Jacob Stuart, John's oldest son, preached. From the time of his arrival, in 1834, to the date of erection of the church in 1872, Jacob was the only preacher the com­ munity had. Right well did he serve his Lord and the people. Judged by modern standards, his education was faulty. He was opinionated, narrow, bigoted. He preached against the use of tobacco. He detested Catholics and Freemasons alike. But he believed he was called to a great work. Perhaps he was. It is established that under his ministry, the Hill as a community was far more peaceable and law-abiding than many of the surround­ ing localities. Shrewd observers have declared that South Hill has sent out into the world more useful and distinguished citizens than any other section of the township of Cameron. Jacob Stuart was a man to be remembered. Of herculean build, like a majority of the family, he had the fierce blue eyes, florid countenance and powerful voice that distinguished the old stock. He was emotional to a degree. He used no notes. First reading his text, he stood forth and, as he warmed to his theme, he alternately thundered and wept. It has been said of him that he could sway an audience as a strong west wind sways a :field of wheat. The writer years ago talked with a saintly old AVERAGE AMERICANS 229 woman who remembered this backwoods apostle as he was when he preached at Adrian. She insisted that he was the most power­ £ul and moving preacher she had ever heard, and she had lis­ tened to many others with far greater pretensions to culture. In 18 69, he purchased a farm of two hundred acres, known as the "Dickey Place," located on the lower Swale. He paid for 12 5 acres of this tract and was given a deed to the remaining 7 5 acres for the consideration of supporting and burying Miss Harriet Dickey, a woman of subnormal mentality. He later mortgaged his farm to send his son, Edward P. Stuart, through medical college. Miss Dickey had lived on the farm just acquired by Rev. Jacob with her brother William until a few years previous to this. On the evening of December 13, 18 6 5, William Dickey went to call on a neighbor who lived perhaps a mile away. After completing his call, he started for home. He never reached it. His lifeless body was found in the road the following morning, near a thorn bush which grew by the side of the way. His head had been crushed, presumably by a club. His assassin had doubtless hidden in the shadow of the bush. For this crime no one was even arrested, much less tried. The farmhouse into which Jacob had moved was a large, weather-beaten affair with two huge chimneys and six :fireplaces. It overlooked the Canisteo Valley just west of Cameron and in summer was not unpleasant. But in winter it was bleak.. As the preacher grew old, one of his sons-in-law, Delos Gloyd, took over the management of the farm. Thereafter Jacob spent most of his time be£ ore the fireplace in his room, reading books and planning his sermons. He still preached at Adrian and West Cameron. His wife died in October, 1873, but he survived eleven years more, dying January 24, 18 84. He was buried on South Hill, in what has become known as the "Stuart Ceme­ tery," quite near the little old schoolhouse in which he had thundered so many years in the cause of the Lord. He has had numerous descendants, but the male line is now almost extinct. John Stuart's four last children began to marry within a few years after the migration to Cameron. We have already noted that Lydia, the eldest child, married William Jackson-he that had the stirring adventures on the road when peddling. The daughters Mary and Nancy also married, but did not remove to 230 STORIES OF THE K.ANESTIO VALLEY the South Hill neighborhood, hence do not come into this story. Zeri married Charlotte Winship, a granddaughter of Richard Winship, of Milo, Yates County, and eventually settled in the southern part of the town of Cameron, near the Woodhull line. John Stout married Sarah Chase, daughter of Judah and Catherine (Winship) Chase. This Sarah also was a grand­ daughter of Richard Winship. As we shall later see, Girden Stuart's second wife, Sarah Terrell Winship, was another grand­ daughter of this same Richard Winship, as was his first wife, Katherine Leach. In the course of time there were eleven cases of intermarriage between the descendants of Richard Winship and John Stuart. These two families practically merged into one. . . . Rebecca Stuart, the last of John's daughters, married Lewis Andrus and went to live on a farm in the northern part of Woodhull, about a mile from her brother Zeri's place. Abraham, the youngest son, married and remained at home. On South Hill time produced rapid changes. In addition to his original 100 acre farm, John Stuart purchased 40 acres, later called the Booth Lot, also yet another tract. These brought up his total holdings to 169 acres, which, in 1852, were assessed at $1658.00. But he was growing old. He had become feeble. So he divided his farm between John Stout and Abraham and took up his residence with the latter, who occupied the original house. John Stout built a new house, a few rods to the south, and .with him Cynthia made her home. John died in the sum­ mer of 1857, being in his eighty-fifth year. His wife passed three years later. Their descendants thus far have numbered about 700, included among whom have been: Five ordained clergymen-besides a considerable number of lay preachers, deacons, ruling elders, Sunday School superin­ tendents; four physicians; one lawyer; one educator; one editor; four business executives or supervisors; two veterinarians; one government official; one state official; one regular army officer; one naval officer (reserve); three college professors; five Federal civil service employees; two state civil service employees; a very large number of school teachers; a number of town officials; many soldiers; numerous railroad employees of the higher grades, such as conductors, engineers, train dispatchers, chief clerks; many prosperous f reeholding farmers; several writers of modest worth, such as local historians. AVERAGE AMERICANS 231 The graves of John and Cythia (Miller) Stuart, in the old South Hill Cemetery, remained unmarked for many years, but about 2 5 years ago a suitable stone was erected on John's grave, inscribed: JOHN STUART, Jr. Who Was the Ancestor of the Stuart Family In this Vicinity Born in New Jersey, 1773 Died at Cameron, N. Y., 1857

Girden Stuart's first child was not born until two years after the arrival at South Hill. After living with his father for a short time, Girden settled on a seventy-five acre tract located just east of John's farm. The contract to this place he obtained from the Pulteney Estate. His first residence was a log house which he occupied until 1853. It was situated on the brow of Campbell Pitch and overlooked Tracy Creek. At this day a crumbling cellar wall and a few scraggly plum trees mark the site of the farmer cabin. Girden, as we have seen, married, in 18 3 1, Katherine Leach. After bearing two children-Amos and Melissa-she died in 1839. In this same year Zeri Stuart, at the age of eighteen, married Charlotte Winship, and tern porarily moved in with his young wife to keep house for his brother, the youthful widower, Girden. And now it seems that Charlotte sent word to her sis­ ter, Sarah T. Winship, who lived at Milo, to come out for a visit. Sarah accepted the invitation, but when she arrived at the cabin at the top of Campbell Pitch, she found no one at home. A cheerful fire was snapping on the hearth, so she sat down before it to await the coming of her sister. Presently Sarah heard a footfall. She glanced around and noted that a tall, ruddy-faced young man with dark hair and blue eyes had just entered the room. She knew him from the description her sister had given. He spoke first: "Miss Sarah Winship, I presume." "And you must be Girden Stuart," she replied. It seemed a bit stiff and perhaps like play-acting. Why not? The whole thing had doubtless been arranged by Zeri's wife, even to the minor details. And it worked. In a brief time Gir- 232 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY den and Sarah were married, October 9, 18 3 9. In about a year the first child, a boy named John, arrived. He did not live beyond infancy. When Sarah came from Yates County she brought with her three silk dresses. She never had another until after reaching middle age. When she first accompanied her husband to the church service held in the schoolhouse, under the emotional and dynamic management of Girden's brother, Rev. Jacob Stuart, she wore one of her silk gowns, together with white slippers and a neat silk bonnet. The other women of the community, garbed in calico or homespun, and wearing heavy shoes, looked askance at Sarah, believing she was putting on airs. But her sweet disposition and friendly ways disarmed these hard­ working women and made them her friends for life. Relatively, Sarah was cultured. In Yates County she had ob­ tained a good education for the times, and had even taken les­ sons in music. She could "sing by note." She showed adapta­ bility and fitted into the life of the neighborhood without a jar. Very soon her house became a popular rendezvous for the neigh­ bors on Sunday afternoons. Her remarkable ability along culinary lines undoubtedly added to her charm. She could make doughnuts the like of which were never known be£ ore, nor since. They were delicious! She was rather small, seemingly a fragile person; but she had heavy burdens to bear and she bore them cheerfully. Con­ stantly she sang at her work, and she rarely lost her temper, even when it became obvious that she was to be the mother of a numerous family. Eventually she gave birth to eleven children, only one of whom died in infancy. The outbreak of the Mexican War, in 1846, caused scarcely a flurry in Girden's family. Sarah knew that her cousin, Lieutenant Oscar