Three Rivers
Hudson~Mohawk~Schoharie
History From America's Most Famous Valleys
Life of Joseph Brant-Thayendanegea

Including the Indian Wars of the American Revolution

by William L. Stone. Volume II

Buffalo: Phinney & Co., 1851.

Chapter III

Night invasion of Johnstown, by Sir John Johnson, with an army of Indian and loyalists-The Visschers-The route of Sir John-Arrest of the Sammons family-Destruction of their property-March along the river-Burning of buildings, and murders of aged people-Destruction of Caughnawaga- Return to Johnson Hall-Proceedings there-Thomas Sammons escapes-Sir John moves off-Sampson Sammons applies for his liberty-His speech-The object of the expedition-Recovery of the Baronet's plate-A faithful slave-- Character of the expedition-Sir John returns to Montreal-Jacob and Frederick Sammons carried into captivity-Imprisoned at Charnblee-Conspiracy to escape -Prisoners refuse to join them-The brothers escape alone-The pursuit-Separation-Journey, adventures and sufferings of Jacob Sammons-Arrives at Schenectady-The narrative returns to Frederick-Perils of his escape-Prosperous commencement of his journey-Dreadful sickness-His recapture-Confined in irons at Chamblee--Removed to an Island-Projects an escape-Plot discovered -Ironed again-Second plan of escape-Perilous leap into the St. Lawrence- Swimming the Rapids-Other surprising adventures, by flood and field-Crossing the woods to Sehencctady- Remarkable fulfilment of a dream-Direct history of the Mohawk country resumed-Destruction of Canajoharie by the Indians- Conduct of Brant-Case of doubtful courage.

ALTHOUGH the struggle had now been maintained more than five years, still the people of the lower section of the Mohawk Valley, severely as they had experienced the calamities of the war, had not yet by any means received the full measure of their suffering. Harassed by perpetual alarms, and oppressively frequent calls to the field-their numbers reduced by death and desertion, and by removals from a country so full of troubles- their situation was far from being enviable. Though unconscious of immediate danger from a formidable invasion, they were nevertheless in more peril than at any former period, from their diminished ability of self-protection. Hitherto, with the exception of small forays upon the outskirts, the lower valley, containing by far the largest amount of population, had not been traversed by an invading enemy. But it was their lot, in the course of the present season, repeatedly to experience the tender mercies of an exasperated enemy, armed with knife, and tomahawk and brand, and to see their fairest villages laid waste, their fields desolated, and their dwellings reduced to ashes. The first blow was as sudden as it was unexpected-especially from the quarter whence it came. On Sunday the twenty-first of May, at dead of night, Sir John Johnson entered the north part of Johnstown at the head of five hundred men, composed of some British troops, a detachment of his own regiment of Royal Greens, and about two hundred Indians and Tories. Sir John had penetrated the country by way of Lake Champlain to Crown Point, and thence through the woods to the Sacondaga river; and so entirely unawares had he stolen upon the sleeping inhabitants, that he arrived in the heart of the country undiscovered, except by the resident loyalists, who were probably in the secret. Before he reached the old Baronial Hall at Johnstown-the home of his youth, and for the recovery of which he made every exertion that courage and enterprise could put forth-Sir John divided his forces into two detachments, leading one in person, in the first instance, directly to the Hall, and thence through the village of Johnstown ; while the other was sent through a more eastern settlement, to strike the Mohawk river at or below Tripe's Hill, from whence it was directed to sweep up the river through the ancient Dutch village of Caughnawaga,* to the Cayadutta Creek-at which place a junction was to be formed with Sir John himself. This disposition of his forces was made at the still hour of midnight-at a time when the inhabitants were not only buried in slumber, but wholly unsuspicious of approaching danger. What officer was in command of the eastern division is not known, but it was one of the most stealthy and murderous expeditions-murderous in its character, though but few were killed-and the most disgraceful, too, that marked the progress of the war in that region. During the night-march of this division, and before reaching the river, they attacked the dwelling-house of Mr. Lodowick Putnam, who, together with his son, was killed and scalped. The next house assailed was that of a Mr. Stevens, which was burnt, and its owner killed. Arriving at Tripe's Hill, they murdered three men, by the names of Hansen, Platts, and Aldridge. Hansen, who was a captain of militia, was killed by an Indian to whom he had formerly shown great kindness, and who had in return expressed much gratitude. The houses of all, it is believed, were plundered before the application of the torch. Proceeding toward Caughnawaga, about day-light they arrived at the house of Colonel Visscher-occupied at the time by him-
* More anciently still, the residence of the Caughnawaga clan of the Mohawk Indians, who at an early day moved into Canada, and established themselves on the St. Lawrence above the Lachine rapids.
VOL. II. 6 .

self, his mother, and his two brothers. It was immediately assaulted. Alarmed at the sounds without, the Colonel instantly surmised the cause, and being armed, determined, with his brothers, to defend the house to the last. They fought bravely for a time, but the odds were so fearfully against them, that the house was soon carried by storm. The three brothers were instantly stricken down and scalped, and the torch applied to the house. Having thus completed their work, the enemy proceeded on their way up the river. Fortunately, however, the Colonel himself was only wounded. On recovering from the shock of the hatchet, he saw the house enveloped in flames above and around him, and his two brothers dead by his side. But grievously wounded as he was, he succeeded in removing their mangled bodies from the house before the burning timbers fell in. His own wounds were dressed, and he lived many years afterward. Mrs. Visscher, the venerable mother of the Colonel, was likewise severely wounded by being knocked on the head by an Indian; but she also survived. The slaughter along the Mohawk, to the village of Caughnawaga, would have been greater, but for the alertness of Major Van Vrank, who contrived to elude the enemy, and by running ahead, gave the alarm, and enabled many people to fly as it were in puris naturalibus across the river.*
* The Visschers were important men among the "Whigs of Tryon county.- "there were four brothers of them at the commencement of the war, viz. Frederick, (the Colonel,) John, William Brower, and Harmanus. William B. died of scarlet fever in the Winter of 1776. A very bitter hostility existed against this family among the loyalists, having its origin in an unpleasant altercation between Colonel Visscher and Sir John Johnson, in the Autumn of 1775. The circumstances of this affair, as recently communicated to the author by the venerable Judge De Graff, of Schenectady, a near connection of the family, were substantially these:-In the year 1775, the Colonial Congress, having full confidence both in his principles and discretion, appointed Frederick Visscher a Colonel in the militia, furnishing him at the same time commissions in blank to complete the organization of his regiment. One of the commissions of captain thus confided to his disposal, he conferred on his brother John. In the Autumn of that year the Colonel directed his regiment to parade for review on an elevated plain near the ancient inn of Peggy Wymples, in Caughnawaga. It happened that while the regiment was on parade, Sir John Johnson, with his lady, drove along the river road. On descrying the regiment under arms, he ordered his coachman to dnve up the hill to the parade ground. He then demanded of the first person to whom he had an opportunity to speak, who had called the assemblage together, and for what purpose ? The reply was, that Colonel Visscher had ordered his regiment to parade for review. The Baronet thereupon stepped up to the Colonel, and repeated the question. The Colonel of course gave a similar reply. Sir John then ordered the regiment to disperse, but the Colonel directed them to keep their ranks-whereupon the Baronet, who was armed with a sword-cane, raised his weapon to inflict a blow upon Visscher, but the latter grasped the cane, and in the scuffle the sword was drawn-Visscher retaining the scabbard. Sir John threatened to run him through the body, and the Colonel told him if he chose to make the attempt he might act his pleasure. Sir John then asked for the scabbard of his blade, which was restored to him. Stepping up to his carriage, he directed Lady Johnson to rise that he might take his pistols from the box. Her ladyship remonstrated with him, but to no purpose, and having obtained his pistols, the Baronet again demanded that the regiment should be dismissed, for they were rebels. If not, he declared in a tempest of passion that he would blow the Colonel through. " Use your pleasure," was again the reply of Visscher. At this moment, a young Irishman, in the domestic service of the Colonel, who was in the ranks, exclaimed-" By J--s, if ye offer to lift hand or finger against my master, I will blow you through." The Baronet now saw that an unpleasant spirit was kindling against himself, whereupon he returned to his carriage, and drove away in great wrath.

