xt7wh707x91z https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt7wh707x91z/data/mets.xml Bennett, Emerson, 1822-1905. 1853  books b92-122-28575500 English U.P. James, : Cincinnati : Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection. Frontier and pioneer life Kentucky. Girty, Simon, 1741-1818 Fiction. Ella Barnwell  : a historical romance of border life / by Emerson Bennett. text Ella Barnwell  : a historical romance of border life / by Emerson Bennett. 1853 2002 true xt7wh707x91z section xt7wh707x91z 





3Istorital 'gnantt of Bzrer i'ft+


                 AUTHOR 01


       U. P. JAMZES, No. 177 RACE STREET,







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isfortatl  omaulrt of Egretr Fifes



                  AUTHOR O0


               No. 177 RACE STREET.


             Entered aecording t. te Act of Oogiiresg, in the year 1853,
                           By J. A.  U. P. JAMES,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, for the District oi Oby



  Is putting to press a new and revised edition of the following story, the author
would state, that his original design was to combine fact and fiction, in such a way,
ws, while making his story move forward to a proper denouemntd, to give the reader
a correct picture of the dress, customs, and social and war-like habits of the early
pioneers of the west; and also embody a series of historical events which took
place on the frontiers during that revolutionary struggle by which we gained our
glorious independence. For this purpose, Kentucky, in her infancy, was selected as
the scene of action; and most of the existing records of her early settlements were
read with care, each compared with the others, and only the best authenticated
accounts presented to the reader. So much in fact did the author labor to make
the present story historical, that there is scarcely a scene or character in its pages
that had not its counterpart in reality.
  He would only add, that, for important reasons, the original title has been changed
to that which now heads its title-page. Ad What's in a name " queried the great
bard. Had he lived in our day, and been a novelist instead of a poet, he would
either not have asked the question, or answered it very differently than he did.

This page in the original text is blank.




             CHAPTER 1.
             THE STRANGER.
TUAT portion of territory known through-
out Christendom as Kentucky, was, at
an early period, the theatre of some of
the wildest, most hardily contested, and
blowdy scenes ever placed on record. In
fact its very name, derived from the In-
dian word Kan-tuck-kee, which was ap-
plied to it long before its discovery by the
whites, is peculiarly significant in mean-
ing-being no less than "the dark and
bloody ground." History makes no men-
tion of its being inhabited prior to its set-
tlement by the present race; but rather
serves to aid us to the inference, that from
time immemorial it was used as a "1 neu-
tral ground," whereon the different sav-
age tribes were wont to meet in deadly
strife; and hence the portentious name
by which it was known among them. But
notwithstanding its ominous title, Ken-
tucky, when first beheld by the white
hunter, presented all the attractions he
would have envied in Paradise itself.
The climate was congenial to his feel-
ings-the country was devoid of sav-
ages-while its thick tangles of green
cane-abounding with deer, elk, bears,
buffaloes, panthers, wolves and wild cats,
and its more open woods with pheasant,
turkey and partridge-made it the full
realization of his hopes-his longings.
What more could he ask And when
he again stood among his friends, beyond
the Alleghanies, is it to be wondered at
that his excited feelings, aided by dis-
timfe, should lead him to describe it as

the El Dorado of the world  Such in-
deed be did describe it; and to such glow-
ing descriptions, Kentucky was doubtless
partially indebted for her, settlement so
much in advance of the surrounding ter-
  As it is not our purpose, in the present
instance, to enter into a history of the
country, further than is necessary to the
development of our story, the reader will
pardon us for omitting that account of its
early settlement which can readily be
gleaned from numerous works already
familiar to the reading public. It may
not be amiss, however, to remark here,
what almost every reader knows, that
first and foremost in the dangerous strug-
gles of pioneer life, was the celebrated
Daniel Boone; whose name, in the west,
and particularly in Kentucky, is a house-
hold word ; and whose fame, as a fearless
hunter, has extended not only throughout
this continent, but over Europe. The
birth place of this renowned individual
has been accredited to several states, by
as many writers; but one, more than the
rest, is positive in asserting it to have
been Bucks county, Pennsylvania; and
the year of his birth 1732; which is suffi-
cient for our purpose, whether strictly cor-
rect or not. At an earlv period of his
life, all agree that he removed with his
father to a very thinly settled section of
North Carolina, where he spent his time
in hunting-thereby supplying the family
with meat and destroying the wild beasts,
while his brothers assisted the father in
tilling the farm-and where he afterwards,
in a romantic manner, became acquainted