F. Winship, was at the front, but she was un­ able to follow his career. Her most vivid recollection of him concerned his visit to his relatives in Yates County during the summer of 18 3 8, the year before her marriage. Oscar was on his long leave from West Point, granted upon the completion of his second year 1t the Academy. During that joyous summer Oscar had taken Sar:1h boating on Seneca Lake, walked with her down the dusty road to the grocery store in Milo, and helped her pick fruit in the orchard. She had admired his broad shoulders, AVERAGE AMERICANS 233 slim waist (believing he wore a corset), erect carriage and natty gray uni£orm. The next year she went to Cameron for mar­ riage and a life of hard work. He began a famous career whose high spots were the mad cavalry charge at Resacca de la Palma, and the terrific fighting in the Valley of Mexico. His record is part of the military history of the Nation. Sunday, September 1, 1850, was a great day for the Canisteo Valley, South Hill and all the surrounding country. On that day the first train on the Erie Railroad steamed up the Valley. Of course the Stuarts repaired to the bluffs that constituted the southern wall of the deep valley. They thrilled as they saw the first thin wisp of smoke that ushered in a new era for the countryside. Sarah was then thirty-three years of age. She was destined to live :fifty-eight years after she saw the first train thunder up the iron trail, far below her elevated station. These fifty-eight years were to be spent within sound of the locomo­ tive's whistle, yet she never rode on a train to her dying day. Although urged, she would not. She feared to. One hot day in the summer of 18 51, Girden hitched his oxen to a wagon and set out for Cameron village, accompanied by his young sons, George and Norman. It had been quite dry for some time and the road was dusty. All the way down the long dug-road which led from South Hill to the Canisteo Valley, the locusts sang in the berry bushes which lined the road, and the sun beat down pitilessly. The oxen grew warm. Arriving at the river, Girden decided to drive the oxen across the ford, rather than the bridge, in order to give them an opportunity to cool off a bit and splash the flies from their heated bodies. The poor beasts could not be restrained. Disregarding the shallows where they should have crossed, they made for the deeper water and almost at once sank out of sight in a pool­ wagon, oxen and all. Girden, on the bank, shouted lustily for help. A few rods distant the Wheeler brothers were at work in their grist mill. They heard the outcries and came running to the rescue. In the meantime the wagon box, tight enough to serve as a boat, floated av.ray from the wagon, bearing little George and Norman down the stream. The Wheeler brothers plunged into the river, first grasped the wagon box and steered it to the shore, then turned and released the pins of the yoke, freeing the oxen. 234 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY The frightened beasts scrambled up the bank, stood trembling for a moment, then promptly ran off down the new railroad track. In the end they were recovered, the wagon was hauled out of the stream, thanks to the Good Samaritans from the mill, and all ended well. In 18 5 3, Girden erected a new house, perhaps 3 0 or 40 rods south of his first location. For the times and place it was a good dwelling, substantial, well-built. It was of neat framed construction, and Girden built it all with his own hands, even to the doors and windows; for he was a highly skilled carpenter. Samuel M. Stuart, the tenth child, was the last one born in the old log house. He was moved as a baby into the spic-and-span new dwelling. This house stood until June 13, 1931, when it burned to the ground. Just east of the barn a long lane began. Flanked by stone walls, this lane led down to a pasture through which meandered Tracy Creek. Beyond the creek the woods began. Beyond the woods was a road where lived a French-Canadian, one John Baptist Page, a neighborhood character but a thrifty farmer. When along in March the snow melted from the stone walls by the side of the lane and Tracy Creek began to run bank full with roily water, Girden's boys knew it was time to tap the sugar bush. Girden at first had about 200 fine sugar maples on his own place, but a wind storm blew down two thirds of these. Subsequently he worked the bush on the Monahan place, which bordered his own on the south. He then tapped between 300 and 400 trees. He had none of the modern equipment for working a sugar bush, but was forced to make his own. In lieu of buckets to catch the sap, he and his boys hewed out little troughs. Those that were of basswood had to be burned on the inner side to pre­ vent leaking. The instrument used in tapping the trees was a simple gauge of metal which made a semicircular incision when driven into the tree. In this incision was placed a spile made of pine. Just above the spile the tree was hacked with an axe. The sap, dripping down the bole of the tree, was caught by the spile and conveyed into the trough. Simple, and wasteful. In place of an evaporator, or an arch and sap pan, they had :five iron kettles, each with a capacity of :five pails. For the boiling place they selected a spot where two small trees grew AVERAGE AMERICANS 235 about twenty feet apart. These trees were cut off at nine feet above the ground and upon the stumps a pole was placed, ex­ tending across the gap. From the pole the five kettles were sus­ pended by means of forked sticks reaching from the pole to within three feet of the ground. This permitted the kettles to be swung away from the fire when necessary. The amount of wood used in the boiling-down process was staggering. A storage vat was made by hewing out an immense log. They had a shanty in wruch was stored extra equipment. They usually boiled down at night, after the sap had ceased to run. The whole family gathered for the occasion. A pleasant coolness was in the air, and the smell of burning wood, melting snow, fresh earth, damp moss. The moon rose above the dark wood, which seemed to radiate mystery-and this the ghostly calls of a hoot-owl did nothing to dispel. The children poured hot sirup on the snow and made what they called "wax." Girden and Sarah sang together and told stories of their early life in Yates County. The big boys carried wood to the :fires and kept them roaring until the glare lighted the dark lanes of the forest and the pasture with its exposed knobs of earth and pools of water. It was wholesome and good. None of them in later years forgot the joy of it. There was another event, the memory of which has well-nigh passed, and the compassing of it is a lost art: The trapping of wild pigeons, which in those days abounded in unbelievable numbers, but now are no more. Girden was an expert in pigeon trapping. He started his campaign by making a little shack of boughs near the margin of the field. In this he expected to hide, for the foliage had largely gone. It should be understood that the season is now Indian summer and the buckwheat has been harvested. A stool pigeon was absolutely essential. This had been secured some time before, and its eyes had been sewed up, for it was ex­ pected to entice its fellows to destruction. This bird was tied by the feet to one end of a board, or stool, that rested on a cross bar suported by two forked sticks. To the other end of the board a cord was tied, and this led first under a peg set in the ground and then away to the bough house. A pull on the cord caused the pigeon's end of the board to rise; the tension 236 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY being released, the board would fall. Instinctively the pigeon would flap its wings, in order to keep its place. This action on the part of the bird was expected to attract the attention of other pigeons, high in the air. Invariably it did. Just beyond the decoy was placed a net about ten feet square. This net was stiffened by a frame of light wood, and the edge farthest from the decoy was slightly elevated. From this top frame another cord led to the bough house where the trapper was to take his place. All about the decoy and the net buck­ wheat was scattered. Merely to wait was next. Usually the interval was not long. Presently an immense flock of wild pigeons would appear, thousands of them. When the flock had reached a position overhead that suited the watcher, he pulled the cord leading to the teeter, or stool. The board rose and fell and the blind pigeon flapped its wings. This unusual movement below attracted the attention of the wild birds. "What ho!" doubtless thought the leader. "Here's one of our number. Let's see about it." So the flock settled gently around their disabled comrade. Then, observing the scattered buck­ wheat, they fell to and feasted. At this precise moment the concealed trapper did his dirty work. Giving the cord which led to the net a jerk, the light contraption was flopped right over onto the wild pigeons. Then ensued a commotion. It was useless; they were imprisoned. Anywhere from one dozen to twelve dozens of the birds could thus be taken in a single netting. Girden killed the birds by biting their necks as they thrust them through the meshes of the net. Not only his own family, but the families of his brothers had several meals of hot bird during the next few days. Where have all the wild pigeons gone? That's a question frequently asked and never satisfactorily answered. The coun­ tryside sees them no more. Some say they were all blown out to sea by a heavy wind-storm and drowned. There's a story told by a sea captain who said that on his way home from the West Indies his ship sailed for days through a sea covered with the dead bodies of pigeons. Others say a plague took them off. Who shall decide? The maple sugar and the pigeons did much to supply Girden's large family