Meantime Sir John proceeded with his division through the village of Johnstown, stopping before it was yet light at what wag once his own hall, where he made two prisoners. There was a small stockade, or picket fort, in the village, which, under favor of darkness and sleeping sentinels, was passed silently and unobserved. Directing his course for the confluence of the Cayadutta with the Mohawk, Sir John arrived at the residence of Sampson Sammons, whose name, with those of two of his sons, has appeared in the earlier portion of the present work. There was a third son, Thomas, a youth of eighteen. They all inherited the stanch Whig principles of their father, and the whole family had rendered the State efficient service in the course of the war.*

The particulars of the attack upon the family of Mr. Sammons are of sufficient interest to warrant the giving them some what in detail. Mr. Sammons, the elder, was well known to Sir John, between whom and himself very friendly relations had existed ; and in the early stage of the war, the former had exerted himself with some degree of success to protect the Baronet from the violence of the people. Soon after passing Johns-

*Sampson Sammons was of German extraction, a native of Ulster County, whence he had emigrated to Tryon County a few years before the war. In the first stages of the war he was a member of the Committee of Safety. In 1777, a corps of Exempts was organised under Colonel Jelles Fonda ; Fonda himself acting as Captain. Of this company, Sampson Sammons was the Lieutenant. In 1779 the corps was re-organised and enlarged. On the muster-roll of this year, Sammons was entered as an Ensign.

town, Sir John detached those of the Indians yet remaining with him in other directions, being desirous of making captives of Sammons and his sons, but wishing, at the same time, to do them no personal injury. On arriving in the neighborhood of the house, Sir John halted his division, and directed a small detachment to move with the utmost stillness and caution, and fall upon the house by surprise-observing that Sammons had some stout sons, well armed, and unless they were very careful, there would be trouble. The eldest of Mr. Sammons's sons was then the lessee of the Johnson farm at the hall, which had been sold by the Committee of Sequestrations, and which he was then cultivating ; and Thomas, the youngest, had risen at an unwonted hour, in order to feed his horses, and go over to the hall to work with his brother. On coming down stairs, however, and stepping out of doors half-dressed, to take an observation of the weather-it being yet dark, though day was just breaking-the thought occurred to him, that should any straggling Indians be prowling about, he would stand but a poor chance if fallen upon alone. While standing thus in doubt whether to proceed or wait for more light, he was startled by a noise of heavy steps behind, and, as he turned, by the glitter of steel passing before his eyes. At the same instant a hand was laid upon his shoulder, with the words-" You are my prisoner!" In such perfect stillness had the enemy approached, that not the sound of a footstep was heard, until the moment when the younger Sammons was thus arrested, and the house immediately surrounded. One of the officers, with several soldiers, instantly entered the house, and ordered the family to get up, and surrender themselves as prisoners. Jacob and Frederick, who were in bed in the second story, sprang upon their feet immediately, and seized their arms. The officer, who was a Tory named Sutherland, and acquainted with the family, hearing the clatter of arms, called to them by name, and promised quarter on condition of their surrender. Jacob inquired whether there were Indians with them ; adding, that if there were, he and his brother would not be taken alive. On being assured to the contrary, the brothers descended the stairs and surrendered. The old gentleman was also taken. While the soldiers were busied in plundering the premises, the morning advanced, and Sir John Johnson came up with the remainder of the division. The females were not taken as prisoners, but the father and sons were directed to make ready to march immediately. Thomas here remarked to the soldier who yet stood sentinel over him, that he could not travel to Canada without his clothes, and especially without his shoes, which he had not yet put on requesting liberty to repair to his chamber for his raiment. The sentinel sulkily refused permission ; but Thomas persisted that he must obtain his shoes at least, and was stepping toward the door, when the barbarian made a plunge at his back with his bayonet, which had proved fatal but for the quick eyes and the heroism of a sister standing by, who, as she saw the thrust at her brother, sprang forward, and seizing the weapon, threw herself across its barrel, and by falling, brought it to the ground. The soldier struggled to disengage his arms, and accomplish his purpose. At the same instant an officer stepped forward, and demanded what was the matter. The girl informed him of the attempt upon her brother, whereupon he rebuked the soldier by the exclamation-"You d--d rascal, would you murder the boy ?" Immediate permission was then given him to procure whatever articles he wanted. The work of plunder having been completed, Sir John; with his troops and prisoners, proceeded onward in the direction of the river--about three miles distant.

