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James Smith was born in 1737 what
today is Franklin County, Pennsylvania. In 1755 at age 18, Smith was taken
captive by a small group of Delaware and Canasatauga [known more commonly
as Conestoga] Indians. For the next four
years Smith lived and traveled the Ohio country as an adopted member of a
Canasatuga family of Indians. In 1859 at the end of the French and Indian
War, Smith left his Indian family and returned to his home in
Pennsylvania.
In 1799 a book was published of
James Smith’s life and times with the Indians during the French and Indian
Wars. A republished edition is at the Bierce Library at the University of
Akron. An account of the
remarkable occurrences in the life and travels of Col. James Smith, during
his captivity with the Indians, in the years 1755, '56, '57, '58, & '59.
With an appendix of illustrative notes.
By Wm. M. Darlington, R. Clarke & Co., Cincinnati, Ohio,
1870
In 1978 the Ohio Historical
Society published an exceptional version of the original work titled,
Scoouwa (James Smith’s adopted Indian name) with detailed explanations
making this work one of the most interesting and sensitive works ever
written on the subject.
http://www.ohiohistorystore.com/browse.cfm/4,160.htm
The following are excerpts relating
to the time James Smith’s spent in present day Summit County, Ohio.
Some time in October, another
adopted brother, older than Tontileaugo, came to pay us a visit at
Sunyendeand [Sandusky Bay,] and he asked me to take a hunt with him on
Cayahaga [the Cuyahoga River Valley.] As they always used me as a free
man, and gave me the liberty of choosing, I told him that I was attached
to Tontileaugo-had never seen him before, and therefore, asked sometime to
consider of this. He told me that the party he was going with would not be
along, or at the mouth of this little lake, in less than six days, and I
could in this time be acquainted with him, and judge for myself. I
consulted with Tontileaugo on this occasion, and he told me that our old
brother Tecaughretanego, (which was his name) was a chief, and a better
man that he was; and if I went with him I might expect to be well used,
but he said I might do as I pleased; and if I staid he would use me as he
had done. I told him that he had acted in every respect as a brother to
me; yet I was much pleased with my old brother's conduct and conversation;
and as he was going to a part of the country I had never been in, I wished
to go with him-he said that he was perfectly willing.
I then went with Tecaughretanego,
to the mouth of the little lake, where he met with the company he intended
going with, which was composed of Caughnewagas, and Ottawas.-Here I was
introduced to a Caughnewaga sister, and others I had never before seen. My
sister's name was Mary, which they pronounced Maully. I asked
Tecaughretanego how it came that she had an English name; he said that he
did not know that it was an English name; but it was the name the priest
gave her when she was baptized, which he said was the name of the mother
of Jesus. He said there were a great many of the Caughnewagas and Wiandots
that were a kind of half Roman-Catholics; but as for himself, he said,
that the priest and him could not agree; as they held notions that
contradicted both sense and reason, and had the assurance to tell him,
that the book of God, taught them these foolish absurdities: but he could
not believe the great and good spirit ever taught them any such nonsense:
and therefore he concluded that the Indians' old religion was better than
this new way of worshiping God.
The Ottawas have a very useful
kind of tents which they carry with them, made of flags, plaited and
stitched together in a very artful manner, so as to turn rain, or wind
well,-each mat is made fifteen feet long, and about five feet broad. In
order to erect this kind of tent, they cut a number of long strait poles,
which they drive in the ground, in form of a circle, leaning inwards; then
they spread the matts on these poles,-beginning at the bottom and
extending up, leaving only a hole in the top uncovered-and this hole
answers the place of a chimney. They make a fire of dry split wood, in the
middle, and spread down bark mats and skins for bedding, on which they
sleep in a crooked posture, all round the fire, as the length of their
beds will not admit of stretching themselves. In place of a door they lift
up one end of a mat and creep in, and let the mat fall down behind them.
These tents are warm and dry,
and tolerable clear of smoke. Their lumber they keep under birch-bark
canoes, which they carry out and turn up for a shelter, where they keep
every thing from the rain. Nothing is in the tents but themselves and
their bedding.
This company had four birch
canoes and four tents. We were kindly received, and they gave us plenty of
homony, and wild fowl, boiled and roasted. As the geese, ducks, swans, &c.
here are well grain-fed, they were remarkably fat, especially the green
necked ducks.
