Narrative of the Suffering and Defeat of the North-Western Army Part 3

The Indians are sometimes very filthy in their diet. They will kill a deer and take out the entrails, rip them up, turn out the contents, shake them a few times in the snow, throw them for a few moments upon the fire, and devour them like hungry dogs. When they kill a deer with young, the young are considered as a choice dish. They roast them whole. They will eat every animal, and at every part of it, from the bear to the polecat.

Shortly after the breaking of the ice, the old father, one son, and myself, left camp for an otter hunt. We ascended the river, placing traps where we discovered that otters had pa.s.sed up and down the banks. This we did during the first day, leaving them until our return. We encamped during the first night on the bank of the river. We had nothing to eat. We spent the whole of the second day in hunting, without any success; it was a cold rainy day, and we lay down the second night without a mouthful to eat.

On the morning of the third day the old man left the camp very early, and about twelve o'clock returned, bringing with him two pheasants; they were put into the pot immediately. I feared my portion would be small, as the Indians, when hungry, eat most enormously; but another pheasant was heard near the camp, which the Indian succeeded in killing. It was soon in the pot, and fearing lest the Indians should eat up theirs and then want mine, I did not wait until it was properly cooked before I went to work upon it. We soon devoured the three pheasants without either bread or salt. After this fine dinner we returned to camp again.

We examined our traps but found no game.

The spring of the year now came--the ice and snow began fast to disappear--and I now began to think more of home than I had done during the cold season. When the sun began to shine warm, and the birds to sing around me, I would often retire from the camp where I could think of home, and weep, without being discovered. During the time spent in these lonely retreats, which I sought often for the purpose of reflection, _Shelbyville, Kentucky_, the place of my home, would rise up before my mind with all its inhabitants and endearments. I would think of friends and youthful a.s.sociates-- of the green over which I had played when a boy a school--and of the church to which I gave my hand as a seeker of religion a few months before I left; and of my aged parents, who I knew needed my a.s.sistance. These reflections crowding upon me at once, together with the difficulty and danger of making an escape, would at times almost overwhelm me with sorrow and despair. But the kindness and sympathy manifested toward me by the Indians, and particularly by the wife of the man who took me a prisoner, took off a part of the burthen. This poor heathen woman, who knew nothing of civilization, and the softening influences of the Gospel, nevertheless showed that the tenderness and affection which the Gospel requires were deeply imprinted upon her heart. I had another source of comfort: I found among the Indians a piece of a newspaper printed at _Lexington, Kentucky_, which I suppose had wrapped up the clothes of some of Captain Hart's men, and thus fell into the hands of the Indians at Raisin. This I read over and over, again and again. I would frequently try to learn the Indians the letters and their sounds; this to them was a very pleasing employment.

The Indians now began to prepare to return to Detroit. This was very encouraging to me, for I now began again to indulge a hope that one day I should yet be free, and reach my friends at home.

All hands turned out to making bark canoes. We made two for each large family. In these canoes we ascended the river upon which we had for some time been encamped, until we came to the very head spring--I had no means of ascertaining the name of this river--we then took up our canoes and carried them three or four miles, to the head waters of a river that empties into lake Erie between the rivers Raisin and Detroit. The ridge over which we carried our canoes divides the waters of lake Michigan and lake Erie.

After entering this stream we advanced finely, finding fish in great abundance. I now began to feel quite cheerful, and things put on a different aspect. This was one of the most beautiful little rivers I ever beheld--I could see the fish at the bottom where the water was ten feet in depth--its beauty was much heightened by pa.s.sing through several small lakes, the waters of which always enlarged--perhaps increased its waters one half.

