condition of the defenders, under the mere pretense of demanding a surrender of all the forts and property.

Col. Zebulon Butler immediately called a council of war; the question considered was whether to parley for delay in the hope that Spalding and his men would come, or whether to march out and attack the enemy whenever found. Butler, Denison and Dorrance favored delay; but others, led by Stewart, hotly favored going to meet the enemy at once. The latter argued that the invaders would cross at Pittston and capture the fort, in spite of Capt. Blanchard, and murder the inhabitants; that there was no certainty when Spalding would arrive; two forts had already surrendered and the murder of the Hardings was the bloody token of the enemy's intentions. There are many versions of this part of the unfortunate affair. All, however, seem to agree that Stewart was the wild and unreasonable leader of the motion to go out and attack. The command of the Hanover company had been turned over to him. Pennsylvania at that time was offering a reward for his arrest. The fort was bountifully supplied with whisky, and while it was certain that Capt. Spalding with his command was forcemarching to reach them and would certainly arrive within forty-eight hours, yet the better counsels of Butler and all the most prominent men were fatally overruled. Some have laid most of the blame on Stewart, but it is enough answer to all this that he gave his life a sacrifice to his judgments. He was killed at the head of his column. It is easy enough now to criticize the act, so it is of almost anything past. They were brave men, and patriots all; if there was any mistake, it was one not of cowards, but of patriots ready to seal their faith with their hearts' blood. The minority with extreme reluctance yielded to the majority. There were in the fort six irregular companies, mostly raw recruits and many of them old men-the following being the different commands:

Capt. Dethic Hewitt's company, about forty men.

Capt. Asaph Whittlesey's company, from Plymouth, consisting of forty men under Stewart after reaching the fort.

men.

Capt. William McKarrican's company, from Hanover, numbering about forty Being also the schoolmaster, and little used to war, though a brave, active, and valuable man, he gave up the command to Capt. Lazarus Stewart; Rosewell Franklin was his lieutenant.

The Lower Wilkes-Barre company, commanded by Capt. James Bidlack, Jr., consisting of thirty-eight men.

The Upper Wilkes-Barre company, commanded by Capt. Rezin Geer, smaller, but the number not known.

The Kingston company, commanded by Capt. Aholiab Buck, Lieut. Elijah Shoemaker second in command.

In addition to those in the trainbands, the judges of the court and all the civil officers who were near went out. Many old men-some of them grandfathers— took their muskets and marched to the field. For instance, the aged Mr. Searle, of Kingston, was one. Having become bald, he wore a wig. Taking out his silver knee-buckles, he said to his family, "If I fall, I shall not need them. If I come back, they will be safe here." Nothing could have been more incongruous, more pitiably unfit, than the mingling of such aged men in the rough onset of battle. Dire was the necessity that compelled it. The old gentleman had a number of grandchildren. Several boys, from fourteen to sixteen, are known to have been on the field. There was a company at Pittston of thirty or forty men, under Capt. Blanchard, stationed at the fort, to guard the people gathered there. To leave them, and march to Forty fort, would be to expose them to certain destruction, for the enemy were in sight, on the opposite bank of the river. Capt. Franklin's company from Huntington and Salem had not arrived. The other companies of the regiment were at Capouse and at the "Lackaway" settlement, too far off to afford assistance; so that there were about 230 enrolled men, and seventy old people, boys, civil magistrates, and other volunteers.

No

Every movement of Col. Z. Butler was watched by a vigilant and wary foe. sooner had the march commenced than the news was communicated to Col. John Butler, at Wintermoot's, who immediately despatched a messenger up to Fort Jenkins, for the party there, who were destroying the defences, to hasten down, for the Yankees were coming out to battle. This was between 2 and 3 o'clock. A few sentinels alone were left at Forty fort; and one of these by name of Cooper, more brave than obedient to orders, said "Our people need all their strength on the field. If defeated or successful, my being here will do no good." And he hurried off to join his neighbors.

