A Narrative of the Captivity of Nehemiah How, who was taken by the Indians at the Great Meadow Fort above Fort Dummer1, where he was an Inhabitant, October 11th, 1745.
Giving an account of what he met with in his travelling to Canada, and while he was in prison there. Together with an account of Mr. How‘s death at Canada. Psalm cxxxvii: 1,2, 3, and 4. Boston: N. E. Printed and sold opposite to the Prison in Queen Street, 1748.
At the Great Meadow’s fort, fourteen miles above Fort Dummer, October 11th, 1745, where I was an inhabitant, I went out from the fort about fifty rods to cut wood; and when I had done, I walked towards the fort, but in my way heard the crackling of fences behind me, and turning about, saw twelve or thirteen Indians, with red painted heads, running after me; on which I cried to God for help, and ran, and hallooed as I ran, to alarm the fort. But by the time I had run ten rods, the Indians came up with me and took hold of me. At the same time the men at the fort shot at the Indians, and killed one on the spot, wounded another, who died fourteen days after he got home, and likewise shot a bullet through the powder-horn of one that had hold of me. They then led me into the swamp and pinioned me. I then committed my case to God, and prayed that, since it was his will to deliver me into the hands of those cruel men, I might find favor in their eyes; which request God in his infinite mercy was pleased to grant; for they were generally kind to me while I was with them. Some of the Indians at that time took charge of me; others ran into the field to kill cattle. They led me about half a mile, where we stand in open sight of the fort, till the Indians who were killing cattle came to us, laden with beef. Then they went a little further to a house, where they staid to cut the meat from the bones, and cut the helve off of my axe, and stuck it into the ground, pointing the way we went.
Then we travelled along the river side, and when we had got about three miles, I espied a canoe coming down on the further side of the river, with David Rugg and Robert Baker, belonging to our fort. I made as much noise as I could, by hammering, &c., that they might see us before the Indians saw them, and so get ashore and escape. But the Indians saw them, and shot across the river, twenty or thirty guns at them, by which the first-mentioned man was killed, but the other, Robert Baker, got ashore and escaped. Then some of the Indians swam across the river and brought the canoe to us; having stripped and scalped the dead man, and then we went about a mile further, when we came to another house, where we stopped. While there we heard men running by the bank of the river, whom I knew to be Jonathan Thayer, Samuel Nutting and my son Caleb How. Five of the Indians ran to head them. My heart asked for them, and prayed to God to save them from the hands of the enemy. I suppose they hid under the bank of the river, for the Indians were gone some time, but came back without them, blessed be God.
We went about a mile further, where we lodged that night, and roasted the meat they had got. The next day we travelled very slowly, by reason of the wounded Indian, which was a great favor to me. We lodged the second night against Number Four [since Charlestown, N. H.] The third day we likewise travelled slowly, and stopped often to rest, and get along the wounded man. We lodged that night by the second small river that runs into the great river against Number Four2.
The fourth day morning the Indians held a piece of bark, and bid me write my name, and how many days we had travelled; “for,” said they “may be Englishmen will come here.” That was a hard day to me, as it was wet and we went over prodigious mountains, so that I became weak and faint; for I had not eaten the value of one meal from the time I was taken, and that being beef almost raw without bread or salt. When I came first to the foot of those hills, I thought it was impossible for me to ascend them, without immediate help from God; therefore my constant recourse was to him for strength, which he was graciously pleased to grant me, and for which I desire to praise him.
We got that day a little before night to a place where they had a hunting house, a kettle, some beer, Indian corn, and salt. They boiled a good mess of it. I drank of the broth, eat of the meat and corn, and was wonderfully refreshed, so that I felt like another man. The next morning we got up early, and after we had eaten, my master said to me, “You must quick walk to day, or I kill you.” I told him I would go as fast as I could, and no faster, if he did kill me. At which an old Indian, who was the best friend I had, took care of me. We travelled that day very hard, and over steep hills, but it being a cool, windy day, I performed it with more ease than before; yet I was much tired before night, but dare not complain.
The next day the Indians gave me a pair of their shoes, so that I travelled with abundant more ease than when I wore my own shoes. I ate but very little, as our victuals were almost spent. When the sun was about two hours high, the Indians scattered to hunt, and they soon killed a fawn, and three small bears, so that we had again meat enough; some of which we boiled and eat heartily of, by which I felt strong.
