1771, when Christopher Stark must have been a very aged man; both he and his son James died before the Wyoming battle, the former from old age and his son James a victim of the small-pox that scourged this country in 1777. Two of the Stark names appear in 1772-Aaron and James; the former sold his land claim to James and settled in another part of the valley. Three brothers came from England, and a descendant of one of the brothers was the Gen. Stark of immortal fame-the hero of Bennington. James Stark, son of James and brother of Henry, was a member of one of the independent companies. In the Wyoming battle were three brothers— Daniel, Aaron and James; the last named only escaped with his life. After the war a portion of the family settled on the Tunkhannock, and that name, it is supposed, was given by Daniel Stark. A grandson of the slain Aaron, John D. Stark, became a prominent citizen of Pittston.

Samuel Carey was nineteen years of age at the time of the Wyoming battle. Mr. Miner relates of the Careys as follows:

"Active, ardent and patriotic, he was enrolled in Capt. Bidlack's company; was out on several scouting parties before the invasion; was up at Wyalusing, and with our men at Exeter, aiding to bring away the remains of the Hardings and others, murdered by the Indians a day or two before the battle. On the fatal 3d he was at his post, and marched with the brave Bidlack to the contest. Their position was near the right. The left wing was earliest pressed and retreated, being thrown into entire confusion before the center or right gave way; but retreat had become inevitable. Mr. Carey left the road and passed down on the low flats near where the monument is erected; Zipperah Hibberd was nearest to him. Hibberd was in the prime of early manhood, six feet high, built at once for strength and activity; he was straight as an arrow, and moved with a light, elastic step. Of him it is told by several of the old settlers, that in their athletic sports Hibberd would take off his hat and shoes; let two companions hold a string extended so that in walking under it he could just touch it with his head; he would then step off a few paces till he got his proper distance, return on the spring, and leap over the string with the alertness of the bounding deer. His activity, and manly and social qualities, rendered him a general favorite. Mr. Hibberd was but recently married. Preparations for the engagement had been made the day previous. Fear was a stranger to his breast, but he was sensible and sagacious, and he saw from the unprepared state of our people, enfeebled by the two companies raised for our special defence being marched and kept away, and from the evidence of great force on the part of the enemy, that the chances were all against us. Perhaps, and it is thought there was a particular presentiment, that go the battle as it would, he should not survive. But listening to nothing but the dictates of patriotism and duty, he fitted himself for the field-went to the door-looked abroad to the bright heavens and the beautiful earth, then clothed in the rich robe of approaching harvest-gazed a moment -rested his gun against the door-post-hastened into the house and impressed one parting kiss on the pale lips of his trembling bride-spoke not a word, but tore himself away; and the next hour there was not a soldier that marched to the field with more cheerful alacrity. He went to return no more.

"Hibberd and Carey ran together toward the river, Hibberd in advance, breaking a path through a heavy piece of rye. The obstruction, perhaps, proved fatal to him, for by the time they got through he was nearly exhausted, and showed signs of great fatigue. On coming near the river bank and leaving the rye field, Mr. Hibberd sprang to the sandbar, but was closely pursued by an Indian, who overtook him before he could gain the stream. As Hibberd turned to defend himself he received the accursed spear in his breast, and fell lifeless on the sand.

"Mr. Carey got to the river lower down, and succeeded in swimming across, but the savages had crossed over before him, and he was instantly surrounded by several. One who seemed to have authority took charge of him, but a small Indian,

pitted with the small-pox, and having lost an eye (as he stood naked, for Mr. Carey had stripped off all his clothes that he might swim), with a malicious smile, drew a knife up and down his breast and abdomen, about an inch from the skin, saying the while, Te-te-te-te. They then made him swim back, bound his hands, and he was conducted to Wintermoot's. The fort had been set on fire by the enemy at the commencement of the engagement, and Mr. Carey saw the remains of one or two of our people, who had been thrown on the burning pile, but they were then lifeless. That night he lay on the ground, bound, and without food. The next morning an officer struck him on the mouth with his open hand. 'You are the fellow," said he, that threatened yesterday morning you would comb my hair, are you?' He then learned that the Indian who had taken him was Capt. Roland Montour, who now gave him food, unbound, and led him to a young savage who was mortally wounded. What passed he could not then perfectly comprehend, but afterward learned the purpose was to show him to the dying Indian, and ask if his life should be preserved and he be taken to the Indian's parents to be adopted instead of their lost son. He assented, and young Carey's life was saved. They then painted him, and gave him the name of the dying Indian-Coconeunquo-of the tribe of Onondagoes.

"When the enemy marched from the valley, Mr. Carey, carefully guarded, was taken with them, and when they reached the Indian country, was handed over to the family into which he had been adopted, where, if he would have conformed to savage customs, and have drunk so deep of the waters of forgetfulness as to cease to remember country, connection and friends, he might have remained peaceable, if not happy; but beloved Wyoming, doubly dear from her sorrows, would rise to his slumbers, as it was ever present to his waking hours, and he sighed for liberty and home. He thinks the old Indian and squaw-his savage parents-saw that he could not mingle in spirit with them, for they used constantly to mourn for their lost boy. Just at day-breaking they would set up a pitiful cry-oh! oh! ho!-and at evening, as the sun was going down-oh! oh! ho!-and with all their stoicism their sorrows would not cease. At times, while here, he suffered much from hunger, having only a spoonful of parched corn a day for several weeks. thought he should have famished; and in the severe winters, his sufferings from cold were extreme; but he shared like the rest of the family, and they evidently meant, after once adopting, to treat him kindly.