with a settler's daughter, whom he mar-
ried; and whence, in the spring of 1769,
in company with five others, he set out
on an expedition of danger across the
mountains, to explore the western wilds;
and after undergoing hardships innumer-
able, and losing all his companions in
various ways, lie at last succeeded in
erecting the first log cabin, and being the
first white settler within the borders of
Kentucky. To follow up, even from this
time, a detail of his trials; adventures,
captures by the Indians, and hair-breadth
escapes, to the close of his eventful career,
would be sufficient to fill a volume; there-
fore we shall drop him for the time-
mer ly remarking, by the way, that be
will be found to figure occasionally in the
following pages.
  Prom the first appearance of Boone in
the wilds of Kentucky, we shall pass over
a space of some ten or twelve years, and
open our story in the fall of 1781. Dur-
ing this period, the aspect of the country
for a considerable distance around the
present site of Lexington, had become
materially changed; and the smoke from
the cabin of the white settler arose in an
hundred places, here, a dozen years be-
fore, prowled the wolf, the bear, and the
panther, in perfect security. In sooth,
the year in question had been very pro-
pitious to the immigrants; who, flocking
in from eastern settlements in goodly num-
bern, were allowed to domiciliate them-
selfes in their new homes, with but few
exceptions, entirely 'unmolested by the
savage foe. So much in fact was this
the case, that instead of taking up their
residence in a fort-or station, as they
were more generally called - the new
comers erected cabins for themselves, at
such points as they considered most agree-
able; gradually venturing further and fur-
ther from the strongholds, until some of
them became too distant to look hopefully
for succor in cases of extreme necessity.
  Among the stations most prominent at
this period, as being most secure, and
against hich the attacks of the Indians
Here most frequent and unsuccessful,
may be mentioned Harrod's, Boone's,
Logan's, and Bryan's, so called in honor
of their founders. The first two named,
probably from being the two earliest
fBunded, were particularly unfortunate in
drawing down upon themselves the con-

centrated fury of the savages, who at va-
rious times surrounded them in great
numbers and attempted to take them by
storm. These attacks not unfrequently
lasted several days, in which a brisk fire
was maintained on both sides, whenever a
foe could be seen; until wearied out with
fruitless endeavors, or surprised by a re-
inforcement of the whites, the Indians
would raise the siege, with a howl of
rage, and depart. One of tie longest
and most remarkable of these on record,
we believe, was that of Boonesborough,
which was attacked in June; 1778, by
five h'indred Indians, led on by Du-
quesne, a Frenchman, and which, with
only a small garrison, commanded by
Boone himself, nobly held out for eight
days, when the enemy withdrew in de-
spair. But, as we before remarked, it
not being our purpose to enter into a gen-
eral history of the time, we will now pro-
ceed with our story.
  It was near the close of a mild, beau-
tiful day, in the autumn of 1781, that a
young man, some twenty-two years of
age, emerged from a wood into an open
space or clearing, at a distance of per'
haps fifteen miles eastward fron Lexing-
ton. The general appearance of this in-
dividual betokened the hunter, but at the
same time one who followed it for plea-
sure, rather than as a means of support.
This was evident from his dress, which
although somewhat characteristic of the
time, 'was much superior to that generally
worn by the woodsman. Hle had on a
woolen hunting frock, of fine texture, of a
dark green color, that came a few inches
below the hips. Beneath this, and fttting
closely around his shoulders, neck and
breast, was a scarlet jacket, ornamented
with two rows of round, white metal but-
tons. A large cape, with a deep red fringe,
of about inch in width, was attached to
the frock, and extended from the shoul-
ders nearly to the elbow. Around the
waist, outside the frock, passed a dark
leather belt, in which were confined a
brace of handsome pistols, and a I
silver-hilted hunting knife. Breeches of
cloth, like the frock, were cotnected with
leggins of tanned deer skin, which iu
turn extended over, and partly concealed,
heavy cow-hide boots. A neatly made
cap of deer skin, with the hair outsides
surmounted a finely shaped head. gis