The next day we travelled very hard, and performed it with ease, insomuch that one of the Indians told me I was a very strong man. About three o’clock we came to the lake, where they had five canoes, pork, Indian corn, and tobacco. We got into the canoes, and the Indians stuck up a pole about eight feet long with the scalp of David Rugg on the top of it painted red, with the likeness of eyes and mouth on it. We sailed about ten miles, and then went on shore, and after we had made a fire, we boiled a good supper, and eat heartily.
The next day we set sail for Crown Point, but when we were within a mile of the place, they went on shore, where were eight or ten French and Indians, two of whom, before I got on shore, came running into the water, knee deep, and pulled me out of the canoe. There they sang and danced around me a while, when one of them bid me sit down, which I did. Then they pulled of my shoe and buckles, and took them from me. Soon after we went along to Crown Point. When we got there, the people, both French and Indians, were very thick by the water-side. Two of the Indians took me out of the canoe, and leading me, bid me run, which I did, about twenty rods to the fort. The fort is large, built with stone and lime. They led me up to the third loft, where was the captain’s chamber. A chair was brought that I might sit by the fire and warm me. Soon after, the Indians that I belonged to, and others that were there, came into the chamber, among whom was one I knew, named Pealtomy. He came and spoke to me, and shook hands with me, and I was glad to see him. He went out, but soon returned and brought to me another Indian, named Amrusus, husband to her who was Eunice Williams, daughter of the late Rev. John Williams, of Deerfield; he was glad to see me, and I to see him. He asked me about his wife’s relations, and showed a great deal of respect to me.
A while after this, the Indians sat in a ring in the chamber, and Pealtomy came to me, and told me I must go and sing and dance before the Indians. I told him I could not. He told me over some Indian words, and bid me sing them. I told him I could not. With that the rest of the fort who could speak some English, came to me, and bid me sing it in English, which was, “I don’t know where I go,” which I did, dancing round that ring three times. I then sat down by the fire. The priest came to me, and gave me a dram of rum, and afterwards the captain brought me part of a loaf of bread and a plate of butter, and asked me to eat, which I did heartily, for I had not eaten any bread from the time I was taken till then. The French priest and all the officers showed me a great deal of respect. The captain gave me a pair of good buck-skin shoes, and the priest fixed them on my feet. We staid there that night, and I slept with the priest, captain and lieutenant. The lieutenant’s name was Ballock; he had been a prisoner at Boston, and had been at Northampton and the towns thereabouts. This day, which was the Sabbath, I was well treated by the French officers, with victuals and drink. We tarried there till noon, then went off about a mile, and put on shore, where they staid the most of the day; and having rum with them, most of them were much liquored. Pealtomy and his squaw, and another Indian family, went with us, and by them I found out that William Phips killed an Indian, besides him we wounded before he was killed; for an Indian who was with us asked me if there was one killed near our fort last summer. I told him I did not know. He said he had a brother who went out then, and he had not seen him since, and had heard he was killed at our fort, and wanted to know if it was true. But I did not think it best to tell him any such thing was suspected.
The Indians now got into a frolic, and quarreled about me, and made me sit in the canoe by the water side. I was afraid they would hurt if not kill me. They attempted to come to me, but the sober Indians hindered them that were in liquor. Pealtomy seeing the rout went to the fort, and soon after, Lieut. Ballock, with some soldiers, came to us, and when the Indians were made easy, they went away. We lodged there that night, and the next day was a stormy day of wind, snow and rain, so that we were forced to tarry there that day and the next night. In this time the Indians continued fetching rum from the fort, and kept half drunk. Here I underwent some hardship by staying there so long in a storm without shelter or blanket. They had a great dance that night, and hung up David Rugg‘s scalp on a pole, dancing round it. After they had done, they lay down to sleep.
The next morning, which was the tenth day from the time of my being taken, we went off in the canoe, and the night after we arrived at the wide lake, and there we staid that night. Some of the Indians went hunting and killed a fat deer, so that we had victuals plenty, for we had a full supply of bread given us at the fort at Crown Point.