These lakes were bordered round by various kinds of shrubbery bending over the water. It was now, as near as I could guess, about the first of May, and the scenes were indeed beautiful to one who had been freezing and starving in a northern winter, almost naked--and now turning, as he fondly hoped, his face homeward. I became more and more anxious to escape, as the prospect opened before me. I had several times formed in my mind plans by which I thought I might escape, but being young and unacquainted with the woods, and knowing that I must be a distance from any of our forts, I was afraid to attempt it; but now, as I believed I was not far from Fort Meigs, I determined to make the attempt. For this purpose I gathered up my bow and arrows, which had laid in the bottom of the canoe for some time, and which I did not intend to use any more, but I wanted them as an excuse to get out and take such a start, without being suspected, as would enable me to make good my escape. We encamped on this river several days; waiting, I suppose, for orders from the British. During this time I prepared myself for the escape, but unfortunately for my design, the camp was on the wrong side of the river, and I could not take a canoe without being discovered, the camp being immediately on the bank of the stream.

In a few days we continued our journey. About this time I saw the first bread since I had been taken prisoner. Some of the Indians had been to the settlement and obtained about half a gallon of flour; they prepared it in their homely way, but I thought it the best bread that I had ever tasted.

On our way down the river, as we came to the road leading from river Raisin to Detroit, we fell in with some Indians who had been at Dudley's defeat. There was a young man with them, a prisoner; the Indians told me by signs to talk with him. When I approached and spoke to him, he seemed astonished, for he had taken me for an Indian; but when he discovered my being an American he was greatly rejoiced. He asked many questions about the Indians, and if I thought that they would sell him. I told him I thought they would not, as I had been their prisoner since the battle at Raisin, and they had not offered to dispose of me.

I farther told him I thought his hopes of getting away soon, if ever, gloomy. He gave me a most horrible account of the defeat of Colonel Dudley, and the slaughter and ma.s.sacre of his men--and expressed fears that General Harrison would be taken. This was bitter news to me. While we were talking, the Indians stood around and seemed to catch at every word, and watch every expression of our faces--showing the greatest anxiety to know what we said. They would laugh, and look at each other and speak a word or two. It seemed to afford them pleasure to hear us converse. But the time having arrived for us to proceed on our journey, we parted--his company was going by land, and ours by water, to Malden. If I heard the name of the young man I have forgotten it. He was genteel and intelligent. He informed me that he was a Surgeon. I never saw him again, and think it probable that he was killed by the Indians--I am inclined to this opinion because the Indians, we understood, brought in and offered for sale, that spring, all which they did not intend to kill. I think if he had been brought in I should have seen him. Some, it is highly probable, were put to death in the room of those of their friends who had fallen in battle.

We encamped at night, after we saw the young man named above, on an island not far from Malden. The next day we arrived, and the Indians took me down into the town, where I pa.s.sed for an Indian.

It was very unpleasant to me to hear such swearing and profanity-- I soon left, and returned to the camp. In a few days we went up the river to the neighborhood of Detroit, and pitched our tent near the spring wells on the bank of Detroit river. Soon after our arrival arrangements were made with the British Commissary to draw rations of bread, and sometimes fish. They had the number of the family put down in writing, which the Indians were to present before they could draw the supply. The old Indian, having by some means ascertained that I could write, fell upon a stratagem to increase the quant.i.ty of bread. He furnished me with a slip of paper, and proposed that we should alter the number of our family, and make it larger; I did so, and made it about double. I went up with the note myself the first time, to see how it would take. The Indians gave me a horse and bag, and sent a young man of another family with me as a guard, the distance being several miles. The young man obtained his bread sooner than I did, and left me alone. I, after so long a time, got my bread and started; as I pa.s.sed through the streets of Detroit, a lady spoke to me from an upper window, and said: "Are you not a prisoner, sir?" "I am, madam." "Why do you not leave the horse in the street and go to the fort then?" I told her I was afraid; but did not say I lacked confidence in the British. I feared they would not protect me, but deliver me up if the Indians should demand me.

I went on toward home, and when I got in sight I discovered that they had become uneasy, for the most of them were looking out towards Detroit. When they saw me they raised a great yell, and received me and my bag of bread with great joy.

