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LOURELL 
 
 THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN MILBURN HARDING 
 
 LORAIN. OHIO: 
 
 DkVeny & McCahon 
 

 Copyright, 1916, 
 by John M. Harding. 
 
 I 
 
 1^ 
 
 CI.A453105 
 
 
CONTENTS 
 Historical Notes, Names, and Characters, 9 
 
 THE STORY: 
 
 Introduction, - - - - 13 
 
 Part The First, 
 
 The Capture, - - - 17 
 
 Part The Second, 
 
 The Massacre, - - - 49 
 
 Part The Third, 
 
 The Exile, - - - 75 
 
 Part The Fourth, 
 
 The Return, - - - - 97 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS: 
 
 Zeisberger Preaching to^the Indians, Frontispiece ^ 
 
 Indian Monument, Opposite Part II. ^ 
 Crawford's Monument, " " III.c< 
 
 Old Cemetery, " " IV. 
 
HISTORICAL NOTES 
 
 The history of the planting of civilization in 
 the Northwest Territory teems with thrilling ad- 
 venture. Before white men sought to establish 
 permanent homes in that region, many of the 
 native savages were converted to Christianity 
 through the tireless efforts of brave missionaries, 
 Catholic and Protestant. To some degree this 
 story follows the activities of Moravian mission- 
 aries. In Europe the Moravian church was estab- 
 lished in Moravia and Bohemia, and its mission- 
 aries had success among many savage peoples, 
 notably the Delaware Indians of eastern Penn- 
 sylvania and the Ohio country. 
 
 In 1770, the savage Delawares living in the 
 valley of the Muskingum Piiver, through their 
 chief Netawatwes, invited the Moravian mis- 
 sionaries and their Indian converts to come from 
 Pennsylvania to the valley of the Tuscarawas 
 branch of the Muskingum River. To escape the 
 dangers to which the missionaries and converts 
 were exposed on account of the bitter feeling 
 between the French in Canada and the English 
 in the Colonies, the invitation was accepted; and, 
 in 1772, Schoenbrunn, (German for Beautiful 
 Spring), Gnadenhutten, (Tents of Grace, men- 
 tioned by Longfellow in Evangeline), and Salem, 
 mission villages, were founded in the valley of 
 the Tuscarawas, then called the Muskingum. 
 For nine years the inhabitants of those villages 
 enjoyed peace and prosperity. Each village had 
 a house of worship and a school. The church 
 at Schoenbrunn, though large enough to acconj- 
 
10 
 
 inodate five hundred hearers, was frequently 
 found to be too small. 
 
 For the government of the villages written 
 ordinances, still in existence, were adopted. One 
 of them provided for the entertainment of all 
 travelers without any charge. This hospitable 
 rule led indirectly to the destruction of the vil- 
 lages, which, it will be noticed, were situated 
 about midway between Fort Pitt, (Pittsburgh), 
 and Fort Detroit, (Detroit). As the Revolution 
 I)rogressed, the British at the latter place with 
 their Indian allies came to look upon the mis- 
 sion villages as Colonial out-posts. At the re- 
 quest of the Colonial Military Authorities, mis- 
 sionary John Heckewelder rode horseback from 
 Fort Pitt to Coshocton, Ohio, to carry, in the 
 spring of 1778, the news of Burgone's surrender, 
 and peace messages from Colonies to the savage 
 Indians of the Northwest. During the preceding 
 w^inter renegades and deserters from the Ameri- 
 can Army had fired all the savages by telling 
 them that Washington had been captured by the 
 British, and that the remaining Colonists were 
 coming westward to take away the Indians' 
 lands. Through the efforts of Heckewelder an 
 army of several thousand warriors assembled, 
 ready to fight the Colonists, was disbanded and 
 peace maintained. On the other hand the Colon- 
 ial frontiersmen came to look upon the mission 
 towns as resting places where maurading bands 
 of savages, on murdering trips to and from the 
 unprotected settlements, were fed and enter- 
 tained. 
 
 The story touches on the first town, the first 
 church, the first school, and the first burial 
 
11 
 
 ground of civilized man in Ohio; the first fort, 
 Fort Laurens, built in the Northwest territory by 
 the Colonial Government, and the first armed ex- 
 pedition sent into the region by Colonial au- 
 thority. The story also follows, to some degree, 
 the issues of the Revolution in the Northwest. 
 
 CHARACTERS 
 Lourell, (pronounced Loo-rell, with accent on 
 last syllable), Jacob Senseman, her lover, Joe the 
 hunter, and the minor characters, and the part 
 each takes are imaginative. All the other char- 
 acters, white and Indian, are historic, and, in 
 writing the parts of each, diligent effort has been 
 made to follow authentic history. 
 
 LOCAL NAMES USED IN THE STORY 
 
 "Midway Towns" or "Middle-way Towns," was 
 the name applied to the Mission settlements on 
 the Tuscarawas. "Captives' Town" was the place 
 of settlement of the missionaries and converts on 
 the Sandusky River during captivity. The mis- 
 sionaries called the converted Indians "Brown 
 Brethren," while the savage Indians frequently 
 spoke of the frontiersmen as "Long Knives." 
 
 Only three of the many intrepid Moravian 
 Missionaries are named in the story: 
 
 David Zeisberger, born April 11, 1721, in Aus- 
 trian Moravia, died November 17, 1808, is buried 
 at Goshen, Ohio. He spent over sixty years as a 
 missionary among the Indians of North America. 
 
 William Edwards died in 1801, and lies buried 
 by the side of Zeisberger. 
 
1^ 
 
 John Heckewelder, born at Bedford, England, 
 March 12, 1743, died at Bethlehem, Pa., January 
 21, 1823. He not only spent long years as a mis- 
 sionary, but often served the Government of the 
 United States in various capacities. 
 
 Some of the missionaries and their faithful 
 "Brown Brethren" remained at the Goshen Mis- 
 sion till the year 1824, when the title to their 
 three tracts of land was receded to Congress for 
 a money consideration,, after which they moved 
 to Canada. In 1838-9, they and their posterity 
 settled in Kansas. Their tribe, numbering about 
 one thousand souls, furnished over one hundred 
 and eighty soldiers for the Union Army during 
 the Civil War. Most of their descendents now 
 live in Oklahoma. 
 
 It was some seventeen years after the massacre 
 of the ninety-six Christian Indians at Gnaden- 
 hutten, until the return of the missionaries and 
 their converts to the valley of the Tuscarawas 
 to found Goshen. The bones of the martyrs were 
 carefully gathered and buried, near the present 
 site of the monument. The old cemetery at 
 Goshen contains many marked graves of de- 
 parted Indians. 
 
 Until the removal of the tribe to the far west 
 made the trip too long, some of them returned 
 with the repeating years to the valley of the 
 Tuscarawas to care for the graves of their an- 
 cestors and to ponder over the wrongs they had 
 suffered. 
 
13 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 Flows the Tuscarawas onward 
 
 Past wide fields of fertile land; 
 On its banks, and still unnumbered, 
 
 Sycamore and elm trees stand; 
 Farms and gardens greet the morning. 
 
 Where primeval forest rang, 
 Where the Red Man chased the wild deer, 
 
 And his crude songs idly sang; 
 Happy homes by thousands numbered 
 
 Dot this valley up and down — 
 Homes are they of people having 
 
 Wealth and wisdom of renow^n; 
 Hamlets, towns, and smoking cities 
 
 Rear high spires and flaming towers; 
 And instead of howling pack wolves 
 
 Locomotives pierce the hours 
 Through the daytime and the nighttime 
 
 With each shrill and screaming blast; 
 Through such changes has the valley 
 
 In few generations passed. 
 
 Still the peaceful Tuscarawas 
 Mirrors sun and moon and star; 
 
 Still the broad, alluvial lowlands 
 Stretch to rolling hills afar; 
 
 Still, at times, an oar or paddle 
 Dips beneath the surface blue; 
 
u 
 
 Still the swallows skim the wave-crests, 
 
 As, years past, the swallows flew : 
 But, at noon, no antlered monarch 
 
 Seeks the waves his thirst to slake; 
 And no bear with awkward motion 
 
 Travels through the weedy brake; 
 Here no Indian lover loiters 
 
 With the maiden of his choice, 
 As of old, along the river, 
 
 Speaking in a lover's voice. 
 Missionaries, Christian Indians 
 
 Of Moravian belief. 
 With their homes and fields and gardens, 
 
 All have perished, died of grief. 
 
 Ye w^ho seek for human goodness, 
 
 And have friends beloved and dear, 
 Ye who have a heart's true passion, 
 
 And can smile or shed a tear. 
 Listen, ye adopted people 
 
 Where the native race did fail. 
 List to this pathetic story. 
 
 This Moravian Indian tale. 
 
PART THE FIRST 
 
 THE CAPTURE 
 
THE CAPTURE 17 
 
 I. 
 
 In the Tuscarawas valley, 
 
 Seventeen and eighty-one, 
 Far from settlement and city, 
 
 Distant, quiet, and alone, 
 Lay the fruitful Indian Mission 
 
 Town, Gnadenhutten fair. 
 Kissed by sunlight's purest splendor, 
 
 Bathed in balmy forest air. 
 By the village flowed the river. 
 
 Called of old Muskingum blue, 
 Which across its placid waters 
 
 Bridge nor viaduct then knew. 
 Wide and broad the tasseled cornfields 
 
 Bustled in each passing breeze; 
 And the fruit of peach and apple 
 
 Bipened on the orchard trees; 
 Cattle slowly o'er the pastures 
 
 Fed upon the tender grass, 
 While their glossy sides reflected 
 
 Morning's sunlight as a glass; 
 Horses, hogs, and sheep, and cattle. 
 
 Cellars full, and bins of wheat. 
 And the song of reel and shuttle 
 
 Spake of living there complete. 
 
18 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 "Tents of Grace," our tragic village, 
 
 Was a garden in a waste; 
 Wide and straight its streets and alleys, 
 
 Cleanly kept with frugal taste; 
 Stone foundations had the houses, 
 
 Built on early settlers' plan, — 
 Logs and chinking, sticks and daubing. 
 
 Shingle roof the whole to span. 
 Near the center of the village 
 
 Stood the church with steepled tower, 
 Where the bell in calm vibrations 
 
 Tolled each evening's twilight hour; 
 And its mellow notes resounding 
 
 Rang each Sabbath morn's return 
 Of the sacred hour of teaching. 
 
 Whence the heathen all could learn 
 How, throughout the Bethl'hem valley, 
 
 People told one early morn. 
 In the manger of a stable 
 
 Had a Savior, Christ, been born. 
 Near the church of simple structure 
 
 Stood the "Mission House" and school, 
 Snugly nestled in the shadows 
 
 Of the giant elm trees cool. 
 There alike the Christian Indians 
 
 And their children learned to read 
 Both the Delaware and German 
 
 Tongues with acc'racy and speed. 
 There the acolytes and teachers 
 
 Trained and taught each forest child, 
 
THE CAPTURE 19 
 
 While the Mission Council governed 
 All with justice, tempered, mild. 
 
 As the August sun was sinking 
 
 O'er the woodlands to the west 
 Of that peaceful, happy village 
 
 On the fertile valley's breast, 
 Many workmen from their labors 
 
 Came to homes with hearts all light. 
 Glossy kine had freed their udders. 
 
 And the maids, e'er falling night. 
 Stored the basins in the cellars 
 
 With the milk of yellow glow% 
 While the rolls of cheese and butter 
 
 Made complete the luscious show. 
 Peacefully the men and women 
 
 Talked in homes and on the street; 
 Children, plump and healthy, happy. 
 
 Ran and gamboled wath limbs fleet; 
 Lovers wandered out the roadways 
 
 Leading toward the other towns, — 
 Schoenbrunn, Salem, Gnadenhutten, 
 
 Marked Moravian Missions' bounds; 
 And upon the rippling river 
 
 In each light canoe and boat. 
 In the lull of evening's twilight, 
 
 Happy ones did row or float; 
 Here and there low, plaintive music, 
 
 Wafted on the evening breeze 
 From the happy Indian voices. 
 
 Rose among the bow'rs and trees. 
 
20 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 II. 
 
 Sweet Lourell, the fairest daughter 
 
 Of the Tuscarawas town. 
 In a light canoe of birch bark 
 
 With the current floated down; 
 Willows dipped their sedgy branches; 
 
 Nodded every shaggy tree; 
 Birds among the leafy branches 
 
 Chirped a welcome; and the bee, 
 On its homeward errand speeding. 
 