Miss Bennett (Mrs. Myers) was one of the crowd of women and children who had resorted to the Forty fort. After the troops had been gone about half an hour, three men were seen spurring their jaded horses up the road. As they came to the gate and dismounted, the sweat flowed from the panting flanks of their generous steeds. Two of them were Capt. Durkee and Lieut. Pierce. In a moment they learned the state of things. "We are faint-give us bread; we have not broken our fast to day." Such provisions as were at hand were placed before them. Pierce was a lieutenant in Capt. Spalding's company, then about forty miles off, through the Great swamp. They had ridden nearly all night. Having snatched a morsel of food, they hastened to the field.

Among many patriotic volunteers, justice requires that Anderson Dana should be particularly mentioned. He had just returned from duty as a member of the assembly at Hartford. It is impossible that any man could have conducted with a more cheerful spirit, or a more animating zeal. Christopher Avery, one of the justices of the court, who had filled many important stations, and possessed a large share of public confidence, though exempt by law, took post beside his neighbors. Many officers are mentioned, who strictly held no command. Capts. Durkee and Ransom were in the battle, and no doubt were referred to, and obeyed by the militia officers, but they held no official station.

As our troops approached Wintermoot's they perceived that the fort was in flames. The motive for setting it on fire is not yet understood, probably to prevent its sudden assault and capture; probably to draw attention and conceal their number and movements.

At this point there are two plains, the upper and the lower flats, divided by a steep bank of about fifteen or twenty feet in hight; the lower a rich, sandy loam; the upper a coarse gravel. The fort was on the bank dividing the two plains.

Col. Z. Butler, on approaching the enemy, sent forward Capts. Ransom and Durkee, Lieuts. Ross and Wells, as officers whose skill he most relied on, to select the spot, and mark off the ground on which to form the order of battle. On coming up, the column deployed to the left, and under those officers every company took its station, and then advanced in line to the proper position, where it halted, the right resting on the steep bank noted, the left extending across the gravel flat to a morass, thick with timber and brush that separated the bottom land from the mountain. Yellow and pitch pine trees with oak shrubs were scattered all over the plain. On the American right was Capt. Bidlack's company, next was Capt. Hewitt's, Daniel Gore being one of his lieutenants. On the extreme left was Capt. Whittlesey's. Col. Butler, supported by Maj. John Garrett, commanded the right wing. Col. Denison, supported by Lieut. Col. George Dorrance, commanded the left. Such was the ground and such the order of battle. Everything was judiciously disposed and conducted in a strictly military manner. Capts. Durkee and Ransom, experienced officers, in whom great confidence was placed, were stationed, Durkee with Bidlack on the right wing, Ransom with Whittlesey on the left. Col. Butler made a very brief address just before he ordered the column to display. "Men, yonder is the enemy. The fate of the Hardings tell us what we have to expect if defeated. We came out to fight, not only for liberty, but for

life itself, and what is dearer, to preserve our homes from conflagration; our women and children from the tomahawk. Stand firm the first shock and the Indians will give way. Every man to his duty."

The column had marched up the road on which our right rested. On its display as Denison led off his men, he repeated the expression of Col. Butler-" Be firm, everything depends on resisting the first shock."

The left of the enemy rested on Wintermoot's fort, now on fire, and was commanded by Col. John Butler, who appeared on the ground with a handkerchief around his head. A flanking party of Indians was concealed behind some logs and bushes under the bank.

From Wintermoot's fort to the river in a straight line was about eighty rods; to Monockasy island, over the low flats in a south direction, about a mile. The weather clear and warm.

