"I enclose you a list of officers and privates whom I should be glad were exchanged likewise. The list of the families we expect for those as well sent back as others in our hands, you have likewise enclosed.
"Colonel Stacey, and several officers and others, your people, are at this post, and have leave to write.
"I am, Your very humble serv't., Walter N. Butler, Captain corps of Rangers. "Brigadier Gen. Clinton, } of the Continental forces."}
This is a straight-forward, manly letter; and when the impartial reader is weighing the testimony in regard to the transactions of which it speaks, it certainly deserves consideration. It is, moreover, believed to be the first time that the accused have been permitted to relate their own side of the case. There were, no doubt, bloody outrages committed—probably upon both sides—because in such a contest, waged by borderers, many of whom, as has been seen, were previously burning with indignation against each other, it is hardly to be expected that individual combatants would always contend hand to hand with all the courtesy which characterised gallant knights in the days of chivalry. In justice to Colonel John Butler, moreover, it must be admitted that his conduct toward his prisoners at Niagara, and among the Indians in that country, was uniformly characterised by humanity. One proof of this disposition was afforded in the case of Colonel Stacia, whose destruction had, for some reason or other, been determined upon by Molly Brant, the Indian wife of Sir William Johnson; who, in her widowhood, had been taken from Johnstown to Niagara. [FN]
[FN] "Molly Brant had, for some cause, a deadly hostility to Colonel Stacia. Resorting to the Indian method of dreaming, she informed Colonel Butler that she had dreamed that she had the Yankee's head, and that she and the Indians were kicking it about the fort. Colonel Butler ordered a small keg of rum to be painted and given to her. This, for a short time, appeased her; but she dreamed a second time that she had the Yankee's head, with his hat on, and that she and the Indians were kicking it about the fort for a football. Colonel Butler ordered another keg of rum to be given to her, and then told her decidedly that Colonel Stacia should not be given up to the Indians. Apart from this circumstance, I know nothing disreputable to Molly Brant. On the contrary, she appears to have had just views of her duties. She was careful of the education of her children, some of whom were respectably married."—Campbells Annals.—It may be added, that her descendants from Sir William Johnson compose some of the most respectable and intelligent families of Upper Canada at this day. The traditions of the Mohawk Valley state, that the acquaintance of Sir William with Molly had a rather wild and romantic commencement. The story runs, that she was a very sprightly and very beautiful Indian girl of about sixteen when he first saw her. It was at a regimental militia muster, where Molly was one of a multitude of spectators. One of the field-officers coming near her upon a prancing steed, by way of banter she asked permission to mount behind him. Not supposing she could perform the exploit, he said she might. At the word she leaped upon the crupper with the agility of a gazelle. The horse sprang off at full speed, and, clinging to the officer, her blanket flying, and her dark tresses streaming in the wind, she flew about the parade-ground swift as an arrow, to the infinite merriment of the collected multitude. The Baronet, who was a witness of the spectacle, admiring the spirit of the young squaw, and becoming enamoured of her person, took her home as his wife.
The few prisoners from Cherry Valley were marched, by the route already indicated, to the Seneca country, Mrs. Campbell was carried to the Seneca castle at Kanadaseago, where she was presented to a family to fill a place made vacant by the death of one of its members. Her children, the infant included, were separated from her, and distributed among different Indian families. Being skillful with her needle, and rendering herself useful to those with whom she lived, she was treated with indulgence. No restraints were imposed upon her, and she was even gratified in her desire to pay a due regard to the Sabbath, of which institution they were ignorant. Among other little civilities, perceiving that she wore caps, an Indian presented her one, which was cut and spotted with blood. On a closer scrutiny, her feelings were shocked by the discovery, from the mark, that it had belonged to the lovely companion of her youth, the hapless Jane Wells!
After returning from a successful expedition, a dance of Thanksgiving is performed by the Iroquois, which partakes of the character of a religious ceremony; [FN-1] and Mrs. Campbell had the opportunity, soon after her arrival at Kanadaseago, of witnessing the festival in honor of their recent victory, of which she herself was one of the trophies. A grand council was convoked for this purpose, and preparations were made for the observance of the festival, upon a scale corresponding with the importance of the achievements they were to celebrate. The arrangements having been completed, the warriors came forth to the centre of the village, where the great fire had been kindled, horribly disfigured by black and red paint, and commenced their savage rites by singing of their own exploits, and those of their ancestors,—by degrees working themselves up into a tempest of passion; whooping, yelling, and uttering every hideous cry; brandishing their knives and war-clubs, and throwing themselves into the most menacing attitudes, in a manner terrific to the unpractised beholder. There was no prisoner put to the torture, or attired with the raven death-cap on this occasion; [FN-2] but the prisoners were paraded, and the scalps borne in procession, as would have been the standards taken in civilized warfare in the celebration of a triumph. For every scalp, and for every prisoner taken, the scalp-yell, or, as it is sometimes called, the death-halloo, was raised in all its mingled tones of triumph and terror. [FN-3] The scalp-yell is the most terrific note which an Indian can raise, and from the numbers that had fallen during this expedition, it was often repeated. The white dog for the sacrifice was then killed; the offerings collected were thrown into the fire; whereupon the dog was laid upon the pile and thoroughly roasted. The flesh was then eaten, and the wild festival closed.
[FN-1] Heckewelder.