 Seemed to slacken its fierce pace 
 When the sunbeams through the branches 
 
 Shone upon her lovely face. 
 On the seat a robe of bear skin. 
 
 Flung in loose yet artful way. 
 Looked a throne upon the waters 
 
 Where a dusky queen held sway. 
 In her hands the shining paddle 
 
 Dipped in silence 'neath the blue 
 Surface of the Tuscarawas, 
 
 Guiding on the light canoe. 
 Rich black hair in graceful volume 
 
 Fell in wave-folds down her back. 
 And her brown eyes scanned the shore-line 
 
 For her lover Jacob's track. 
 Jacob Senseman, her lover, 
 
 Waited silently and lone 
 On a fallen tree whose body 
 
 Was with willows overgrown. 
 
THE CAPTURE 21 
 
 Now he hails the floating craftsmaid; 
 
 Now she dips the paddle deep; 
 Now the light canoe is gliding 
 
 Toward the shore in graceful sweep; 
 Now within the bow she's sitting; 
 
 He is standing in the stern; 
 Lightly glide the boat and lovers, 
 
 At his steady stroke and firm. 
 
 We will not their conversation 
 
 Give in just each loving word, 
 For so softly was it uttered 
 
 That no list'ner could have heard. 
 Yet, he told her how the cottage 
 
 Home, almost completed, stood 
 Waiting early occupation; 
 
 How the garden, full a rood, 
 Had been fenced around with palings; 
 
 How within that little home 
 They would live in joy together 
 
 Through the happy years to come. 
 She, in all her maiden meekness, 
 
 Listened to each manly word, — 
 Listened, for they were the sweetest 
 
 That her ears had ever heard. 
 Yes, the thought to have her own home, 
 
 To a maid of eighteen years, 
 Thrills her with the hopes of woman, 
 
 Purges mind and heart of fears. 
 
22 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 Child she was of Netawatwes, 
 
 Sachem of the Del'ware race. 
 Though a child of savage monarch, 
 
 Christian faith did she embrace 
 Ere she reached the age of woman, 
 
 And her friends and forest home 
 Left to join the Christian Missions, 
 
 There a teacher to become. 
 Under guidance of Zeisberger 
 
 She had labored long and well, 
 Teaching Delawares their language 
 
 How to write and read and spell. 
 And in litanies and prayer songs 
 
 Of the Church's solemn rite 
 She the little ones instructed 
 
 At each dawn and each twilight. 
 Jacob, brawny, strong, athletic. 
 
 Just past twenty summers old, 
 Was the son of Chief Glikkikan, 
 
 Once a warrior fierce and bold. 
 In the seed time or the harvest 
 
 Jacob was the foremost one. 
 Working with his hands most willing 
 
 From the morn till set of sun; 
 He was born beyond the Mountains 
 
 Near the Susquehanna's wave, 
 Where no evergreen or headstone 
 
 Marks his mother's silent grave; 
 He the Delaware and German 
 
 And the English, too, could read. 
 And a sin-sick soul of sorrow 
 
 To the Savior's cross could lead. 
 
THE CAPTURE 23 
 
 III. 
 
 Unawares the happy couple 
 
 Drifted in a wide lagoon, 
 Where the dying sunlight glistened 
 
 Welcome to the half full moon. 
 Then, as oft it is with lovers, 
 
 Came a silent, thoughtful pause. 
 During which their souls drew nearer. 
 
 Consonant with Nature's laws. 
 Aimlessly the musing lovers 
 
 Drifted noiselessly along. 
 Till upon the evening silence 
 
 Rose glad voices joined in song; 
 For two pairs of Indian lovers 
 
 In a spacious, light canoe 
 Long had waited for the couple. 
 
 Then in silence near them drew. 
 They Lourell and Jacob welcomed 
 
 With this love song, ev'ry part. 
 Sung to mild, sweet, plaintive music. 
 
 Voiced the thoughts in Jacob's heart. 
 
 SONG 
 
 "When the suiisetting glow 
 
 Shoots its arrows of light 
 'Mong the boughs of the tall forest trees, 
 
 And its gleaming is spread 
 O'er the waters all bright, 
 
 And the wind is a soft, gentle breeze^ 
 Oh, it's then let me hie 
 
 To the low river's shore, 
 
24 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 With Lourell at my side ever true, 
 The smooth waves to glide o'er, 
 As we've oft done before, 
 
 While we ride in the birch bark canoe. 
 Sailing in the light canoe. 
 O'er the rippling waters blue. 
 We will rock and ride 
 With the river's tide, — 
 Sailing in the light canoe. 
 "As we glide o'er the waves. 
 
 Like a bird on the wing, 
 When the cares of the day are all o'er , 
 
 In her sweet, gentle voice 
 My Lourell, she will sing, 
 
 And low echoes resound from the shore. 
 Soon the stars, one by one. 
 
 Through the dome of the skies. 
 Slyly peep on the scene of our love, 
 
 But the sparkle I see 
 In her brown laughing eyes 
 
 Charms me more than the stars from above. 
 Sailing in the light canoe 
 O'er the rippling waters blue, 
 We will rock and ride 
 With the river's tide, — 
 Sailing in the light canoe. 
 
 "When the summer is gone, 
 
 And the meadows turn gray 
 And the leaves shine like gold in the sun, 
 
 With Lourell I will go 
 At the close of some day 
 
 To the church where we shall be made one. 
 Then the river of life, 
 
 WMth its ebb and its flow. 
 We will sail in our love-bark as true. 
 
 With a cargo of joy 
 
THE CAPTURE 25 
 
 As the days come and go, 
 
 As we sail in our birch bark canoe. 
 Sailing in the light canoe 
 O'er the rippling waters blue, 
 We will rock and ride 
 With the river's tide, — - 
 Sailing in the light canoe." 
 
 IV. 
 
 As the last sweet accents faintly 
 
 Echoed on the dewy breeze, 
 Footsteps broke the evening silence, 
 
 Hast'ning 'mong the forest trees. 
 As the branches spread above them 
 
 On the high bank from the town, 
 'Peared the face of Joe, the hunter, 
 
 Wearing *twixt a smile and frown. 
 He looked anxious and excited. 
 
 And each boating party cried: 
 "What is wrong? Why so excited?" 
 
 Then the hunter, true and tried, 
 Told that Elliott, the captain 
 
 Of the British Detroit men, 
 Half King, Pipe and many warriors 
 
 Were at Salem camping then: 
 That, beneath the cross of St. George, 
 
 They authority possessed 
 To compel removal of the 
 
 Christians to the far northwest. 
 Paled at once the maidens' faces 
 
 And each young man's brow knit stern, 
 As with all when glad occasions 
 
 Suddenly to sadness turn. 
 
26 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 Then a young man in the large boat 
 
 Was the first tlie spell to break. 
 And the other men and maidens 
 
 Listened while he calmly spake: 
 "Joe, the faithful hunter," said he, 
 
 "Is our trusted friend and tried, 
 And I fear the savage warriors 
 
 With the British have allied 
 And are ready for the war-path 
 
 'Gainst the colonies' frontier. 
 The success of such a movement 
 
 Deem they doubtful with us here 
 Mid-way 'tween Detroit and Fort Pitt. 
 
 Renegades, I surely know. 
 Have advised that all our people 
 
 From these villages should go. 
 Just because our doors are open 
 
 To all men, each renegade 
 Tells the British we are giving 
 
 Colonists much secret aid. 
 Sad 'twill be, if all this valley. 
 
 And our homes so long enjoyed. 
 And our churches, orchards, cattle. 
 
 In the war shall be destroyed." 
 Spake another: "While we're talking 
 
 Time is lost with nothing done : 
 Let us hie to bear the message 
 
 Of this danger to the town." 
 Dipped the oars and swift the smaller 
 
 Of the boats swept toward the land, 
 
THE CAPTURE 27 
 
 And the agile bound of Jacob 
 
 Placed him on the river's strand. 
 Then the voice of Joe, the hunter. 
 
 Calling from the farther shore 
 To be rowed across the waters. 
 
 Caught their ears. The dripping oar 
 Quickly grasped, Lourell unaided 
 
 Crossed lagoon and river's wave 
 To the shore where man and rifle 
 
 Waited for the aid she gave. 
 As the light boat dipped and started 
 
 With the hunter's force and weight. 
 Brambles parted in two places, 
 
 And six warriors, tall and straight. 
 Armed and painted for the war-path, 
 
 In the Shawnee language spake: 
 "Brothers, we harm not your people; 
 
 Come with us before too late: 
 Gen'ral Washington's defeated; 
 
 And our father, the great King, 
 Offers peace to you at Detroit. 
 
 'Tis his message we now bring." 
 Jacob calmly, sternly, answered: 
 
 "Chief, I speak in plain Shawnee 
 That you fail not understanding 
 
 The reply we have for thee. 
 Artful is thy tongue at speaking; 
 
 Treach'rous are thy heart and hand; 
 Go; we care not for the offer 
 
 Of the King of Britain's land." 
 
28 LOURELL, TttE INDIAN MAID 
 
 Wily warriors, somewhat daunted 
 At the plainness of their tongue, 
 
 Took with sullen looks the answer 
 Of disdain their message wrung. 
 
 At the conversation's closing 
 
 A wild Monsey Chieftain's son, 
 Eager for a fame at killing, 
 
 Raised, and then discharged a gun 
 At the hunter. As the water 
 
 Near Lourell splashed into spray, 
 Other shots plunged through the boat's side 
 
 Where her right hand gently lay. 
 Consternation seized the maiden; 
 
 Anger filled her lover's breast; 
 And the other Indian warriors 
 
 Loud rebukes at once addressed 
 To the thoughtless, youthful savage, 
 
 For his rash, impatient deed. 
 Then with silence, stealth, but quickly, 
 
 In the mesh of waving reed, 
 Disappeared each painted warrior; 
 
 Then the frightened maid Lourell 
 Bounded from the falt'ring water 
 
 Eager her escape to telL 
 Young men, maidens, and the hunter 
 
 Hastened to the village where 
 
THE CAPTURE 29 
 
 They, arriving, found the people 
 Filled with anxious, fearful care; 
 
 For the soldiers and the warriors 
 Just outside the village bound 
 
 Were encamped, and scouts were lurkin;^ 
 In the country all around. 
 
 V. 
 
 Mellow, doleful, from the belfry 
 
 Called the Mission Church's bell. 
 And the congregation gathered. 
 
 Hoping all might yet be well. 
 Zeisberger, the brave, the pious. 
 
 Waved for silence his right hand. 
 And the congregation, breathless. 
 
 Waited his revered command. 
 "Satan, surely," said he slowly, 
 
 "Works each subtle, wicked plan 
 To destroy God's every effort 
 
 For the betterment of man. 
 Brethren, fear not, neither tremble: 
 
 He, who Israel led of old. 
 Still wall care for us. His blessings 
 
 Follow all. Be brave, be bold; 
 Love thy enemies and bless those 
 
 That despitefully you treat. 
 Jesus blest his crucifiers. 
 
 Can we our destroyers meet 
 
30 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 With the knowledge that our Savior 
 
 Still sits on the mercy seat? 
 God Almighty, bless and keep us, 
 
 Guide and guard our actions when 
 Men despoil and Satan ruins. 
 
 Keep us sinless, Lord, Amen." 
 
 Sadly, soon the congregation 
 
 Homeward turned for thought and rest, 
 While the campfires of the soldiers 
 
 Lighted up the dark'ning west. 
 Lingered near the sacred altar 
 
 Jacob and Lourell awhile 
 To receive from loved Zeisberger 
 
 Helpful word and loving smile. 
 Zeisberger with the young couple 
 
 Slowly walked to Lourell's home, 
 Talking sadly of the future 
 
 And the probable outcome. 
 
 At the gate the pious preacher 
 
 Asked a blessing on the twain. 
 Then, the girl safe in her own home, 
 
 Back toward the church again 
 Walked the men. Their conversation 
 
 Lasted far into the night, 
 Ere they parted both sad-hearted 
 
 At the Mission's awful plight. 
 
THE CAPTURE ^1 
 
 VI. 
 
 In the early beams of sunlight 
 
 On the morning of next day, 
 Walking toward the Mission village, 
 
 Single file, in proud array. 
 Six athletic warrior chieftains 
 
 And some soldiers of the King 
 Came to meet the Missionaries, 
 
 And this message to them bring: 
 Half King: "Christian men and women, 
 
 White or brown, we come to you 
 As your friends and benefactors. 
 
 All we say to you is true. 
 We beseech you, leave this valley. 
 