with food, but more was required. This also was AVERAGE AMERICANS 237 supplied. Girden was a remarkable shot with the rifle. One of his sons told the writer that he had seen Girden shoot a crow through the body at a distance of forty rods. An ordinary man could scarcely see a crow at that distance. He once shot a partridge from the top of a tall pine. The bird in falling caught on the stub of a limb. Methodically, Girden reloaded his piece, :fired, cut the stub off close to the trunk of the tree, and down fell the bird. He bagged much game, including now and then a deer. He kept :fifty swarms of bees, and never wore a mask or gloves when working with them. Rarely was he stung. Per­ haps the reason for this was that he never struck at the bees, or irritated them. Girden raised fruit of all kinds. He butchered one beeve, two or three hogs and several sheep, every winter, to supply his family with meat. His store bill was light, and he further re­ duced it by doing his trading at Bath. The family used no co:ff ee, except a drink by courtesy so called. This was made of sap half reduced to sirup into which burnt flour was stirred. They also made a drink of barley and pease. He was a master carpenter. Not only did he construct all his own buildings, even to the shingles, doors and window sashes, he also worked out all summer at his trade; erecting, for instance, nearly all the buildings in the Northrup Settlement. He tanned the hides of the deer he shot, and made, by a secret process he knew, a very :fine leather. He made the shoes for the entire family, one pair a year per child. Often this shoemaking was delayed until he returned home in the fall, after his sum­ mer's work at the carpenter trade. Many times snow was in the air before all were supplied. The boys had gone barefoot all summer, but it was unpleasant to go after the cows when snow was on the ground and they had to stand on the spot where a cow had lain in order to warm their aching feet. At the time of his first marriage, he had been unable to read and write. Believing this shameful, he taught himself, eventu­ ually becoming a good penman, and a student of history, espec­ ially a Bible student of note. It has been claimed that he could instantly tell the source, by chapter and verse, of any quotation from the sacred Book. He came close to having the entire book committed to memory. Although, unlike his brother Jacob, he 238 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY never was ordained, he yet was a lay preacher, and as such jour­ neyed far to supply a pulpit or assist in revival meetings. He was gifted in speech. For fifty years he served as Sunday school superintendent, and was extremely popular. \Vhen called to preach no farther away than Troupsburg, a distance of perhaps fifteen miles, he used to make the trip on Sunday morning, deliver his sermon and return the same day to his home. But when duty called as far as Knoxville, Pa., he started out a day early, stayed that night with one of the pious church deacons-engaging, no doubt, in a veritable duel of prayers-and came home Sunday afternoon, after both the sermon and a bloated dinner had been disposed of. He minded the long walks not at all. He enjoyed them; especially late in the fall, when the hillsides were vast blotches of scarlet, gold and brown, and the soft haze of Indian summer cloaked the country­ side in a mantle of mystery which seemed to beckon to distant lands and brave adventure. He took all the short cuts through the woods where squirrels barked in the pines, and rabbits--even an occasional red fox or a bobcat-darted across his path. His sermons usually were composed while he was seated on a mossy log or a jutting rock near a woodland stream, eating the lunch he had brought from home. He never wrote his sermons, nor did he use notes, but his memory was remarkably good. With his vast knowledge of the Scriptures, supplemented by his general reading, and an instinc­ tive sense of the dramatic, he was enabled to prepare a discourse that never failed to hold his audience. Although he was a severe disciplinarian with his children, he was kind and considerate with his wife. He kept his large family well fed, decently clothed, and placed in school. He was a man of scrupulous honor whose word no one dreamed of questioning. He v.ras respected and liked by his neighbors. Sunday, in his household, was primarily a day of worship, secondarily of rest. The necessary work about the farm was cut down to the minimum. All the children were compelled to at­ tend both church service and Sunday school, after which they were permitted to read or walk. No games, shouting or loud noises of any kind. None of them dreamed of asking permission to go hunting or fishing. The mere request would have entailed a flogging. AVERAGE AMERICANS 239 But in those days, even as now, boys were boys. Girden's sons found a way to secure a little relief from the deadening monotony. When the day was fair on an average Sunday after­ noon in summer, they would walk down the lane, call at the home of John Baptist Page and encourage the funny French­ Canadian to talk. That was always amusing. Perhaps they would then follow down the bank of Tracy Creek, looking for swimming holes or trout pools. Swimming on the Lord's Day was verboten, but the woods afforded a good screen. Then, too, a fish line minus the pole was easily carried in the pocket. The good old woods were fascinating on a day like this. Fox holes had to be discovered eventually. Why not now? Then, Uncle Morey Winship had a good orchard that lay on the slope toward the creek. To be sure, the apples were not so good as their father's, but they tasted better--on the Sabbath. After one of these raids, the boys drifted back to the main road and were eating their apples in the shade of a thorn bush, when they heard shuflling footsteps approaching. Mumbling as he came, a man fairly bristling with polished steel knives which gleamed in the sunlight, advanced along the dusty way. In terror the boys vaulted the rail fence and lay "doggo" until the man had passed. But it was merely a peripatetic vendor of butcher knives. Later the boys grew used to his harmless visits. Off toward the west, away back in the field, was an old aban­ doned house. This was haunted, or at least folks said so. It looked gloomy and dismal enough, with the weeds and briars growing all around it, and the uncut grass, and the broken win­ dow panes, and a door creaking weirdly as it swung on rusty hinges. Rarely did they venture inside the old house, but they peeped in. That afforded a thrill. Then they stole away, from time to time looking fearfully back over their shoulders, each one trying not to be the last to leave. In one way or another, Girden's sons managed to obtain some amusement, even on Sunday. The family not only raised their wool, they spun it and wove it into cloth in a crude, home-made loom. Then Sarah cut the cloth and made it into clothing for all the children. Odd look­ ing garments they were! For years she did the sewing by hand. Eventually Girden purchased a queer little hand sewing-machine which was manipulated by a wheel with handle attached, like 240 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY that of a home coffee grinder. This machine produced merely a chain stitch. Girden, besides making shoes for all the family, cutting their hair, acting as nurse during severe illness, also served as the family dentist. His implement for extracting teeth was a bar­ barous contraption called "turnkeys." This contrivance, not un­ like a miniature stump machine, removed the offending tooth by prying it from the jaw in a twisting, sidewise movement; literally tipping it over. The lad who once had a tooth removed in this fashion almost preferred death to another experience of the kind. Yet frequently it had to be. . . . It is near midnight. Outside the wind shrieks around the eaves. The house is cold and dark. The tallow candles have long since been extinguished. But the boy's tooth is doing a double-shufile. He groans softly, turns over and presses the throbbing cheek against the pillow. No use! Thinking cold water might help, he steals out of bed without waking his brother and attempts softly to descend the stair. As he enters the main room, he stumbles over a chair. The clatter has scarcely subsided when he hears the authoritative tones of his father's voice: "Bub, what's the matter?" "N-nothin' ." The boy starts back upstairs. In Girden' s bedroom a candle is hastily lighted. "Bub, come here!" The lad quakes, but dares not resist the command of his awful parent. Girden in his nightgown fumbles in a box of metal tools which clank most horribly. He draws forth the ghastly turnkeys and approaches the lad, not hurriedly, but inevitably, inexorably, like the wind-driven cloud in springtime, his fierce blue eyes :fixed appraisingly on the swelled jowl of his son. He places the candle on the table. Then- First causing the trembling boy to sit on the floor, Girden clamped the juvenile head between his knees in a vice-like grip, attached the instrument of torture to the decayed tooth and pressed down firmly on the diabolical lever of the turnkeys. Would that boy ever live to see another such black hour? A mufiled scream and the tooth was out. It had to come, but frequently a splinter from the jaw came with it. AVERAGE AMERICANS 241