features, though somewhat pale and hag-! area of not more than half a dozen acres.
gard, as if from recent grief or trouble, It was of an oblong form, and sloped.off
were mostly of the Grecian cast. He had from his position to the right, left, and
a high, noble forehead; a large, clear, fas- front, and reached from the wood down
cinating gray eye; a well formed mouth, to the stream in the valley, where stood
and a prominent chin. In height he was a rather neat log cabin, from which a
about five feet and ten inches, broad light blue smoke ascended. in graceful
shouldered, straight, heavy set, with hand- wreaths. The eye of the stranger, glanc-
some proportions.                        ing over the scene, fell upon this latter
   Upon the shoulder of the young man, with that gleam of satisfaction which is
as he emerged from the wood, rested an felt by a person after performing a long
elegant rifle; which, after advancing a fatiguing journey, when he sees before
short distance, he brought into a trailing him a comfortable inn, where he is to re-
position; and then pausing, he dropped pose for the night; and pausing for a
the breech upon the ground, placed his couple of minutes, he replaced his rifle
bands over the muzzle, and, carelessly upon his shoulder, and started forward
leaning his chin upon them, swept with down the hill, at a leisure pace.
his ey the surrounding country, to which  Scarcely had the stranger advanced
he was evidently a stranger.         twenty paces, when he was startled by a
  The day had been one of those mild fierce yell, accompanied by the report of
and smoky ones, peculiar to the climate a rifle, the ball of which whizzed past him,
and season; an! the sun, large and red, within an inch of his head. Ere he could
was near to sinking behind the far western recover from, his surprise, a sharp pain
ridge, giving a beautiful crimson, mellow in the side, followed by another report,
tinge to each object which came beneath caused him to reel like one intoxicated,
his rays. The landscape, over which the and finally sink to the earth. As the
stranger gazed, was by no means unpleas- I young man fell, two Indians sprung from
ing. His position was on an eminence, I behind a cluster of bushes, which skirted
overlooking a fertile valley, partly cleared, the clearing some seventy-five yards to
and partly shaded by woods, through the right, and, with a whoop of triumph.
which wound a crystal stream, whose tomahawk in hand, rushed toward him.
gentle murmurs could be heard even Believing that his life now depended upon
where he stood. Beyond this stream, the his own speedy exertions, the young
ground, in pleasing undulations, took a hunter, by a great effort, succeeded in
gentle rise, to a goodly height, and was raising himself on his knees; and drawing
covered by what is termed an open wood up his rifle with a hasty aim, he fired;
-a wood peculiar to Kentucky at this but with no other success than that of
period-consisting of trees in the regu- causing one of the savages to jerk his
larity of an orchard, at some distance head suddenly aside without slackening
apart, devoid of underbrush, beneath his speed. There was still a chance left
which the earth was beautifully carpeted him; and setting his teeth hard, the
with a rank growth of clover, high grass, wounded man drew his pistols from his
and wild flowers innumerable.  In the belt, and awaited the approach of his ene-
rear of the i oung hunter, as if to form a mies; who, when within thirty paces, dis-
background to the' picture, was the wood covering the weapons, of death, suddenly
he had just quitted, which, continuing the came to a halt, and commenced loading
elevation spoken of, but more abruptly, their rifles with great rapidity.
rose high above him, and was crowned by  The young hunter now perceived, with
a ledge of rocks. Far in the distance, to painful regret, that only an interposition
his right, could be seen another high of Providence could save him, for his life
ridge; while to the left, spreading far was hanging on a thread that might snap
away from the mouth of the valley, if we at any moment. It was an awful mo-
may so term it, like the prairies of Mis- ment of suspense, as there, on his knees,
souri, was a beautiful tangle, or cane- far, far away from the land of his birth,
brake,, containing its thousands of wild in a strange country, he, in the prime of
animals. The open space wherein the life, without a friend near, wounded ad
hunter stood was not large, covering an weak, was waiting to die, like a wild 40aXt