For the purpose of punishing the old gentleman for his whiggish activity, some of the officers caused him to be tied to a negro, who was likewise a prisoner ; but the moment Sir John discovered the indignity, he countermanded the order. The hands of the young men were all closely pinioned, and they, with their father, were compelled to march between files of soldiers, and behold the cruel desolation of their neighborhood. Their course thence was direct to the river, at Caughnawaga, at which place they met the other division of Indians and rangers, who, among others, had murdered and scalped Mr. Douw Fonda, a citizen of great age and respectability. The whole army now set their faces westward, traversing the Mohawk Valley several miles, burning every building not owned by a loyalist, killing sheep and black cattle, and taking all the horses that could be found for their own use. Returning again to Caughnawaga, the torch was applied to every building excepting the church; a number of prisoners were made, and several persons killed. Nine aged men were slain in the course of this march, of whom four were upward of eighty. From Caughnawaga, Sir John retraced his steps to Johnstown, passing the premises of Mr. Sammons, where the work of destruction was completed by applying the brand to all the buildings, leaving the females of the family houseless, and taking away the seven horses which were in the stables.

On the arrival of Sir John back to the homestead in the af ternoon, he halted upon the adjacent grounds for several hours -establishing his own quarters in the hall of his father. The prisoners were collected into an open field, strongly guarded, but not in a confined space ; and while reposing thus, the Tory families of the town came in large numbers to see their friends and relatives, who for the most part constituted the white troops of the invading army. Thomas Sammons, during the whole morning, had affected to be exceedingly lame of one foot; and while loitering about the Hall he attracted the attention of the widowed lady of Captain Hare, one of the British officers who had fallen in the battle of Oriskany. Mrs. Hare, since the death of her husband, had occupied an apartment of the Hall; and she now exerted herself successfully with Sir John for the release of several of her personal friends among the captives and on going into the field to select them, she adroitly smuggled young Sammons into the group, and led him away in safety.

It has already been mentioned that there was a small guard occupying the little fort in the village, which had been avoided by Sir John in his morning march. Toward night the militia of the surrounding country were observed to be clustering in the village, and Sir John thought it advisable to resume his march. He had collected a number of prisoners, and much booty, besides recruiting his ranks by a considerable number of loyalists, and obtaining possession of some eighteen or twenty of his negro slaves, left behind at the time of his flight in the Spring of 1776. While they were halting, on the next day, the elder Sammons applied to Sir John for an interview, which was granted in presence of his principal officers. On inquiring what he wanted, Mr. Sammons replied that he wished to be released. The Baronet hesitated; but the old man pressed his suit, and reminded Sir John of former scenes, and of the efforts of friendship which he himself had made in his behalf. " See ' what you have done, Sir John," said the veteran Whig: " You have taken myself and my sons prisoners, burnt my dwelling to ashes, and left the helpless members of my family with no covering but the heavens above, and no prospect but desolation around them. Did we treat you in this manner when you were in the power of the Tryon County Committee ? Do you remember when we were consulted by General Schuyler, and you agreed to surrender your arms ? Do you not remember that you then agreed to remain neutral, and that upon that condition General Schuyler left you at liberty on your parole? Those conditions you violated. You went off to Canada; enrolled yourself in the service of the King; raised a regiment of the disaffected, who abandoned their country with you ; and you have now returned to wage a cruel war against us, by burning our dwellings and robbing us of our property. I was your friend in the Committee of Safety, and exerted myself to save your person from injury. And how am I requited ? Your Indians have murdered and scalped old Mr. Fonda at the age of eighty years : a man who, I have heard; your father say, was like a father to him when he settled in Johnstown and Kingsborough. You cannot succeed, Sir John, in such a warfare, and you will never enjoy your property, more!"

The Baronet made no reply; but the appeal was effectual, and the old gentleman was set at liberty. He then requested the restoration of a pair of horses. Sir John replied that this should also be done, if the horses were not in the possession of the Indians, from whom he could not safely take them. On Making the inquiry, a span of his horses were found and restored to him. A Tory officer, named Doxstadter, was seen by Mr. Sammons to be in possession of one of his horses, but he would not relinquish it, pretending that he was merely entrusted with the animal by an Indian.* The two sons, Jacob and Frederick, were carried into captivity, and suffered a protracted and severe imprisonment, interesting accounts of which will presently be given. Several of the aged prisoners, besides Mr. Sammons,
* After the war was over, Doxstadter returned from Canada upon some business, was arrested in an action at law by Mr. Sammons, and made to pay the value of the horse.

were permitted to return, one of whom, Captain Abraham Veeder, was exchanged for Lieutenant Singleton, who had been taken at Fort Schuyler by Colonel Willett, and was then in Canada on his parole.*

The immediate object of this irruption by Sir John Johnson, was to procure his plate, which had been buried at the time of his flight in 1776, and not recovered with the iron chest. This treasure was not indeed buried with the chest, but in the cellar, and the place of deposite was confided to a faithful slave. While Sir John was in the hall, in the afternoon, the slave, assisted by four soldiers, disinterred the silver, which filled two barrels, brought it to the Baronet, and laid it down at his feet.+ It was then distributed among about forty soldiers, who placed it in their knapsacks-a quarter-master taking an account of the names of the soldiers, and the articles confided to each-by whom was to be carried to Montreal. The irruption, however, was one of the most indefensible aggressions upon an unarmed and slumbering people, which stain the annals of the British arms. As the commanding officer, Sir John is himself to be held responsible in a general sense. How far he was directly and specially responsible for the midnight murders committed by his barbarians, is a question which may, perhaps, bear a somewhat different shade. Still, from the success which attended the expedition, and the unaccountable inaction of the people against him, it is sufficiently obvious that he might have recovered his plate without lighting up his path by the conflagration of his neighbors' houses, or without staining his skirts with innocent blood.++ But the most remarkable circumstances attending this
* The present narrative of this irruption has been prepared almost entirely from the manuscripts of and conversations with Major Thomas Sammons, the lad who was taken prisoner-after a diligent comparison of his statement with other authorities. The author has also the written narratives of Jacob and Frederick Sammons before him, together with an account written by the Rev. John I. Shew. Major Thomas Sammons is yet, (February, 1838,) well and hearty. He has formerly, for several years, represented Montgomery (late Tryon county) in Congress. + This faithful domestic had lived long with Sir William Johnson, who was so much attached to him, that he caused him to be baptized by his own name, William. When the, estate was placed in the hands of Sammons by the Committee, William, was sold, and Sammons was the purchaser. He lived with him until retaken by Sir John, but never gave the least hint either as to the burial of the iron chest, or the plate, although both had been hidden in the earth by him.