 Ere the Long Knives' thirst for blood 
 Causes murder of your converts. 
 
 And destroys your work of good. 
 Truthful, fair and fully fertile 
 
 Are Sandusky River's plains. 
 They are yours. Come, bring your people 
 
 Where no fear of Whites remains." 
 
 Zeisberger, with full composure, 
 
 Was the Christian first to speak: 
 "We are harmless; we are neutral; 
 
 Blood nor plunder do we seek. 
 Savage, whether White or Indian, 
 
 Christian, whether white or red. 
 All are welcome to our victuals. 
 
 All are welcome to a bed, 
 
32 LOURELL. THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 When affairs of life may call them 
 
 To our towns by night or day. 
 Go; we thank you for your offer. 
 
 But 'tis better that we stay." 
 Edwards, faithful Christian worker, 
 
 Added : "We dwell now in peace 
 With the Colonists and Britons; 
 
 From your mandate give release. 
 Leave us that we may continue 
 
 Where success our efforts crowns; 
 Leave us and no treach'rous act shall 
 
 Come to you from "Mission Towns." 
 
 Jacob spake in Indian language, 
 
 (Which I willingly translate) : 
 "Mischief somewhere has been active; 
 
 Lies and frauds and wrongs of late 
 Have been told and done on purpose 
 
 To destroy our homes and wealth. 
 Briton, colonist, and savage 
 
 Are deceived by fraud and stealth 
 Of some w^hite men, worse than Indians, 
 
 Living each a dual life, 
 Bearing tales 'tween fort and frontier 
 
 Falsely to prolong the strife. 
 Go; and true as eastern sunrise, 
 
 True as Tuscarawas' blue. 
 True as is Almighty's promise. 
 
 Naught from us shall hap to you." 
 
THE CAPTURE 33 
 
 Further spake he: "Though a young man, 
 
 One suggestion let me add: 
 Let us all think o'er this question — 
 
 Weigh the good and weigh the bad. 
 We are heavy now in substance. 
 
 Look! Our stock and household goods, 
 Corn, three hundred acres rip'ning. 
 
 And our garnered grain and foods, 
 Are too much to think of moving 
 
 On the notice of a day. 
 Wait to talk the matter over; 
 
 Grant a busy, short delay." 
 Half King: "We are here in friendship, 
 
 And a fortnight will sojourn 
 For an answer to the message. 
 
 Before starting to return." 
 
 VIL 
 
 Brightly burned the tallow candles 
 
 On a mild September eve 
 In the cheerful home of Shebosh 
 
 Where his good wife strove to weave 
 Cloth for winter-wearing garments. 
 
 In the same room sat Lourell 
 With some little Indian children 
 
 Eager, each, to learn to spell 
 And to read. Their lessons finished. 
 
 They in hoods and capes homespun, 
 
34 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 With the mothers who were waiting, 
 
 Bade good night and started home. 
 Children's books and charts were gathered 
 
 By Lourell to place away. 
 When a light rap on the front door 
 
 Caused the Indian host to say: 
 "Come; the house of Shebosh always 
 
 Open will be found to all 
 Seeking sleep, food, or instruction 
 
 Of the Savior." At the call, 
 Zeisberger and Jacob entered 
 
 Through the wide, unbolted door. 
 Chairs were ofifered and accepted. 
 
 A short silence followed; for. 
 Though a message was expected, 
 
 All reluctant were to hear 
 It announced, lest news unwelcome 
 
 Be in store for ev'ry ear. 
 Silently the stalwart lover 
 
 And the preacher, each adored. 
 Waited as for an inquiry. 
 
 Earnestly Lourell implored 
 That the two speak plain and fully 
 
 Of the outlook, good or bad. 
 For the future of the Missions, 
 
 If such knowledge either had, 
 
THE CAPTURE 35 
 
 Calmly, solemnly, Zeisberger 
 
 Told how still the warriors felt 
 Toward the Missions and the converts. 
 
 Then in prayer all present knelt. 
 Worship over, all the children 
 
 Of the household sought the bed, 
 After which the men and women 
 
 Talked, while by a swift hour sped. 
 Suddenly, with ling'ring echoes. 
 
 Rang the savage war-whoop cry. 
 As outstanding barns and houses. 
 
 Burning, lit the autumn sky. 
 From the rest Lourell and Jacob 
 
 Hastened, e'er the others thought. 
 By a path across the out-lots 
 
 To their new home they were brought, 
 Which they entered in the darkness. 
 
 And in silence held their breath. 
 For the scalp-yell of the Indians 
 
 Seemed to speak of certain death. 
 To the church came Missionaries, 
 
 Helpers, Christians, full a score, 
 Seeking cause for so much arson 
 
 And such savage, wild uproar. 
 From the Shebosh home Zeisberger 
 
 Hastened, followed by the host, 
 Only to behold for certain 
 
 That the Missions' hopes were lost. 
 Loud above the savage clamor 
 
 Rang a Briton's clear command: 
 "Capture ev'ry Missionary, 
 
 And secure them, foot and hand." 
 
36 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAl£) 
 
 Down the street in broken order 
 
 Hurried British soldiers ten. 
 Closely followed by some warriors. 
 
 Bent on tearing scalps from men 
 Ere a public trial be given. 
 
 And without resisting move 
 Chains were placed upon Zeisberger 
 
 While he uttered prayers of love. 
 
 Then the soldiers, under orders, 
 
 Heckewelder, Edwards, bound 
 Hand and foot, and left all lying 
 
 Helplessly upon the ground, 
 Guarded by a score of warriors. 
 
 When the soldiers passed from sight, 
 Savage thirst for blood and torture 
 
 Overcame all thoughts of right; 
 And the helpless, bounden pris'ners 
 
 Each in turn the object was 
 Of the insults, threats and torments 
 
 Common to the savage laws; 
 And from off each bruised and bleeding 
 
 Body all the clothes were torn. 
 By the greedy captors that they 
 
 Might express their deepest scorn. 
 
THE CAPTURE 37 
 
 Torches made of clustered fagots 
 Soon were lighted, and the mob 
 
 Started with the unresisting 
 Captives, pious men of God, 
 
 VIII. 
 By a route both safe and secret 
 
 Jacob and Lourell then hied 
 To the British camp at Salem, 
 
 Ere the captives might be tried. 
 In the thickly clustered bushes 
 
 By the river's eastern side 
 Jacob knew a boat was hidden, 
 
 Which the river's waves would ride 
 With his weight and Lourell's also. 
 
 Soon the noiseless, little craft 
 Was upon the darkened river 
 
 With the village far to aft. 
 
 Noiselessly with speed and caution, 
 
 'Twixt the overhanging boughs. 
 Rowed the lovers, while in whispers 
 
 They renewed the lovers' vows. 
 When the long four intervening 
 
 Miles of river were passed o'er 
 With the same good care and caution 
 
 Jacob brought the craft ashore. 
 To the Salem Mission village 
 
 Hastened Jacob and Lourell, 
 
38 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 Where were found some Indian converts 
 
 And some teachers, guarded well 
 By a squad of British soldiers. 
 
 Though no violence was done, 
 All were kept within the village 
 
 Under picket, sword and gun. 
 Ere an hour, the bounden preachers 
 
 Filed into the Salem camp. 
 Shivering and sick and hungry, 
 
 For the air was cold and damp. 
 But the British Captain feeling 
 
 Some remorse, an order gave 
 That sufficient clothes be furnished 
 
 To the captives, so to save 
 Them such vile humiliation. 
 
 On the morrow, guarded o'er. 
 Into Salem other Missions' 
 
 Congregations both did pour. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Days wore by and, though no converts' 
 
 Hands were tied or limbs were bound, 
 Still the pious, captive preachers 
 
 To stakes driven in the ground 
 Were kept tied. The savage customs. 
 
 Bites, and laws in camp were kept; 
 And the chanted scalp-song often 
 
 Fell on ears that fain had slept. 
 
THE CAPTURE 39 
 
 X. 
 
 On the fifth day from the capture 
 
 Elliott to the preachers came 
 Saying: "On your earnest promise, 
 
 Made by each in God's own name, 
 That your converts will not longer 
 
 Thwart our orders, the King's will, 
 I will now bestow upon you 
 
 Freedom for some days, until 
 You and all your Indian converts 
 
 Pack your goods and ready be 
 For removal from this valley 
 
 To the plains of Sandusky." 
 Each one promised: "We are willing; 
 
 And at once we will prepare 
 For the change; we're fully trusting 
 
 That God's blessing meet us there." 
 
 When the converts heard that final 
 
 Was the British Chief's command 
 Much they murmured at the leaving 
 
 Of their homes and fruitful land. 
 After prayers and exhortations 
 
 And new pledges made the Lord, 
 Acquiesced the congregations 
 
 With no further act or word 
 Done or spoken 'gainst removal. 
 
 In each mind this thought alone 
 Urged decision : "Soon they'll free us. 
 
 And in peace we'll come back home." 
 
40 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 On the ninth day of September 
 
 Christians of the Missions three 
 Gathered in the church at Salem; 
 
 And, on reverent, bended knee, 
 Each implored the God of Heaven 
 
 Strength and guidance to bestow. 
 Then the Reverend Heckewelder 
 
 In a sad, sweet voice, but low, 
 Preached a farewell, touching sermon 
 
 On the love of God to man. 
 Though encompassed round by soldiers, 
 
 Still so well the discourse ran 
 That in face of such disaster 
 
 One poor soul who wore red skin 
 Was baptized, received communion. 
 
 Praised the Christ and turned from sin. 
 
 XL 
 
 Two days more, and at the sunrise 
 
 All were ready, and the start 
 Of the long, unhappy journey 
 
 Was begun. A tithing part 
 Of provisions and belongings 
 
 On pack-horses, in canoes. 
 Was attempted to be taken; 
 
 And in homemade, leathern shoes 
 Male and female, young and aged, 
 
 Into forests wild, untrod. 
 Marched, a band of Christian exiles, 
 
 Singing praises unto God. 
 
THE CAPTURE 41 
 
 Down the wide Muskingum River 
 
 Aided by the current blue, 
 Brawny men, the laden flat-boats. 
 
 Hour by hour, the waters through 
 Urged with vim, and under guidance 
 
 Giv'n by Jacob, loud and bold, 
 Till they reached the town Coshocton, 
 
 Savage Delawares* stronghold. 
 Here the boats were moored; and landed 
 
 Sick, infirm, and nursing babe. 
 While upon the leaking vessels. 
 
 Men, repairs much needed, made. 
 Then upon Walhonding*s waters, 
 
 'Gainst the tide and each wave-crest, 
 Moved the fleet and band in sadness. 
 
 Toward the barren, bleak Northwest. 
 Sultry day, and dewy night, winds 
 
 Of autumnal equinox 
 Lasted 'till the weary trav'lers 
 
 Passed the White Eyes Town and Rocks. 
 Then the winds blew strong and stronger 
 
 'Till it seemed a surging gale 
 In the trees and forest caverns 
 
 Sang a requiem. Rain and hail, 
 Thrown from angry clouds low hanging 
 
 By the thunder's battle pow'r. 
 Fell in torrents on the homeless; 
 
 Darkness fell ere sunset hour. 
 Blue, quick darts and zigzag flashes 
 
 Of the lightnings through the sky, 
 
42 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAIt) 
 
 Threat'ning death, caused men to shudder. 
 
 Women murmur, children cry. 
 'Neath a ledge of rock o'erhanging. 
 
 Those on shore a camp had made. 
 Ere the hast'ning, murky twilight 
 
 Was replaced by night's deep shade. 
 Craftsmen moored the boats with long lines 
 
 To strong trees on either side 
 Of the river, thus designing 
 
 That the boats the floods might ride. 
 
 Jacob and the other young men 
 
 Large dry rolls of blankets brought 
 For the beds. The weary children 
 
 Soon in dreams their fears forgot; 
 Mothers lulled their fretful babies; 
 
 And the camp soon soundly slept, 
 While around them fearless young men 
 
 Through the night their vigils kept. 
 
 Still the rain came down in torrents; 
 
 Still the lightning cleft the sky; 
 Still the winds among the forests 
 
 Echoed thunders from on high. 
 By the light the burning fagots 
 
 Made about the wildwood there 
 Jacob chopped and gathered firewood, — 
 
 For the morrow did prepare. 
 Constantly while he was working 
 
 Was Lourell the first in mind; 
 For somewhere was she then camping 
 
 In the same storm, rain and wind. 
 
THE; CAPTURE 43 
 
 Just across the rugged hilltop. 
 
 Less than half a mile away, 
 Were encamped the other pilgrims. 
 