"Wash out your mouth, Bub," directs Girden, and goes back to his bed. No word of sympathy, no heating of water, no pain-deadening pills, nothing. He had creditably performed his duty. Why say any more about it? No wonder it has taken several generations to outlive an inborn fear of the dentist. The family made its own soap. To manufacture this product a barrel full of hard-wood ashes was the first requisite. With a few holes first punched in the bottom, the barrel was placed on a large flat stone elevated above the ground. On the surface of this stone little grooves converging at a common point were chiseled. Water was poured on the ashes and allowed to leech through, resulting in a strong lye. This fluid, trickling into the grooves in the stone, was conveyed into a receptacle placed underneath. In order to be good lye, suitable for the purpose, it must be strong enough to "hold up an egg." In a kettle of this lye animal fat was placed. The result was a mass of slithery, slushy material, dark brown in color-no less than soft soap. It was very good to remove dirt from soiled and chapped hands, or stains from garments. Also it obviated the necessity of buying commercial hard soap, an item of no small importance in the family economy. Girden was a great reader of the newspapers, which is to say, one paper: Horace Greeley's Tribune. Girden put much stock in that paper. Late into the night he would sit before the fire, smoking his pipe and studying the columns of The Tribune. Greeley was his oracle. As the year 18 59 arrived, Girden studied his paper with more absorbed interest than ever. He now sat up late yet more frequently and read by candlelight long after the rest of the family were asleep. There was much of significance happening every day. For instance, belated tabulations of the recent elections showed a strong drift toward the Republican party. There was a notice to the effect that the crew of the slaver Wanderer had been indicted by the Federal Grand Jury, and the vessel had been condemned and sold. On Sunday, February 27, a congressman from New York, Daniel E. Sickles by name, had shot and killed District Attorney Philip Barton Key on the streets of Washington, in revenge for an adulterous intrigue with the congressman's wife. From N e~r l\1exico came the report of an action with the 242 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Apaches, two hundred in number, who had repulsed twenty­ two soldiers with considerable loss. There was little news from the Mormon War. Everything appeared to be quiet in Utah. General Albert Sidney Johnston had concentrated his troops in one camp-8,000 men, including civilian employees. There were 4,000 more at Fort Bridger. Nothing whatever was said about the terrible massacre at Moun­ tain Meadows. That was still believed to have been an Indian outrage, and nearly twenty years were yet to pass before retri­ bution '\\rould be exacted from a Bishop of the Mormon church. The inhabitants of Dacotah had petitioned Congress to organ­ ize a regular territorial government. Reports of the discovery of gold near Pike's Peak, in Kansas. A miner had just reached Elwood with $7,000 in gold dust, which had been gathered by three men in two months. . . . All these items, and more, Girden read during the spring months of 1859. Later in the year he read the account of a startling event which caused him to groan aloud and cover his face with his hands. He could see more than the printed page before him. He knew full well that during the years close at hand, the Nation was again to be tried by fire. He looked sadly at his sons and realized that the ancient sacrifice was to be required of him. A few months later he heard, late in the evening, a group of young men passing the house. They were singing a lilting tune, a stirring tune, and the words were: "John Brown's body lies amould'ring in the grave, But his soul goes marching on!" It was during the year that followed John Brown's raid at Harper's Ferry that a negro named Douglas came to South Hill and spoke in the school house. 1 The little building was packed

1 I believe that this man was none other than the noted Frederick Douglas. He was born a slave-though his father was a white man. He escaped from bondage in 1838, and c~me to New York City. He became a noted lecturer under the auspices of the American Anti-Slavery Society. He published his A1ttobiograpby in 184 5, then toured England on a successful lecturing trip. His freedom was purchased and eventually he became United States Minister to Haiti. As late as 1872, he lectured at Woodhull, N. Y., though the slavery question had then become a dead issue. The prominence of South Hill as a thriving and populous community is indicated by the fact that Douglas should include it in his speaking itinerary during the height of his fame. AVERAGE AMERICANS 243 on that night. In the swamp the frogs croaked hoarsely, and distant thunder muttered in the west. But the audience could hear nothing save the voice of the black speaker whose face glistened with perspiration in the light of the candles. He was gifted. He spoke emotionally of the horrors of slavery and sang a plaintive song, one verse of which ran: "I had a dream the other night, While all around was still; I thought I saw a cottage white On yonder flowery hill." And then the chorus, even yet more sad and despairing: "O slave holder, that happy home was mine! That pleasant home, that happy home, That pleasant home was mine!" Many of the women in poke bonnets wept, and even some of the farmers rubbed their eyes with toil-roughened hands. They worked hard, these men of South Hill, but they were free men and they held it a monstrous sin for any human being to be kept in bondage. In their hearts a cold, deliberate rage was evoked by the consummate art of the black speaker. As the crowd at last stumbled from the building and trudged off toward home along the dusty County Road, John Stout Stuart pointed toward the South, where for several nights a comet had flamed in the sky, lighting with weird illumination the woodland, the fields and the wild-brier hedges which cloaked the rail fence along the road. "It means war!" croaked Stout, as he pointed at the :fiery por­ tent in the night sky. And the people of South Hill gazed, awed at the sign, for it was well known among them that Stout, as he was universally called, had the gift of St=cond Sight.1 Yet when the news of Sumter came, the young men of the Stuart family did not at once enlist. It was believed the war would be short-lived. It took the disaster of Bull Run to bring them to their senses. Although several members of the family

1 By most persons accounted a foolish superstition, Second Sight, or T aibh­ searachd-as it was called in the Highlands of Scotland, where it originated­ is given much space in at least one encyclopedia. The older members of the Stuart family always were offended if one were bold enough to doubt that John Stout Stuart really possessed the gift. In a curious way it indicates the Scottish origin of the family. A member of one of the later generations of the clan is also supposed to have this power, or gift. 244 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY who lived at a distance had quite early enlisted, Girden' s sons, Amos, Henry and George were the first to go from South Hill. The little mother of the family gazed at them from a chamber window as they disappeared over the brow of the Campbell Pitch, again came into view as they passed the Moore place, and :finally vanished over the last rise of ground in the County Road. Of these three, only George was destined to come back; and he, with system torn by the ravages of camp fever, was a broken man the rest of his life. The sacrifice did not end with these three. Girden had an­ other son, Norman, who was old enough to go be£ ore the end of the struggl~and did so. By this time the Winship family had become merged with the Stuarts. The combined clan sent to the war eighteen men, five of whom gave the last full measure of devotion, while another, riddled at Antietam, was sent home, recovered, again enlisted, and so served to the end of the war. Not one was drafted. Besides the men, three of Rev. Jacob Stuart's daughters went to the South as teachers and missionary workers among the colored folks. Few families in the state gave a larger percentage of their numbers to the cause of freed om and national union. In 1863, Samuel M. Stuart was but ten years of age. He well remembered the trip he made to the South Hill post office on a certain day that summer. Mr. Knapp, the postmaster, handed him a letter with a black border running all the way around the envelope. He scampered home with it and handed it to his mother. Sixty-five years later he could recall how Sarah turned white as she opened the missive. It was from Henry's captain, informing the family of his death. Camp fever had taken him off. First buried at Yorktown, Va., in later years his body was removed to Arlington, and there it now rests among the Nation's honored dead. He had been a romantic youth, full of patriotism and love of adventure. He had gone to war as to a feast, but this was the end. The last of June, 1863, was excellent hay weather, but Girden, contrary to his wont, neglected his work. Constantly he read and reread the columns of the New York Tribune. "Mother," he said, as he took off his glasses and faced his patient little wife, "Lee is headed directly toward the heart of the North. I fear nothing can stop him. He will take Washington, hold Phila- AVERAGE AMERICANS 245 delphia for ransom, seize New York. It looks like the beginning of the end." Sarah Winship Stuart was gentle but determined. She was descended from men who in an earlier, and in some ways a more deadly war, had followed the adherents of King Philip to their swamps in winter and there fought it out to the bitter end. "I think the Army of the Potomac will stop the Rebels," she said. "The army is all right," retorted Girden. "It's the leaders that are at fault. We seem to have no one equal to Lee. He's a military genius." The children gathered around. "Will Lee come up this far?" quavered one. "Right up here on South Hill?" Girden's saturnine countenance relaxed. He smiled a bit. "Hardly that. But he will undoubtedly send a detachment as far as Elmira." The next issue of the Tribune brought news that a terrible battle, the worst of the war, was being fought at Gettysburg­ the stake being the life of the Nation. Girden went out and stood in the road and gazed toward the South. The wind ruffled his graying hair. He almost fancied he could hear the roar of the dreadful conflict. Long he stood there, his work forgotten. Then he turned and went back into the house. A neighbor dropped in for a chat, but Girden was too serious for idle chatter. He took down the family Bible and read aloud the Thirty-Eighth Psalm: 0 Lord, rebuke me not in Thy wrath; neither chasten me in Thy hot displeasure. . . • I am troubled; I am bowed down greatly; I go mourning all the day long. . . • Forsake me not, 0 Lord: 0 my God, be not far from me. Make haste to help me, 0 Lord, my salvation. He knelt at his chair: "Let us pray." A few days later a man rode a horse, all a'lather, the length of the Hill, waving his hat wildly and shouting: "The Rebs are licked! Old Bobby Lee is a humpin' hisself fer the Potomac. The North is saved!" The horseman vanished in a cloud of dust. Then, Girden Stuart, standing in the front yard with his children around him, raised his hands. "O Lord," he said, "for Thy tender mercies and loving kindness, we thank Thee!" 246 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Two of the family died at Gettysburg, but the Nation lived. It was during the summer of 1864 that Girden had occasion to send three of his sons to Cameron Mills, lately called Hub­ bardsville, to do some trading. The lads-Jim, sixteen years of age; DeWitt, nine; Morey, seven-set out with the oxen hitched to a heavy wagon. They had a large basket of eggs to exchange for groceries. The oxen were slow but sure, and no accident occurred all the way down the long river hill. Reaching the Canisteo Valley, they crossed the railroad track and proceeded along the river road through "The Narrows," a place where the highway was crowded close to the base of the mountain by the encroachment of the railroad track. They had gotten pretty well through The Narrows, when a train from the west roared past them. Driven frantic by the unusual sound, the oxen snorted with fear and made an earnest effort to climb the mountain. They of course dragged the wagon after them, so that only the rear wheels rema111ed in the road. The younger lads rolled out of the wagon box as it tilted; but Jim, with his usual efficiency, con­ trived to seize and save intact the precious basket of eggs. Here was a nice how-do-you-do! To coax the frightened oxen to descend from the hillside obviously was the next step. DeWitt and Morey were too young to be of much help, so Jim had to do the trick alone. First placing the eggs in a safe place, Jim turned his attention to the scared beasts. After they had ceased to tremble and surge up the steep side of the mountain, Jim, by adroit management and explosive words, which yet were inside the line of profanity, induced the stupid animals to back down into the road. He had just rearranged the wagon box, when the sudden jangling of accoutrements and rapid footfalls caused the lads to glance up in alarm. For a moment they thought the seat of war had been trans£erred to the Canisteo Valley. A half dozen Federal soldiers in full uniform, and with knapsacks, bayonetted muskets, and cartridge boxes which banged against their hips, came running up the road from the direction of Cameron Mills. Frightened out of their wits, the country boys stood beside their oxen and watched the soldiers race past. The incident so impressed them that Morey, telling the writer of the adventure more than sixty years later, could recall in vivid detail just how AVERAGE AMERICANS 247 the soldiers looked. One was short, with black hair and eyes. One was tall, raw-boned, with red hair. They panted hard from their run, and the long hair which each wore, together with the bushy whiskers of some of them, flaunted over their shoulders like oriflammes of war. But they scarcely glanced at the cowering boys. The sound of their rapid footfalls died out in the direction of Cameron, as the lads gazed after them in astonishment and awe. Later the boys were informed of the nature of this unusual happening. The train which had frightened their oxen was a prison train, having on board a number of Confederate soldiers captured in battle and being taken to the Federal prison at El­ mira. Either at Cameron, or after the train left that place, some of the rebels had managed to leap from the cars and make their escape. It appears that this was not at first noted; but when the defection in the ranks became apparent, the careless guard of Federal soldiers had instant visions of a court-martial and perhaps a :firing squad. Advising the conductor to hold the train, now in the vicinity of Cameron Mills, some of the blue­ coated soldiers sprang from the cars and raced back up the road in an e:ff ort to retrieve their captives. And, so it was told, the Confederates actually were discovered and haled again into cap­ tivity. It is safe to say that the officer in charge never made a report of the matter. It is a curious bit of hitherto unwritten history. On the afternoon of a certain June day in 1865, young Morey Stuart, now nearly eight years of age, received orders to go up to "The Other Place"-perhaps a mile and a half distant-and drive home the cows. Now, on this hot day in June, Morey, being like most boys constitutionally lazy, did not want to go after the cows. It was a long walk and the day was muggy. But he was forced to go. His sister Kate, who was fifteen, was directed to go with him. Also, one of his cousins from across the road, agreed to go, too. So the party set out. A thunderstorm was brewing in the west, and Morey was afraid of thunder. As he and his girl companions shuffled through the dust of the road, the thunder growled and rumbled, and the sky grew dark and threatening. They hurried along, panting from their exertion, and managed to arrive at an empty old house on "The Other Place" just as the storm broke with 248 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY tropical fury. A bolt of lightning struck a dry pine across the road from the house, shattering it into bits, while a terrifying concussion sent Morey whimpering into a corner. But Kate and the cousin a:ff ected fortitude, so little Morey decided not to die of fright. After a time the storm retired, muttering, into the east, the sun broke forth, and a rainbow painted its glowing promise in the sky. The children rounded up the cows and started them homeward along the road, now a mass of sticky mud and pools of muddy water. But the fields had taken on an added greenness, and the children sang. They arrived without mishap at the home farm. Here, Jim, who always managed to keep busy, began to set out some cabbage plants. Morey lay down on the cover to the outside cellarway, for a time wriggled his bare toes, to remove the sticky mud, then lapsed into contented indolence that had no room even for thought. Nearby his mother worked at some outside washing. Suddenly young Morey roused as he heard his mother ex­ claim: "There come my boys!" Up the road, clad in army blue, Morey now saw advancing with swinging strides his brother, Norman, and his cousin, Charles E. Stuart. The last of the boys had come home. The war was over! When Norman Stuart came home from the army, it soon developed that he had taken to strange ways while in the Old Dominion. He played cards! On South Hill that was regarded as bad, wicked. Norman, in company with certain cronies, among whom were Theodore Stuart, Billy Winship, and others, used to go to the old school house at night and play poker. But they had a warning. After one such unholy rendezvous, they started homeward along the dusty road. It was hot. There was no wind at all. Either the moon had not risen or it had set, for the night was extremely dark. Suddenly Norman's hat flew from his head, propelled by an unseen force. Next an apple tree by the side of the road was shaken as though by a mighty wind, notwith­ standing the air was still. Then, first by the side of Stout Stuart's house, next Girden' s, then Abraham's, sharp sounds, like the reports of pistols, broke the silent night. The young men were frightened. Theodore insisted on Norman's -going home with him. Norman was a daredevil, but he always spoke AVERAGE AMERICANS 249 of the incident with a certain amount of awe. The puritanical conscience still throve on the Hill, and superstition was prevalent. To the simple mind of the writer it seems evident that the young sinners were on this occasion made victims of a practical joke played by lurking boys. A green apple hurled by a lusty arm could have removed Norman's hat. The tree could have been shaken by a youth ensconsed in its branches, and a flat board smitten against the side of a house makes a sound very like a pistol shot. The district conference, or "Quarterly Meeting," of the Bap­ tist Church was held on South Hill for many years, both while services were conducted in the school house and after the erec­ tion of the union church building at the crossroads, in the early seventies. As Girden Stuart was the most prominent church­ man in the vicinity, especially after Rev. Jacob Stuart had re­ moved to the Swale, many of the delegates were as a matter of course entertained by Girden and Sarah. It may be suspected that Girden's reputation for piety was not the only attraction for the preachers and deacons. Sarah's fame as a cook undoubt­ edly had its effect. From four to six delegates ordinarily came to Girden's home for meals and lodging at every Quarterly Meeting. Reverend Mack was one of these. He owned a horse which he cherished. Drawing water from the well by a bucket and chain, he permitted his mare to drink, then raised the bucket to his own lips. "What!" said Girden, the first time he noted this, "you drink after your horse?" "Brother Stuart," returned the preacher, "I had rather drink after this horse than after most