++ It is quite probable that Sir John's private papers, or correspondence, if they have been preserved, might place this and other dark transactions in a more favorable light. The author has exerted himself in vain to discover any such papers. They are believed to have been scattered, on the Baronet's decease at Montreal, some half a dozen years since.

by surprise, and that Sir John was so entirely unopposed in his advance on the morning of the 22d, and altogether unmolested on his retreat. The inhabitants, who had so often proved themselves brave, appear to have been not only surprised, but panic-stricken. True, as has already been incidentally stated, before Sir John commenced his return march, the militia had begun to gather at the village, a mile distant from the hall. They were led by Colonel John Harper, who was beyond doubt a very brave man. With him was also Colonel Volkert Veeder. But they were not strong enough to engage the enemy ; and when Thomas gammons arrived among them after his release, this opinion was confirmed by his report that the forces of Sir John exceeded seven hundred men. Colonels Harper and Veeder thereupon marched back to the river, and the invaders retired unmolested,* save by Captain Putnam and four men, who hung upon their rear, and observed their course to the distance of twenty-five miles.

Governor Clinton was at Kingston at the time of the invasion. Hastening to Albany on the first rumor of the intelligence, he collected such militia and other forces as he could obtain, and moved to Lake George with a view to intercept Sir John. It was supposed that the course of the enemy might possibly he in the direction of Oswegatchie, and for the purpose of striking him upon such a march, Colonel Van Schaick, with eight hundred men, followed him by the way of Johnstown. Descending Lake George to Ticonderoga, the Governor was joined by a body of militia from the New Hampshire grants. But all was of no use; the invaders escaped-taking to their batteaux, probably, at Crown Point, whence they proceeded down the lake to St. John's. The captives were thence transferred to the fortress of Chamblee.

The prisoners at this fortress numbered about forty. On the day after their arrival Jacob Sammons, having taken an accurate survey of the garrison and the facilities of escape, con-
* MS of Major Thomas Sammons.

ceived the project of inducing his fellow-prisoners to rise upon the guards and obtain their freedom. The garrison was weak in number, and the sentinels less vigilant than is usual among good soldiers. The prison doors were opened once a day, when the prisoners were visited by the proper officer, with four or five soldiers. Sammons had observed where the arms of the guards were stacked in the yard, and his plan was, that some of the prisoners should arrest and disarm the visiting guard on the opening of their door, while the residue were to rush forth, seize the arms, and fight their way out. The proposition was acceded to by his brother Frederick, and one other man named Van Sluyck, but was considered too daring by the great body of the prisoners to be undertaken. It was therefore abandoned, and the brothers sought afterward only for a chance of escaping by themselves. Within three days the desired opportunity occurred, viz. on the 13th of June. The prisoners: were supplied with an allowance of spruce beer, for which two of their number were detached daily, to bring the cask from the, brew-house, under a guard of five men, with fixed bayonets. Having reason to suppose that the arms of the guards, though charged, were not primed, the brothers so contrived matters as to be taken together to the brewery on the day mentioned, with, an understanding that at a given point they were to dart from the guard and run for their lives-believing that the confusion of the moment, and the consequent delay of priming their muskets by the guards, would enable them to escape beyond the ordinary range of musket shot. The project was boldly executed. At the concerted moment, the brothers sprang from their conductors, and stretched across the plain with great fleetness. The alarm was given, and the whole garrison was soon after them in hot pursuit. Unfortunately for Jacob, he fell into a ditch and sprained his ankle. Perceiving the accident, Frederick turned to his assistance; but the other generously admonished him to secure his own flight if possible, and leave him to the chances of war. Recovering from his fall; and regardless of the accident, Jacob sprang forward again with as much expedition as possible, but finding that his lameness impeded his progress, he plunged into a thick clump of shrubs and trees, and was fortunate enough to hide himself between two logs before the pursuers came up. Twenty or thirty shots had previously been fired upon them, but -without effect. In consequence of the smoke of their fire, probably, the guards had not observed Jacob when he threw himself into the thicket, and supposing that, like his brother, he had passed round it, they followed on, until they were fairly distanced by Frederick, of whom they lost sight and trace. They returned in about half an hour, halting by the bushes in which the other fugitive was sheltered, and so near that he could distinctly hear their conversation. The officer in command was Captain Steele. On calling his men together, some were swearing, and others laughing at the race, and the speed of the " long-legged Dutchmen," as they called the flying prisoners. The pursuit being abandoned, the guards returned to the fort.

The brothers had agreed, in case of separation, to meet at a certain spot at 10 o'clock that night. Of course Jacob lay ensconced in the bushes until night had dropped her sable curtains, and until he supposed the hour had arrived, when he sallied forth, according to the antecedent understanding. But time did not move as rapidly on that evening as he supposed. He waited upon the spot designated, and called aloud for Frederick, until he despaired of meeting him, and prudence forbad his remaining any longer. It subsequently appeared that he was too early on the ground, and that Frederick made good his appointment.

Following the bank of the Sorel, Jacob passed Fort St. John's soon after day-break on the morning of the 14th. His purpose was to swim the river at that place, and pursue his course homeward through the wilderness on the eastern shore of Lake Champlain; but just as he was preparing to enter the water, he descried a boat approaching from below, filled with officers and soldiers of the enemy. They were already within twenty rods. Concealing himself again in the woods, he resumed his journey after their departure, but had not proceeded more than two or three miles before he came upon a party of several hundred men engaged in getting out timber for the public works at the fort. To avoid these he was obliged to describe a wide circuit, in the course of which, at about 12 o'clock, he came to a small clearing. Within the enclosure was a house, and in the field were a man and boy engaged in hoeing potatoes. They were at that moment called to dinner, and supposing them to be French, who he had heard were rather friendly to the American cause than otherwise-incited, also, by hunger and fatigue-he made bold to present himself, trusting that he might be invited to partake of their hospitality. But, instead of a friend, he found an enemy. On making known his character, he was roughly received. " It is by such villains as you are," replied the forester, " that I was obliged to fly from Lake Champlain." The rebels, he added, had robbed him of all he possessed, and he would now deliver his self-invited guest to the guard, which, he said, was not more than a quarter of a mile distant. Sammons promptly answered him that " that was more than he could do." The refugee then said he would go for the guard himself; to which Sammons replied that he might act as he pleased, but that all the men in Canada should not make him again a prisoner.

