Staunton spectator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1849-1896, 1888-04-11
The CHILD CAPTIVE OF WYOMING.
rooy,,.;o,,ed 1888. 6v Funk & Vagnans.

loopwigatea, 1888. By Funk & WagnaHs.l
Ats o'clock on cool September morning
in 1S48 left Easton, Pa, on stage-coach
for the Wyoming Valley, sixty miles dis
tant. Although there were only three pas
sengers in the coach-two women and a
baby-I took seat with the driver, for
there were promises of a pleasant day dawn
and magnificent scenery. But when we
had assembled to Nazareth, chilling vapors
that came up from the river and valleys
caused me to seek comfort within the
coach. We passed through the Wind Gap
and breakfasted- at the Roscommon Tavern.
Then l resumed my seat with the driver
At noon we reached the gently undulating
summit of the Pocono Mountains, and dined
at John Smiths, two thousand feet above
tide-level.
For about twenty miles we rode over
that dreary waste where, here and there,
lofty pine, tamarack, or less ampltlous
cedar rose from green sea of shrub-oaks.
Here the gray eagle wheeled undisturbed,
the bear made his lair, and wild deer
roamed in abundance. The wind blew
cold from the northwest, and was happy
when we reached the brow OF the Wilkes
Barre Mountain, little before sunset, and
began to descend into the warmer atmos-
phere of the charming Wyoming Valley
that spread out in enchanting beauty lar
below us. | can never forget the right
royal supper at the Phoenix Hotel, by the
side of the beautiful Susquehanna, that ap-
peased a voracious appetite after sixty
mile ride in healthful mountain air-Venl-
son steak and cranberry sauce, warm bis
cults and honey
Early the next morning | started on a
pilgrimage to places and persons identified
with the stirring scenes enacted in the
Wyoming Valley in the summer of ITS. l
first visited Mr.. Charles Miner, the early
historian of the valley, who, with his blind
daughter, blessed with remarkable MEM
DRY, heard the fearful and pathetic story
from the lips of more than forty intelligent
survivors of the work of desolation. then
called on the venerable Mrs. Myers, near
Kingston, living witness of the woes of
Wyoming, who was then eighty-seven years
of age, totally blind, but exceedingly
cheerful and kindly communicative. She
was the last survivor of the inmates OF
Forty Fort, when it was besieged and cap
tured by the Tory leader Col. Butler and
his Indian allies. She possessed the little
round table on which the treaty, at the
time of the surrender, was signed. l found
the venerable woman seated in an easy
chair, peeling apples. She received me
with great dignity and kind courtesy, and
entertained me for an hour with reminiscent
ces of her girlhood experience amid the ex'
citing scenes of the Vale of Wyoming.
Mrs. Myers nee Bennett was sixteen
years old at the time of the memorable in
vasion of the valley, and was in Forty Fort
when it was surrendered. She remember
cd 10 u1Ith mar
feet clearness. She remained two weeks
in the valley after the surrender. The In
dams kept her face painted black and a
white f1llet around her head as protection
against the tomahawks of strange savages
and she was treated very kindly by them.
After the barbarians, white and red, had
left the valley, she returned with her family
and had enjoyed for seventy years the
sweets of peace and domestic happiness.
IL am like withered stalk whose flower
hath fallen" said the venerable lady
'but," she added, with q pleasant smile,
''the fragrance still fingers. Have you seen
Joseph Slocum ?" she inquired.
Il have not even heard of him." l re-
piled.
"You ought not to leave the valley with
out seeing him." she said, 'for he can give
you more interesting story about the
events have been relating than any other
living person-the story of the captivity of
his little sister, and the discovery of her
sixty years afterward. He lives not far
from the hotel"
passed several hours of that day with
Lord Butler, a grandson of the leader of
the band of patriots who calamity opposed
the Tory and Indian invaders of the valley
He kindly accompanied me to the most in
teresting localities in the neighborhood-
Forty Fort, the Monument, the chief bat
tle-ground, Mocacy Island, Wintermoot's
Fort, *etc., and l spent the evening pleas
antly and proftably with the venerable
Joseph Slocum, whose family was among
the sufferers in the Wyoming Valley. He
gave me minute account of the capture OF
his little sister Frances by the barbarians,
and the fiual discovery of her.
Mr.. Slocum's father was Friend or
Quaker, and was distinguished for his kind
ness to the Indians He remained IN
harmed at the time of the invasion and his
dwelling was untouched by incendiary fire.
But his son Giles was in the battle. This,
doubtless, excited the ire of the Indians,
and they resolved on vengeance. Late in
autumn they were seen prowling about the
house, which was not far from Wilkes
Barre Fort. A neighbor had been made a
prisoner, and his wife and two sons found a
welcome home in the Slocum family. One
morning the two boys were grinding a
knife near the house, when lit1e-shot and
a shrek brought Mrs. Slocum to the door.
An Indian was scalping the eldest boy, q
lad of fourteen. The barbarian rushed into
the house and seized little son of Mrs.
Slocum. The frightened mother exclaimed,
''See he can do thee no good he is
lame p
The Indian released the boy, and taking
her daughter Frances gently in his arms,
seized the younger Of the two boys outside
and fastened to the mountains. Mrs. Slo-
Gums little daughter, nine years old,
caught up Joseph (my informant), who
was two and half years old, and fled in
safety to the fort, when an alarm was
given, but the barbarians were beyond sue
cessful pursuit. They also carried off
black girl, seventeen years of age.
About six weeks after this event Mr.. Slo-
cum and his father-in-law were shot and
scalped by providing Indians while fodder
ing cattle near the house. The savages es-
capped with their horrid trophies. Mrs
Slocum, bereft of father, husband and
child, and stripped of all possessions except
the house that sheltered her, could not
1OdNO bAO Vdl10y, 1Ol uluC u6lplGSS OQlluren
were yet in her household. She trusted in
the God of Elijah, and if she was not fed
by the ravens she was spared from the vul-
lures. She mourned not for the dead, for
they were at rest but little Frances, her
lost darling, where was she? The lamp of
hope was kept burning, but years rolled by
and no tidings of the little one CAME
When peace returned and friendly inter-
course with Canada was established, two of
the little captive's brothers started in quest
OF her. They traversed the wilderness to
Fort Niagara, on the border, offering re-
wards for her discovery, but in vain. They
returned, convinced that the child was
dead. But the mothers heart was still the
shrine of hope, and she felt assured that
Frances was not in the grave. Her en-
bodied spirit seemed to hold communion
with that of her child, and she often said,
81 know Frances is living. Something
tells me that she is alive and WELL"
Atlepgth the mothers heart was cheered.
A woman (many years had now passed,
and Frances, if living must be full grown
woman) was found among the Indians who
answered the description of the lost one
She only remembered being carried away
from the Susquehanna. Mrs. Slocum took
her home and cherished her with a moth
ers tenderness. Yet the mysterious link
OF sympathy that binds the maternal nature
r @ nd NT.tvN r ii