Some time shortly after this the old man dressed himself up in the finest kind of Indian style, for he was a Chief. He greased his face, and then pounded and rubbed charcoal on it until he was as black as a negro. He then painted my face red, and we started together to town, he walking in front. As we pa.s.sed along the streets the people were very free in making their remarks upon us. "There goes a mulato," said one, &c., &c. I seemed to pay but little attention to what was said, but followed my old Indian about from place to place.

In a few days they sent me over to _Sandwich_, to exchange skins for boiled cider. I succeeded; and they drank it hot, that it might produce the greater effect; their only design seeming to be to produce intoxication. They are liberal with every thing they possess but rum. I once saw an Indian give another a dram, and being afraid that he would take too much, he first measured it in his own mouth, and then put it into a tin cup for his friend to drink.

Whilst we were here I saw Indians take medicine. I did not ascertain what kind of medicine it was, only it was something which they gathered from the woods. They boiled it down until it became thick and black. They dug a hole in the ground--furnished themselves with a kettle of warm water and a piece of inner bark--after they took two or three portions of this stuff, they laid down flat upon the ground, with their mouths over this hole, and commenced vomiting. They would then drink large draughts of warm water, thrust the piece of bark down their throats and vomit again. This course they would sometimes pursue for hours together, until one would think that they were almost dead; but they would leave off this vomiting business and go about as though nothing had disturbed them. I heard nothing of any sickness before this medicinal course was commenced, from which I inferred that they took medicine in the spring season whether sick or well.

Not far from our encampment was the grave of an Indian who had been buried several weeks. An old squaw raised an alarm, saying that he had been heard to make a noise. The Indians ran with all haste to the grave--I went too to see what was to be done--but although they listened with their ears upon the ground, and then stamped with their feet, and scratched in the earth, the Indian lay still and dead in his grave.

I learned from the preparations in camp that the squaws were soon to go out to the Indian towns and raise corn, and that I was to go with them. I resolved that I would not go, if my escape should cost me my life. I began immediately to think and plan some method of escape; but every way appeared to be hedged up; there were Indian camps in every direction; there was some faint prospect of success down the river. I also thought of risking myself in the hands of the British, but, as I before said, I could not trust them; and it was well for me that I did not, as I afterwards, to my sore affliction, found them haughty and very inhuman to American prisoners. I wish this censure to rest only upon the British officers, as many of the soldiers would have treated us kindly if it had been in their power.

Just at this crisis, however, an half Indian, who spoke English, came to our camp. I took this opportunity of communicating to the Indians my desire of being sold to the inhabitants of Detroit, who were purchasing prisoners from the Indians, Here I run a great risk--I knew not that they would not instantly kill me for making such a request. No sooner had the half Indian told my wishes, than every eye was fixed upon me; some seemed astonished, and others angry, because I would think of leaving after having been adopted into the family. They soon made signs that I might go, and the old man began to look out for a purchaser. Some of them treated me cooly from that time until I left. A Frenchman came to our camp, and offered a young horse for me--we went several miles down the river to see the horse--the Indian and Frenchman talked a long time--the Frenchman showed several other horses--the Indian did not fancy any of them, and there was no trade. I felt disappointed, being very anxious to be swapped off. On the next day another Frenchman came to camp riding a snug little pony, with mane and tail roached and trimmed. This horse took the old man's eye, and they soon closed the bargain. The long desired hour had come at last. I felt that I was again free from the hand of the wild savage. I packed up the few tattered rags of clothing which were mine, and prepared to leave; but after all, savages as they were, I was sorry when I bid them a final farewell. The wife of the man who took me prisoner had always been kind--she aided greatly to lessen my sufferings--she had often fed me, and when under the rigors of a northern winter, in the wilderness, had thrown a blanket upon my shivering frame at night; she had restrained the young men from imposing upon me, as they would do by taking my food, and my place at the fire.