The man thereupon returned with his son to the potatoe field, and resumed his work; while his more compassionate wife gave him a bowl of bread and milk, which he ate sitting on the threshold of the door, to guard against surprise. While in the house, he saw a musket, powder-horn and bullet-pouch hanging against the wall, of which he determined, if possible, to possess himself, that he might be able to procure food during the long and solitary march before him. On retiring, therefore, he travelled only far enough into the woods for concealment-returning to the woodman's house in the evening, for the purpose of obtaining the musket and ammunition. But he was again beset by imminent peril. Very soon after he entered the house, the sound of approaching voices was heard, and he took to the rude chamber for security, where he lay flat upon the irregular floor, and looking through the interstices, saw eleven soldiers enter, who, it soon appeared, came for milk. His situation was now exceedingly critical. The churlish proprietor might inform against him, or a single movement betray him. But neither circumstance occurred. The unwelcome visitors departed in due time, and the family all retired to bed, excepting the wife, who, as Jacob descended from the chamber, refreshed him with another bowl of bread and milk. The good woman now earnestly entreated her guest to surrender himself, and join the ranks of the King, assuring him that his Majesty must certainly conquer in the end, in which case the rebels would lose all their property, and many of them be hanged into the bargain. But to such a proposition he of course would not listen. Finding all her efforts to convert a Whig into a Tory fruitless, she then told him, that if he would secrete himself two days longer in the woods, she would furnish him with some provisions, for a supply of which her husband was going to the fort the next day, and she would likewise endeavor to provide him with a pair of shoes.

Disinclined to linger so long in the country of the enemy, and in the neighborhood of a British post, however, he took his departure forthwith. But such had been the kindness of the good woman, that he had it not in his heart to seize upon her husband's arms, and he left this wild scene of rustic hospitality without supplies, or the means of procuring them. Arriving once more at the water's edge at the lower end of Lake Champlain, he came upon a hut, within which, on cautiously approaching it for reconnoisance, he discovered a party of soldiers all soundly asleep. Their canoe was moored by the shore, into which he sprang, and paddled himself up the lake under the most encouraging prospect of a speedy and comparatively easy voyage to its head, whence his return home would be unattended with either difficulty or danger. But his pleasing an ticipations were extinguished on the night following, as he approached the Isle au Noix, where he descried a fortification, and the glitter of bayonets bristling in the air as the moonbeams played upon the burnished arms of the sentinels, who were pacing their tedious rounds. The lake being very nar- row at this point, and perceiving that both sides were fortified, he thought the attempt to shoot his canoe through between them rather too hazardous an experiment. His only course, therefore, was to run ashore, and resume his travels on foot. Nor, on landing, was his case in any respect enviable. Without shoes, without food, and without the means of obtaining either-a long journey before him through a deep and trackless wilderness-it may well be imagined that his mind was not cheered by the most agreeable anticipations. But without pausing to indulge unnecessarily his "thick-coming fancies," he commenced his solitary journey, directing his course along the eastern lake shore toward Albany. During the first four days of his progress he subsisted entirely upon the bark of the birch-chewing the twigs as he went. On the fourth day, while resting by a brook, he heard a rippling of the water caused by the fish as they were stemming its current. He succeeded in catching a few of these, but having no means of striking a fire, after devouring one of them raw, the others were thrown away.

His feet were by this time cruelly cut, bruised, and torn by thorns, briars, and stones; and while he could scarcely proceed by reason of their soreness, hunger and fatigue united to retard his cheerless march. On the fifth day his miseries were augmented by the hungry swarms of musquetoes, which settled upon him in clouds while traversing a swamp. On the same day he fell upon the nest of a black duck-the duck sitting quietly upon her eggs until he came up and caught her. The bird was no sooner deprived of her life and her feathers, than he devoured the whole, including the head and feet. The eggs were nine in number, which Sammons took with him; but on opening one, he found a little half-made duckling, already alive. Against such food his stomach revolted, and he was obliged to throw the eggs away.

On the tenth day he came to a small lake. His feet were now in such a horrible state, that he could scarcely crawl along. Finding a mitigation of pain by bathing them in water, he plunged his feet into the lake, and lay down upon its margin. For a time it seemed as though he could never rise upon his feet again. Worn down by hunger and fatigue-bruised in body and wounded in spirit-in a lone wilderness, with no eye to pity, and no human arm to protect-he felt as though he must remain in that spot until it should please God in his goodness to quench the dim spark of life that remained. Still, he was comforted in some measure by the thought that he was in the hands of a Being without whose knowledge not a sparrow falls to the ground.

Refreshed, at length, though to a trifling degree, he resumed his weary way, when, on raising his right leg over the trunk of a fallen tree, he was bitten in the calf by a rattlesnake ! Quick as a flash, with his pocket-knife, he made an incision in his leg, removing the wounded flesh to a greater depth than the fangs of the serpent had penetrated. His next business was to kill the venomous reptile, and dress it for eating; thus appropriating the enemy that had sought to take his life, to its prolongation. His first meal was made from the heart and fat of the serpent. Feeling somewhat strengthened by the repast, and finding, moreover, that he could not travel farther in his present condition, he determined to remain where he was for a few days, and by repose, and feeding upon the body of the snake, recruit his strength. Discovering, also, a dry fungus upon the trunk of a maple tree, he succeeded in striking a fire, by which his comforts were essentially increased. Still he was obliged to creep upon his hands and knees to gather fuel, and on the third day he was yet in such a state of exhaustion as to be utterly unable to proceed. Supposing that death was inevitable and very near, he crawled to the foot of a tree, upon the bark of which he commenced inscribing his name-in the expectation that he should leave his bones there, and in the hope, that, in some way, by the aid of the inscription, his family might ultimately be apprised of his fate. "While engaged in this sad work, a cloud of painful thoughts crowded upon his mind ; the tears involuntarily stole down his cheeks, and before he had completed the melancholy task, he fell asleep.

On the fourth day of his residence at this place, he began to gain strength, and as a part of the serpent yet remained, he determined upon another effort to resume his journey. But he could not do so without devising some substitute for shoes. For this purpose he cut up his hat and waistcoat, binding them upon his feet-and thus he hobbled along. On the following night, while lying in the woods, he became strongly impressed with a belief that he was not far distant from a human habitation. He had seen no indications of proximity to the abode old man ; but he was, nevertheless, so confident of the fact, that he wept for joy. Buoyed up and strengthened by this impression, he resumed his journey on the following morning; and in the afternoon, it being the 28th of June, he reached a house in the town of Pittsford, in the New Hampshire Grants-now forming the State of Vermont, He remained there for several days, both to recruit his health, and, if possible, to gain intelligence of his brother. But no tidings came; and as he knew Frederick to be a capital woodsman, he of course concluded that sickness death, or re-capture, must have interrupted his journey. Procuring a conveyance at Pittsford, Jacob travelled to Albany, and thence to Schenectady, where he had the happiness of finding his wife and family.*

* MS. narrative of Jacob Sammons. He died about the year 1810.

