[98a]. Since writing the above, the author has ascertained, that in London, during the four last years of the last century, Six’s thermometer, out of doors, averaged 49.6; that on the hottest day within that period, the mercury rose to 86; and that it fell, on the coldest day, to 4.
[99]. See a description of this Chronometer, in the Appendix.
[100]. Mr. Stanton died at Philadelphia, the 28th of June, 1770, aged sixty-two years. He was, for above forty years, a distinguished preacher among the people called Quakers; and is reputed to have been a man, “who, from his youth, had been a conspicuous example of Christian meekness, humility, and self-denial; a zealous promoter of the cause of religion, and the essential good of mankind.”
Some elegiac verses, under the title of a “poetic tribute” to the memory of this worthy man,—from the pen of a lady in Philadelphia,—were published in the Port Folio, for April 1813.
[101]. This letter contains, likewise, a short narrative of an occurrence which excited much feeling, and claimed a considerable portion of the public attention, at the time. As Mr. Rittenhouse’s account of the transaction referred to, will serve to shew that he was not an indifferent spectator of the political events of that early day; and, further, that he was zealously disposed to support the legitimate authority of the government, in order to suppress illegal and disorderly proceedings, subversive of the laws and dangerous to the public peace and safety; this part of his letter to Mr. Barton (of the 16th of February, 1764,) is also presented to the reader.
It will be recollected that what was called the Paxton Riot in Pennsylvania, in the year 1763, was occasioned by an attempt made by many of the inhabitants of a district in the upper end of Lancaster (now Dauphin) county, called Paxton, with some of their neighbours, to destroy a number of Indians resident in and near that county; who were extremely obnoxious to the Paxton people, by reason of the supposed treachery, if not actual hostility, of these Indians to the settlers on the Paxton frontier, in the war that had then recently terminated. These unfortunate Indians had, nevertheless, uniformly professed themselves to be friendly to the English, in that war; and were so reputed by the government of Pennsylvania: but finding themselves, notwithstanding, threatened with extermination by “the Paxton Boys” (as they were then called,)—by whom a few old men, women, and children had been destroyed, shortly before, at their homes,—they sought the protection of the government. Part of them were, accordingly, placed in the public prison in Lancaster, and the remainder at the barracks in Philadelphia, as places of security. Those in Lancaster, to the number of fourteen or fifteen, were soon after, as is well known, killed by the Paxton people, one of the prison doors having been forcibly broken open by them. The remnant of these persecuted Indians, who were in Philadelphia, were more fortunate than their brethren; they escaped the horrors of assassination: And it is to the expedition against these wretched fugitives—a mere handful of men, unarmed, and claiming from Christians an asylum from massacre,—that Mr. Rittenhouse refers in his letter.
“You are no doubt, long before this time, well acquainted,” said our young philosopher, “with every particular of the Paxtonian expedition to Philadelphia: nor need I tell you, that whatever information you may have through the channel of ——, will be abominably corrupt. About fifty of the scoundrels marched by my work-shop—I have seen hundreds of Indians travelling the country, and can with truth affirm, that the behaviour of these fellows was ten times more savage and brutal than theirs. Frightening women, by running the muzzles of their guns through windows, swearing and hallooing; attacking men without the least provocation; dragging them by the hair to the ground, and pretending to scalp them; shooting a number of dogs and fowls;—these are some of their exploits.
“I received a letter from sister E. soon after the alarm at Philadelphia was over, and will give you a part of it, which I doubt not will be agreeable to you.”—It is as follows.
—“On Monday morning between one and two o’clock, an express came to the governor, informing that the rebels were on their way, and that a great number of them were on this side the White Horse. There was one express after another, till there was certain intelligence that some of them were at Germantown. When the first express came, the bells were rung, the drums beat, and the constables were ordered to go from house to house, to knock up the inhabitants, and to bid them put candles at their doors: it had the appearance of all the houses being illuminated. Before day, there were above twenty men met at J. J.’s, and chose their officers. Before night they were increased to nearly an hundred; as were likewise most of the other companies: E—— and all our men were in captain Wood’s company. They all appeared to be in high spirits, and desirous to meet the rebels. On Tuesday, when the mayor and the other gentlemen set off for Germantown, the heads of the companies begged of them not to comply with any dishonourable terms, and told them—“Gentlemen, we are ready to go wherever you may command us; and we had much rather you would let us treat with them (the rebels) with our guns.”[guns.”]—On their return, there was a general murmur among the companies against the proceedings of our great men; they knew it, and there was a long harangue made by Mr. Chew: but it did not answer the end. On Wednesday morning I went to —-—, as usual; and on my return home, I stopped at our friend H. J.’s; when, on a sudden, the alarm-gun was fired, the bells began to ring, and the men called “to arms,” as loud as possible. I cannot describe, my dear brother, how I felt: we ran to the door, when to add to my fright, I saw E——, amidst hundreds of others, run by with his gun. They met at the court-house, formed themselves into regular companies, and marched up Second-street as far[far] as the barracks; when they found it was a false alarm.
“It was a pleasing, though melancholy sight, to view the activity of our men. In less than a quarter of an hour, they were all on their march,—it is supposed above a thousand of them; and by all accounts, there were not ten —— among them. It was the common cry, while our men were parading—“What! not one —— among us!”—Instead of joining with others, they would sneak into corners, and applaud the “Paxton-boys.” Their behaviour on this occasion has made them appear blacker than ever.”