 Pack-horses around them lay. 
 And around those stood some soldiers. 
 
 Picketed with British skill. 
 Farther out the Indian watchmen 
 
 Scouted 'round the camp at will. 
 
 On the morrow 'twas decided 
 
 That a day and night's delay 
 Be enjoyed by all the exiles — 
 
 The first rest upon the way 
 To the Northwest. Ere the evening. 
 
 Messengers came to the camp 
 And told how^ the pack-horse comp'ny 
 
 Had progressed. Through forest damp, 
 With the messengers returning, 
 
 Jacob found his loved Lourell; 
 And they spent two hours together 
 
 While he earnestly did tell 
 Her of all his plans for future 
 
 Actions at the "Captives' Town" 
 Of themselves and other Christians, 
 
 Whether white or whether brown. 
 Tlie next day, the storm abating. 
 
 Both the camps were joined as one. 
 And, thenceforth to Plains Sandusky, 
 
 Heartsick, marched they sadly on. 
 
44 LOURfeLL, THE INDIAN MA16 
 
 XII. 
 
 Thence were hurried Missionaries 
 
 To Detroit for trial, but they 
 At a hearing were acquitted; 
 
 And, at dawn the fol'wing day, 
 Back they started through the wintry 
 
 Storms to reach the exiled flock; 
 Where was found a faith and suff'ring 
 
 Like to that at Plymouth Rock. 
 During all the dreary winter 
 
 Jacob labored, faithful, well, 
 To relieve from hunger's passion 
 
 With his rifle; and Lourell 
 Passed among the mothers gently 
 
 At the Missionaries' call, 
 Telling how the Beth'lem Savior 
 
 Lived and suffered, died for all. 
 
 Early came the springtime breezes, 
 
 Melting snow from trace and trail. 
 Bringing to these starving Christians' 
 
 Minds that Tuscarawas' vale 
 Held its acres, still ungarnered. 
 
 Of the food-producing corn. 
 At a meeting 'twas arranged that. 
 
 On the coming second morn, 
 One and half a hundred people 
 
 To the valley should return; 
 
THE CAPTURE 45 
 
 Gather food; and with pack-horses 
 
 Make a speedy, safe return. 
 Jacob and Lourell were chosen 
 
 To accompany that band 
 Back to Tuscaraw^as' valley. 
 
 Back to their beloved land. 
 
^ 
 
 L 
 
 
 M\' 
 
 WH 
 
 9 
 
 MONUMENT AT GNADENHUTTEN, OHIO 
 
 It marks the spot of the massacre of ninety-six Christian 
 Indians, March, 1782. 
 
PART THE SECOND 
 
 THE MASSACRE 
 
THE MASSACRE 49 
 
 I. 
 
 Out on the far western frontier 
 
 Where civilization then pressed 
 'Gainst the dark, unbroken forest 
 
 In hope of acquiring the West; 
 Out near the colony's limits, 
 
 Established and founded by Penn 
 As an asylum forever 
 
 For God-loving women and men; 
 There in the autumn and winter 
 
 That followed the foul banishment, 
 Angered, provoked, and disheartened, 
 
 The settlers their feelings gave vent; 
 Planning the annihilation 
 
 Of all of the "Middleway Towns," 
 Hoping such act would secure them 
 
 From murder, impris'nment,and wounds. 
 Dreary and lonely and slowly 
 
 The long winter days wore away 
 In the rude forts where the women 
 
 And children were all forced to stay. 
 
 II. 
 
 Joseph Vance, stern but kind-hearted. 
 One eve at a mass meeting's close, 
 
 Which had been held in his cabin, 
 
 Spake: "Brethren and sisters, the woes 
 
50 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 Suffered a year now and over 
 
 Demand our attention again. 
 Springtime is coming upon us, 
 
 Shall we once again plant in vain?" 
 Rising the pale-faced young preacher, 
 
 In touching and tender tones, told 
 How he had dreamed while last sleeping 
 
 A tribe his fiancee did hold 
 Pris'ner in lone, smoky wigwam; 
 
 Told how he beheld her sad eyes. 
 Heard her prayers asking deliv'rance. 
 
 And heard her most pitiful cries; 
 How, in the dream, she was hopeful 
 
 And held to her faith in her God. 
 "Hush!" said a man by the window, 
 
 And gave one significant nod. 
 Moments passed by while the speechless. 
 
 Sad-countenanced listeners stood 
 Waiting in breathless excitement. 
 
 Then out 'mong the stumps near the wood 
 Broke into view in the clearing 
 
 A band of some twenty-five men, 
 Who hurried down o'er the hillside, 
 
 Then turned toward the cabin again. 
 Soon, with a wave of his right hand. 
 
 The watcher relieved the dread still, 
 Saying, "A number of white men 
 
 Are hastening up the small hill." 
 
 On they came, not even heeding 
 The faithful dogs' howling and roar 
 
THE MASSACRE 51 
 
 At the intrusion. Then halting, 
 
 One knocked at the cabin's low door. 
 Not was the latchstring protruded, 
 
 But with a strong, muscular hand 
 Vance raised the latch, the door opened, 
 
 And thus did he speak to the band: 
 "Whence and wherefore at this late hour 
 
 Come you to mj^ cabin to-night?" 
 Answered the foremost : "To tell you 
 
 Of our neighbor's Indian fight. 
 One and a half miles to nortlnvard 
 
 Of Briceland's Crossroads near the wood. 
 Lonely and all unprotected, 
 
 His snug little cabin home stood. 
 He on a trip to old Fort Pitt 
 
 Was gone for a night and two days, 
 During which came savage warriors 
 
 And set to his house a fierce blaze. 
 Wife and three children in terror 
 
 The burning home all quickly fled 
 Into the arms of the outlaws, 
 
 And were to captivity led. 
 When he returned there were traces 
 
 Of struggles where children and wife 
 Combatted vainly 'gainst capture, 
 
 And fiercely for freedom and life. 
 All of his goods have been plundered, 
 
 All his live-stock has been killed, 
 All of his family taken — 
 
 With vengeance his bosom is filled." 
 
52 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 Loud from the men, who had thus far 
 
 Stood silent, dire murmurs arose, 
 Mob-like supporting each method 
 
 Suggested to deal with such foes. 
 Out from the cabin excited 
 
 Came w^omen and children in dread, 
 Eager to learn all the details 
 
 And catch ev'ry word that was said. 
 They, in the rudest of quarters. 
 
 The winter had spent in the fort; 
 Of such a springtime intrusion. 
 
 They trembled to hear the report. 
 Seeing the fear of the women, 
 
 The full helplessness of each child. 
 Men who had wives or had children 
 
 As pris'ners detained b}^ the wild, 
 Savage tribes west of the river, 
 
 Grew frenzied and held not their ire. 
 Unobserved some thoughtful young men 
 
 Had set a large log heap afire. 
 Close in the light of the new flames. 
 
 Near Washington Township's stockade, 
 Gathered the whole congregation. 
 
 And many strong speeches were made. 
 Urging a telling chastisement 
 
 Be given each Indian clan. 
 Motion was made and was carried 
 
 By vote of each woman and man. 
 
THE MASSACRE S3 
 
 On the next day, which was Sunday, 
 
 They met at the cabin again, 
 Praying all day without ceasing, 
 
 The effort would not be in vain. 
 
 III. 
 
 Daylight was pushing the night-shades 
 
 From out the cloud banks of the fog 
 Hanging above the Ohio, 
 
 When near to the wide Mingo bog 
 Could have been seen a small number 
 
 Of men, as the gray morning broke, 
 List'ning with eager attention 
 
 To words David Williamson spoke. 
 Coming toward Mingo Bottoms, 
 
 On horseback or straggling afoot, 
 Singly, in squads, or in couples, 
 
 And armed both to murder and loot. 
 Men to an uncertain number, 
 
 A hundred, perhaps sixty more, 
 Gathered at will in disorder. 
 
 Upon the Ohio's east shore. 
 Crossing the river, they halted 
 
 And waited till all were convened. 
 Order was partly established, 
 
 And Williamson, honored, esteemed 
 For his past brave deeds of valor. 
 
 And who was a colonel in rank. 
 Was by the men chosen leader, 
 
 Ere leaving the river's west bank. 
 
54 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 Tuesday, the fifth of the third month, 
 
 One tliousand sev'n hundred eight'-two, 
 Straggling in haste and confusion, 
 
 From civilization they drew, 
 And took the trail, the Moravian, 
 
 O'er hilltop, through swamp and through 
 glen. 
 To rob, to scalp and to murder 
 
 All children, all women and men. 
 Who, by the province of nature. 
 
 Wore skin tinged, through unreckoned 
 time. 
 Red, from the smoke in the wigwam 
 
 And life in the wild western clime. 
 Many were boys, not yet twenty, 
 
 Whose minds on adventure were bent; 
 Many were men of matured years; 
 
 And freely their aid some scouts lent; 
 Also the pious young preacher 
 
 When camped with the band on each 
 night 
 Talked of some Biblical warfare 
 
 And prayed for direction aright. 
 Ere the March sun had quite faded 
 
 On Wednesday, Big Stillwater's wave 
 Bore up the rafts of the footmen 
 
 And sides of the horses did lave. 
 
THE MASSACRE 55 
 
 Less than a mile farther westward 
 
 They went into camp for the night, 
 Waiting reports of the few scouts 
 
 And waiting the coming of light. 
 Supper was over when scout men 
 
 Returning, deceitfully said: 
 "From our long day's busy searching 
 
 We think that the Christians have fled, 
 And quite a band of the savage 
 
 Are busily gathering corn 
 In the large fields o'er the river. 
 
 We think that at dawn of the morn 
 Men should be sent to surround them, 
 
 Secure their few arms through a ruse, 
 Capture them all ere the nightfall, 
 
 And kill all of them that refuse 
 Quiet and peaceful surrender." 
 
 When Williamson heard the report 
 He called a vote. A few speeches 
 
 Were made, but were pointed and short. 
 Spake in tones solemn and tender 
 
 The preacher, the young gospel man, 
 Asking that mercy and kindness 
 
 Be shown to each peaceable clan. 
 Urged he again with true ardor. 
 
 That women and children be spared; 
 Also the men who were Christians. 
 
 He talked full as strong as he dared; 
 For there were none who believed the 
 
 Reports of the scouts were untrue. 
 While he exhorted, men singly 
 
 To tents or to blankets withdrew 
 
56 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 For the night's sleep. Dying embers 
 Their fitful, uncertain lights shed 
 
 Soon over men who were sleeping 
 As sound as though each were abed. 
 
 IV. 
 
 True to their long-practiced custom, 
 
 The civil, red Christians awoke 
 And were prepared for their labors 
 
 The moment the new morning broke. 
 Five days last past had the Christians 
 
 Worked faithfully gathering food; 
 And they had planned on next morning 
 
 To start on the trail through the wood, 
 Back to the plains of Sandusky 
 
 With many sacks filled with the grain; 
 Back to their friends who were starving. 
 
 And back to the desolate Plain. 
 
 During those five days of labor. 
 
 Each evening the chapel bells rang, 
 Calling the three congregations 
 
 To worship. They prayed and they 
 sang — 
 Sang as they did the last summer — 
 
 And worshiped the Lord without fear. 
 Often the leaders exhorted 
 
 And all were in happiest cheer. 
 Of the small children in daytime 
 
 Lourell and her helpers had care. 
 Jacob had acted as captain 
 
 To whom, without dignified air, 
 All of the laborers reported, 
 
 From each town at setting of sun, 
 
tHE MASSACRE 57 
 
 How many sacks had been gathered, 
 
 And how all the work had been done. 
 Joe and two other sly hunters 
 
 Each day from the neighboring wood 
 Fm-nished abundance of wild game, 
 
 So there was no wanting of food. 
 Thus, on each day they were working. 
 
 Care-free and removed from all fears. 
 Could have been heard their glad voices 
 
 Commingled with husking of ears. 
 
 Fully an hour before breakfast 
 
 Was eaten by Williamson's men 
 Jacob and the other helpers 
 
 Had planned a day's labor again. 
 Three of the most stalwart young men 
 
 To go to Schoenbrunn were detailed, 
 Help and assistance to offer 
 
 In work that the few there had failed 
 Of a completion. And Jacob 
 
 To join those at Salem made haste 
 That the last day's preparation 
 
 Be done. There was no time to waste; 
 Yet, ere he left, at Lourell's house 
 
 He tarried while swift moments flew; 
 Vcws were renewed, and he kissed her. 
 