The next morning the wind being calm, we set out about two hours before day, and soon after came to a schooner lying at anchor. We went on board her, and the French treated us very civilly. They gave each of us a dram of rum, and victuals to eat. As soon as it was day we left the schooner, and two hours before sunset got over the lake, and next day came to Shamballee [Chamblee,3] where we met three hundred French and two hundred Indians, who did the mischief about Mr. Lydin‘s fort.4 I was taken out of the canoe by two Frenchmen, and fled to a house about ten rods off as fast as I could run, the Indians flinging snow-balls at me. As soon as I got to the house, the Indians stood round me very thick, and bid me sing and dance, which I did with them, in their way; then they gave a shout, and left off. Two of them came to me, one of whom smote me on one cheek, the other on the other, which made the blood run plentifully. Then they bid me sing and dance again, which I did with them, and they with me shouting as before. Then two Frenchmen took me under each arm, and ran so fast that the Indians could not keep up with us to hurt me. We ran about forty rods to another house, where a chair was brought for me to sit down. The house was soon full of French and Indians, and others surrounded it, and some were looking in to the windows. A French gentleman came to me, took me by the hand, and led me into a small room, where none came in but such as he admitted. He gave me victuals and drink. Several French gentlemen and Indians came in and were civil to me. The Indians who came in could speak English, shook hands with me, and called me brother. They told me they were all soldiers, and were going to New England. They said they should go to my town, which was a great damp to my spirits, till I heard of their return, where they had been, and what they had done. A while after this, the Indians whom I belonged to came to me and told me we must go. I went with them. After going down the river about two miles, we came to the thickest of the town, where was a large fort built with stone and lime, and very large and fine houses in it. Here was the general of the army I spoke of before. He asked me what news from London and Boston. I told him such stories as I thought convenient, and omitted the rest, and then went down to the canoes. Some of the Indians went and got a plenty of bread and beef, which they put into the canoes, and then we went into a French house, where we had a good supper. There came in several French gentlemen to see me, who were civil. One of them gave me a crown, sterling. We lodged there till about two hours before day, when we arose, and went down the river. I suppose we went a hundred miles that day, which brought us into a great river, called Quebec. We lodged that night in a French house, and were civilly treated.
The next day we went down the river, and I was carried before the governor there, which was the Sabbath, and the 16th day after my being taken. We staid there about three hours, and were well treated by the French. The Indians were then ordered to carry me down to Quebec, which was ninety miles further. We went down the river about three miles that night, then going on shore, lodged the remainder of the night.
The next morning we set off, and the second day, which was the 18th from the time I was taken, we arrived at Quebec. The land is inhabited on both sides of the river from the lake to Quebec, which is at least two hundred miles, especially below Chamblee, very thick, so that the houses are within sight of one another all the way.
But to return: After we arrived at Quebec, I was carried up into a large chamber, which was full of Indians, who were civil to me. Many of the French came in to see me, and were also very kind. I staid there about two hours, when a French gentleman, who could speak good English, came in and told me I must go with him to the governor, which I did; and after answering a great many questions, and being treated with as much bread and wine as I desired, I was sent with an officer to the guardhouse, and led into a small room, where was an Englishman named William Stroud, a kinsman of the Hon. Judge Lynd,5 in New England. He belonged to South Carolina, and had been at Quebec six years. The governor kept him confined for fear he should leave him and go to New England, and discover their strength. Mr. Stroud and I were kept in the guardhouse one week, with a sufficiency of food and drink. The French gentlemen kept coming in to see me, and I was very civilly treated by them. I had the better opportunity of discoursing with them, as Mr. Stroud was a good interpreter.
After this we were sent to prison, where I found one James Kinlade, who was taken fourteen days before I was, at Sheepscot, at the eastward, in New England. I was much pleased with his conversation, esteeming him a man of true piety. We were kept in prison eight days, with liberty to keep in the room with the prison-keeper. We were daily visited by gentlemen and ladies, who showed us great kindness in giving us money and other things, and their behavior towards us was pleasant. Blessed be God therefore, for I desire to ascribe all the favors I have been the partaker of, ever since my captivity, to the abundant grace and goodness of a bountiful God, as the first cause.
After this Mr. Kinlade and I were sent to another prison, where were twenty-two seamen belonging to several parts of our king’s dominions; three of them captains of vessels, viz. James Southerland of Cape Cod, William Chipman of Marblehead, William Pote of Casco Bay. This prison was a large house, built with stone and lime, two feet thick, and about one hundred and twenty feet long. We had two large stoves in it, and wood enough, so that we could keep ourselves warm in the coldest weather. We had provision sufficient, viz. two pounds of good wheat bread, one pound of beef, and peas answerable, to each man, ready dressed every day.
When I had been there a few days, the captives desired me to lead them in carrying on morning and evening devotion, which I was willing to do. We had a Bible, psalm-book, and some other good books. Our constant practice was to read a chapter in the Bible, and sing part of a psalm, and to pray, night and morning.