About four in the afternoon the battle began; Col. Z. Butler ordered his men to fire, and at each discharge to advance a step. Along the whole line the discharges were rapid and steady. It was evident, on the more open ground the Yankees were doing most execution. As our men advanced, pouring in their platoon fires with great activity, the British line gave way, in spite of all their officers' efforts to prevent it. The Indian flanking party on our right kept up from their hiding places a galling fire. Lieut. Daniel Gore received a ball through the left arm. "Capt. Durkee," said he, "look sharp for the Indians in those bushes." Capt. D. stepped to the bank to look, preparatory to making a charge and dislodging them, when he fell. On the British Butler's right, his Indian warriors were sharply engaged. As the battle waxed warmer, that fearful yell was raised again and again, with more and more spirit. It appeared to be once their animating shout, and their signal of communication: As several fell near Col. Dorrance, one of his men gave way; "Stand up to your work, sir," said he, firmly, but coolly, and the soldier resumed his place. For half an hour a hot fire had been given and sustained, when the superior numbers of the enemy began to develop its power. The Indians had thrown into the swamp a large force, which now completely outflanked our left. It was impossible it should be otherwise; that wing was thrown into confusion. Col. Denison gave orders that the company of Whittlesey should wheel back, so as to form an angle with the main line, and thus present his front, instead of flank, to the enemy. The difficulty of performing evolutions, by the bravest militia on the field, under a hot fire, is well known. On the attempt the savages rushed in with horrid yells. Some had mistaken the order to fall back, as one to retreat, and that word, that fatal word, ran along the line. Utter confusion now prevailed on the left. Seeing the disorder, and his own men beginning to give way, Col. Z. Butler threw himself between the fires of the opposing ranks, and rode up and down the line in the most reckless exposure. "Don't leave me, my children, and the victory is ours." But it

was too late.

Still on the fated left men stood their ground. See," said Westover to George Cooper, "our men are all retreating, shall we go?" "I'll have one more shot first," was his reply. At that moment a ball struck a tree just behind his head and an Indian springing toward him with his spear, Cooper drew up his rifle and fired; the Indian sprang into the air and fell dead. Come," said Westover. "I'll load first," replied Cooper; and it is probable this cool audacity saved them, as the body of the savages had dashed forward after the flying, thus leaving them in the rear.

On the right, one of his officers said to Capt. Hewitt, "The day is lost; see, the Indians are sixty rods in our rear, shall we retreat?" "I'll be damned if I do," was his answer. "Drummer, strike up!" and he strove to rally his men; every effort was vain-thus he fought and there he fell!

Every captain that led a company into the battle was slain, and in every instance fell on or near the line; as was well said, "They died at the head of their men."

Men never fought more bravely, every man did his duty, but they were overpowered by superior numbers, a force that was overwhelming.

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David Spafford, who had just married Miss Blackman, was fatally shot and fell into the arms of his brother, Phineas. Brother," said he, "I am mortally hurt; take care of Lavinia." Stephen Whiton, a young schoolmaster from Connecticut, was also a bridegroom, married a daughter of Anderson Dana; son-in-law and father fell together.

A portion of the Indian flanking party pushed forward in the rear of the Connecticut line to cut off the retreat to Forty fort, and then pressed the retreating army toward the river. Monockasy island affording the only hope of crossing the stream, the flight was toward the island across the fields. Cooper and those who remained near the line of battle saw the main body of the Indians hastening after the fugitives.

At Forty fort the bank of the river was lined by anxious wives and mothers, awaiting the issue. Hearing the firing sharply continued, now, hopes arose; but when the shots came irregular and approached nearer and nearer, the hope sank in dismay.

Among the most melancholy paragraphs in history are the after-battle reports told by fugitives who escaped from the bloody sacrifice. Pity it is now after the lapse of more than a century and all the parties to that sad day are long since resting in the silent city, we can not know that the most and worst of the frightful tales of the battle of Wyoming were the imaginings of heated minds, strung to breaking in the horrid hour. Some were but too true, but time, with its covering pall of charity, has now given us the assurance that in some of the most revolting things that found their way into the accounts of the contemporary history of the times were errors. The Canadians and Indians won a signal victory, and when the settlers were flanked, instead of holding together and obeying their officers-the only place and mode of safety on such occasions-they fled, throwing away their arms, while the victors pursued and struck down many in a most merciless fashion. Had our people stood together under their commander it is now evident that the British commander would have respected a flag of truce and those lives that were so cruelly sacrificed might have been saved. True, a part of Col. John Butler's command were Indians and when our people fled he could do little or nothing in restraining pursuit, even had he tried. It is not known that he had tried to do so. The contrary was charged to be true at the time by the survivors. The battle of Wyoming first went into history as a cold-blooded and pitiless massacre; the post-prandial orgie being the curdling story of Queen Esther and the Bloody Rock, where prisoners of war were led out by Indians, stood around in rows and this she-monster walking along the line with a war club or tomahawk braining the poor fellows. The first stories that found their way into print were gleaned from the flying fugitives that found their way to the Delaware, when each one had told the other of the dreadful sights they had seen, and then the writers who listened to the narratives had allowed nothing to be lost in the transmission. There never was a battle but that the first flying reports that went out from the opposing sides differed widely on important facts.