Not less interesting, nor marked by fewer vicissitudes, were the adventures of Frederick Sammons. The flight from the fort at Chamblee was made just before sunset, which accounts for the chase having been abandoned so soon. On entering the edge of the woods, Frederick encountered a party of Indians returning to the fort from fatigue duty. Perceiving that he was a fugitive, they fired, and called out-" We have got him!" In this opinion, however, they were mistaken, for, although he had run close upon before perceiving them, yet, being like Asahel of old swift of foot, by turning a short corner and increasing his speed, in ten minutes he was entirely clear of the party. He then sat down to rest, the blood gushing from his nose in consequence of the extent to which his physical powers had been taxed. At the time appointed he also had repaired to the point which, at his separation from Jacob, had been agreed upon as the place of meeting. The moon shone brightly, and he called loud and often for his brother-so loud, indeed, that the guard was turned out in consequence. His anxiety was very great for his brother's safety ; but, in ignorance of his situation, he was obliged to attend to his own. He determined, however, to approach the fort-as near to it, at least, as he could venture -and in the event of meeting any one, disguise his own character by inquiring whether the rebels had been taken. But a flash from the sentinel's musket, the report, and the noise of a second pursuit, compelled him to change the direction of his march, and proceed again with all possible speed. It had been determined by the brothers to cross the Sorel, and return on the east side of the river and lake ; but there was a misunderstanding between them as to the point of crossing the riverwhether above or below the fort. Hence their failure of meeting. Frederick repaired to what he supposed to be the designated place of crossing, below the fort, where he lingered for his brother until near morning. At length, having found a boat, he crossed over to the eastern shore, and landed just at the cock-crowing. He proceeded directly to the barn where he supposed chanticleer had raised his voice, but found not a fowl on the premises. The sheep looked too poor by the dim twilight to serve his purpose of food, but a bullock presenting a more favorable appearance, Frederick succeeded in cutting the unsuspecting animal's throat, and severing one of the hindquarters from the carcass, he shouldered and marched off with it directly into the forest. Having proceeded to a safe and convenient distance, he stopped to dress his beef, cutting off what he supposed would be sufficient for the journey, and forming a knapsack from the skin, by the aid of bark peeled from the moose-wood.

Resuming his journey, he arrived at the house of a French family within the distance of five or six miles. Here he made bold to enter, for the purpose of procuring bread and salt, and in the hope also of obtaining a gun and ammunition. But he could neither obtain provisions, nor make the people understand a word he uttered. He found means, however, to prepare some tinder, with which he re-entered the woods, and hastened forward in a southern direction, until he ascertained, by the firing of the evening guns, that he, had passed St. John's. Halting for the night, he struck a light, and having kindled a fire, occupied himself until morning in drying and smoking his beef, cutting it into slices for that purpose. His knapsack of raw hide was cured by the same process. Thus prepared, he proceeded onward without interruption or adventure until the third day, when he killed a fawn and secured the venison. He crossed the Winooski, or Onion river, on the next day; and having discovered a man's name carved upon a tree, together with the distance from the Lake, (Champlain) eight miles, he bent his course for its shores, where he found a canoe with paddles. There was now a prospect of lessening the fatigue of his journey; but his canoe had scarce begun to dance upon the waters ere it parted asunder, and he was compelled to hasten ashore and continue his march by land.

At the close of the seventh day, and when, as he supposed, he was within two days' travel of a settlement, he kindled his fire, and lay down to rest in fine health and spirits. But ere the dawn of day, he awoke "with racking pains, which proved to be an attack of pleurisy. A drenching rain came on, continuing three days; during which time he lay helpless, in dreadful agony, without fire, or shelter, or sustenance of any kind. On the fourth day, his pain having abated, he attempted to eat a morsel,but his provisions had become too offensive to be swallowed. His thirst being intense, he fortunately discovered a pond of water near by, to which he crawled. It was a stagnant pool,
VOL. II. 7

swarming with frogs-another providential circumstance, inasmuch as the latter served him for food. Too weak, however, to strike a light, he was compelled to devour them raw, and without dressing of any kind. Unable to proceed, he lay in this wretched condition fourteen days. Supposing that he should die there, he succeeded in hanging his hat upon a pole, with a few papers, in order that, if discovered, his fate might be known. He was lying upon a high bluff, in full view of the lake, and at no great distance therefrom. The hat, thus elevated, served as a signal, which saved his life. A vessel sailing past, descried the hat, and sent a boat ashore to ascertain the cause. The boatmen discovered the body of a man, yet living, but senseless and speechless, and transferred him to the vessel. By the aid, of medical attendance he was slowly restored to his reason, and having informed the Captain who he was, had the rather uncomfortable satisfaction of learning that he was on board of an enemy's ship, and at that moment lying at Crown Point. Here he remained sixteen days, in the course of which time he had the gratification to hear, from a party of Tories coming from the settlements, that his brother Jacob had arrived safe at Schenectady and joined his family. He was also apprised of Jacob's sufferings, and of the bite of the serpent, which took place near Otter Creek, close by the place where he had himself been so long sick. The brothers were therefore near together at the time of the greatest peril and endurance of both.

Frederick's recovery was very slow. Before he was able to "walk, he was taken to St. John's, and thence, partly on a wheelbarrow and partly in a calash, carried back to his old quarters at Chamblee-experiencing much rough usage by the -way. "0n arriving at the fortress, the guards saluted him by the title of " Captain Lightfoot," and there was great joy at his re-capture. It was now about the 1st of August. As soon as his health was sufficiently recovered to bear it, he was heavily ironed, and kept in close confinement at that place, until October 1781-fourteen months, without once beholding the light of the sun. Between St. John's and Chamblee he had been met by a British officer with whom he was acquainted, and by who he was informed that severe treatment would- be his portion. Compassionating his situation, however, the officer slipped guinea and a couple of dollars into his hands, and they moved on.