After Mr. J. B. Cecott, the man who bought me, and I left the camp, the Indians stood and looked after us as long as they could see us. Mr. Cecott took me to his own house, gave me a suit of clothes, and introduced me to his family. Now I felt that home was much nearer, being again among a civilized people who could speak the English language.

And here let me pause a moment to remark--as I am about to leave the Indians, never I hope to spend another winter with them under the same circ.u.mstances--that the few months of captivity with this people, were, taken altogether, the most cheerless and solitary of any part of my life of which I have any recollection.

Though many years have rolled by since the events transpired, the impression they made upon my mind is almost as fresh as ever.

Several things contributed to render the scene more gloomy. I lost the day of the month, and also the day of the week; every day seemed alike. No person can have an idea, unless they are placed in the same predicament, how it changes the face of things to lose all those divisions of time that we have been accustomed to observe from our childhood. But this was not all; to render the hours more tedious and solitary, there was not one, of all the families that belonged to our company, that could either speak English, or understand one word of it. And thus, day after day, and week after week, pa.s.sed over without uttering a solitary word, unless sometimes, when a little distance from camp, I would say a word or two just to hear the sound of my own voice; and it would seem so strange to me, that it would almost startle me.

And, in addition to all this, I was almost eaten up by vermin; sometimes almost starved; and shut out from all civilized society; almost literally buried in the snows of Michigan; and in order to prevent actual starvation, the Indians were compelled to remove from place to place, where it was supposed the hunting would be better. This subjected us to greater inconvenience, and often to great suffering from cold, having to clear away the snow, which was very deep.

But the uncertainty, and the improbability, of being released, being constantly upon me, and there appeared not the least gleam of hope until it was announced, by the preparations I saw making in the spring, to go to Detroit.

I have nothing to say against the Indian character--but many things in favor of it--but much against their manner of life.

They are a brave, generous, hospitable, kind, and among themselves, an honest people; and when they intend to save the life of a prisoner they will do it, if it should be at the risk of their own. But after all this is said, no one can form any adequate idea of what a man _must_ suffer, who spends a winter with them in the snows of Michigan.

But now, that I was released by the friendly hand of a stranger, Mr. Cecott, whom I shall recollect with feelings of grat.i.tude so long as I can recollect anything--I felt more than I shall ever be able to express. Hope, which had almost perished, now began to revive, and the sight of home and friends once more began to be thought of as a matter not altogether impracticable--and that I should set my foot again upon the happy soil of Kentucky.

But disappointment was at the door. Mr. Cecott informed me in a few days that he would be compelled to give me up to the British as a prisoner of war. I gave him my note for the horse which he gave for me, which I paid him about eighteen months afterwards, when I went out to war again, under General McArthur. I think the horse was valued at thirty six dollars--you see what I was worth in money. A number of prisoners were sold at Detroit from time to time, and many of the citizens showed great liberality and humanity in purchasing them. It should be spoken and recorded to their praise, that some of the citizens spent nearly every thing which they possessed in buying prisoners who had fallen into savage hands, and in furnishing them with clothing and provision.

When I was delivered to the British as a prisoner of war, I was placed in the guardhouse, where we remained all summer. During our confinement we suffered from hunger, and what provisions we had were not good. We had the floor for a bed, and a log for our pillow, all the time. There were six or eight in the fort that had been purchased before I was--they had were taken prisoners at Dudley's defeat.

This was a long tedious summer to me, for we had no employment whatever, but were compelled to lay about the fort from the end of one month to another. A gentleman in Detroit proposed to the officer in command, to be surety for my appearance, if he would permit me to go into the town and work at my trade, but he refused to let me go upon any terms whatever.

At times, during the summer, the streets of Detroit were filled with Indians; and many of them came to see us. In the month of July, we saw them have a young woman prisoner, whom we supposed they had taken from the frontiers of Ohio. We could never learn what disposition they made of her. A company of the Indians from the northwest encamped for several days near the walls of the fort, immediately previous to their going to war. This gave us an opportunity of ascertaining their mode of preparation for war.

Among other things, they eat the flesh of dogs.

