Jeansville Disaster occurred February 4, 1891, and in some respects was one of the remarkable ones in the history of mining. In the mine operated by J. C. Hayden, seventeen men were suddenly entombed by the water, and all perished except four, who in this darkness of horror survived twenty days and were finally rescued and recovered from the dreadful experience. The mine is at Jeansville, near the south line of the county and south of Hazleton, a little over two miles. The protecting wall of a gangway gave way to the waters about 10 o'clock A. M. of that day, and, except the four, all were drowned. These fled to the slope, where, by getting on a rock near the roof, they were out of reach of the water, but completely cut off from the outside world. The news of the disaster was carried around the civilized world, and after trying every possible experiment and finding thirteen of the dead, in the face of hardly a shadow of a hope the pumping of the water went on for eighteen days before further explorations could be made. On the morning of the twentieth day the party heard voices, and upon calling were answered and the names of the four given. It took more than half a day to reach them and carry the poor fellows to the slope, where were physicians, nurses, and every possible precaution to save the sufferers. Twenty days without light, food or water and hardly room to move their bodies. Human endurance, it seems, has nearly exhaustless fountains to draw upon. The imagination can not even make an effort to picture the sufferings of these poor miners. Less than one more day and all would have been dead.

Nanticoke Disaster, November 8, 1891.-About 4 o'clock of the quiet Sunday afternoon a terrible explosion shook the ground for a distance around shaft No. 1 of the Susquehanna Coal company, which is at the intersection of West Main and Church streets, Nanticoke borough. The shaft is 1,000 feet deep and works seven coal seams, and where the explosion occurred is 1,200 feet under ground. Here fourteen men were at work, all carefully selected or well-known experts, engaged in changing the air currents to meet new openings in the mines. But fourteen men were in the mine, and that all feared danger is seen in the fact that Sunday was selected, when the miners were all out. It is not known how the gas explosion was caused, whether through a defect in some one of the lamps or otherwise. Of the fourteen men twelve were instantly killed and the thirteenth mortally hurt, and even the remaining one was seriously afflicted, though not immediately at the point of explosion. From this shaft the seven seams worked are the Ross, Hillman, Lee, Forge, Mills, Twin and George. It is well understood there is more or less gas in all the mines in this vicinity. Three of the men killed were fire bosses; Henry R. Jones, aged thirty two, married, two children; John Arnot, aged thirty-seven, married, three children; and William Jonathan, aged thirty-five, married, three children.

Lesser accidents from various causes, mostly however gases, are still frequent. So frequent are fatalities reported that, until one reflects how many people are delving in the mines, he is apt to conclude that here life is precarious.

CHAPTER XII.

THE DEAD THAT STILL LIVE.

A LIST OF THE PROMINENT EARLY MEN HERE-THOSE WHO STOOD IN THE FRONT-HON. CHARLES MINER'S LIST AND OTHERS ADDED-ETC.

IN

N preceding chapters is mention of the doings of nearly all the early settlers. In ordinary cases this is the best account of men's lives. While it is true that worthy deeds live on forever, it is no less true that the association of the actors with the works do not always continue. But seldom in this world can it be said of a community, as of some rare individuals, that too much can not be told of them in the way of biography, as well as the most minute accounts of their acts and doings. The following flowers "sacred to the dead" are culled mostly from the reminiscences of the late Hon. Charles Miner and from other sources; family and personal recollections which first appeared in a local paper under the signature of "Hazelton Traveler," adding to and completing to date where it was possible, as well as new ones from other sources.

Col. Zebulon Butler.-A biography of this eminent man, if at all complete, is a compilation of the essence of the story of the remarkable people who wrested this fair land from savagery and gave it to Christian civilization. A native of Lyme, New London county, Conn.; born in 1731; in full manhood when he first made his appearance among the people here, and his coming was hailed with acclamations of joy, the settlers fully realizing that they were in sore need of just such a man. His father, John Butler, left the abundant evidences that he was a man of polite education. The best information is that both his parents came from England.