 And bade her a lover's adieu. 
 As they both thought, till tfie evening. 
 
 To meet her at twilight again : 
 Deeds of the day that was breaking 
 
 Made hopes of that meeting in vain. 
 
58 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAlf) 
 
 While the young men by the river 
 
 Made haste for Schoenbrunn to depart. 
 They three young women invited 
 
 To join them; for Cupid's swift dart 
 Often had sped in direction 
 
 Of hearts fully fertile for love. 
 In those young men and pure maidens — • 
 
 Those maidens, each meek as a dove. 
 So 'twas arranged, and the young men 
 
 Found each of the maidens a seat 
 In the large boat on the river. 
 
 And then did a young woman greet 
 Them with the hope that the journey 
 
 And day be o'er spread with blue skies. 
 Looking to landward the party 
 
 Beheld Lourell's brown laughing eyes, 
 There 'neath the boughs of a maple, 
 
 As she, in the gray morning's dawn, 
 Walked on the bank of the river, 
 
 As graceful as ere did the fawn. 
 As of one voice the whole party 
 
 Insisted, till laughing Lourell 
 Boarded the craft and was seated. 
 
 In order the oars rose and fell. 
 As the young men and the maidens 
 
 And boat glided forth on their way, 
 Over the blue Tuscarawas 
 
 As noiseless as broke the new day. 
 More than an hour spent in rowing 
 
 Those young people that early morn. 
 Ere they were landed at Schoenbrunn 
 
 To help in the gath'ring of corn. 
 
THE MASSACRE 59 
 
 V. 
 
 Meanwhile the three wily hunters 
 
 Out eastward had hastened alert, 
 Anxious to kill e'en the young fawn 
 
 Yet not an old bruin to hurt. 
 Though they were true western hunters 
 
 And prided in title as such, 
 Unless the aim was one certain. 
 
 The trigger would none of them touch. 
 F.ach in a chosen direction 
 
 Moved, careful, in quest of wild game. 
 Joe, just by chance to a quiet. 
 
 Sequestered and lonely spot came. 
 Resting, his mind flashed in mem'ries 
 
 To her whom he loved years agone 
 Back at the New England homestead. 
 
 Where often they wandered alone, 
 Talking of love to each other, 
 
 While only the moon saw and heard. 
 Back to his eyes came her features. 
 
 And back to his ears came each word 
 Spoken by her whom he cherished. 
 
 When youthful hopes, thrilling his breast, 
 Caused him to think that a fortune 
 
 A.nd home could be found in the West. 
 Out of his hunting coat's pocket, 
 
 A pocket not often disturbed. 
 Took he a New England paper, 
 
 From which, though the printing was 
 blurred, 
 
60 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MA16 
 
 Still he could read of a wedding. 
 
 That marked a sad date in his life. 
 Wherein his New England sweetheart 
 
 Became a Bostonian's wife. 
 Turning by chance the old paper, 
 
 He saw on the back of it, then 
 For the first time, and he read this, 
 
 A poem from nobody's pen : 
 
 POEM. 
 
 "Half way down a rocky ledge, 
 
 On a shelf of stone, 
 Hanging o'er the water's edge, 
 
 Had a wild flow'r grown. 
 
 "On the summit of the cliff 
 
 Stood a tourist true; 
 Near a shelving shore his skiff 
 
 Played on waters blue. 
 
 "Rare the wild flow'rs in his hand; 
 
 Yet, unpleased, his eye 
 O'er the precipice still scanned 
 
 Twixt the sea and sky. 
 
 "Still he peered; and then he saw 
 
 There a flower, lone, 
 Clinging to an earthy flaw 
 
 In the rugged stone. 
 
 "At his feet he treasures threw; 
 
 All his pow'rs of mind 
 Set to work to frame anew 
 
 Plans that flow'r to find. 
 
THE MASSACRE 61 
 
 "Down the barren, dang'rous ledge 
 
 Climbed he carefully 
 Till he reached the earth shelf's edge; 
 
 Gently, tenderly, 
 
 "Plucked the treasure rare; and then 
 
 Fondly kissed its face. 
 All forgot his dangers, when 
 
 Slipped his foothold brace. 
 
 '■'Treasured flow'r and man as one 
 
 Dashed to death below; 
 And 'tis thought today by some 
 
 Fate had willed it so." 
 
 To himself talking the hunter 
 
 In audible tones spake, but low: 
 "Strange it is that I have carried 
 
 This paper where'er I might go, 
 Reading in lodge or in wigwam 
 
 Or mission, by night and by day, 
 Often this wedding announcement, 
 
 Yet never this beautiful lay 
 Noticed." In silence he sat there. 
 
 His thoughts by the New England shore, 
 Where he had learned that a grave-stone 
 
 The name of the lost one then bore. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Was that a crying or pleading 
 Voice wafted upon the still air 
 
 From the cornfields by the river? 
 Joe, listening, noted despair 
 
62 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 In the wild tones of the speaker. 
 
 At once, Joe's deep reverie broke; 
 Grasped he the flint-lock beside him; 
 
 At hearing each dull, dead'ning stroke 
 As of the butt of a musket 
 
 Upon a defenseless man's head. 
 Into the cornfield the hunter 
 
 Made haste and found Glikkikan dead — 
 Dead, with the warm blood still oozing 
 
 From wounds whence the scalp had been 
 torn 
 By the white men fast retreating 
 
 And hiding themselves in the corn. 
 Turning the warm, lifeless body, 
 
 The hunter felt for the heart beat. 
 This was in vain. His eyes rising 
 
 Did those of a white stranger meet. 
 Choking with sorrow the preacher 
 
 In faltering accents then told 
 That a large army was present 
 
 The Indians all to enfold 
 Captives, and hold as war pris'ners 
 
 And keep them by martial law force. 
 Listened the hunter in silence 
 
 While viewing his friend's mangled 
 corse. 
 As the sunbeams of a morning 
 
 Expel from each crevice and nook 
 Shades of the night, so the statements 
 
 The preacher made, and his sad look, 
 Brought to the mind of the hunter 
 
 A sense of the sorrowful fate 
 
THE MASSACRE 63 
 
 Planned for the sojourning converts: 
 He heard all, but learned it too late. 
 
 VII. 
 From the dead man and young preacher 
 
 The hunter a hasty retreat 
 To his two hunter companions, 
 
 Through cornfield and o'er heather, beat. 
 Bringing together his comrades, 
 
 Joe told of the murder just done, 
 While the two other men listened 
 
 In silence. Then speaking, each one 
 Urged that alarm should be given 
 
 The three bands out gathering grain. 
 Christians at towns, Gnadenhutten 
 
 And Salem, the late informed twain 
 Volunteered warning of danger 
 
 To carry in detail with speed. 
 Likewise the workers at Schoenbrunn 
 
 To w^arn, Joe, the hunter, agreed. 
 Fleet as a deer Joe, the hunter, 
 
 To those near the "Beautiful Spring" 
 Hastened the bad news to carry. 
 
 As frightened birds take to the wing. 
 So from the cornfields at Schoenbrunn 
 
 The Christians alarmed did depart. 
 Favored by Lourell's bright presence. 
 
 Though sad was the maiden at heart. 
 On through the day pressed they westward, 
 
 With pack-horses laden with grain; 
 On from the murder by white men; 
 
 And on toward Sanduskan Plain. 
 
6i LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Meanwhile the other two hunters 
 
 Had tried, but had failed to alarm 
 Friends at the other two Missions, 
 
 Who, feeling themselves free from harm 
 Coming from hands of the white men, 
 
 Gave ear to the peace and the joy 
 Said to be waiting at Fort Pitt. 
 
 Allurements to aid the decoy 
 Williamson's men used so deftly 
 
 That willingly each peaceful man 
 Gave up his arms and surrendered. 
 
 And plans for removal began. 
 Williamson's men with true ardor. 
 
 The wicked plot further to plan, 
 Spake, in words sounding of friendship, 
 
 That, back where the Ohio ran. 
 Christian friends lovingly waited 
 
 To give the "Brown Brethren" a home 
 Under old Fort Pitt's protection 
 
 Where Briton nor Warrior dared roam. 
 
 Thus by the white men were gathered 
 The bands of the two Mission towns 
 
 Near to the one, Gnadenhutten, 
 
 Where, mingled with smiles and with 
 frowns. 
 
 Spake to the captives, the captors: 
 "The guise of our friendship and love 
 
THE MASSACRE 65 
 
 Now we must lift, and inform you 
 
 Your lives are the aim of this move. 
 Pris'ners of war we now hold you, 
 
 And death, without hope of reprieve, — 
 Death to you all is the sentence; 
 
 This only our aim will achieve. 
 Spies, lurking here for the English, 
 
 Are you in the gUise of a faith 
 Teaching of life everlasting, 
 
 Prepare you, at once, to meet death!" 
 
 As, when the guests are assembled 
 
 In parlors with colors adorned, 
 Mingled with roses and lilies 
 
 And blossoms of orange dethorned, 
 And to the marital altar 
 
 The pastor steps, sacred of stride, 
 Joyously anticipating 
 
 Approach of the bridegroom and bride; 
 Shrieks of the bridemaids, excited, 
 
 Are heard in the chambers above, 
 Causing some neighborly matrons 
 
 With noiseless steps, hast'ly to move; 
 Speechless, pale, dazed and in wonder 
 
 Stand pastor, guests, parents and all: 
 So stood the converts at hearing 
 
 The fate that to them was to fall. 
 
66 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 Agnes, a maiden of culture 
 
 From college years spent in the East, 
 Spake to the captors in English 
 
 From Williamson down to the least 
 Youthful adventu'er among them. 
 
 On bended knees, pleading the cause 
 Not of herself, but the others. 
 
 She quoted from Biblical laws. 
 All of her efforts were fruitless; 
 
 For Williamson, answering, spoke, 
 "Death to you all was decided 
 
 In camp by a yea and nay vote." 
 Jacob then spake to the Colonel: 
 
 "All arms you have captured and hold 
 Bound are our men, while the women 
 
 And children 3^our pickets enfold: 
 Grant us, as submissive captives. 
 
 Delay of the sentence till morn. 
 That we for wrongs make atonement 
 
 And none die in sin and forlorn." 
 Bravely the hopeful, sad preacher 
 
 To Williamson's side nobly came, 
 Earnestly urging the respite 
 
 Be granted in God's holy name. 
 Though from the captors loud murmurs 
 
 And fierce imprecations arose, 
 Williamson granted the respite. 
 
 Then went to his tent to repose. 
 
THE MASSACRE 67 
 
 IX. 
 
 Throughout the night the young preacher 
 
 Exhorted and told of the faitli 
 He had in life everlasting, 
 
 Awaiting the spirit at death. 
 Jacob, his hands tied behind him. 
 
 Assisted in each Christian move 
 Made by the preacher preparing 
 
 The Indian souls for above. 
 
 Sobbings and prayers of contrition, 
 
 ' As passed the fleet hours of the night, 
 
 Were by brave anthems of praises 
 
 Succeeded ere coming of light. 
 From their high places in heaven. 
 
 It seemed that the stars on that night 
 Kept their lone vigils in silence, 
 
 And wept when the first beams of light 
 Shot through the boughs of the forest 
 
 And melted the frost from each spray, 
 Ere the dark deed was enacted 
 
 The morn of that early spring day. 
 At the sunrise boldly questioned 
 
 A guard, "Are you ready to die?" 
 "We are prepared now for Heaven!" 
 
 The captives made solemn reply. 
 
68 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 "How nicely this tool will answer 
 
 Our purpose," a strong captor said. 
 Grasping a cooper's large mallet. 
 
 And raining upon each bare head 
 Blows of an uncertain number 
 
 Till more than a dozen were dead. 
 Then spake that murderous demon, 
 
 Today without historic name, 
 "I have done well; my arm fails me; 
 
 With this mallet do ye the same 
 Till they are all beyond watching." 
 
 He handed the blood-dripping tool 
 To other willing hands waiting 
 
 To finish the murder in cool 
 Determination and anger. 
 
 Thus women and children met death. 
 Kneeling together and praying 
 
 To God with the last fleeting breath. 
 From the low heads of the victims 
 
 The white captors, thirsting for gore 
 And for the barbarous trophies, 
 
 The scalps in true savage style tore. 
 Next to the men in a coop'rage 
 
 The band made its murderous way, 
 Crazed and inflamed in their efl'orts 
 
 Each Indian Christian to slay. 
 