During our imprisonment here, we were brought to behold a very shocking sight. We saw, in the hands of the Indians, a number of scalps fastened in hoops made for the purpose and hung out before the fire to dry. They had been but recently taken off: and more horrible yet, the most of them were the scalps of females! We remained for sometime upon the fort battery observing their situation and employment before they saw us. When they beheld us, and knew that we were prisoners, they raised the war-whoop instantly in token of victory. They showed the tomahawk, and pointed to the scalps, to tell that they had murdered the persons with the tomahawk. They held up the scalp of a female and showed signs of savage cruelty and barbarity, which I had never seen exhibited before. These things were done in open day, in the presence of the British officers; and those refined gentlemen, who feel that they occupy a place of elevation and superior rank in society, could look upon these shocking mockeries of humanity with the hard heartedness of the savages themselves.

Many of the British soldiers were kind to us in our imprisonment; they would steal us out by night, when the officers were away carousing, that we might get some recreation and refreshment. The officers were haughty and overbearing, doing nothing for our comfort. The joy that I felt in being released from the Indians, soon died amid my rough fare in the British prison. During the summer we were almost entirely naked; and were only saved from becoming completely so by the generosity of Mr. Hunt of Detroit, who gave us each a suit of summer clothes; which was all the clothing that we got until after we arrived at Quebec, sometime in December. About the first of August, nearly all the soldiers and Indians disappeared from Detroit. We were at a loss to account for this, but supposed they had gone to make an attack upon some of the forts, or frontier parts of the Northwestern Army. It was not a great while until the secret was out. They came home cursing Major Croghan, (they had made an unsuccessfull attack upon Lower Sandusky,) and saying that he loaded his guns with nails, slugs, and with any thing and every thing that came to hand. The faces of some of them were completely peppered with small shot. They lost a number of their best men in this battle.

It is said that _Captain James Hunter_, sometimes known by the name of "old Sandusky"--whom Congress since presented with a sword as a token of national respect--suspecting that the British and Indians would undertake to storm the fort, right or wrong, swung up a long heavy log, which, in case of extreme emergency, he intended to use as a _dead fall_ by cutting loose the ropes which held it upon the walls of the fort. This Sandusky engagement appears to have been a hot business all around.

The well known battle upon the lake, in which Perry was successful, was fought during our confinement in this fort. We heard the report of the guns plainly, and it produced much excitement among all. Every eye was turned toward Malden, and we eagerly caught every word that came from that direction.

A few days afterward they told us that the British had taken Perry and all his fleet. The soldiers laughed at us, and told us that the Yankees knew nothing about fighting on the water--that they could whip us two to one. We had to bear this as well as we could, until we saw great preparations making every where to remove the arms, ammunition, &c., which were sent up the river.

We now suspected that they had misinformed us of the result of the battle. When we asked, they told us one thing and then another, until one of the soldiers privately told us the whole tale--that Perry had actually captured the British fleet--and that the Yankees were coming upon us in great numbers, and were just at hand. We now turned the tables upon them--it was our time to be merry.

Every day increased the hurry and confusion; boats and small vessels were ascending the river Detroit, bearing off arms, provisions, and every species of property, belonging to the British. It was a time of joy to the citizens of Detroit, generally, to see the Indians and British leaving so rapidly: and we were looking almost hourly to behold the Kentuckians appear in sight. We were, however, hurried up the river, as there was no opportunity to escape. The Indians were always kept in the rear during a retreat, and stood between the British and danger. If I had kept the day of the month, I could tell where Harrison, Shelby, and Johnson, were at the time when we left Detroit. Not knowing the position of the American army, it was fruitless to hazard an effort to escape.