On the breaking out of what is usually called the old French war, Zebulon Butler entered the military service of his country, bearing the commission of ensign, in one of the provincial companies raised by Connecticut for the crown. On the northern frontier, particularly at Ticonderoga and Crown Point, his ambition was soon gratified by entering upon a field of stirring and honorable action. So early as 1761 he had attained the rank of captain, and the following year sailed with his company on the memorable expedition to the Havana. In the perils, the glory and the acquisitions of the capture of that important place, Capt. Butler shared. Whether his future companions in arms, Capts. Durkee and Ransom, served as subordinates in these early campaigns is not certainly known, but is rendered probable from the fact that both were officers in the old French war, and the three were in the Wyoming conflicts, early associated in friendship and action together.

Peace was concluded with France, and in 1763 the provincial troops were disbanded. The emigration of Capt. Butler to Wyoming in 1769, and subsequent events in which he bore a part up to the Revolutionary war, have been fully narrated. Soon after the contest with Great Britain commenced, Capt. Butler received the appointment of lieutenant-colonel of a regiment in the Connecticut line of the army, and in September, 1778, he "was appointed full colonel to the late Charles Webb's regiment, against the will of Lieut. Col. Sherman, who intended to have had the regiment." This extract of a letter from Col. Thomas Grosvenor, dated 1778, is regarded as important, because it shows the excellent standing and popularity of Col. Butler the fall immediately after the massacre, when time sufficient had elapsed for the country and constituted authorities perfectly to ascertain the merits

or defects of his conduct on that memorable and trying occasion. When it is recollected that Lieut. Col. Sherman, his competitor for the office, was the brother of the distinguished Roger Sherman, and that Col. Butler was absent while his rival was upon the ground, the commission reflects more than common honor upon the recipient.

After being withdrawn from Wyoming, Col. Butler served with honor to the close of the contest, and when the army was disbanded returned to his residence in Wilkes-Barre, where he passed the remainder of his life, the prudent but steady supporter of the rights of the settlers, looking confidently to the justice of Pennsylvania to settle the existing controversy, by an equitable compromise. Such was the estimation in which he was held that in 1787, on the establishment of Luzerne, he received from the supreme executive council the honorable appointment of lieutenant of the county, which he held until the office was abrogated by the new constitution of 1790.

On the 28th of July, 1795, aged sixty-four years, this gallant soldier and estimable citizen resigned his breath to God who gave it, and his remains were interred in the Wilkes-Barre cemetery.

Col. Butler was thrice married first to Miss Ellen Lord before his emigration from Connecticut. The fruit of this union was two children: the late Gen. Lord Butler, and Mrs. Welles, consort of the late Roswell Welles, a lawyer of handsome talents and attainments, who in his day was judge of the court, colonel of a regiment and several times member of assembly. A daughter of Judge Welles, Mrs. Harriet Cowles, was consort of Col. Cowles, of Farmington, Conn. Lord had intermarried with the daughter of Abel Pierce. Their sons were Pierce, John, Chester, Zebulon and Lord.

Pierce is a farmer, on the fine plantation running from the river a few rods above the bridge to the village of Kingston; Rev. Zebulon Butler was the pastor of a Presbyterian congregation at Port Gibson, Miss.; John, Chester and Lord, of Wilkes-Barre, are among its most active business men. Sylvina, the eldest daughter, several years since deceased, was the wife of the Hon. Garrick Mallery; Ruth Ann, the second daughter, married Hon. John N. Conyngham; Phebe, married Dr. Donalson, removed with her husband to Iowa.

The second wife of Col. Butler was Miss Johnson, daughter of one of the first gospel ministers of Wyoming. Their union was brief, and a son, the late Capt. Zebulon Butler, their only child. It was said he was proud. In command of his company on parade he looked "every inch a man." Honorable, generous, highspirited, he seemed to pant for a wider field and more exciting scenes of action. In rolling the bullet and other athletic exercises he had no superior. The writer (Mr. Miner), knew, admired and esteemed him. He was cut off in the prime of life, and his numerous and interesting family are widely scattered.