men." There was Deacon Abner George, from Troupsburg. At least once every year, after rising early and strolling around Girden's well-kept farm, noting the neat fields, excellent fruit trees, the stone fences, the grapes, the swarms of bees, he made an off er to purchase the place. "I'll give you forty dollars an acre," he announced, year after year. "No," invariably declined Girden, "if it's worth that to you it's worth as much to me. This is my home, and I expect to die ,, h ere. Girden was noted for " staying. put. " His was a constant 250 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY character. He cherished his ideals. He was-to use rather a cheap modern expression-"sold on" the Bible. He wished his children also to become familiar with it. To effect this he re­ quired each one of them to commit to memory every day a verse from the Scripture. On the Sabbath they had to recite all seven verses in their Sunday school class. They couldn't dodge; Girden was the superintendent. Morey Winship, Sarah Stuart's brother, lived a mile east of the South Hill church. He was an excellent carpenter and a jolly companion. He particularly enjoyed joking his sedate brother-in-law, Girden Stuart. Seldom did he miss an oppor­ tunity to twist that lion's tail. But on a certain September morning he had no jokes to offer, as he dropped in for a few minutes while on his way to his work. At the time he was con­ structing the Punches house, a large building located three miles west of Cameron. On this particular morning he greeted the Stuart family, then, much to their surprise, sat in moody silence, :finally taking his departure without offering any explanation of his conduct. Arrived at his work, he promptly fell from a high scaffold to the basement of the building and was killed. Sarah held that he had received a "warning," but had failed to profit by it. She talked a great deal about the matter. It was during the late summer of 1870, that a distinguished­ looking man drove up to Girden's residence one day, hitched his horse and sought the owner of the house. A tall man he was, of middle age or better, dressed with care. He wore a Horace Greeley hat, he had gloves, polished boots and a cane. The boys were awed. But they were impressed further when told that the man was John Stout, of Bath, own cousin to their father. He was engaged in mending his political fences. That fall he was elected sheriff of Steuben County. Chauncey M. Depew was perhaps the greatest after-dinner speaker this country ever had. He was a distant relative of the Stuarts of Cameron, since he was descended from Lieutenant Edward Winship, of Cambridge, Massachusetts, by the Puritan's daughter Elizabeth's line, while the Stuarts traced back to Elizabeth's brother, Edward Winship, Jr. "When writing the first edition of this book I heard that Depew had made his first political speech either in Cameron or Cameron Mills. Believing this item, if true, of value to the AVERAGE AMERICANS 251 folklore of the Canisteo Valley, I wrote the Senator for infor­ ma tion, and received the following reply: My :first political speech was made in my home town of Peekskill, in the campaign for Fremont, in 18 5 6. The news of the speech reached the State Committee, and they persuaded me to make a tour of the state. It was an extensive itinerary and covered the state very thorough­ ly, and included the Canisteo Valley. That was all there was to it. In those days many things happened in the country-the days following the Civil War. The rural districts then were far more important, relatively, than now. Not only did forest :fires sweep through the woods, and mad dogs run at large, biting the cows, horses and sheep; but peddlers, agents, vendors and plain tramps swarmed along the road and slept in the barns at night. Men drew carts along the highway loaded ·with Yankee notions, salve, medicine or books. Masterless men of all sorts strolled aimlessly by, seeking food and, when they couldn't avoid it, accepting work. South Hill had a beauty in the person of Alvira Quick. So remarkable was her beauty and charm of person that Grover Cleveland-not then President, of course-used to come there to visit her. He had met her when she worked in Buffalo and he was sheriff of Erie Country.1 Edward Belcher was one of the neighborhood's odd characters who might happen along at any time, and generally did. He wore his hair long, like a hermit, he made a strange whistling sound when he talked, and he was forever repeating verbatim stories from a series of weird romances, termed the Claude Duval books, upon which he feasted his mind-such as it was. Enter­ ing a house, he would walk entirely around the proffered chair, toss his hat into a corner, whistle through his teeth, then sit down and launch into a melodramatic romance. He always planned to go to South Africa and mine diamonds. Once some boys caught him and forcibly cut his hair. A lawsuit followed.

1 These visits of the future President to Miss Quick were no secret. Every­ one on South Hill was aware of them. The late W. B. Miller, of Canisteo, who was reared on South Hill, told the writer of seeing the rising politician at the Quick home in 1874. This house stood approximately on the spot first occupied by Rev. Jacob Stuart's cabin in 1834. Cleveland, in 1874, was a member of the law :firm, Bass, Cleveland and Bissell, Buffalo, N. Y. He was then 3 7 years of age. This was 10 years before his first term as President. 252 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY

His father, David Belcher, had settled in the southwestern part of the town of Cameron in 18 5 2, his farm being located about a mile south of C. P. Hubbard's, and adjoined that of Zeri Stuart, a brother of Girden. At about the period of the Civil War this neighborhood was terrorized by a gang of thieves who worked under the cover of darkness. None of the gang could be recognized. No one knew whether it was composed of strangers or of local talent. Merely the pounding of hoofs along the muddy road some dark night, and the next day another loss was reported. Clothing was taken from the line; grain, saddles, harnesses, wool, even the Bible, altar cloth and communion set from the Baptist church in the Northrup Settlement, disappeared as though by magic. It was all a great mystery. Then C. P. Hubbard had some wool stolen. That prominent man proceeded to make a fuss about it. He appealed to the sheriff, at that time William N. Smith, who served from 1864 to 1867. One rainy, foggy day Sheriff Smith drove up the hill to Zeri Stuart's residence, knocked, and, "I need your help, Stuart," he said. "Come with me." Zeri, tall, powerful, not at all adverse to adventure, signi­ fied his willingness. "Where to, Sheriff?" "I'm going to search your· neighbor's house," announced the officer. "Dave Belcher' s." Zeri whistled his astonishment. "So!" he ejaculated. "You think he's one of the night riders?" "Possibly the chief. I had a hint from a lad named Rosen­ crans, whom we arrested at Avoca for petty thievery. I think the gang operates an underground railway reaching down into Pennsylvania. If I'm not mistaken, we shall find that Dave Belcher's house is one of the stations." Sheriff Smith and Zeri Stuart drove over to Belcher' s and went in. The officer at once disclosed his purpose. Coolly, Belcher invited him to search. They inspected the house quite thoroughly but found nothing of an incriminating nature. The sheriff was on the point of giving up in disgust when Stuart, who had thoughtfully been considering a pile of loose grain in an unfurnished room, sug­ gested, "Why not move those oats?" They did so, and found a trap door leading to a secret cellar. AVERAGE AMERICANS 253 Descending into the darkness, they found, by means of a candle, plunder sufficient to clinch their case against David Belcher. Hubbard's wool, however, subsequently was found in the Rosencrans house at Avoca, thus proving that the Underground did exist. Belcher, Rosencrans, and a certain Hargrave were sentenced to the penitentiary, Belcher for 8 years, the others for a little less. And so the gang was broken up. But it was noted that after Belcher returned from serving his sentence he never worked, yet managed to live in comfortable fashion. It was whispered about the neighborhood for years that certain parties in Woodhull were contributing to his support. A certain peddler who used to make regular trips on South Hill was Henry B. Andrews-usually called "Hank." He ran a grocery store in Jasper. But by means of a horse and wagon he peddled a lotion which he made himself, said to possess con­ siderable merit. This was called "The Fire and Frost Extractor." It was supposed to be good for burns or frost bites. His daughter Lou married the Reverend Curtiss and became the mother of Glenn Curtiss, the aviation genius of Hammondsport. We must not forget James Monahan, one of the oddest char­ acters resident on the Hill. It was supposed that he was highly educated, for he invariably used a classic diction. Some samples: He once had a misunderstanding with one of the Jasper Craigs, who sent him a caustic letter. Shortly after this Monahan met Craig in the road. 11onahan held forth thusly: "Sir, I received your letter, but I was neither alarmed nor dismayed." Once, when he was in Canisteo for a brief call, he endeavored to "hop a freight," to return to Cameron. He was flung into the ditch. As he picked himself up and brushed off his clothing, he remarked: "It is entirely obvious that I totally misappre­ hended the velocity of the locomotive." Some of his sheep died, so he skinned the animals, rolled the pelts into a bundle, took them to Cameron station and tried to toss them onto a passing flatcar. The bundle of skins missed, rolled under the train and was cut up by the wheels. An Erie official standing near, started an investigation. Monahan drew himself erect. "Sir," he began, with hauteur, "my