Our British masters crowded us into a vessel which was loaded with arms and ammunition, without provisions or any arrangements for our comfort on the way. As we ascended the lake, we ran aground near the mouth of the river Thames, and were detained two days; during which time we were compelled to unload and reload the vessel. All this time we had nothing to eat but what we could pick up, like dogs, from the offal of the ship. Here I was tempted, and worse yet, yielded to the temptation, to steal something to eat, and risk consequences. The British officer had some beef hung out on the stern of the vessel, I took some of it, and we eat it. The meat was tainted; yet it was sweet to us, not because it was stolen, but because we were starving.

After we had succeeded in getting the vessel over the sandbar, the wind was unfavorable, and the British officer determined to abandon her, and (after getting her up near Dalton's she was burned to prevent the Americans from making any spoils,) here we were put on sh.o.r.e, and walked, hungry and faint, fifteen miles to Dalton's, where we were guarded closely. This was only the beginning of hard times. We discovered the determination of the British to send us down through Canada, and consequently began to lose all hope of seeing the American army. A guard of British and Indians was prepared to take us on. A cart load of provision was started with us, but we never saw it after the morning on which we left Dalton's. Why this provision was started, and not suffered to proceed, we never could even guess. The officer was very rigorous, and would not suffer us to stop and procure any refreshment, but drove us onward like cattle going to market. The second night after we left _Dalton's_, we encamped in the woods.

They now kept a close watch over us--and we were as eagerly looking for an opportunity to escape. Had we forseen the sufferings that were ahead, we should, at least some us, have made the attempt to escape at every hazard. As stated above, our provisions were left behind, and we were under the dominion of an unfeeling wretch, who would but very seldom even suffer us to go into a house to ask for a morsel of bread. He would march us hard all day, and at night put us into a barn or stable to sleep. We often travelled in the rain, and then laid down without fire in our wet clothes to try and rest. This journey of about five hundred miles by land, and four hundred by water, we travelled, in that cold and rainy country, with our thin gingham clothes, given to us by Mr. Hunt of Detroit: some of us were without shoes and coats; and we lived upon potatoes and turnips just as we could pick them up as we pa.s.sed by farms.

This part of the journey, from Dalton's to Burlington Heights, was, perhaps, the most painful of any; not being permitted whilst at Detroit to take much exercise, and being forced on almost beyond our strength, rendered it painful beyond expression. And that was not all: the officer of the guard, being a churlish and tyranical man by nature, failed not to make use of the little brief power committed to him for the occasion, to make our sufferings the more insupportable. It seemed to afford him a pleasure to "add affliction to our bonds." On some occasions, after travelling hard all day in the rain, and having no other lodging but a barn or stable, we had some difficulty in getting fire enough, or getting admittance to it, sufficient to dry our clothes. On this part of the journey, in addition to suffering from the cold rains, and from being compelled to lie down in our wet clothes, we were almost literally starved. On leaving the vessel on the Thames, I found a canister which had been emptied of the shot; this I took with me, which served to cook our potatoes, turnips, and peas, when we could get them, and when our cruel commander would give us time for it; but to add still more to our inconvenience, one of the Indian guard, on returning from Burlington Heights, stole even that from me. This was done by stratagem, (and, by-the-by, the Indians are not slow at it.) As some of them had to return from that place, and were preparing for the journey, one of the party come to me and asked the loan of my cooking vessel. I very readily loaned it to him, not suspecting any design; but finding him rather tardy, I made application for it: he gave me to understand that he was not done with it; and being compelled to march immediately, I had to leave it behind. We sometimes had pickeled pork, which I generally eat raw. The people in that country raised peas, which they mowed and put away vines and all together for their cattle. We would, when lodging in barns and stables, make beds of these, and sh.e.l.l out and eat the peas, and also take some along with us to eat by the way.

I shall not attempt to notice all the particulars of this painful march, from the Thames to York, and from York to Kingston. It was almost an uninterrupted scene of suffering from the beginning to the end. The officer of the guard seemed unwilling to show any kindness himself, or that any one else should show us any. The remembrance of these things, though twenty six years have rolled between, produces a kind of horror in my soul even at this hour.

