Their comparative importance would be graduated in a measure by the size of their domain, and the number of people they would thus be enabled to have about them; hence they were individually ambitious of not being out- done, in the size of their reservations.
Red Jacket put in a claim to about one-fourth of the entire tract purchased. Cornplanter desired about as much; and other chiefs were alike ambitious in securing extensive reservations; and they wished to have them marked out by natural boundaries, such as rivers, hills or the course of streams. To all of these demands Mr. Morris was obliged to give a stout and resolute denial, requiring them to fix upon a certain number of square miles, which, in the aggregate, should not be far from three hundred and fifty.
Here also arose difficulties about the size of their respective allotments, which they were unable to settle, so that Mr. Morris was obliged to assume the office of arbiter, and decide these for them, which he accomplished generally to their satisfaction.
In only one instance did he depart from his purpose of not allowing natural boundaries, in describing their reservations. It was in case of Mary Jemison, the White Woman, who lived on the Genesee river, some few miles above Mt. Morris. Her history is one of singular interest, and as belonging to this region, and connected with the circumstances under consideration, a brief notice of this remarkable woman, will not be out of place.
Hers is an instance of the entire change that may be wrought, in the taste and inclination, so that instead of a civilized, a person may prefer an uncultivated state of society. Though descended from the whites, she became so thoroughly Indian in her feelings and habits, that she was regarded as a curiosity, and called by way of distinction—the "White Woman."
She was born on the ocean, while her parents were emigrating from Ireland to this country, about the year 1742 or 3. Her father and mother soon after landing at Philadelphia, removed to a frontier settlement of Pennsylvania, lying on what was called Marsh Creek. During the war between the French and English, she was taken captive with her parents, by a party of Shawnee Indians. On the way, her father and mother were killed. The mother anticipating, from tokens she had observed, what would be their fate, advised her child not to attempt an escape from the Indians, as she most likely would be taken again, and treated worse. But as a course better adapted to promote her welfare, she was told to try and please her captors, adding as her parting counsel,—"don't forget, my daughter, the prayers I have taught you,—repeat them often; be a good child, and may God bless you."
After this, under various trials she went with the party, until they came to Fort Du Quesne. [Footnote: Afterwards called Fort Pitt, now the site of Pittsburg.] Here she was given to two Indian women, who were of the Seneca nation, and lived eighty miles below, on the Ohio river, at a place called She-nan-jee. With the usual ceremony observed by the Indians on such occasions, she was adopted into their family, and called De-ha-wa-mis. At length under kind treatment she began to feel as one of them. In time she was married to a young chief of the Delaware tribe, with whom she lived happily for several years in the Shawnee country. She became devotedly attached to her Indian husband, who treated her with marked tokens of affection.
After a time she welcomed with the joy of a young mother's heart, the appearance in her wigwam of a daughter, her first born. The bright morning of her domestic joy was soon overcast with sorrow; she is seen strewing over her little one's grave, the fallen leaves of autumn. She-nin-jee, her Indian husband once more became a father. Together they gladly embraced a son. Their lonely cabin after this was enlivened and cheered by his childish prattle; nothing now remained to interrupt the joy of the mother, but the absence of the father, whom the season of hunting, took far away from his cherished home. Yet with returning spring these toils are forgotten, as he is surrounded once more with the charms of the domestic fireside. But at length there came a spring whose joyful return, brought not the long wished for She-nin-jee, back to his lonely cabin. Many an evening fire blazed brightly to bid him welcome, yet he did not come. Choice venison had been dried and laid up for him, new skins had been prepared and spread for his couch, and many a silent hour whiled away with thoughts of the absent one, but he came not. His returning comrades brought back the sad news of his death. De-ha-wa-mis mourned long and deeply for the pride of her Indian wigwam. Her own kindred could not have extended to her more genuine sympathy, than did her new relatives by adoption. They kindly offered to take her back, if she desired to go, to her former friends among the whites, or if she chose to remain among them, they promised to give her a home of her own.
A part of her Indian relatives lived in the valley of the Genesee, and this was the occasion of her removal there, from her home on the Ohio. A few years intervened, and she again became the wife of an Indian, the distinguished Seneca warrior Hio-ka-too. She resided with him until his death, at Gardeau, the place where she was living, at the time of her appearance at this treaty. The chiefs desired for her a special reservation. To this Mr. Morris readily assented, in case she would specify a certain number of acres.
She said to him,—"I do not know any thing about acres, but I have some improved places;" pointing them out on the ground; "here a patch of potatoes, there, a few beans, and another still, where there's a little corn." She wished these might be embraced in her reservation, at the same time giving boundaries, which she thought would include them.