While on duty at West Point, near the close of the war, Col. Butler married his third wife, Miss Phebe Haight. Three children by this marriage survived: Steuben Butler, of Wilkes-Barre, one time since commissioner of the county, and for many years editor of the Wyoming Herald; Lydia, who intermarried with George Griffin, of New York. (The late Rev. Edmund Griffin, whose accurate and extensive learning and brilliant talents gave promise of unusual usefulness and fame, and whose early death was so deeply lamented, was the grandson of Col. Butler.); Mrs. Robinson (whose late husband, Mr. John Robinson, was a direct descendant of the pilgrim minister), the third child. Their only daughter intermarried with H. B. Wright, Esq., speaker of the house of assembly. We can not refrain from the remark that it is at once curious and pleasing that two speakers of the house, and two president judges have been so intimately connected with the ancient Wyoming sufferers.

The distinguishing traits of Col. Butler's character were activity, energy, a

high sense of honor, a courage, moral and professional, that, when duty called, knew no fear.

Gen. Lord Butler was the eldest son of Gen. Zebulon Butler. He was but a youth at the time of the Revolution, yet he was some time in camp with his father. He was tall more than six feet-straight as an arrow, his countenance manly, with bold Roman features, his manners grave and dignified. Courteous he was; but it was the courtesy of a gentleman who felt the dignity of his own character. Lofty and reserved to those who loved him not, no one approached him with a joke or a slap on the shoulder. A man of active business habits, he wrote a bold, free and excellent hand, and his accounts and affairs were always in the strictest order. He rode admirably, and appeared extremely well on horseback; no one loved a noble steed better than he. He was always and everywhere the gentleman. Decided in his political opinions, and free in expressing them, his opponents said he was proud. If an unworthy pride was meant the charge was unjust. But if an election was depending, and he a candidate, he would neither shake hands with nor smile on a man with whom he would not have done the same as cordially if he had not been on the lists. His delicacy, in this particular, was probably carried rather to excess, for no truer republican ever lived had a more sincere regard for his fellow-men no man was more devoted to the independence and liberty of his country. But his reserve, which enemies construed into hauteur, was the result of early associations. His father, the gallant Col. Butler, who had been much with British officers in the old French war, and with the accomplished French officers in the war of the Revolution, had a good deal of dignity and gravity about him.

no one

Frances Slocum.-One of the 'pathetic stories of the valley is that of Jonathan Slocum's family, members of the Friends society, all noted for kindness and benevolence, who were always assured by the Indians of not being harmed. His son Giles was in the battle of Wyoming, therefore the family was marked for vengeance, and the awful blow soon came. Nathan Kinsley had been taken prisoner, and his family found shelter under the hospitable roof of Slocum.

November 2 the two boys were engaged grinding a knife; a shot and cry brought Mrs. Slocum to the door, when she saw an Indian in the act of scalping Nathan, the eldest of the boys, aged fifteen. The savage entered the house, took up the little boy, Ebenezer Slocum, when the mother, pointing to the child's lameness, said: "See, he can do you no good!" He then put down the boy and picked up the girl, Frances Slocum, aged five, and taking the boy by the hand marched off. A negro girl was also taken. This was all within 100 rods of the Wilkes-Barre fort; the dreadful alarm was quickly given and the Indians pursued, but were not found.

But a little more than a month after the above tragedy, December 16, Jonathan Slocum, his father-in-law, Isaac Tripp, and the aged William Slocum, were foddering cattle, when they were ambushed by Indians, fired upon, and Mr. Slocum shot dead; Mr. Tripp wounded and then tomahawked; both were scalped. William was wounded slightly, but escaped and gave the alarm. This occurred almost within the shadow of the Wilkes-Barre stockade. Could anything now add to the horrors of poor Mrs. Slocum? Within a month her little daughter carried away into captivity, a son killed and scalped before her eyes, two others of her family prisoners, and now her husband and father murdered.