Here is the way that a company of ragged, naked, and starved, Kentucky boys were driven through the country to be gazed upon and laughed at by the inhabitants of the villages and towns through which we pa.s.sed.

When we reached York, we were closely confined in jail until another guard was appointed to take us on to Kingston. This was one of the most filthy prisons that I ever saw. Here they had a difficulty in obtaining a new guard: the one which brought us to this place from the river Thames consisted chiefly of Indians, and as they were not willing to proceed any farther, the officer had to look for some of the most vigilant soldiers to take their place. We found all along that they were not willing to risk us with a guard of British soldiers until we arrived at this point, when they supposed there would be less danger of an escape.

We tarried several days at York, and then took the road to Kingston; and the farther we went the worse the travelling became, the weather colder, and our clothing more ragged, &c.

I must not omit to mention a widow lady who resided between York and Kingston. She took all the prisoners into her house, treated them kindly, supplied all their wants, and in every respect showed a kind and feeling heart. If I ever knew her name, I have forgotten it: I should like to record it here.

When we came to Kingston we were again put in a filthy jail. It was now about the first of November, and we were allowed very little fire, and our clothing so thin, that we had to shiver it out the best way we could. Our spirits remained unsubdued, and we felt cordially to despise that tyranny which heaped suffering upon us. We rejoiced that it was in defence of dear liberty that these afflictions had fallen upon us; and we hoped by some means soon to enjoy our liberty again.

The British troops at this place were in regular drilling. The infantry and artillery were daily employed in firing at targets.

My attention was specially drawn to their manner of shooting at a target, made of an empty barrel placed out in the lake. This was done that they might, with the greater certainty, fire upon a vessel as it approached the town. We supposed that they were in expectation of an attack from the Yankee fleet upon lake Ontario.

From Kingston we started to Montreal in open boats; if possible this was yet worse than travelling by land, for we could take no exercise to keep ourselves warm. The rains that fell upon us now, appeared as cold as during any part of winter in Kentucky, and we were still in our thin clothing. The boat was scarcely large enough to contain the seventeen prisoners, and the guard; and not high enough for us to stand up; so we had to sit down on the bottom of the boat, and endure the cold from morning until night.

I think we slept but once in a house between Kingston and Montreal, and that was the upper room of an unfinished court house, where we had a small stove, and where we dried our few rags of clothing. At length we came in sight of Montreal; they landed us above the town that they might march us through the city, to be seen as a rare curiosity. Word had reached the town before us, that a number of Kentucky prisoners were to pa.s.s through that day; and it appeared that the whole city had collected into that street to see the great sight. The windows and doors were full of ladies, manifesting great eagerness to see Kentuckians. The reader may perhaps imagine my feelings at this time, for I shall not attempt to describe them.

We were now taken to jail as usual, where we were furnished with a good room, and for the first time since we left Detroit our situation was somewhat comfortable. I think we remained here near two weeks. Our old rags of clothes, which were given us by the British soldiers, proved rather an annoyance to us, as the jail was warm and the vermin began to multiply in great numbers. We had no change of raiment, consequently we had no washing done; thus we spent the time at Montreal.

As before remarked, the vermin became very annoying--and having no possible chance of avoiding them, I fell upon the plan of turning my clothes every morning, so as to keep them travelling.

In order to form an adequate idea of these tormenters of the human family, you must be shut up in a hot, filthy prison, with a number of prisoners clothed in filthy rags, and yourself as bad as any of them, with thousands and millions of these bosom friends crawling over you. If that would not make an impression, I don't know what would.

A right regular built Yankee, who had been but recently taken upon the lines not far from Montreal, was brought into the prison a few days previous to our leaving for Quebec. He was discovered, shortly after his arrival, to pick one of those troublers of our peace from his white shirt, and very deliberately lay him down on a bench, after which, taking a small chip between his finger and thumb, succeeded in dispatching him. This manouvre afforded some sport for some of us who had learned, by things we had suffered, not to take it quite so tedious. He was told that he would soon learn to kill them without a chip.