by the hands of savages, with his scalp
to be borne hence as a trophy, his flesh
to be devoured by wolves, and his bones
left to bleach in the open air. It was an
awful moment of suspense ! and a thou-
sand thoughts came rushing through his
mind; and he felt he woula have given
worlds, were they his, for the existence
of even half an hour, with a friend by, to
feceive his dying requests. To add to his
despair, he felt himself fastgrowing weaker'
and weaker; and with an unsteady vision,
as his last hope, he turned his eye in the
direction of the cottage, to note if any as-
sistance were at hand; but he saw none;
and nature failing to support him longdr
in his position, he sunk back upon the
ground, believing the last sands of his
existence were run.
  Meantime, the Indians had loaded their
rifles; and one of them, stepping a pace
in front of his companion, was already in
the aet of aiming, when, perceiving the
young man falter and sink back, he low-
ered the muzzle of his gun, and, grasping
his tomahawk, darted forward to despatch
him without further loss of ammunition.
Already had he reached within five or six
paces of his victim, who, now unable to
exert himself in his own defence, could
only look upon his savage enemy and the
weapon uplifted for his destruction, when,
crack went another rifle, in an opposite
direction whence the Indians approached,
and, bounding into the air, with a terrific
yell, the foremost fell dead by the young
man's side. On seeing his companion
fall, the other Indian, who was only a few
paces behind, stopped suddenly, and, with
a yell of fear and disappointment, turned
and led.
  Those only who have been placed in
peril sufficient to extinguish the last gleam
of hope, and have suddenly been relieved
by a mysterious interposition of Provi-
dence, can fully realize the feelings with
which the wounded hunter saw himself
rescued from an ignominious death. True,
he was weak and faint from a Wound which
was, perhaps, mortal; still it was a great
consolation to feel that he should die
among those who would bury him, and
perhaps bear a message to friends in a
far-off land. With such thoughts upper-
most in his mind, the young man, by
great exertion, raised himself upon his
emo; and turned his head in the direc-

tion whence his deliverer might be ex-
pected; but, to his surprise and disap-
pointment, no one appeared; and after
vainly attempting to regain his feet, he
sunk back, completely exhausted. The
wound in, his side had now grown very
painful, and was bleedihg freely; whilehe
became conscious, that unless the hemor-
rhage could be stanched immediately, the
only good service a friend could render
him, would be to inter his remains. In
this helpless state, something like a minute
elapsed, when he felt a strange sensation
about his heart-his head grew dizzy-
his thoughts seemed confused-the sky
appeared suddenly to grow dark, and he
believed the icy grasp of death was al-
ready settling upon him. At this moment
a form-but whether of friend or foe he
could not tell-flitted before his uncertain
vision; and then all became darkness and
nonentity. He had swooned.
  When the young stranger recovered
his senses, after a lapse of some ten min-
utes, his glance rested on the form of a
white hunter, of noble aspect, who was
bending over him with a compassionate
look; and who, meantime, had opened his
dress to the wound and stanched the
blood, by covering it with a few pieces of
coarse linen, which he had torn into shreds
for the purpose, and secured there by
means of his belt.
  As this latter personage is destined to
figure somewhat in the following pages,
we shall take this opportunity of describ-
ing him as he appeared to our wounded
  In height and proportion-but not in
age-tnese two individuals were some-
what alike-the new corner being full five
feet, ten inches, with a robust, athletic
frame, and all the concomitants of a pow-
erful man. At the moment when first
beheld by the youngr man, after regaining
his senses, he was kneeling by his side,
his cap of the wild-cat skin was lying on
the ground, and the last mellow rays of
the setting sun were streaming upon an
intelligent and manly countenance, which,
now rendered more deeply interesting by
the earnest, compassionate look wherewith
he regarded the other, made him appear
to that other, in his peculiar situation, the
most noble being he had ever seen. Of
vears he had seen some fifty; though
there was a freshness about his face,