"More than two weary years were passed in this way, when he got to Niagara, where he was detained, though with less suffering, until restored to liberty by the glorious news of peace and independence. It was on June 29, 1784, before the charming valley again met his sight, after having suffered six years of distressing captivity.

"Mr. Carey mentions the fact, stated by others, that Walter Butler, a favorite son of Col. John Butler, was killed by the Americans, near Mud creek, on returning from one of his excursions against our settlements on the Mohawk. He addswhat before I did not remember to have heard-that one of the Wintermoots was killed at the same time. Butler was shot by a rifle ball through the head, aimed at him from an extraordinary distance.

"There was a Joseph Carey and Samuel Carey both killed in the battle, but it does not occur to my recollection whether they were relatives of the Mr. Samuel Carey of whom I now speak. His brother, Nathan Carey, was in the engagement, and fortunately escaped. Their father's name was Eleazer Carey, a name held by one of his descendants, still known and highly respected in the valley.

"Though at the advanced age of seventy-nine, Mr. Carey enjoys tolerable health; his mind active and his memory sound. Though not rich, he is yet, by the industry and frugality of a long life, comfortable in his declining days, and has the happiness of having sons and daughters settled around him, all well to do, and all

respectable and some in very independent circumstances.

His wife, Theresa, was

the daughter of Capt. Daniel Gore; so that if the morning of life was crowded with sorrow and woe, his evening is calm and serene." Mr. Samuel Carey died in 1842, and was buried with military honors.

Mrs. Myers.—Mr. Miner relates graphically a visit he made in company with Prof. Silliman to this lady, who, he says, was the mother of Sheriff Myers, in office, in 1845. Mrs. Myers was a Bennett, and was in the fort at the time of the battlesixteen years old. This good woman talked long with the Professor, and told of those scenes she so vividly remembered-of the arrival of "Capt. Durkee, Lieut. Phineas Pearce and another officer. How "just at evening a few of the fugitives came rushing into the fort and fell down exhausted, some wounded and bloody; through the night, every hour, one or more came in; how the enemy marched in six abreast after the capitulation." She told, as she remembered seeing, of the interviews between Col. John Butler and Col. Denison in reference to carrying out in good faith the honorable terms of capitulation, and asking that the outrages of the Indians be stopped. Butler acknowledged the wrongs, and after repeated promises finally told Denison that he had no power to restrain the savages.

The Indians, to show their entire independence and power, came into the fort, and one took the hat from Col. Denison's head; another demanded his rifle frock, a dress much worn by officers, as well as soldiers. It did not suit Col. Denison to be thus stripped, whereupon the Indian raised his tomahawk menacingly, and Col. Denison was obliged to yield; but seeming to find difficulty in taking off the garment, he stepped back to where the young women were sitting. The girl who sat by Miss Bennett was one of Col. Denison's own family-she understood the movement, and took from a pocket in the frock a purse, and hid it under her apron. The frock was delivered to the Indian, and the town money (for the purse, containing a few dollars, was the whole military chest of Wyoming) was saved.

"Mrs. Myers represents Col. Butler as a portly, good-looking man, perhaps forty-five, dressed in green, the uniform of Butler's rangers, with a cap and feather. Col. Butler led the chief part of his army away in a few days, but parties of Indians continued in the valley burning and plundering. Her father's house was left for a week; she used to go out to see if it was safe. One morning as she looked out from the fort, fire after fire rose, east, west, north and south, and casting her eyes toward home, the flames were bursting from the roof, and in an hour it was all a heap of ruins."

The splendid farm half a mile above the Dorrance place was at the time Mr. Miner wrote the property and residence of a son of the boy, Bennett, who was a captive with his father, and escaped as related above (this was John Bennett). As stated, one of the sons of Mrs. Myers was sheriff; another was for years a magistrate; a daughter married Rev. Dr. Peck. In 1845 Mrs. Bennett, widow of the Bennett who was captured and escaped, was eighty-three years of age-blind-but her mental faculties, Mr. Miner says, were as clear as in her prime, and her recollections of the bloody days in the valley were full, and as told by her, remarkably interesting. She was an eye-witness of many

Of most disastrous consequences-hair-breadth 'scapes.

The Bennetts were conspicuous in the trials and sore tribulations of the early day in war and in peace, and several lineal descendants are now among the citizens of the county. Her father and brother, and Lebeus Hammond, were at one time all at work in the field, when they were captured by six Indians and hurried north. May 3, when they went into camp at night, the prisoners had made up their minds from certain indications that the Indians intended to massacre them the next day, and, pretending sleep, watched their opportunity, when Bennett killed the Indian on watch, and the three killed five of the captors, when the last one fled. Joyfully they returned to their friends, bringing the arms and scalps as trophies.