name is James Monahan. I have lived in the town of Cameron for thirty years, sir, and I am responsible for all I do, sir." 254 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY When his wife died, he, according to the custom of those times, sought a carpenter in order to have a casket made. The man asked his preference in wood: cherry, maple, walnut. "I wish something reasonably good," said Monahan, "but I by no means desire an ostentatious display." His origin was a mystery. Rumor said he had served with Taylor's army along the Rio Grande, during the Mexican War . . . . He was very litigious . . . But here is a ghost story: Soon after his wife died, he employed a Miss Wood to keep house for him and look after the children, three in number and still quite young. This was during the days of the Civil War, and Monahan was away from home a great deal. One evening, after putting the children to bed, Miss Wood began her ironing. She was young, she was lonesome and nervous; for the house was isolated and the night was drear. But, as she glanced out of the window, she saw a light approaching across the :field. Believing it to be her mother coming to spend the night with her, she re­ joiced. Presently something induced her to look again toward the window. One glance and she almost froze with horror. Staring at her from the darkness was the face of the dead Mrs. Monahan. Screaming, the girl ran into the bedroom, plunged under the covers with the children and so remained till morning. Then she quit cold. "Bosh!" snorts the modernist. Well, Miss Wood told the story herself, evidently believed it, and she was universally known as a truthful girl. To be sure, she may have had a peculiarly vivid dream, suggested by her lonely environment and the weird stories she had heard. Let's let it go at that. And now to return to Girden Stuart: His shop, which occupied all the ground floor of the northern end of the house, was a marvelous place, held by him as sacred from the intrusions of the rest of the family. Here were to be found his exceptional collection of carpenter tools, his beloved rifle, other guns, pipes and tobacco. It was also the :filing room for the papers and magazines to which he subscribed. He never threw any of these away. After reading them carefully and thoughtfully, he tied a year of each publication into a huge roll and suspended it from a beam over head. As the years passed the number of rolls increased until the ceiling of the shop resembled the roof AVERAGE AMERICANS 255 of a cave with stalactites in rank profusion. The outer layers of the papers grew fly-specked and yellow, dust accumulated on them, they became brittle and would have crumbled if touched. But they were not disturbed. Sarah was not permitted to dust that room, neat and tidy though she was in the rest of her domain. What use Girden expected to make of these obsolete publications does not appear. After filing them away according to his peculiar system, he never read them again. Upon his death they were thrown out as rubbish and burned. As Girden grew old, and his son DeWitt took over the man­ agement of the farm, he scarcely could find enough to do to keep his mind and body occupied. All his life he had been ex­ ceedingly active, but now perforce he had retired. He read a great deal, smoked more than was good for him, and kept a re­ markable wood yard. Cords and cords of stove wood he split and piled in neat rows just north of the house. The wood box behind the living room stove was never suffered to show the slighest semblance of becoming empty. He had a model garden. This little plot was surrounded by a fence along which fruit trees and berry bushes grew riotously. In this garden no weeds were hardy enough to long endure. Off at one side was the pig pen, occupied on the average by four swine. These hogs Girden fed :five or six times a day, with the result that they grew so fat they were burdens to themselves. His bees gave him something to think of, while just beyond their habitat was the orchard. Girden, besides his many other attain­ ments, was an expert fruit grafter. He had an excellent variety of apples, and the trees were kept pruned and trimmed to the queen's taste. As a result there was little inferior fruit to dispose of. In 18 89, fifty years after his marriage to Sarah Winship, Girden originated the custom of an annual homecoming for all his children and grandchildren. This reunion was at first held in the fall of the year, when the apples were ripe and the hickory nuts were beginning to drop from the trees. On that day the house, yard and orchard swarmed with descendants. After the dinner, which consumed a long time, since the elders ate :first and the children were compelled to wait until several successive tables of hungry persons had satisfied themselves and passed on, the entire family gathered for a session of song, prayers and 256 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY general talk. This meeting was strongly tinged with a religious fervor that smacked of Puritanism. Much of the conversation concerned the dead, and the hope that all entertained of a future happy reunion. Tears were shed. Such was the family tem­ perament that, while other clans would have voted such a con­ clave drab and dismal, the Stuarts found great comfort in it. \Vhen Girden was a small boy, running bare£oot on his father's farm in Barrington Township, he was bitten by a rattlesnake, but recovered from the supposed deadly effect of the reptile's poison. From that time on-though he had a phy­ sician bleed him once a year-he never was sick until nearly eighty. Then his health rapidly declined. During the hard winter of 1892-9 3, he took to his bed, and on the ninth of January passed on to the land of his fathers. On a bitterly cold day he was buried in the old cemetery near the school house, whither his parents and two of his children had preceded him. Quite :fittingly, his funeral text was: "I have fought the good fight, I have :finished my course, I have kept the faith." Sarah was left to sit and think of the days that were gone. DeWitt's brood of children kept her pretty well occupied. At seventy-six she was still a good cook. Especially were her doughnuts in great demand. As long as DeWitt lived the family got along fairly well. Sarah, as the mother of Henry Stuart who had died for the Republic, received a small pension and this eked out the revenue derived from the farm. But in 1898 DeWitt contracted pneumonia and died. From that time on Sarah's lot was not at all pleasant. True, she visited in the homes of her children, who for the most part were prosper­ ous, nearby farmers. She was always hailed with delight, es­ pecially by the children who knew full well her ability as a story teller. Such imaginative and narrative ability as 1nembers of the present generation may possess undoubtedly is a heritage from Sarah. Pleasant and thrilling it was, to sit by the crackling, smelly wood fire on a winter's night, with a pan of cider simmering on the stove, a kettle of corn popped in grease hard by, together with a large dish of northern-spy apples and listen to Grand­ mother tell ghost stories or Indian talcs, some of them being traditions which had come down in her own family for genera­ tions. Decidedly she was gifted. Her family had been in AVERAGE AMERICANS 257

America since 1634, and she was full of the folk-lore of New England. The children would hover closer to the stove as a story neared its terrific climax, and think uneasily of the approaching bed-time hour. Although it is certain that Sarah never had read Scott's novels, or heard them read, one of her stories bore a marked resemblance to that old border legend upon which the great Scottish bard founded his story, Guy Mannering. There can be little doubt that this tale, originating in far-off Britain, had been known to Edward Winship (Sarah's ancestor), of Welton Hall, Northumberland County, England, by him transmitted to his children in old Massachusetts Bay Colony, and thus handed down through the generations until it reached Sarah Winship, who knew full well how to make the most of it. While her version differed materially from Scott's, it yet contained so many points of resemblance that it. must inevitably, I think, have been de­ rived from the same source.1

1 The chief di:tf erence was in the climax. In Scott's legend the hero, in the critical hour of his life, contested with the Devil, but by relying upon the Bible and the power of prayer, routed Satan and so preserved his character and perhaps his reason. In Sarah Winship Stuart's narrative, the prophesy indi­ cated that upon his twenty-first birthday the young man would be struck by Jightning. Hence, as the fateful hou!" drew near, he was forced to enter a strong vault which had been constructed for him by his father, not far from the house. But as the tempest rose, the lad, first consigning his soul to Deity, came from his sanctuary and faced the elements unafraid. Then one of Heaven's thunderbolts crashed into the vault which he had left and ruined it. The young man, having placed himself under the shadow of the Al­ mighty, was saved for a useful career. Scott, in his introduction to Guy Mannering, 1829, says the story was told to him by one John McKinlay, an aged Scotsman and one of his father's ser­ vants. The incident was supposed to have taken place in Galloway at a time :not specified. But Lockhart, Scott's son-in-law and biographer, says: "The Jate Mr. Train recovered a rude Durham ballad called the Garland, which con­ tains a great deal more of the main fable of Guy Mannering than McKinlay's oral edition of the Gallovidian anecdote conveys; and I am strongly inclined to think that Sir Walter must in his boyhood have read this broadside or chap­ book itself, as well as heard the old serving-man's Scottish version of it." The English county of Durham borders Northumberland on the south, and the city of Durham cannot be more than 2 5 miles from Welton Hall. The story had doubtless been part of the folk-lore of Northern England and Southern Scotland for generations before even Edward Winship (born 1611, o. s.) heard it. Being handed down from father to son in the Winship fam­ ily for seven generations, it naturally had become somewhat altered by the time it reached Sarah. Basically it remained the same old Durham legend used by Scott. This is a striking illustration of the vitality of folk tales. 