The wild fowl here, feed upon a
kind of wild rice, that grows spontaneously in the shallow water, or wet
places along the sides or in the corners of the lakes.
As the wind was high and we
could not proceed on our voyage, we remained here several days, and killed
abundance of wild fowl, and a number of raccoons.
When a company of Indians are
moving together on the lake, as it is at this time of the year often
dangerous sailing, the old men hold a council; and when they agree to
embark, every one is engaged immediately in making ready, without offering
one word against the measure, though the lake may be boisterous and
horrid. One morning tho' the wind appeared to me to be as high as in days
past, and the billows raging, yet the call was given yohoh-yohoh, which
was quickly answered by allooh-ooh which signifies agreed. We were all
instantly engaged in preparing to start, and had considerable difficulties
in embarking.
As soon as we got into our
canoes we fell to paddling with all our might, making out from the shore.
Though these sort of canoes ride waves beyond what could be expected, yet
the water several times dashed into them. When we got out about half a
mile from shore, we hoisted sail, and as it was nearly a west wind, we
then seemed to ride the waves with ease, and went on at a rapid rate. We
then all laid down our paddles, excepting one that steered, and there was
no water dashed into our canoes, until we came near the shore again. We
sailed about sixty miles that day, and encamped some time before night.
The next day we again embarked
and went on very well for some time; but the lake being boisterous, and
the wind not fair, we were obliged to make to shore, which we accomplished
with hard work and some difficulty in landing. The next morning a council
was held by the old men.
As we had this day to pass by a
long precipice of rocks, on the shore about nine miles, which rendered it
impossible for us to land, though the wind was high and the lake rough;
yet, as it was fair, we were all ordered to embark. We wrought ourselves
out from the shore and hoisted sail (what we used in place of sail cloth,
were our tent mats, which answered the place very well) and went on for
some time with a fair wind, until we were opposite to the precipice, and
then it turned towards the shore, and we began to fear we should be cast
upon the rocks. Two of the canoes were considerably farther out from the
rocks, than the canoe I was in. Those who were farthest out in the lake
did not let down their sails until they had passed the precipice; but as
we were nearer the rock, we were obliged to lower our sails, and paddle
with all our might. With much difficulty we cleared ourselves of the rock,
and landed. As the other canoes had landed before us, there were
immediately runners sent off to see if we were all safely landed.
This night the wind fell, and
the next morning the lake was tolerably calm, and we embarked without
difficulty, and paddled along near the shore, until we came to the mouth
of Cayahaga, which empties into Lake Erie on the south side, betwixt
Canesadooharie [The Black River] Pressq' Isle [Erie PA.]
We turned up Cayahaga and
encamped where we staid and hunted for several days; and so we kept moving
and hunting until we came to the forks of Cayahaga [mouth of the Little
Cuyahoga and Cuyahoga Rivers.]
This is a very gentle river, and
but few riffles, or swift running places, from the mouth to the forks.
Deer here were tolerably plenty, large and fat; but bear and other game
scarce. The upland is hilly, and principally second and third rate land.
The timber chiefly black-oak, white-oak, hickory, dogwood etc. The bottoms
are rich and large, and the timber is walnut, locust, mulberry,
sugar-tree, red-haw, black-haw, wild-apple trees etc. The West Branch of
this river [the Little Cuyahoga River] interlocks with the East Branch of
Muskingum [Tuscarawas
River;] and the East Branch [the Cuyahoga River] with the Big
Beaver creek, that empties into the Ohio about thirty miles below
Pittsburgh.
From the forks of Cayahaga to
the East Branch of Muskingum, there is a carrying place, where the Indians
carry their canoes out from the waters of Lake Erie, into the waters of
the Ohio.
From the forks I went over with
some hunters, to the East Branch of Muskingum, where they killed several
deer, a number of beavers, and returned heavy laden, with skins and meat,
which we carried on our backs, as we had no horses.
The land here is chiefly second
and third rate, and the timber chiefly oak and hickory. A little above the
forks, on the East Branch of Cayahaga, are considerable rapids, very rocky
for some distance; but no perpendicular falls.