When I was at the first prison, I was stripped of all my old and lousy clothes, and had other clothing given me from head to foot, and had many kindnesses shown me by those that lived thereabouts; more especially by one Mr. Corby and his wife, who gave me money there, and brought me many good things at the other prison. But here I was taken ill, as was also most of the other prisoners, with a flux, which lasted near a month, so that I was grown very weak. After that I was healthy, through divine goodness. Blessed be God for it.
I was much concerned for my country, especially for the place I was taken from, by reason that I met an army going thither, as they told me. The 27th day of November we had news come to the prison that this army had returned to Chamblee, and had taken upwards of a hundred captives, which increased my concern; for I expected our fort, and others hereabouts, were destroyed. This news put me upon earnest prayer to God that he would give me grace to submit to his will; after which I was easy in my mind.
About a fortnight after, a Dutchman was brought to prison who was one of the captives the said army had taken. He told me they had burnt Mr. Lydin‘s fort, and all the houses at that new township, killed Capt. Schuyler and five or six more, and had brought fifty whites and about sixty Negroes to Montreal. I was sorry to hear of so much mischief done, but rejoiced they had not been upon our river, and the towns thereabouts, for which I gave thanks to God for his great goodness in preserving them, and particularly my family.
When Christmas came, the governor sent us twenty-four livres, and the lord-intendant came into the prison and gave us twenty-four more, which was about two guineas. He told us he hoped we should be sent home in a little time. He was a pleasant gentleman, and very kind to captives. Sometime after, Mr. Shearsy, a gentleman of quality, came to us, and gave to the three sea captains twenty-four livers, and to me twelve, and the next day sent me a bottle of claret wine. About ten days after he sent me twelve livres more; in all eight pounds, old tenor.
January 20th, 1746, eighteen captives were brought from Montreal to the prison at Quebec, which is 180 miles.
February 22d, seven captives more, who were taken at Albany, were brought to the prison to us, viz. six men and one old woman seventy years old, who had been so infirm for seven years past that she had not been able to walk the streets, yet performed this tedious journey with ease.
March 15th, one of the captives taken at Albany, after fourteen or fifteen days’ sickness, died in the hospital at Quebec, a man of a sober, pious conversation. His name was Lawrence Plaffer, a German born.
May 3d, three captives taken at No. Four, sixteen miles above where I was taken, viz. Capt. John Spafford, Isaac Parker, and Stephen Farnsworth, were brought to prison to us. They informed me my family was well, a few days before they were taken, which rejoiced me much. I was sorry for the misfortune of these my friends, but was glad of their company, and of their being well used by those who took them.
May 14th, two captives were brought into prison, Jacob Read and Edward Cloutman, taken at a new township called Gorhamtown, near Casco Bay. They informed us that one man and four children of one of them were killed, and his wife taken at the same time with them, and was in the hands of the Indians.6
May 16th, two lads, James Anderson and Samuel Anderson, brothers, taken at Sheepscot, were brought to prison. On the 17th. Samuel Burbank and David Woodwell, who were taken at New Hopkinton, near Rumford, [Concord, N. H.] were brought to prison, and informed us there were taken with them two sons of the said Burbank, and the wife, two sons and a daughter of the said Woodwell, whom they left in the hands of the Indians.
May 24th, Thomas Jones, of Holliston, who was a soldier at Contoocook, was brought to prison, and told us that one Elisha Cook, and a Negro belonging to the Rev. Mr. Stevens, were killed when he was taken.
June 1st, William Aikings, taken at Pleasant Point, near fort George, was brought to prison. June 2d, Mr. Shearly brought several letters of Deacon Timothy Brown, of Lower Ashuelot, and money, and delivered them to me, which made me think he was killed or taken. A few days after, Mr. Shearly told me he was taken. I was glad to hear he was alive.
June 6th, Timothy Cummings, aged 60, was brought to prison, who informed us he was at work with five other men, about forty rods from the blockhouse, George’s [fort,] when five Indians shot at them, but hurt none. The men ran away, and left him and their guns to the Indians. He told us that the ensign was killed as he stood on the top of the fort, and that the English killed five Indians at the same time.
June 13th, Mr. Shearly brought to the captives some letters which were sent from Albany, and among them one from Lieut. Gov. Phips, of the Massachusetts Bay, to the governor of Canada, for the exchange of prisoners, which gave us great hopes of a speedy release.