Night closed in on the dreadful scene of havoc. The pursuit of the flying soldiers could not have been very long or rapid, as the enemy only approached Forty fort the next morning and demanded an unconditional surrender. Col. Zebulon Butler and seventeen of his soldiers had escaped to the mountains during the night. Col. Denison remained and was in command; in command of a lot of women and children and a few wounded and aged men; this was not much to surrender-women, children and broken hearts. The victors granted terms of honorable capitulation; agreeing to respect private property and requiring the soldiers taken to pledge not again to take up arms against the king of England. These were not only hon

orable but, under the circumstances, very liberal terms. A fact that should not be lost sight of is, that in the articles of capitulation Col. John Butler had inserted the clause allowing the "suspects" that had been driven away by the Yankees, to return and live here in peace and quiet and to repossess their property. There is historical significance in this clause

The observance of the terms of surrender was kept only so far as no further massacre or human life was taken. But private property was not fully respected. The beautiful valley was devastated the torch applied to the homes and buildings, and blackened waste took the place of the whilom pastoral scenes. WilkesBarre, where there were twenty-five buildings, was left with but three houses in the place all else was in ashes. The Indians, drunk, engaged in plundering and destroying. The English commander, Butler, tried to restrain the red devils, but not to much purpose. And it is now believed this fact hastened his departure.

The invading army remained in possession in the captured fort four days, or until July 8, when Col. John Butler called his army together and took up his return march northward.

The women and children had fled the country; several had floated down the river as soon as the news of the disaster on the night of the 3d of July was known. Many others fled across the mountains and through the terrible wilderness back to Connecticut. These were new widows and freshly orphaned children mostly whose protectors lay dead and unburied on the fatal and bloody field. Here was the pitiful story that the century of years has but little modified. The ghastly details of each family in these dread days has not and never will be written. There were a few old men with these fleeing crowds of sufferers-so old and helpless mostly as to be like the infants, but an additional burden; children were born and children died on the long, terrible way. The heroes were dead-the greater heroines lived and hovered their helpless broods, baring their breasts to the elements and even the brutal savage in the protection of the young lives God had given. When we talk of war and its grim brutalities we think of strong, rough, brave men, but here were widows and young mothers tasting the bitterest dregs of woe-broken hearts and a fortitude sublime.

It is estimated that about 160 were killed the day and evening of the battle and 140 escaped. This estimate is given by Hon. Charles Miner and we accept it as the nearest correct now ascertainable.

Reinforcements. On the evening of July 3, that had closed on the awful field of carnage, Capt. John Franklin arrived at Forty fort, with the Huntington and Salem company, about thirty-five men all told. He and Col. Denison consulted and determined to send to Wilkes-Barre for the cannon, call every possible aid to Forty fort and defend themselves to the last extremity. A messenger sent out early on the next morning reported the people flying and the scheme therefore wholly impracticable. Following on the "Old Warrior's path," he reported seeing a fleeing crowd of 100 women and children and only one man with the fugitives. This was Sheriff Jonathan Fitch.

It should be here mentioned that Capt. Blanchard surrendered the fort at Pittston, Fort Brown, on the morning of the 4th to a detachment of Col. John Butler's command.

When the fight occurred Capt. Spalding was only forty miles away and hurrying to Forty fort as fast as possible. With his and Franklin's men-thirty-five, who reached the fort during the fight-the invading army could have been successfully repulsed, and, standing on the defensive in chosen localities, in time the English and Indians as an army destroyed in all probability. Capts. Durkee and Bidlack had ridden all night and were at the fort in time to go into the battle, where both died. Hence the patriots knew just where Spalding and his command were at the moment they so rashly marched out to engage the enemy.