THE MASSACRE 69 
 
 True there were captors, whose bosoms 
 
 Still harbored a sympathy, there. 
 Moved by the anthems of praises 
 
 And touched by the presence of prayer. 
 They, from their murderous comrades 
 
 Before the foul deeds had begun, 
 Wandered away to the river. 
 
 Though each of them carried a gun. 
 So, when a cousin to Jacob, 
 
 A young Christian, Henry by name. 
 Fleeing by chance from the slaughter 
 
 And hoping his freedom to gain, 
 Swam 'cross the wide Tuscarawas 
 
 And clambered upon the west bank, 
 Down to his death from a bullet 
 
 By one of them shot, there he sank. 
 
 On the floor, blood-stained and grimy, 
 
 'Mid shades of the cooperage stock, 
 Jacob had knelt and was praying 
 
 When, through his whole being, a shock 
 Rendered him limp and unconscious: 
 
 The strength of the arm was near spent, 
 So that the blow was not fatal. 
 
 His scalp, the last one that was rent, 
 Made for the victors one hundred. 
 
 The victims once scalped, came a pause. 
 After the lull, bleeding trophies 
 
 Became 'mong the victors a cause 
 
70 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 First of much parley, then anger. 
 Then bitter words followed by fight. 
 
 So that division of scalp-locks 
 
 Was not made till falling of night. 
 
 As darkness fell in the valley, 
 
 The cowardly conscience-doomed men 
 Trembled to think of their actions. 
 
 It seemed that each echoing glen 
 Sang back the anthems of triumph, 
 
 The death prayer, the stifled farewell; 
 So that a longer remaining 
 
 Was much like a saint's dream of hell. 
 "Haste!" was the last order given 
 
 By Williamson, which was obeyed 
 Eagerly, for the return had 
 
 Unpleasantly been too delayed. 
 Pack-horses, laden with plunder 
 
 And tied to each other in file. 
 Wailed the start of the leader, 
 
 And nervously pawed the earth, while 
 Men hastened hither and thither. 
 
 Preparing at once to return. 
 When 'twas suggested by some one 
 
 The buildings and corpses should burn. 
 
 When a deep darkness had fallen, 
 The buildings where dead women lay, 
 
 Burning at hands of the white men. 
 Turned darkness of night into day. 
 
THE MASSACRE 71 
 
 XL 
 
 Back from unconsciousness Jacob 
 
 At intervals rallied, till he 
 Partly recovered his senses, 
 
 And planned on a way to get free. 
 Knew he a trap-door was near by. 
 
 So, noiselessly, there did he crawl. 
 This did he, though two strong white men 
 
 Were guarding the dead in the hall. 
 Weak though he was, to the cellar 
 
 He lowered his body to find 
 Two Indian young men companions. 
 
 Though one from a blow was stone-blind. 
 Bloody from wounds and from drippings 
 
 That came through the cracks in the 
 floor. 
 Planned the three men a departure 
 
 In haste from a scene of such gore. 
 Out through a small, secret op'ning 
 
 Known only to Jacob they sped, — 
 He and the blinded companion; 
 
 The other, a corpulent lad, 
 Wedged in the dark, narrow window. 
 
 And died in the flames that consumed, 
 In a sliort time, both the buildings 
 
 And earthly remains of the doomed. 
 
72 LOURELL, THE .INDIAN MAID 
 
 XII. 
 
 Still were the flames leaping upward 
 
 When "Homeward march! Ho, Home- 
 ward all!" 
 Rang a command from some coward, 
 
 But ev'ryone answered the call. 
 Into the deep, hanging darkness. 
 
 Frontier-man, militia-man, scout, 
 Plunged toward their homes on the frontier. 
 
 With discipline like to a rout. 
 Thus, ere the hour of the midnight. 
 
 The buildings in ashes were laid; 
 And, though the sun beamed at morning, 
 
 The fogs and the deep forest shade. 
 Aided by prejudice local, 
 
 A veil o'er the bloody deed flung. 
 Leaving the glories of scalping 
 
 And names of the scalpers unsung. 
 
JVift'". 3.«B,v 
 
 % 
 
 IN 
 
 ^ AMOWAS - 
 •^^EiifiVTMc 1N0IANJ 
 N^H'SVALLCY. 
 t.NE 11.1782. 
 
 ky.icrio 
 
 AOC, :i,i877, ,;: 
 
 In Crawford Township, Wyandot County, near Upper 
 Sandusky, Ohio 
 
PART THE THIRD 
 
 THE EXILE 
 
THE EXILE 75 
 
 I. 
 
 Of sundry monuments that stand 
 
 Upon Ohio's breast, 
 Commemorating deeds and lives 
 
 Of men, there's one, not least 
 Among them all, upon the bank 
 
 Of stream Big Tymochtee, 
 Near where a brave man gave his all 
 
 In cause of Liberty. 
 'Tis Colonel William Crawford's life 
 
 And tragic death that give 
 That monument an honored place, 
 
 And make his mem'ry live. 
 
 II. 
 Down in the Old Dominion State, 
 
 The year that Nature gave 
 The baby Washington to life, 
 
 A country's cause to save. 
 This William Crawford took a name 
 
 And learned to nurse the breast 
 Of brave a mother as e'er bore 
 
 A hero for the West. 
 When seventeen, George Washington 
 
 For wealthy Lord Fairfax 
 To north Virginia's border went 
 
 Extensive landed tracts 
 To locate, measure and survey. 
 
 While thus engaged he met 
 Young Crawford, and the friendship 
 formed. 
 
76 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 The Nation fully yet 
 Has failed to recognize as one 
 
 Of many goodly pow'rs 
 That wrought, in changing early days. 
 
 To free this land of ours. 
 
 In frontier warfare Crawford learned 
 
 To conquer, to subdue, 
 To make each savage chieftain glad 
 
 His cause in peace to sue. 
 As French and Indian Wars prolonged 
 
 Till Fort Duquesne must fall. 
 Or British and Colonial cause 
 
 Would fail, the Country's call 
 For volunteers he answered with 
 
 A company of men 
 From north Virginia's humble homes, — 
 
 Brave men from hill and glen. 
 
 In years of peace, by Braddock's Road, 
 
 Crawford and winsome wife 
 Their children reared, and entertained 
 
 From highest walks of life 
 Their guests. Our Country's liberty 
 
 From Britain to obtain. 
 The old sword hanging on the wall 
 
 Brave Crawford grasped again. 
 In fogs o'erhanging Long Island, 
 
 In Washington's retreat. 
 In boats that crossed the Delaware, 
 
 In Princetown's frozen street, 
 
THE EXILE 77 
 
 In camps around *'01d Quaker Town," 
 
 In fight at Brandy wine, 
 He and his soldiers did their part 
 
 In bloody battle line. 
 
 Then Congress asked of Washington 
 
 That Colonel Crawford, brave. 
 Be sent to western duties where 
 
 He might the frontier save. 
 At Fort Pitt stationed, Crawford then 
 
 Against Fort Detroit planned. 
 And by the Tuscarawas built 
 
 Fort Laurens to command 
 The bold Ohio Indians. 
 
 He well and truly knew 
 That Detroit and Sandusky towns 
 
 Were each a rendezvous 
 Where British cunning held a sway 
 
 O'er savage, simple life. 
 And *gainst the Colonists maintained 
 
 A telling, bloody strife. 
 
 But while the frontier seemed to war 
 
 Against the hand of fate, 
 The light of Freedom in the east 
 
 In brilliancy did break. 
 Cornwallis with an army proud 
 
 In fields around Yorktown 
 Surrendered to the Stars and Stripes 
 
 A sword of Britain's own. 
 
78 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 Then at his Youghiogeny home 
 
 From soldier life retired, 
 Plis tales of warfare Crawford told 
 
 And youthful hearts oft fired. 
 
 III. 
 
 Throughout the winter, in their homes 
 
 Along the wild frontier 
 The lonely parents boldly sang 
 
 And 'round their hearths made cheer; 
 But as the spring came back again, 
 
 And flow'rs began to bloom, 
 The hardy settlers all desired 
 
 The Red Man meet his doom. 
 In hope to quell their children's fears, 
 
 They told of vict'ry won. 
 As shown by scalps brought home to dry 
 
 By men with Williamson. 
 They talked of war; they sang of war; 
 
 For war's success they prayed; 
 Till naught but warlike discipline 
 
 An expedition stayed. 
 
 IV. 
 
 At Mingo Bottoms once again. 
 
 As chosen rendezvous, 
 Nearly five hundred soldiers met 
 
 With nerve and heart to do. 
 This band was not a heedless gang; 
 
 'Twas soldiers volunteered, 
 Whose names upon the muster roll 
 
 At old Fort Pitt appeared. 
 
THE EXILE 79 
 
 Yet, with the men the right remained 
 
 A leader to select 
 To guide the expedition west, 
 
 Its movements to direct. 
 An early May day's morning sun 
 
 Shone on the soldiers while 
 They answered roll, and cast their votes 
 
 In democratic style. 
 Election over, speedy clerks 
 
 The ballots counted, and 
 Announced that William Crawford had 
 
 Been chosen to command. 
 To Crawford's Youghiogeny home 
 
 A messenger with speed 
 Was sent, horseback, result to tell. 
 
 And speak the urgent need 
 Of his foregoing joys of peace 
 
 To lead the army out 
 To conquer all the savage tribes, 
 
 And put their pow'rs to rout. 
 The Colonel heard the message; then 
 
 Around the fam'ly board 
 Those near and dear to him were called 
 
 To hear the soldier's word: 
 "My nephews and my son-in-law. 
 
 Together with my son. 
 Have volunteered and joined the force; 
 
 I cannot leave forlorn 
 The work that will a blessing be 
 
 To living and unborn. 
 
80 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 The notary with massive seal, 
 
 Ink horn and goose quill pen 
 The next day wrote the testament 
 
 And will of Crawford. Then 
 He kissed his children's children and 
 
 His children and his wife, 
 /Vnd, buckling on the sword again, 
 
 He left to join the strife 
 Against the Northwest enemy. 
 
 V. 
 
 Late May day's morn broke full, 
 As forth from Mingo Bottoms moved 
 
 The army toward the dull 
 And seeming endless forests green. 
 
 Which, swaying, seemed to sing 
 Of war's cessation and the joys 
 
 That peace alone could bring. 
 By Crawford Colonel Williamson 
 
 Rode, second in command, 
 While Doctor Knight, with medicine 
 
 And instruments at hand, 
 Was army surgeon. Trusted men 
 
 Who knew the forest ways 
 The army guided westward, till 
 
 It had marched four full days. 
 Then by the Tuscarawas' stream 
 
 The army went in camp; 
 In vacant houses at Schoenbrunn 
 
 They slept. The chilly damp 
 
THE EXILE 81 
 
 Of foggy air, and forest sounds . 
 
 Of weird and varied kinds, 
 Brought hideous dreams and visions to 
 
 The sleeping soldiers' minds. 
 
 At length the camp woke as one man: 
 
 In all the darkness 'round 
 Reverberated far and wide 
 
 A wild, prophetic sound 
 Of death, disaster and disgrace. 
 
 And long before the dawn 
 Each soldier to his saddle sprang 
 
 And from the camp was gone. 
 For, careful though the army moved, 
 
 The Indian runners knew 
 The army's strength in horse and man; 
 
 And, though their numbers few. 
 Had hoped, by wild, nocturnal yells 
 
 Around the camp Schoenbrunn, 
 To scare the pale-faced army so 
 
 'Twould homeward make return. 
 Then fleet of foot and quick of thought, 
 
 By straight and secret track, 
 Those runners to the British camp 
 
 Their knowledge carried back; 
 And warned each Briton and the hosts 
 
 Of savage warriors, too. 
 Along the river, Sandusky; 1 
 
 And, in a friendship true. 
 
82 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 At "Captives' Town" a messenger 
 
 To Zeisberger did tell: 
 "Another army from the East, 
 
 With purposes most fell, 
 Is marching toward these humble homes 
 
 To rob and kill as well." 
 
 Within the hut a wasted form 
 
 Of Indian young manhood, 
 •^tih scalpless head and glassy eye, 
 
 At once defiant stood. 
 The wound upon his manly head 
 
 Externally had healed; 
 But on his brain a blood-clot lay. 
 
 So, when he walked he reeled. 
 And when he talked, those listening 
 
 Could note from what he said 
 That from the noble Jacob had 
 
 His former reason fled. 
 Two months before, with one lone friend 
 
 From Gnadenhutten town. 
 The scalped and wasted Jacob came 
 
 To lay his body down 
 Upon a bed of sickness. Though 
 
 Now bodily improved. 
 His reason had not been restored, 
 
 His mind incessant roved. 
 Through lonely days and dreary nights 
 
 Beside his sick bed stayed 
 The pious Missionary or 
 
 Lourell, the Indian maid. 
 