No other prisoners were in irons at Chamblee, and all but Sammons were taken upon the parade ground twice a week for the benefit of fresh air. The irons were so heavy and so tight, as to wear into the flesh of his legs ; and so incensed was Captain Steele, the officer of the 32d regiment, yet commanding the garrison at Chamblee, at the escape of his prisoner, that he would not allow the surgeon to remove the irons to dress the wounds, of which they were the cause, until a peremptory order was procured for that purpose from General St. Leger, who was then at St. John's. The humanity of the surgeon prompted this application of his own accord. Even then, however, Steele would only allow the leg-bolts to be knocked off-still keeping on the hand-cuffs. The dressing of his legs was a severe operation. The iron had eaten to the bone, and the gangrened flesh was of course to be removed. One of the legs ultimately healed up, but the other has never been entirely well to this day.*

In the month of November, 1781, the prisoners were transferred from Chamblee to an island in the St. Lawrence, called at that time Prison Island-situated in the rapids some distance above Montreal. Sammons was compelled to travel in his hand-cuffs, but the other prisoners were not thus encumbered. There were about two hundred prisoners on the island, all of whom were very closely guarded. In the Spring of 1782, Sammons organised a conspiracy with nine of his fellow prisoners, to make their escape, by seizing a provision boat, and had wellnigh effected their object. Being discovered, however, their purpose was defeated, and Sammons, as the ringleader, once more placed in irons. But at the end of five weeks the irons were removed, and he was allowed to return to his hut. Impatient of such protracted captivity, Frederick was still bent on escaping, for which purpose he induced a fellow-prisoner, by the name of M'Mullen, to join him in the daring exploit of seeking an opportunity to plunge into the river, and taking their chance of swimming to the shore. A favorable moment for attempting the bold adventure was afforded on the 17th of August. The prisoners having, to the number of fifty, been allowed to walk to the foot of the island, but around the whole of which
* April, 1837-fifty six years ago! Frederick Sammons is yet living, and other-wise well; and was chosen one of the electors of President and Vice-President of the United States in November 1836.

a chain of sentinels was extended, Sammons and M'Mullen, without having conferred with any one else, watching an opportunity when the nearest sentinel turned his back upon them, quietly glided down beneath a shelving rock, and plunged into the stream-each holding up and waving a hand in token of farewell to their fellow-prisoners, as the surge swept them rapidly down the stream. The sentinel was distant about six rods when they threw themselves into the river, and did not discover their escape until they were beyond the reach of any molestation he could offer them. Three-quarters of a mile below the island, the rapids were such as to heave the river into swells too large for boats to encounter. This was a frightful part of their voyage. Both, however, were expert swimmers, and by diving as they approached each successive surge, both succeeded in making the perilous passage-the distance of this rapid being about one hundred and fifty rods. As they plunged successively into these rapids, they had little expectation of meeting each other again in this world. But a protecting Providence ordered it otherwise, and they emerged from the frightful billows quite near together. " I am glad to see you," said Sammons to his friend ;" I feared we should not meet again." " We have had a merry ride of it," replied the other ; " but we could not have stood it much longer."

The adventurous fellows attempted to land about two miles below the island, but the current was so violent as to baffle their purpose, and they were driven two miles farther, where they happily succeeded in reaching the land, at a place on the north side of the St. Lawrence, called by the Canadians " The Devil's Point." A cluster of houses stood near the river, into some of which it was necessary the fugitives should go to procure provisions. They had preserved each a knife and tinderbox in their waistcoat pockets, and one of the first objects, after arming themselves with substantial clubs, was to procure a supply of tinder. This was effected by boldly entering a house and rummaging an old lady's work-basket. The good woman, frightened at the appearance of the visitors, ran out and alarmed the village-the inhabitants of which were French. In the meantime they searched the house for provisions, fire-arms, and ammunition, but found none of the latter, and only a single loaf of bread. They also plundered the house of a blanket, blanketcoat, and a few other articles of clothing. By this time the people began to collect in such numbers, that a precipitate retreat was deemed advisable. M'Mullen, being seized by two Canadians, was only released from their grasp by the well-directed blows of Frederick's club. They both then commenced running- for the woods, when Sammons, encumbered with his luggage, unluckily fell, and the loaf rolled away from him. The peasants now rushed upon them, and their only course was to give battle, which they prepared to do in earnest; whereupon, seeing their resolution, the pursuers retreated almost as rapidly as they had advanced. This demonstration gave the fugitives time to collect and arrange their plunder, and commence their travels anew. Taking to the woods; they found a resting-place, where they halted until night-fall. They then sallied forth once more in search of provisions, with which it was necessary to provide themselves before crossing to the south side of the river, where, at that day, there were no settlements. The cattle fled at their approach; but they at length came upon a calf in a farm-yard, which they captured, and appropriating to their own use and behoof a canoe moored in the river, they embarked with their prize, to cross over to the southern shore. But alas! when in the middle of the stream their paddle broke, and they were in a measure left to the mercy of the flood, which was hurrying them onward, as they very well knew, toward the rapids or falls of the Cedars. There was an island above the rapids, from the brink of which a tree had fallen into the river. Fortunately, the canoe was swept by the current into the branches of this tree top, among which it became entangled. While struggling in this predicament, the canoe was upset. Being near shore, however, the navigators got to land without losing the calf. Striking a fire, they now dressed their veal, and on the following morning, by towing their canoe along shore round to the south edge of the island, succeeded in crossing to their own side of the river. They then plunged directly into the unbroken forest, extending from the St. Lawrence to the Sacondaga, and after a journey of twelve days of excessive hardship, emerged from the woods within six miles of the point for which, without chart or compass, Sammons had laid his course. Their provisions lasted but a few days, and their only subsequent food consisted of roots and herbs. The whole journey was made almost in a state of nudity-both being destitute of pantaloons. Having -worn out their hats upon their feet, the last three days they were compelled to travel bare-footed. Long before their journey was ended, therefore, their feet wore dreadfully lacerated and swollen. On arriving at Schenectady the inhabitants were alarmed at their wild and savage appearance-half naked, with lengthened beards and matted hair. The people at length gathered round them with strange curiosity; but when they made themselves known, a lady named Ellis rushed through the crowd, to grasp the hand of Frederick, and was so much affected at his altered appearance that she fainted and fell. The welcome fugitives were forthwith supplied with whatever of food and raiment was necessary; and young Sammons learned that his father and family had removed back to Marbletown, in the county of Ulster,whence he had previously emigrated to Johnstown.

A singular but well-attested occurrence closes this interesting personal narrative. The family of the elder Sammons had long given up Frederick as lost. On the morning after his arrival at Schenectady, he despatched a letter to his father, by the hand of an officer on his way to Philadelphia, who left it at the house of a Mr. Levi De Witt, five miles distant from the residence of the old gentleman. The same night on which the letter was thus left, Jacob dreamed that his brother Frederick was living, and that there was a letter from him at De Witt's announcing the joyful tidings. The dream was repeated twice, and the contents of the letter were so strongly impressed upon his mind, that he repeated what he believed was the very language, on the ensuing morning-insisting that such a letter was at the place mentioned. The family, his father in particular, laughed at him for his credulity. Strong, however, in the belief that there was such a communication, he repaired to the place designated, and asked for the letter. Mr. De Witt looked for it, but replied there was none. Jacob requested a more thorough search, and behold the letter was found behind a barrel, where it had fallen. Jacob then requested Mr. De Witt to open the letter, and examine while he recited its contents. He did so, and the dreamer repeated it word for word !*
*The facts contained in this account of the captivity of Frederick Sammons, have been drawn from the narrative written by himself immediately after his return. In regard to the dream, which I have thought of sufficient interest to record text, Major Thomas Sammons, who was at home at the time, has repeatedly assured of the fact, in conversations; and Mr. De Witt, when living, always confirmed the circumstances related as occurring at his house. Jacob Sammons himself says at the conclusion-" I write this to satisfy that class of people who say there is nothing revealed by dreams."-Author.