It seems there was nothing left in life for that poor woman except to nurse the faith and hope that her little girl was alive, and that she would some day recover her. This was her waking and her sleeping dream. After the war and the delivery of many of the captives, this woman with her bruised heart would go to the place of surrender of captives in the faint hope of finding among the number her little Frances, only to return in black despair of disappointment. Her two brothers, prominent men of their day, joined her in the long hunt for the child and traveled

to every point where faint hope pointed. Heavy rewards were offered, after long traveling to the scattered tribes. The two brothers had exhausted every trace, and concluded she must be dead. Not so with the broken-hearted mother. Her image was always before her-the same smiling, loving, happy child. At last a girl, about the suitable age, who could only remember that she had been carried off from the Susquehanna, and knew not her name or her parents, was taken to Mrs. Slocum's home, but in time both the girl and woman became convinced that they were not of the same blood, and the unknown returned to the Indians, and the mother again returned to the hunt and hope of recovering Frances, a search and a hope that ended together with the stricken woman's pilgrimage upon earth.

Fifty-nine years after the capture, August, 1837, a letter appeared in the Lancaster Intelligencer, by G. W. Ewing, of Indiana, stating the fact that there was then living near that place with the Miami Indians, an aged white woman, who had told him that she was taken from her father's house, near the Susquehanna river, when she was very young, and that her father's name was Slocum, a Quaker, and he gave some other particulars of her. The publication of this letter created a deep impression in this part of the country, where the story of the lost child was so well known. With her friends not an hour was lost. Her brother, Joseph, though nearly 1,000 miles intervened, moved by affection, a sense of duty, and the known wishes of a beloved parent, made immediate preparations for a journey. Uniting with his younger brother, Isaac, who resided in Ohio, they hastened to Logansport, where they had the good fortune to meet Mr. Ewing. Frances, who resided about a dozen miles from that place, was soon apprised of their coming. While hope predominated, doubt and uncertainty, amounting almost to jealousy or suspicion, occupied her mind. She came into the village riding a spirited horse, her two daughters, in Indian costume, accompanying her, with the husband of one of them. Her manners were grave, her bearing reserved. She listened, through an interpreter, to what they had to say. But night approached. Cautious and prudent, she rode back to her home, promising to return the coming morning. At the appointed hour she alighted from her steed, and met them with something more of frankness, but still seemed desirous of further explanation. It was evident on all sides they were almost prepared for the recognition. Mr. Joseph Slocum at length said, what he he had so far purposely kept back, that their sister at play in their father's smithshop with the children, had received a blow on the middle finger of the left hand, by a hammer on the anvil, which crushed the bone, and the mother had always said that would be a test that could not be mistaken. Her whole countenance was instantly lighted up with smiles, while tears ran down her cheek, as she held out the wounded hand. Every lingering doubt was dispelled. Hope was merged into confidence. The tender embrace, the welcome recognition, the sacred, the exulting glow of brotherly and sisterly affection, filled every heart present to overflowing. Her father! Her dear, dear mother! Did she yet live? But they must long since, in the course of nature, have been gathered to their native dust. Her brothers and sisters? The slumbering affections awakened to life, broke forth in earnest inquiries for all whom she should love.

She then related the leading events of her life. Her memory, extremely tenacious, enabled her to tell that, on being taken, her captors hastened to a rocky cave on the mountain where blankets and a bed of dry leaves showed that they had slept. On the journey to the Indian country she was kindly treated, the Indian carrying her, when she was weary, in his arms. She was immediately adopted into an Indian family and brought up as their daughter, but with more than common tenderness. Young Kinsley, who was located near them, in a few years died. The woman showed all the quiet stoicism of the Indian nature. The first interview ended and she agreed to return the next day as stated When complete recognition was established she invited them to go with her to her cabin home, where they spent several