THE EXILE 83 
 
 The messenger, his task performed, 
 
 A low obeisance made 
 And left the hut; when Zeisberger 
 
 Turned to the weeping maid 
 And spake some helpful, hopeful words. 
 
 She list'ning, raised her head. 
 And neither Jacob's form could see; 
 
 Unnoticed he had fled. 
 
 VI. 
 
 As May days passed and June days came 
 
 The warriors near and far 
 Around Sandusky towns encamped. 
 
 In arms and paint of war. 
 The Delawares with Captain Pipe 
 
 And noted Wingenund 
 And Simon Girty as an aid 
 
 Were jRrst upon the ground; 
 And Wyandottes in numbers came; 
 
 Their chieftain, Zhaus-sho-toh, 
 Received from Captain Elliott 
 
 Instructions where to go. 
 White soldiers from Old Fort Detroit, 
 
 Of comp'nies three or four. 
 And Shawnees and Lake Indians 
 
 Into the camp did pour; 
 But Captain William Caldwell, with 
 
 Directions from the Crown, 
 Commanded all the army, and 
 
 Removed from "Captives' Town" 
 
84 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 The Christian Indians westward, ere 
 
 The Crawford army came 
 To wage the fight destined to give 
 
 To history its name. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Meanwhile the Crawford army moved, 
 
 Till by Sandusky's stream 
 The silent sentry walked his beat 
 
 And bivouac fires did gleam 
 Throughout the night of June the third. 
 
 As morning broke anew 
 Nearly five hundred mounted men 
 
 Pressed westward through the dew. 
 At noon the "Captives' Town" was reached. 
 
 But not a human form 
 Was seen; all had moved westward to 
 
 Avoid the gath'ring storm. 
 Spurred on by this the army cheered 
 
 And forward marched with vim, 
 The fleeing enemy to catch 
 
 And one more vict'ry win. 
 On by the town deserted moved 
 
 The army toward the west. 
 While hope of certain victory 
 
 Swelled in each soldier's breast. 
 Alas! How oft an omen bears 
 
 Two meanings, and we take 
 The better one to lose our all, 
 
 And then see the mistake. 
 
THE EXILE 85 
 
 The June-day sun short shadows cast 
 
 From each, brave, mounted man, 
 When scouts, returning, told unto 
 
 The army's eager van 
 That just beyond a wooded grove. 
 
 In numbers yet unknown, 
 The enemy was hiding in 
 
 The grass that there had grown. 
 Unto the ears of Crawford brave, 
 
 Tlie news was welcome, sweet : 
 He'd gain the elevated grove. 
 
 And there the foe would meet. 
 He ordered that each man dismount 
 
 And form in battle line, 
 And occupy the vantage ground; 
 
 But, by a secret sign 
 From a lone Indian in a tree. 
 
 The other army knew 
 What Crawford did; and warriors bold 
 
 Toward the grove then drew. 
 
 Fierce was the fight— for brave men 
 fought — 
 
 Throughout that afternoon. 
 Till evening's twilight caused a pause. 
 
 The early rising moon 
 Revealed the skulking, savage men 
 
 And British soldiers red. 
 Retreating westward, carrying 
 
 Their wounded and their dead. 
 
86 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The hours passed by, and silence seemed 
 
 In both the camps to reign. 
 But just a few miles westward lay 
 
 Unsheltered on the plain, 
 The Christian children, women, men 
 
 And Missionaries, all 
 Forced from their humble "Captives' Town" 
 
 In fear that might befall 
 To them the fate their kinsfolk met 
 
 By Tuscarawas' stream; 
 When scalp-knives, by the white men used, 
 
 With Christian blood did gleam. 
 
 Late was the hour ere Lourell slept 
 
 To dream that by the side 
 Of Jacob hopefully she stood 
 
 A happy, joyous bride; 
 Made so by God and church and deed, 
 
 Before a friendly crowd. 
 Who, in the dream, good wishes voiced. 
 
 And hopes for joy avowed. 
 She dreamed and slept and did not know 
 
 That in the savage camp 
 By her own lover Jacob, dazed 
 
 And scalped, through dewy damp. 
 From lodge to lodge, from tent to tent, 
 
 Throughout the calm June night, 
 
THE EXILE 87 
 
 Were carried to each company 
 
 Directions for the fight. 
 An hour before the breaking dawn 
 
 Rose o'er the eastern plain 
 The British and the savage, too, 
 
 Eager the fight to gain. 
 Partook of soldiers' fare and stood 
 
 All ready for the fight 
 That soon began and lasted till 
 
 The falling of the night. 
 That night was not a night of rest 
 
 In either army's camp. 
 For early Crawford's scouts could hear 
 
 The almost silent tramp 
 Of reinforcements, numberless; 
 
 A counsel then of war 
 Did Crawford hold, deciding that 
 
 Retreat was better far 
 Than battle w^hen outnumbered so; 
 
 And, in the shades of night, 
 His army started homeward in 
 
 A swift but cautious flight. 
 
 IX. 
 
 With actions like an insane man, 
 
 The scalpless Jacob drew 
 Around him savage chieftains and 
 
 Of British captains few. 
 And spake: "The murd'ring Colonists, 
 
 In arms upon our soil. 
 
88 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAIt) 
 
 Are one to five compared with ours. 
 
 To murder and despoil 
 All Indians and property 
 
 Has brought this army forth; 
 They seek to kill in battle pitched 
 
 The Indians of the North. 
 From where Atlantic's ceaseless tide 
 
 Beats crag and rock and sand, 
 From north to south, to westward here, 
 
 Was once our fathers' land. 
 The Paleface reads of God in books. 
 
 And thereby learns to roam; 
 The Red Man sees his Manitou 
 
 In nature 'round his home. 
 When first the Paleface reached our shore. 
 
 Our fathers welcome gave. 
 But now no warrior dares return 
 
 To see his father's grave. 
 Our Manitou of War still lives, 
 
 Behold him in the trees ! 
 He sees us through the sun and moon; 
 
 He whispers in the breeze. 
 Through rum and broken treaties we 
 
 Have parted with our land; 
 To drive the white man in the sea 
 
 Is Manitou's command. 
 The pale-faced soldiers cowards are; 
 
 They steal away at night; 
 Lead on our braves to battle now. 
 
 For Manitou and Right." 
 
THiB exile; 8^ 
 
 The speaker fell exhausted then, 
 
 And by the pale starlight 
 'Twas seen the Crawford soldiers had 
 
 Begun a careful flight 
 From battlefield toward their homes. 
 
 With Indian arrow, knife, 
 With Briton*s gun, the fight renewed. 
 
 When ended was the strife 
 The army of the Colonies 
 
 Was routed in defeat, 
 With soldiers scalped, with officers 
 
 The prisoners' fate to meet 
 At savage hands of favored tribes. 
 
 Each warrior's heart beat high 
 When it was learned that Crawford had 
 
 Been captured, and must die 
 In manner fitting to atone 
 
 For wrongs and murders done 
 By white men to the Indians 
 
 On plains near old Schoenbrunn. 
 
 Brave Crawford, through a fagging horse. 
 
 While calling for his son, 
 Fell captive, as did Doctor Knight, 
 
 Though everything was done 
 By them to guide in the retreat 
 
 The army safely on. 
 
90 LOURELL, TH^^INDIAN MAlb 
 
 X. 
 
 Three days a captive Crawford was, 
 
 Then stripped of clothes was he 
 And, painted black, was led into 
 
 The vale of Tymochtee. 
 Tied to a stake, placed in the ground, 
 
 With near twelve feet of rope. 
 With twig and branch around it strewn, 
 
 He gave up ling'ring hope 
 That something somewhere might arise 
 
 To save the dreadful fate 
 Of being roasted while alive 
 
 And burned to death at stake. 
 
 With powder then the savage shot 
 
 And burned his naked skin, 
 Each demon adding to his wound 
 
 A savage, hellish grin. 
 Yet all the while the fagots burned. 
 
 The heat grew more intense. 
 Against such painful punishment 
 
 He could find no defense. 
 With fading hope he called aloud 
 
 To Simon Girty near, 
 "Oh shoot me dead without delay!" 
 
 W^hen Girt}^ with a sneer 
 Retorted: "I no gun possess; 
 
 But, if I did, you know 
 The way these savage put to death 
 
 Is painful, sure, but slow!" 
 The hours passed by and Crawford sank 
 
 His head upon his lap. 
 
THE EXILE ^1 
 
 A yelling, painted savage, then 
 
 Removed the soldier's scalp; 
 And by a squaw some burning coals 
 
 From oft* a piece of board 
 Upon the Colonel's bleeding head 
 
 In ecstasy were poured. 
 
 A chief, approaching Doctor Knight, 
 
 Bade him arise and walk. 
 He did while all the air around 
 
 Was filled with song and talk. 
 Next morning Doctor Knight was marched 
 
 Beside the awful spot. 
 And saw the bones of Crawford lie 
 
 Still reeking, charred and hot. 
 XI. 
 That night Zeisberger in his hut 
 
 Sat silently and long. 
 And, musing over Life's events. 
 
 Recalled a childhood song: 
 
 MY SAILING 
 
 "The winds blow from over the rolling sea 
 
 A message of joy or of grief to me, 
 According as hues of the bending skies, 
 Rellccls my soul-gladness or tear-dimmed eyes; 
 For tender smiles beam from the thoughts within. 
 And frowns and their tears in the soul begin, 
 As winds blow from over the sea. 
 
92 LOURELU THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 "The ships come from over the deep, blue sea, 
 And bring their effulgent, rare gifts to me; 
 And fruits of the nether world at my feet 
 They lay, where the land and the water meet; 
 Though for neither gifts nor for fruits I care, 
 As ships proudly come in from ev'rywhere, — 
 Still ships come from over the sea. 
 
 "The stars twinkle down in the dark, gray sea. 
 
 Reflecting their images back to me, 
 
 Which shimmer and shine on each wavelet's 
 
 breast, 
 Then pass out of sight on the wave's dark crest, 
 To glimmer, it may be, again: but still 
 The stars twinkle down with their own fre« 
 
 will,— 
 
 The stars twinkle down in the sea. 
 
 "Are we but mere flotsam on Life's great sea, 
 Unguided by Fate, fdled with enmity 
 Unsatiate ? No, there is living Hope 
 For all drifting ones who in darkness grope: 
 We may glide through calms, and we must baffle 
 
 waves, 
 According as Hope or as Fate behaves, 
 
 For storms must be met on Life's sea." 
 
 XII. 
 
 That night the army surgeon lay. 
 Bound hand and foot, and sore. 
 
 Beside a smold'ring campfire, and 
 Each moment guarded o'er 
 
THE EXILE 93 
 
 By special chieftain from the tribe 
 
 To burn him at the stake, 
 And of the army sm'geon's scalp 
 
 A battle trophy make. 
 
 Some days and nights they journeyed on. 
 
 While ever near the twain 
 Was Joe, the hunter, following, 
 
 A rescue to obtain. 
 One dreary night the chieftain slept. 
 
 Lounging upon the ground; 
 And Joe, the hunter, slyly crept 
 
 And Doctor Knight unbound. 
 The Surgeon stretched his aching limbs 
 
 And grasped the chieftain's gun; 
 But, keen of ear, the Indian woke; 
 
 Both started on the run. 
 Then came a fight. The chieftain fell; 
 
 But still 'twas one sad plight; 
 The gun was broken from the blow 
 
 That ended the death fight. 
 The lone horse mounted. Knight then bade 
 
 A long farewell to Joe. 
 Where Joe thereafter lived and died 
 
 No one did ever know. 
 
 The horse and man at once began 
 
 A journey, danger fraught: 
 One careless step, hope of escape. 
 
 Would quickly bring to naught. 
 
94 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 In dark swamps sleeping through the day, 
 And trav'ling through the night, 
 
 A fortnight brouglit tlie Surgeon to 
 Fort Pitt in sorry plight. 
 
 Sad was the scene, when, strength regained, 
 
 He entered Crawford's home 
 And told the widow, children and 
 
 The friends that had there come 
 The awful story of what fate. 
 
 At cruel, savage hands. 
 Befell their loved and honored one 
 
 In far-off western lands. 
 
PART THE FOURTH 
 
 THE RETURN 
 
THE RETURN 97 
 
 I. 
 