June 22d, eight men were brought to prison, among whom were deacon Brown and Robert Morse, who informed me that there were six or eight Indians killed, a little before they were taken, at Upper Ashuelot, and that they learnt, by the Indians who took them, there were six more of the English killed at other places near Connecticut river, and several more much wounded; these last were supposed to be the wife and children of the aforesaid Burbank and Woodwell.
July 5th, we sent a petition to the chief governor that we might be exchanged, and the 7th, Mr. Shearly told us we should be exchanged for other captives in a little time, which caused great joy among us. The same day, at night, John Berran, of Northfield, was brought to prison, who told us that an expedition against Canada was on foot, which much rejoiced us. He also told us of the three fights in No. Four, and who were killed and taken, and of the mischief done in other places near Connecticut River, and that my brother Daniel How‘s son Daniel was taken with him, and was in the hands of the Indians, who designed to keep him.
July 20th, John Jones, a seaman, was brought into prison, who told us he was going from Cape Breton to Newfoundland with one Englishman and four Frenchmen, who had sworn allegiance to King George, and in the passage they killed the other Englishman, but carried him to the bay of Arb, where there was an army of French and Indians, to whom they delivered him, and by them was sent to Quebec.
July 21st, John Richards and a boy of nine or ten years of age, who belonged to Rochester, in New Hampshire, were brought to prison. They told us there were four Englishmen killed when they were taken.
August 15th, seven captives, who with eight more taken at St. John’s Island, were brought to prison. They told us that several were killed after quarters were given, among whom was James Owen, late of Brookfield, in New England. On the 16th, Thomas Jones, late of Sherburne, in New England, after seven or eight days’ sickness, died. He gave good satisfaction as to his future state. On the 25th we had a squall of snow.
September 12th, Robert Downing, who had been a soldier at Cape Breton, and was taken at St. Johns, and who was with the Indians two months, and suffered great abuse from them, was brought to prison.
On the 15th, twenty-three of the captives taken at Hoosuck fort7 were brought to prison, among whom was the Rev. Mr. John Norton. They informed us that after fighting twenty-five hours, with eight hundred French and Indians, they surrendered themselves, on capitulation, prisoners of war; that Thomas Nalton and Josiah Read were killed when they were taken. The names of those now brought in are the Rev. Mr. Norton, John Hawks, John Smead, his wife and six children John Perry and his wife, Moses Scott, his wife and two children, Samuel Goodman, Jonathan Bridgman, Nathan Eames, Joseph Scott, Amos Pratt, Benjamin Sinconds, Samuel Lovet, David Warren, and Phinehas Furbush. The two last of these informed me that my brother Daniel How‘s son was taken from the Indians, and now lives with a French gentleman at Montreal. There were four captives more taken at Albany, the last summer, who were brought to prison the same day.
On the 26th (Sept.) 74 men and two women, taken at sea, were brought to prison. October 1st, Jacob Shepard, of Westborough, taken at Hoosuck, was brought to prison. On the 3d, Jonathan Batherick was brought in, and on the 5th, seventeen ether men, three of whom were taken with Mr. Norton and others, viz. Nathaniel Hitchcock, John Aldrick, and Stephen Scott. Richard Subs, who was taken at New Casco, says one man was killed at the same time. Also Pike Gooden, taken at Saco, was brought to prison. He says he had a brother killed at the same time. On the 12th, twenty-four seamen are brought in, and on the 19th, six more. On the 20th, Jacob Read died. On the 23d, Edward Cloutman and Robert Dunbar broke prison and escaped for New England. The 27th, a man was brought into prison, who said the Indians took five more [besides himself], and brought ten scalps to Montreal.
November 1st, John Read died. The 9th, John Davis, taken with Mr. Norman, died. The 17th, Nathan Eames, of Marlborough, died. On the 19th, Mr. Adams, taken at Sheepscot, is brought to prison. He says that James Anderson‘s father was killed, and his uncle taken at the same time. The 20th, Leonard Lydle and the widow Sarah Briant were married in Canada, by the Rev. Mr. Norton. On the 22d, the above said Anderson‘s uncle was brought to prison. Two days after, (24th) John Bradshaw died. He had not been well for most of the time he had been a prisoner. It is a very melancholy time with us. There are now thirty sick and deaths among us daily. Died on the 28th, Jonathan Dunham, and on the 29th, died also Capt. Bailey of Amesbury.