About the first of December,
1756, we were preparing for leaving the river: we buried our canoes, and
as usual hung up our skins, and every one had a pack to carry: the squaws
also packed up their tents, which they carried in large rolls that
extended up above their heads; and though a great bulk, yet not heavy. We
steered about a south east course, and could not march over ten miles per
day. At night we lodged in our flag tents, which when erected, were nearly
in the shape of a sugar loaf, and about fifteen feet diameter at the
ground.
In this manner we proceeded
about forty miles, and wintered in these tents, on the waters of Beaver
creek, near a little lake or large pond, which is about two miles long,
and one broad, and a remarkable place for beaver. . .
Some time in March 1757 we began
to move back to the forks of Cayahaga, which was about forty or fifty
miles; and as we had no horses, we had all our baggage and several hundred
weight of beaver skins, and some deer and bear skins all to pack on our
backs. The method we took to accomplish this, was by making short day's
journies. In the morning we would move on with as much as we were able to
carry, about five miles, and encamp; and then run back for more. We
commonly made three such trips in the day. When we came to the great pond,
we staid there one day to rest ourselves and to kill ducks and geese.
While we remained here, I went
in company with a young Caughnewaga, who was about sixteen or seventeen
years of age, Chinnohete by name, in order to gather crannberries. As he
was gathering berries at some distance from me, three Jibewa squaws crept
up undiscovered, and made at him speedily, but he nimbly escaped, and came
to me apparently terrified. I asked him what he was afraid of? he replied,
did you not see those squaws? I told him I did, and they appeared to be in
a very good humour. I asked him, wherefore then he was afraid of them? He
said the Jibewa squaws were very bad women, and had a very ugly custom
among them. I asked him what that custom was? he said, that when two or
three of them could catch a young lad, that was betwixt a man and a boy,
out by himself, if they could overpower him, they would strip him by force
in order to see whether he was coming on to be a man or not. He said that
was what they intended when they crawled up, and ran so violently at him,
but said he, I am very glad that I so narrowly escaped. I then agreed with
Chinnohete in condemning this as a bad custom, and an exceedingly immodest
action for young women to be guilty of.
From our sugar camp on the head
waters of Big Beaver creek to this place, is not hilly, in some places the
woods are tolerably clear: but in most places exceedingly brushy. The land
here is chiefly second and third rate. The timber on the upland is
white-oak, black-oak, hickory, and chesnut: there is also in some places
walnut up land, and plenty of good water. The bottoms here are generally
large and good.
We again proceeded on from the
pond to the forks of Cayahaga, at the rate of about five miles per day.
The land on this route is not
very hilly, it is well watered, and, in many places ill timbered,
generally brushy, and chiefly second and third rate land, intermixed with
good bottoms.
When we came to the forks, we found
that the skins we had scaffolded were all safe. [The ancient tree known as
the Signal Tree in the Chuckery Park ( Metro Parks) was most likely used
to prepare and store fur skins as described by Smith. It’s also likely
that numerous other nearby tress were bent erected as scaffolds in the
same fashion, though only one survives to modern times.] Though this was a
public place, and Indians frequently passing, and our skins hanging up in
view; yet there were none stolen; and it is seldom that Indians do steal
any thing from one another; and they say they never did, until the white
people came among them, and learned some of them, to lie, cheat, and
steal, but, be that as it may, they never did curse or swear, until the
whites learned them; some think their language will not admit of it, but I
am not of that opinion, if I was so disposed, I could find language to
curse or swear, in the Indian tongue. . .
We took up our birch-bark canoes
which we had buried, and found that they were not damaged by the winter;
but they not being sufficient to carry all that we now had, we made a
large chesnut bark canoe; as elm bark was not to be found at this place.
We all embarked, and had a very
agreeable passage down the Cayahaga, and along the south side of Lake
Erie, until we passed the mouth of Sandusky; then the wind arose, and we
put in at the mouth of the Miami of the Lake, at Cedar Point, where we
remained several days, and killed a number of Turkeys, geese, ducks, and
swans. The wind being fair, and the lake not extremely rough, we again
embarked, hoisted up sails, and arrived safe at the Wiandot town, nearly
opposite to Fort Detroit, on the north side of the river. Here we found a
number of French traders, every one very willing to deal with us for our
beaver.
We bought ourselves fine
clothes, amunition, paint, tobacco, etc. and, according to promise, they
purchased me a new gun: yet we had parted with only about one third of our
beaver. . .
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