owing probably to his hardy, healthy mode
of lire, which made him appear much
younger. His countenance was open and
pleasimg, with good, regular, though not,
stric-ly speaking, handsome features. His
forehead was higlh and full, beneath which
beamed a mild, clear blue eye. - His nose
was rather long and angular; his cheek-
bones high and bold; his lips thin and
compressed, covering a goodly set of
teeth; his chin round and prominent; the
whole together conveying an expression of
energy, decision, hardy recklessness and
manly courage. His dress was fashioned
much like the other's, already desciibed,
but of coarser materials--the frock being of
linsey-woolsey; the breeches and leggings
of deerskin; and the moccasins, in place
of boots, of the same material. Around
his waist passed a belt; wherein, instead
of pistols, were confined a tomahawk and
scalping knite-two weapons which were
considered as indispensable to the regular
whi e hunter of that day as to the Indian
warrior himself.
  So soon as the elder of the two became
aware of consciousness on the part of the
younger, a friendly smile succeeded to the
look of anxiety with which he had been
regarding him; and in the frank, cordial,
familiar tone of that period, when every
man's cabin was the traveler's home, and
every strange guest was treated with the
hospitality of an old acquaintance, he said:
  "s Well, stranger, I'm right glad to wel-
come you back to life agin; for I war
beginning to fear your account with earthly
matters had closed. By the Power that
made me ! but you've had a narrow es-,
cape on't; and ef Betsy (putting his hand
on his rifle, which was lying by his side,)
hadn't spoke out as she did, that thar red
skin varmint (pointing to the dead Indian)
would have been skulking now like a thief
through yonder woods, with your crown
piece hanging to his girdle."
  "A  thousand thanks," returned the
wounded man, pressing the hand of the
other as much as his strength would per.
mit, and accompanying it with a look oft
gratitude more eloquent than words: 1s A
thousand thanks, sir, for your timely shot,
and subsequent kindness and interest in
behalf of one you know not, but who will
ever remember you with gratitude."
  " See here, stranger, I reckon you've
not been long in these parts "

   "But a few days, sir."
   l And you've come from a good wayr
east. o' the Alleghanies I"
   "I have."
   iI knew it. I'd have bet Betsey agiu
a bushel of corn, and that's large odds
you know, that such war the fact. from the
perticuldr trouble you've taken to thank
me for doing the duty of a man. Let me
assure you, stranger, that you're in a
country now whar equality exists; and
whar one man's just as good as another,
provided he is no coward, and behaves
himself as he should do; and whether
stranger or not, is equally entitled to the
assistance of his fellows; perticularly
when about being treed by such a sneak-
ing varmint as that lying yonder. Be-
sides, I don't want any body to thank me
for shooting Indians; for I always do it,
whensomever I get a chance, as Betsey
would tell yow, ef she could speak Eng-
lish; fur somehow thar's no perticular
agreement atween us, unless it's for each
to make the most he can off the other;
and so far I reckon thar's a ballance in my
favor, though the wretches are ever trying
desperate hard to get even. But come,
stranger, it won't do for you to be lying
thar with that hole in your side; and so
just have patience a minute, till I've se-
cured the top-knot of this beauty here,
and then I'll assist you down to yonder
cabin, whar I doubt not you'll be well
cared for."
  As he spoke, the old woodsman rose to
his feet, drew his knife, and turning to the
dead Indian, to the. surprise of the other,
who was but little familiar with Kentucky
customs of that day, deliberately took off
the scalp, which he attached to his belt ;
and then spurning the body with his foot,
he muttered: "Go, worthless dog ! and
fill the belly of some wolf ! and may your
cowardly companion be soon keeping you
company." Then, as he turned to the
other, and noticed his look of surprise, he
added: "Well, stranger, I reckon this busi-
ness looks a little odd to you, coming from
away beyond the mountains as you do."
However barbarous such a proceedin may
appear to thousands in the present day otfcivial
ization and refinement, we can assure them, on
the authority of numerous historians of that
period, that it was a general custom with the
early settlers of the west, to take the scalp of
an Indian slain by their lhind, whenever oppor.
turiity presented.




