It was late in the day when I reached my lodgings, and, wearied by the rambles of the morning, resolved to pass the remainder of the afternoon with the Hazleton Travelers. Their conversation was exclusively of those who acted and suffered at the time of the massacre, and I listened with intense interest to the recitals of the "knowing one." I would gladly give the details here, if my space would allow, for they furnish one of the most interesting of those chapters in our Revolutionary history, showing the terrible cost at which our liberties were purchased. Mr. Minor has made the record, and to it the reader is referred.
I passed the evening with the venerable Joseph Slocum, whose family was among the sufferers in the Wyoming Valley. He related to me all the particulars of the capture and final discovery of his sister Frances, and other incidents connected with the sufferings of his family. His father was a Quaker, and was distinguished for his kindness to the Indians. He remained unharmed at the time of the invasion, and, while the torch was applied to the dwellings of others, his was left untouched. But his son Giles was in the battle. This doubtless excited the ire of the Indians, and they resolved on vengeance. Late in autumn they were seen prowling about the house, which was situated about one hundred rods from the Wilkesbarre Fort. A neighbor named Kingsley had been made a prisoner, and his wife and two sons had a welcome home in Mr. Slocum's family. One morning the November 2, 1778 two boys were grinding a knife near the house, when a rifle-shot and a shriek brought Mrs. Slocum to the door. An Indian was scalping the eldest boy, a lad of fifteen, with the knife he had been grinding. The savage then went into the house, and caught up a little son of Mrs. Slocum. "See!" exclaimed the frightened mother, "he can do thee no good; he is lame." The Indian released the boy, took up her little daughter Frances, aged five years, gently in his arms, and, seizing the younger Kingsley, hastened to the mountains. Two Indians who were with, him carried off a black girl, about seventeen years old Mr. Slocum's little daughter, aged nine years, caught up her brother Joseph (my informant) two and a half years old, and fled in safety to the fort, where an alarm was given, but the savages were beyond successful pursuit.
About six weeks afterward Mr. Slocum and his father-in-law, Ira Trip, were December 16 shot and scalped by some Indians while foddering cattle near the house. Again the savages escaped with their horrid trophies. Mrs. Slocum, bereft of father, husband, and child, and stripped of all possessions but the house that sheltered her, could not leave the valley, for nine helpless children were yet in her household. She trusted in the God of Elijah, and, if she was not fed by the ravens, she was spared by the vultures. She mourned not for the dead, for they were at rest; but little Frances, her lost darling, where was she? The lamp of hope kept on burning, but years rolled by, and no tidings of the little one came. When peace returned, and friendly intercourse with Canada was established, two of the little captive's brothers started in search of her. They traversed the wilderness to Niagara, offering rewards for her discovery, but all in vain. They returned to Wyoming, convinced that the child was dead. But the mother's heart was still the shrine of hope,
Mrs. Slocum's Presentiments.—A Foundling.—Disappointment.—Singular Discovery of the "lost Sister."
and she felt assured that Frances was not in the grave. Her soul appeared to commune with that of her child, and she often said, "I know Frances is living." At length the mother's heart was cheered; a woman (for many years had now passed, and Frances, if living, must be a full-grown woman) was found among the Indians, answering the description of the lost one. She only remembered being carried away from the Susquehanna. Mrs. Slocum took her home and cherished her with a mother's tenderness. Yet the mysterious link of sympathy which binds the maternal spirit to its offspring was unfelt, and the bereaved mother was bereaved still. "It may be Frances, but it does not seem so. Yet the woman shall be ever welcome," said Mrs. Slocum. The foundling also felt no filial yearnings, and, both becoming convinced that no consanguinity existed, the orphan returned to her Indian friends. From time to time the hope of the mother would be revived, and journeys were made to distant Indian settlements in search of the lost sister, but in vain. The mother went "down into the grave mourning," and little Frances was almost forgotten. Her brothers had become aged men, and their grandchildren were playing upon the very spot whence she had been taken.
In the summer of 1837, fifty-nine years after her capture, intelligence of Frances was received. Colonel Ewing, an Indian agent and trader, in a letter from Logansport, Indiana, to the editor of the Lancaster Intelligencer, * gave such information that all doubts respecting her identity were removed, and Joseph Slocum, with the sister who carried him to the fort, and yet survived, immediately journeyed to Ohio, where they were joined by their younger brother Isaac. They proceeded to Logansport, where they found Mr. Ewing, and ascertained that the woman spoken of by him lived about twelve miles from the village. She was immediately sent for, and toward evening the next day she came into the town, riding a spirited young horse, accompanied by her two daughters, dressed in full Indian costume, and the husband of one of them. An interpreter was procured (for she could not speak or understand English), and she listened seriously to what her brothers had to say. She answered but little, and at sunset departed for her home, promising to return the next morning. The brothers and sister were quite sure that it was indeed Frances, though in her face nothing but Indian lineaments were seen, her color alone revealing her origin.
True to her appointment, she appeared the following morning, accompanied as before. Mr. Joseph Slocum then mentioned a mark of recognition, which his mother had said would be a sure test. While playing one day with a hammer in a blacksmith's shop, Joseph, then a child two and a half years old, gave Frances a blow upon the middle finger of the left hand, which crushed the bone and deprived the finger of its nail. This test Mr. Slocum had withheld until others should fail. When he mentioned it, the aged woman was greatly agitated, and, while tears filled the furrows of her face, she held out the wounded finger. There was no longer a doubt, and a scene of great interest ensued. Her affections for her
*This letter was dated January 20th, 1835, a year and a half previous, and gave the following account: "There is now living near this place, among the Miami tribe of Indians, an aged white woman, who, a few days ago, told me that she was taken away from her father's house, on or near the Susquehanna River, when she was very young. She says her father's name was Slocum; that he was a Quaker, and wore a large-brimmed hat; that he lived about half a mile from a town where there was a fort. She has two daughters living. Her husband is dead. She is old and feeble, and thinks she shall not live long. These considerations induced her to give the present history of herself, which she never would before, fearing her kindred would come and force her away. She has lived long and happily as an Indian, is very respectable and wealthy, sober and honest. Her name is without reproach." The cause of the delay in the publication of the letter, and of its final appearance and effect, was not a little singular. Mr. Ewing sent it to the postmaster at Lancaster, with a request that he would have it published in a Pennsylvania paper. The postmaster, not acquainted with the writer, concluded that it was a hoax, and cast the letter among other papers, where it remained a year and a half. One day his wife, while engaged in arranging the office, saw the letter, and, having her feelings very much interested, sent it to the editor of the Intelligencer. It so happened that the issue of his paper in which the letter was published contained an important temperance document, and a large number of extra copies were printed for general distribution. One of these was sent to a gentleman in Wyoming, who, having heard the story of the "lost sister," and knowing Mr. Joseph Slocum, put the paper into his hands; and thus, by a series of providential circumstances, a clew to Frances was discovered.
Interview between the "lost Sister" and her white Kindred.—Her Narrative.—Her Condition.—Children and Grandchildren
kindred, that had slumbered half a century, were aroused, and she made earnest inquiries after her father, mother, brothers, and sisters. Her full heart—full with the cherished secrets of her history—was opened, and the story of her life freely given.