An hour's ride from Lancaster, on the morning of the nineteenth, brought to view the motley array of chimneys and towers that overtop the "Queen City of the Lakes." While making my way towards them, and receiving first impressions, my attention was attracted by a brigade drill on the parade ground, which I halted to witness. This was the first instance during my journey in which I had encountered any considerable body of military men, with the exception of the Grand Army procession at Utica, on Memorial Day. The marching and manœuvres evinced close attention to tactics and excellent discipline, and the equipment of officers and men reflected much credit upon the Empire State, which has every reason to be proud of these her citizen-soldiers.
Drill over, I rode on into Buffalo, and, soon after registering at the Tift House, had the pleasure of meeting Major John M. Farquhar, who introduced me to my audience at St. James Hall in the evening.
Major Farquhar is a comrade, prominent in G. A. R. circles, and was then commander of the leading post of the city. From him I learned something of the changes which had taken place since my last visit here, and which I was desirous to see as much of as circumstances would allow. Buffalo has a peculiarly rich history, and, like the old towns of the Mohawk Valley, the romantic view which Indian life and love have given.
Near here the arrogant Eries held their councils, and deliberated upon the downfall of their powerful neighbors of the Five Nations; who, in turn, ruined and almost exterminated them. The chronicles tell us that the Iroquois, coming by invitation to engage in friendly contest on the hunting-ground of the Eries, soon discovered the real intent of the wily "Cats," who were jealous of the renown of their red brothers. Failing in the games they had themselves proposed, and blind with rage, they saw their tolerant guests depart with the trophies of victory. No sooner were they out of sight than a council of war was held, and a decision to conquer them agreed upon. The war bonnets were donned, the dog sacrificed, and every preparation made for a raid into the enemy's country; but a Seneca woman who had been taken prisoner by the Eries some years before, apprised the great chiefs of her nation of the intended attack.
In this way the Eries were in turn surprised and defeated in their last game with their rivals. Only a few of their warriors were left to bear the hateful news to the women and old men who were waiting in the wigwams: and these with their allies, terribly punished as they had been in the encounter, were driven by their infuriated enemies beyond the Mississippi. The Senecas, who proudly called themselves the western gate-keepers of the "Long House," made a settlement near Buffalo, to which they gave the musical name of Te-you-seo-wa, the place of basswood, having found there huts covered with basswood bark, the remnants of some lately abandoned village. This settlement was not as near the lake-front as the city now is, but was cautiously laid out farther back from shore to prevent surprise. Here the young braves found a favorite hunting-ground, and were wont to conceal themselves near the salt springs that bubble up from the border of the creek, to await the buffaloes, which came there in herds. There has been some dispute as to the naming of the city, and the possibility of the American bison having frequented this part of the country, but it is generally believed that herds of these herbivorous animals did graze on Eastern soil, and that the attacks of carnivorous beasts and the constant warfare waged against them by the Indians drove them to the Western plains.
Nearly two centuries ago, when the site of the present city was still a wilderness through whose tangled labyrinths Indian eyes peered out over the gleaming waters of the lake, La Hontan penetrated these western wilds, and suggested to his sovereign the building of a fort here, as a safeguard against the Iroquois.
We see almost instinctively the scenes which he saw as we follow him through lake and stream—the great falls sparkling beneath an August sun, their wild surroundings unmarred and untrodden save by moccasined feet; the rapids and then the river, to whose current, farther up, he trusted his boat. But it was not until long after this that the sound of the woodman's axe was heard in the forests at the foot of Lake Erie, when the pioneer had come to make his home, and to lay the foundation of a future city.
One after another crude cabins were raised, and in turn were replaced by more comfortable houses, so that in 1813 the settlement was large enough to make quite a bonfire for the British and their dusky allies. The events which took place at Buffalo, connected with this war, were singularly exciting; and, although there were brave hearts and stout arms ready to defend their country, we cannot but regret the peculiar circumstances which led to the general havoc here.
Historians have gleaned such glowing descriptions from those who were either witnesses or participants in these stirring scenes, that we cannot fail to be moved by them.
The night surprise, in the woods, near Black Rock, when the American troops were suddenly greeted by ambushed Britons: the rout which followed when the terrified horsemen dashed back in retreat through the ranks of the infantry, demoralizing them in turn, is so vividly drawn that it has the reality of later times. Afterwards when the alarmed people heard the cry that the British were coming, and we see them in confused masses trying to escape with their household goods, we sympathize with their terror as they saw in the distance the dreaded Indian jogging towards them with club and hatchet.