   "d Why, if truth must be told, I confes
 It does," answered the other.
   " Don't doubt it, stranger; but you'I
 do it yourself afore you've wintered heri
 ttwo seasons."
   a I must beg leave to differ with you or
 that point."
   OrWell, well, we'll not quarrel aboui
 it-4it arn't worth while; but ef you sta3
 here two year, without scalping a red-skir
 and perhaps skinning one, I'll agree tc
 pay you for your time in bar-skins at youi
 own valuation."
   -I am much obliged to you for the
offer," answered the young man-a faini
smile lighting his pale features; "but I
-think it hardly probable I shall remain in
the country that length of time."
   "4Not unless you have good care, I
reckon," returned the other; "for that
thar wound o' yourn arn't none o' the
slightest; though I don't want you to be
sheered, for I've seen many a worse one
cured. But come, I'll assist you down
to yon cabin, and then I must be off-for
I've got a good distance to travel afore
daylight to-morrow ;" and bending down
as he spoke, the veteran hunter placed
his arms under the arms of the wounded
man, and gently raised him upon his feet.
  Although extremely weak from loss of
blood, the latter, by this means of sup-
port, was enabled to walk, at a slow pace;
and the two descended the hill-the
elder, the while, talking much, and en-
deavoring by his discourse to amuse and
cheer up his companion.
  " Why," he continued, " you think
your case a hard one, no doubt, stranger;
but it's nothing compared to what some
of us old settlers have seen and been
through with, without even winking, as
one may say. Within the last few year,
I 've seen a brother and a son shot by
the infernal red-skins-have lost I don't
know how many companions in the same
way-been shot at fifty times myself, and
captured several; and yet you see here I
am, hale and hearty, and just as eager,
with Betsey's permission, to talk to the
varmints now as I war ten year ago."
  "But do you not weary of this fa-
tiguing and dangerous mode of life "
inquired the other.
  ", Weary, stranger  Lord bless ye!
you're but a young hunter to ax such a
question as that. Weary, friend Why I

9 war born to it-nursed to it--had a rifle
  for a plaything; and the first thing I can
I remember particularly, war shooting a
painter ; and it's become as nateral and
necessary as breathing; and whPen I get
0so I can't follow the one, I want to quit
the other. Weary on't, indeed! Why,
thar's more real satisfaction in sarcum.
Yventing and scalping one o' them  red
iheathen, than in all the amusement you
ocould scare up in a thick-peopled, peace.
able settlement in a life time."
    "By the way," said the other, "pray
 tell me how you chanced to-be so oppor-
 tune in saving my life"
   "Whv, you must know, I war just
 crossing through the wood back here
 about a mile, on my way home from the
 Licks, when I came across the trail of
 two Indians, whom I 'spected war arter
 no good; and as Betsey war itching for
 something to do, I kind o' kept on the
 same way, and happened round on the
 other side o' this