Returning from these digressions, the chain of historical events to be recorded will be resumed in their order. Sir John Johnson having made good his retreat, as heretofore decribed, no other transaction of consequence occurred in the Mohawk Valley until the 2d of August, when the dreaded Thayendanegea was again among the settlements on the river. Colonel Gansevoort had been directed by General Clinton, on the 6th of June, to repair to Fort Plank, with his regiment, to take charge of a quantity of stores destined to Fort Schuyler. In his instructions to that officer, General Clinton referred to the alarming situation of the Mohawk country, and enjoined the most vigilant watchfulness against surprise. The stores were of course to be transported in batteaux, carefully guarded the whole distance. Aware of the movement of these stores, Brant had caused the valley to be filled with rumors of his intention to capture them, and even to take Fort Schuyler itself. In order to prevent either occurrence, the militia of the county were sent forward to strengthen the convoy, and repair to the defence of the Fort. Having thus diverted the public attention, and caused the militia to be drawn from the lower section of the valley, the wily Mohawk passed round in their rear, and on the day above mentioned, made a sudden descent upon Canajoharie and its adjacent settlements.* There were several small stockades among the different neighborhoods invaded, but the principal work of defence, then called Fort Plank, and subsequently Fort Plain, was situated upon an elevated plain overlooking the valley, near the site of the village yet retaining the latter name of the fortress.+ A small garrison had been left in this fort, but not of sufficient strength to warrant a field engagement with the forces of Brant, while the latter, being unprovided with artillery, had no design of assaulting the fort.

On the first approach of Brant in Canajoharie, a few miles
*Annals of Tryon County.
+For a drawing of Fort Plank, or Fort Plain, and a more particular description, see Appendix, No. I. To a modern engineer, its form must present a singular spectacle as a military structure. The drawing has been preserved, as a specimen forts and block-houses of that frontier during the war of the Revolution.

eastwardly of the fort, the alarm was given by a woman, who fired a cannon for that purpose. But as the able-bodied men were absent, as already stated, the chief met with no immediate opposition, and before the militia could be rallied from Schenectady and Albany, he had ample time to effect the object of the enterprise. The settlements on the south side of the river, for several miles, were entirely laid waste. All the moveable property that could be taken off was secured as plunder ; but no outrages were committed upon the defenceless women and children, other than carrying them into captivity-a circumstance that has been attributed to the absence of the Tories in this expedition, and also to the fact that there was no divided command-Brant being himself the sole leader. Be that as it may, the Mohawk chief is entitled to the benefit of this instance of humanity, in forming a final judgment of his character.

But the strength of the main fort did not deter the chief from leading his warriors directly into its vicinity, where the church, distant about a quarter of a mile, and the parsonage, together with several other buildings, were burnt. Sixteen of the inhabitants were killed, between fifty and sixty persons, mostly women and children, were taken prisoners, fifty-three dwelling houses, and as many barns were burnt, together with a gristmill, two small forts, and a handsome church. Upward of three hundred black cattle and horses were killed or driven away, the arms of the people, their working-tools and implements of husbandry destroyed, and the growing crops swept from the fields,* Indeed, the fairest district of the valley was in a single day rendered a scene of wailing and desolation; and the ravages enacted in the Indian country by General Sullivan the preceding year, were in part most unexpectedly re-enacted by the Indian chieftain himself in the heart of the country of his invaders.+

The first admonition of the invasion in the neighborhood of Johnstown, fifteen miles from Canajoharie, was by the ascending columns of smoke from the burning buildings. The people were employed harvesting in the fields, but they turned out im-
* MS. letter of Colonel Clyde to Governor George Clinton.
+ A detachment from this expedition was sent by Brant, at the same lime, against
the settlement on the Norman's Kill, in the very neighborhood of Albany, where
they succeeded in burning twenty houses.-Macauley.

mediately, and joining Colonel Wemple, who advanced from below with the Schenectady and Albany militia, proceeded to the scene of conflagration. But their movements were not sufficiently expeditious to arrest the destroyer or to intercept his retreat. Indeed, it is intimated, by good authority, that although the Colonel's forces were superior to those of Brant, the former was, nevertheless, by no means anxious to arrive in the immediate vicinity of the Indians too soon.* The Colonel lodged his men that night in the fort. The next morning, while the troops, regular and irregular, were on parade, some buildings were discovered on fire at a distance, which had escaped the flames the day before. The attention of Colonel Wemple being directed to the fact, he remarked, that if any volunteers were disposed to go in pursuit, they might. Major Bantlin, with a few of the Tryon County militia, who had arrived that morning, immediately turned out. " "We hastened to the place as soon as we " could. The enemy discovered us and ran off. It was a small " party sent out by Brant. We pursued them, but they reached " their main body before we came up. We succeeded, however, " in rescuing a little girl, whom they had taken and painted."+

The forts destroyed by Brant at Canajoharie, were built by the people themselves, but had not yet been garrisoned. The inhabitants had complained bitterly that they were thus compelled to leave their own firesides unprotected, to assist the Government in re-opening the communication with Fort Schuyler. But being assured that their town could be in no danger, they submitted to the order, and their militia marched to the upper section of the valley. The result was deplorable enough ; while the success of his stratagem added another plume to the crest of " the Great Captain of the Six Nations."++
*Major Thomas Sammons, who was in the wheat-field when the smoke was seen, and who immediately repaired to the scene of action.
+ MSS. of Major Sammons.
++ According to the British account of this irruption, as published in New-York on the 6th of September, Sir John Johnson was in the expedition with Captain Brant. But this could hardly have been the fact, and all other authorities be silent upon the subject. The same account claimed that in the Canajoharie settlements 57 houses and 42 barns were burnt; 17 persons killed, and 32 taken prisoners. At the same time, it was stated that in one of the Schoharie settlements 27 houses were burnt; 7 persons killed; and 21 taken prisoners. At Norman's Kill, 20 houses burnt. Total, 140 houses and barns burnt; 24 people killed ; and 73 made prisoners.-Almon's Remembrancer, Part II-1780.

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