December 1st, an Albany man died, and on the 6th, Pike Gooden, who, we have reason to believe, made a happy change. On the 7th, a girl of ten years died. The 11th, Moses Scott‘s wife died, and on the 15th, one of Captain Robertson‘s lieutenants. Daniel Woodwell‘s wife died on the 18th, a pious woman. John Perry‘s wife died the 23d. On the 26th, William Dayly, of New York, died.
January 3d, 1747, Jonathan Harthan died. On the 12th, Phinehas Andrews, of Cape Ann, died. He was one of the twenty captives, who, the same night, had been removed to another prison, hoping thereby to get rid of the infection. Jacob Bailey, brother to Capt. Bailey, died the 15th, and the 17th, Giat Braban, Captain Chapman‘s carpenter, died. On the 23d, Samuel Lovet, son of Major Lovet, of Mendon, in New England, died.
February 10th, William Garwafs died, also the youngest child of Moses Scott. The 15th, my nephew, Daniel How, and six more were brought down from Montreal to Quebec, viz. John Sunderland, John Smith, Richard Smith, William Scott, Philip Scoffil, and Benjamin Tainter, son to Lieutenant Tainter of Westborough in New England. The 23d, Richard Bennet died, and the 25th, Michael Dugon.
March 18th, James Margra died, and on the 22d, Capt. John Fort and Samuel Goodman; the 28th, the wife of John Smead died, and left six children, the youngest of whom was born the second night after the mother was taken.
April 7th, Philip Scaffield, [Scofield?] and next day John Saneld, the next day Capt. James Jordan and one of his men, died. On the 12th, Amos Pratt, of Shrewsbury, and on the 14th, Timothy Cummings, the 17th, John Dill, of Hull in New England, the 18th, Samuel Venhon, of Plymouth, died. On the 26th, Capt. Jonathan Williamson was brought to prison. He was taken at the new town on Sheepscot River. The same day came in, also, three men who were taken at Albany, three weeks before, and tell us that thirteen were killed, Capt. Trent being one. They were all soldiers for the expedition to Canada. On the 27th, Joseph Denox, and the 28th, Samuel Evans, died. The same night the prison took fire, and was burnt, but the things therein were mostly saved. We were kept that night under a guard.
May 7th, Sarah Lydle, whose name was Braint when she was taken, and married while a captive, died, and the 13th, Mr. Smead‘s son Daniel died, and Christian Tether the 14th. The same day died also Hezekiah Huntington, a hopeful youth, of a liberal education. He was a son of Colonel Huntington of Connecticut, in New England. On the 15th, Joseph Grey, and on the 19th Samuel Burbank died. At the same time died two children who were put out to the French to nurse.
At this time I received a letter from Major Willard, dated March 17th, 1747, wherein he informs me my family were well, which was joyful news to me. May 19th, Abraham Fort died.
[box]Here ends the journal of Mr. How, exceedingly valuable for the many items of exact intelligence therein recorded, relative to so many of the present inhabitants of New England, through those friends who endured the hardships of captivity in the mountain deserts and the damps of loathsome prisons. Had the author lived to have returned, and published his narrative himself, he doubtless would have made it far more valuable, but he was cut off while a prisoner, by the prison fever, in the fifty-fifth year of his age, after a captivity of one year, seven months, and fifteen days. He died May 25th, 1747, in the hospital at Quebec, after a sickness of about ten days. He was a husband and father, and greatly beloved by all who knew him.[/box]
located in the vicinity of Brattleboro, Vermont ↩
Fort Number Four, was an old American military fort situated along the Connecticut River in what is now Charlestown, New Hampshire. ↩
A fort on a fine river of the same name, about fifteen miles south-west of Montreal. Ed. ↩
Nov. 16, 1745, Saratoga, a Dutch village of thirty families, is destroyed by the Indians and French. They burnt a fort, killed many, and carried away others of the inhabitants. MS. Chronicles of the Indians. ↩
Judge Lynd was connected by marriage to the celebrated Gov. Hutchinson. He presided at the trial of Capt. Preston, commander of the British soldiers in Boston, in 1770, who fired upon and killed several citizens. I have a volume of Hutchinson’s History of Massachusetts, which belonged to Judge Lynd with the name of the governor in it, in his own hand. In it are numerous notes and corrections throughout, and twenty-four MS. pages of additions at the end, in the judge’s hand-writing. It seems to have been presented for this purpose by the governor. Judge Lynd died a few years after the revolution. ↩
Gorhamtown was attacked in the morning of the 19th April, 1746 by a party of about ten Indians. MS. Chronicles of the Indians ↩
now North Adams Massachusetts ↩