 Through the years the Tuscarawas 
 
 Mirrored sun and moon and star, 
 And the broad, alluvial lowlands 
 
 Stretched to rolling hills afar; 
 Yet no civil hand the forests 
 
 Felled in hope to build a home; 
 Hunters camped where night o'ertook them; 
 
 And wild beasts at will did roam. 
 
 Where the corn had grown in plenty. 
 
 Where the orchards had borne fruit. 
 Where the flow'rs had bloomed in gardens, 
 
 All grew wild; each native brute 
 Could, unscared and unmolested. 
 
 Roam at will 'mong brier and thorn, 
 Sleep by day and prowl at evening. 
 
 Scream by night and feed at morn. 
 
 For all creatures using language 
 
 Long and oft had heard the tale 
 That the ghosts of harmless Christians, 
 
 Foully murdered in the vale. 
 Oft returned at hours uncertain, 
 
 And in mad, nocturnal tones 
 Cried: "Oh, Manitou, give vengeance! 
 
 Oh, avenge our bleaching bones!" 
 Through the years the sleepless echoes 
 
 Of the valley nothing heard. 
 Save the thunder and the wild wind, 
 
 Cry of beast and scream of bird. 
 
98 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 II. 
 
 All the while the missionaries 
 Shepherded the Christian band 
 
 In far northern fields and forests, 
 On unfriendly natives' land. 
 
 III. 
 
 On a summer Sabbath morning, 
 
 In the Michigan wild land, 
 To a humble, spacious chapel, 
 
 Heeding Zeisberger's command. 
 All the Christians of the village, 
 1 Helpers, converts, white or brown, 
 Came to hear a proclamation 
 
 Deemed most vital for the town. 
 Christian fathers, mothers, children. 
 
 Wearied of the war-time strain. 
 Helpers, led by LourelPs presence. 
 
 Filled the church to hear again 
 From the lips of loved Zeisberger 
 
 Whether were their efforts vain. 
 
 Twas their wont, and so a half hour 
 
 Passed in silent, earnest prayer. 
 During which Zeisberger kneeled by 
 
 His accustomed pulpit chair. 
 Then, as though the choirs of heaven 
 
 Loaned sweet tongues and pow'rs of song. 
 Rang an anthem to the Godhead, 
 
 Man's Redeemer, loud and long. 
 
THE RETURN 99 
 
 At cessation of the singing 
 
 Quiet was the church as death, 
 Broken only when Zeisberger 
 
 Drew a deep, sonorous breath. 
 And, behind the sacred altar 
 
 Taking his familiar stand. 
 Asked God's blessing on the converts. 
 
 With extended arm and hand. 
 Then he spake : "For years, my brethren. 
 
 We have prospered, flourished here. 
 At the will of Chippewas, we. 
 
 When once hunted like a deer, 
 Builded here these homes and chapel. 
 
 Now the nations are at peace. 
 And the Chippewas are anxious 
 
 Of their land we make release. 
 Of our wrongs the States United 
 
 Through their Congress are informed. 
 And by legal act our hopes are 
 
 Brilliant made, and are adorned 
 With new promise for the future; — 
 
 Yes, methinks that soon again 
 We shall worship and live happy 
 
 Back on our beloved plain. 
 
 "Let us not our landlords weary, 
 Neither grieve our neighbors sore ; 
 
 Let us start with high ambition 
 Back to Tuscarawas' shore. 
 
100 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 Two large sloops upon the river 
 
 Lay at anchor, waiting for 
 Contract of a river voyage 
 
 And to Erie's southern shore." 
 
 Longer still he talked and reasoned, 
 
 Till the converts' hopes grew strong 
 That, along the Tuscarawas, 
 
 They might praise their God in song 
 Without fears of molestation. 
 
 Then the pious preacher told 
 From the Holy Writ the story 
 
 How the Israelites of old 
 Were by God's command delivered 
 
 From Egyptian bondage, and 
 Journeyed under His direction 
 
 Toward the fair and promised land. 
 
 Ere the darkness fell that evening. 
 
 To removal all agreed; 
 And the Chippewas, delighted, 
 
 Feeling keen the Christians' need 
 Of much help in the withdrawal. 
 
 Furnished many helpers strong, 
 Who, in stoic, savage manner. 
 
 Mingled chants with Christian song, 
 While completing embarkation 
 
 Of the Christians and their store 
 On the sloops then moored and lying 
 
 By the Detroit River's shore. 
 
THE RETURN 101 
 
 IV. 
 
 Israel crossed, dry-shod, the Red Sea, 
 
 But a more seafaring fate 
 Waited for the meek Moravians 
 
 On the stormy, dashing lake. 
 Rocked by waves, by wild winds driven, 
 
 Through long days and nights of fear. 
 Storm tossed oft, they sailed and sailed on, 
 
 Till a haven did appear. 
 Glad to land, the pilgrims entered 
 
 Cuyahoga River, where 
 Builded they a few small houses, 
 
 And remained a season there. 
 But erelong a delegation 
 
 Of the owners of the land 
 Called upon the Missionaries; 
 
 And, though met with friendly hand. 
 Forthwith spake the leading chieftain: 
 
 *'You now dwell upon our soil; 
 We are hunters, braves and warriors; 
 
 Only women work and toil. 
 Therefore, by your way of living 
 
 All our laws you disobey; 
 You must leave our territory. 
 
 Leave it by the seventh day." 
 
 Once again upon Lake Erie, 
 
 As a highway free to all, 
 'Barked the homeless Christians, hopeful 
 
 Better fate might yet befall; 
 
102 LOURELL. THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 That somewhere in field or forest 
 
 Miglit be found a peaceful home, 
 Where no landlords should be troubled, 
 
 Where would rise no cause to roam. 
 So the waters of Lake Erie 
 
 Bore again the pilgrim fleet 
 Westward, till Black Biver's current 
 
 Did the prows of their boats meet. 
 There they landed; there they builded 
 
 Near the lake and river's shore; 
 There the preachers preached, and teachers 
 
 Taught the lessons o'er and o'er 
 Of the sufferings attending 
 
 Chosen lives of Bible lore. 
 
 As the moonlight fell in beauty 
 
 One still night upon the lake, 
 'Neath the boughs of trees o'erhanging 
 
 The lake's bank, did Lourell take 
 Her lone place for supplication. 
 
 As she nightly long had done. 
 There she prayed for Heathen, Christian, — 
 
 Yes, she prayed for her loved one; 
 For, somehow within the bosom 
 
 Of the maiden lingered e'er 
 Hope that her own lover Jacob 
 
 Liveth still on earth, somewhere. 
 
THE RETURN 103 
 
 But from force the homeless Christians 
 
 Once again their earthly ware 
 Loaded in canoes and started 
 
 Westward to — they knew not where. 
 But in time the Huron Biver 
 
 Offered haven; 'twas deemed best 
 To sail up that river, searching 
 
 For a place of needed rest. 
 There some humble homes were builded 
 
 And a chapel rude, not tall; 
 There the pilgrims worked and worshiped, 
 
 Faithful, though in numbers small. 
 V. 
 Meanwhile had the new born Nation 
 
 Grown in wisdom, power and good, 
 And, through Congress, it had granted. 
 
 Measured out by rod and rood. 
 Full twelve thousand fertile acres 
 
 By the Tuscarawas' stream. 
 To Moravian Missionaries 
 
 And their Indians. Thus the dream 
 Uppermost to worn Zeisberger 
 
 Seemed realit}^ once more; 
 And the weary, hopeful Christians 
 
 Turned to Tuscarawas' shore. 
 
 Near the west bank of the river. 
 
 On the Goshen gravel plain, 
 Builded they another village, 
 
 Builded they a church again. 
 
104 LOURELL, THE{INDIAN MAID 
 
 Swiftly sped a few years, happy, 
 Spent in worship, work and song, 
 
 And the Right as taught and practiced 
 Seemed to overcome the Wrong. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But an era was approaching, 
 One of progress, one of might; 
 
 And the Indian, though Christian, 
 Bowed before the conq'ring White. 
 
 Heckewelder to the faithful 
 
 Bade adieu, and journeyed east; 
 For the most of all the leaders 
 
 Had retired to final rest. 
 So the waning little Mission 
 
 By the Tuscarawas' shore 
 Rang wath praises of Almighty 
 
 Just a few short seasons more; 
 But its people still were hopeful, 
 
 Till the years in ceaseless roll 
 Bore upon Zeisberger's body 
 
 And demanded Time's last toll. 
 
 VII. 
 
 One calm evening in November, 
 
 One thousand, eight hundred-eight, 
 
 In a small and neat apartment, 
 Zeisberger resigned his fate; 
 
THE RETURN lp5 
 
 And in feeble accents uttered. 
 
 As the shades of evening fell. 
 His departing earthly message 
 
 To the faithful one, Lourell. 
 
 MY ANCHORING 
 *"Tis eve, and winds of day are stilled again; 
 The purple sunset skies embrace the calm; 
 My bark, oft tossed on life's swift dashing main, 
 At anchor rides, so near to home I am. 
 I see the beacon light 
 Shine through the breaking night, 
 And mark my path o'er life's receding tide. 
 Though haze and cloud and fog 
 My mortal vision clog. 
 Still Hope is captain; I my time abide. 
 
 "I've loved the waves and foam and breakers, 
 
 all,— 
 The calm of noon, the stars' pale smile at night. 
 The swelling rise, the undulating fall. 
 When Wrong gives up the throne to Truth and 
 
 Right, 
 I see the beacon light; 
 It shows all wrongs aright. 
 I see my path o'er life's receding tide. 
 My soul, no longer fast, 
 Ascends the topmost mast. 
 For Faith is pilot; Death is but a guide." 
 
 He was buried there at Goshen, 
 
 'Mong "Brown Brethren" gone before, 
 
 And beside the grave of Edwards, 
 And of loved ones, many more. 
 
106 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 When his body had been lowered 
 
 To its final resting place, 
 Toar-dimmed eyes of Lourell noticed 
 
 Haggard, yet familiar face. 
 When the grave was rounded smoothly, 
 
 And the body left to sleep 
 In the earth of the lone valley. 
 
 Near the river's silent sweep, 
 Once again her eyes did Lourell 
 
 Raise to look the people o'er. 
 And beheld her long lost lover 
 
 Jacob, w^eai-^^ and footsore. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then they met, the two true lovers, 
 
 And each clasped the other's hand. 
 And renewed the vows, unbroken. 
 
 Made in Gnadenhutten land. 
 But alas! That happy meeting 
 
 Ended soon, for, from the west 
 Came an early winter's flurry, 
 
 Snow and rain and driving blast; 
 So that, ere they reached a shelter. 
 
 Wet and cold their garments w^ere, 
 And an illness, proving fatal, 
 
 Grasped the tender form of her. 
 By her sick bed Jacob calmly 
 
 Sat, and told to willing ears 
 Of Lourell all he remembered 
 
 Of the intervening years, 
 
THE RETURN lOf 
 
 Which to him as one night's sleeping 
 
 Broken only now and then 
 By uncertain, disconnected, 
 
 And unpleasant dreams, had been. 
 Just a fortnight past, he told her, 
 
 That from patient nursing, care, 
 He had been restored to reason. 
 
 And awoke — he knew not where : 
 But they told him 'twas Fort Detroit; 
 
 Told him how the wars did cease; 
 How surviving Christian converts 
 
 Back near Schoenbrunn lived in peace. 
 And he told her of his journey. 
 
 Weak of body, to her bed. 
 She, in turn, told him her sorrows. 
 
 And that she oft thought him dead. 
 
 Just a few days did she linger; 
 
 Then she met a peaceful death. 
 Speaking words of Christian solace 
 
 With the last, faint, dying breath. 
 
 Near the sacred grave, Zeisberger's, 
 
 Was the body of Lourell 
 Laid to rest by loving, tender 
 
 Friends; and all could tell 
 Of some kind and helpful duties 
 
 Done by hands then cold and white, — 
 Done without remuneration, 
 
 Whether called by day or night. 
 
108 LOURELL, THE INDIAN MAID 
 
 Sad, indeed, were all the people, 
 And the two late graves around 
 
 Stood they long and wept together: — 
 'Twas to them, then, hallowed ground. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Jacob lingered at the Mission 
 
 Weak of body, sad of heart, 
 SulFring thus a second sorrow 
 
 For the one once set apart 
 By the laws of love and nature 
 
 To be his to journey life, 
 As an ardent. Christian woman. 
 
 As a loving, faithful wife. 
 Day by day his strength kept failing, 
 
 Till the coming Christmas-tide 
 When he, in a faith triumphant. 
 
 Praising God, rejoiced and died.