258 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY Ten years passed after Girden' s death, and Sarah still sur­ vived. Five years more. It was now 1908, and mellow Septem­ ber had come, the month in which Girden had used to begin overhauling his wild pigeon nets against the time when the sky should be darkened by the flights of these wild birds. Sarah, for a long time in declining health, was staying with her son James, whose farm was in the northern part of Jasper. On the four­ teenth of that month she quietly ceased to breathe, and her gentle yet courageous spirit was gone. She was 91 years and 18 days old when she died. She had outlived not only her husband, but also six of her children. She was grandmother of 38 children and great-grandmother of 21. The funeral was held in the Boyd's Corners Church-the family church-but she was buried on South Hill, by the side of Girden. A hymn sung at the final ceremony was one that she had often hummed as the years drew nigh in which she could say, "I have no pleasure in them." It began thus: I will sing you a song of that beautiful land, The far-away home of the soul, Where no storms ever beat on the glittering strand, While the years of eternity roll. It has been noted that the settlers of South Hill :first held their religious services in the school house, under the emotional but beneficent ministering of Rev. Jacob Stuart. This con­ tinued until 1872, when, the population of the Hill now being divided about equally, the Methodists and the Baptists united to build a church edifice. Girden Stuart, William Jackson and Rev. James Sherwood were the originators of the movement. The structure was reared accordingly, having the distinction of being the first community church in Cameron. It was agreed among the founders that the Methodists should worship there one Sunday, the Baptists the next. This plan worked well for many years. Then came discord. The Baptists felt that the Methodists were trying to freeze them out; they believed they were no longer wanted. Being of a proud spirit, they decided to withdraw and build a church of their own-a Baptist church and nothing but. They secured a lot at Boyd's Corners-near the location of the original South Hill post office-bound themselves to raise what was then a large sum, put up the church building and sheds AVERAGE AMERICANS 259 for teams, and in 1892 the cornerstone was laid. Soon after this the debt was lifted. A noble task well done! The founders of this church and at least 90 per cent of the congregation were Stuarts, Jacksons, Allens, Wilders, Woods, Andruses-all descendants of John Stuart and Cynthia Miller. It was, almost exclusively, a family affair. The church building still stands, a monument to the clan. Joseph Boyd gave a plot for a cemetery, and almost at once this began to be occupied. Today many slumber in this bury­ ing ground, but the church has few members. The one on South Hill was practically killed by the secession, and only a few years ago it was sold to a neighboring farmer. Few that made either church are now alive, and their descendants have left the land of their birth. But in its heyday the Boyd's Cor­ ners Baptist Church was the community center. It was the rallying place of the Stuart clan. Two of the first preachers were members of the family: Rev. William R. Wood (then a boy parson, now the pastor of the largest Baptist church in the state of Maine), and his late uncle, Rev. Charles E. Stuart. The former things are passed away. The countryside is as pleasant as of yore, but where now is the row of freckled boys, standing shyly by the side of the church, waiting for their elders to hitch the horses and call them in to the service? A few are dead. Many are engaged in useful work in far places. Some are failures. The Philippines have known some of these lads, or their sons and nephews. Aye, and China, Cuba, the Isles of the South Sea. The Great War took its toll, for these people were ever first to respond to the country's call. The majority are simple, kindly folk, who presently will die and be forgotten. There still is room in the graveyard on the hillside, and some who traveled far are being brought back to rest in the soil that gave them birth. The sheds have rotted into the ground; for the ubiquitous Ford needs them not; anyway, few stop there. The community is not so religious as it once was, for much of the best blood has gone, and the countryside boasts less than half its former pop­ ulation. We must not forget the Stuart Picnic. It was a great insti­ tution. Its lusty age was during the prosperous days of the church, although it had its inception at least as early as 1890. 260 STORIES OF THE KANESTIO VALLEY It was for all descendants of John Stuart and Cynthia Miller; that meant half the neighborhood. Everyone else was cordially invited. And they came! They came on foot, in democrat wagons, on bicycles, obsolete buckboards. It was held in June every year. The place was the pine woods on the bank of the creek, just east of the church--on Joe Boyd's land. They had ballgames, sometimes the Hedgesville Brass Band; later the Cameron Cornet Band, of which two-thirds the membership were of the family. They had stands at which succulent things were sold, although the hot dog had not then made inroads on the country districts. Speakers-almost exclusively family talent-gave talks, religious and emotional. Beribboned girls spoke pieces. The small boys went swimming, and often missed having their likenesses included in the group photograph. Many of those group pictures are still to be found in dusty attics, or hanging on the walls of rural parlors. From black walnut frames bearded faces stare out at us with all the dignity and confidence in the world. . . . Young mothers with babies swathed in numerous layers of flannel, sheepish boys, old ladies in black caps. Few of the faces are stupid. The eyes are sharp, the head well formed, the chin prominent. In later years some of those faces were to be seen in the rostrums of great auditoriums, or peering out of the gloom of the Argonne jun­ gles into the eyes of the Prussian Guard. . . . The lane leading from the road to the grove was dusty, the sod being cut by countless wagon wheels. But the young women dragged their skirts through it, just the same. The young men perspired in high collars and pointed shoes, and cracked the same jokes, and wore their derby hats over the same ear, and showed off just as foolishly as had their ancestors. The Stuart Picnic! It represented a phase of the family's development. It's gone. It was great fun while it lasted. And South Hill-what of that? Only yesterday, on an October afternoon, I hunted pheasants in that locality, walking for miles through the meadows, pas­ tures and patches of woodland 1'7hich once had supported a large population. In the :fields no plowman labored, no shouts of happy children came borne on the breeze, along the old County Road few cars and fewer teams made their way. Dilapidated buildings and abandoned farms, flanked by ruinous AVERAGE AMERICANS 261 and briar-choked fences, met the eye. Through the hazy air of autumn came no sound of industry, save the distant barking of a gas engine and the groaning of a threshing machine. Over the whole landscape, with its rolling upland and the distant line of blue hills, brooded the silence of desertion. As I neared the little graveyard where my ancestors slept, I reflected and became sad. Then blossomed understanding and hope. The people who made this locality had done their work in their day and generation and passed on. This community, for a century, had been the workshop and training school for a family which had now outgrown its early environment and gone to broader :fields of endeavor. Those who once populated this now desolate neighborhood-and multitudes in thousands of similar communities-had feared God and aided in shaping our national character. In far-flung places their descendants still are worthily carrying on. Next into my memory flashed the prophetic words of a man of genius: "God means to harvest here a Nation in righteousness. The forces that work with us are eternal forces. Our traditions are priceless. The saints of old with shadowy hands, are pulling at our ropes. . . . . We are to grow here a people worthy to have a government and able to maintain it. . . . Whatever may be cast into the melting-pot, here are fires hot enough to consume the dross and leave the pure gold. It is ours to pledge ourselves anew that the Government which God planted here by the hands of our fathers, and which has been nourished through sunshine and through storm, shall yet produce a harvest that shall gladden and enrich the worId." 1 Thinking of these inspiring words, I again became filled with courage and the love of high endeavor. Then-I thought for a moment I heard the thunderous tones of Reverend Jacob Stuart issuing from the door of the old school house by the graveyard: "It is enough! Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace. " 1 From a sermon, "The Planting and Harvesting of a Nation," preached be­ fore the Empire State Society of the Sons of the American Revolution, by the Chaplain, Rev. Charles L. Goodell, D.D., at Calvary Methodist Episcopal Church, New York City, Feb. 2 5, 1912, and prin red in the Society's Year Book for 1911-12. This sermon was heard by the present writer-and never forgotten.