ground for the bear, when I came suddenly upon the spring; and being dry, and more rejoiced to find so fine a spring than to have killed a dozen bears, I set my rifle against a bush, and rushed down the bank and laid down to drink. Upon putting my head down, I saw reflected in the water, on the opposite side, the shadow of a tall Indian. I sprang to my rifle, when the Indian gave a yell, whether for peace or war I was not just then sufficiently master of my faculties to determine; but upon my seizing my rifle and facing him, he knocked up the pan of his gun, threw out the priming, and extended his open palm toward me in token of friendship. After putting down our guns, we again met at the spring, and shook hands. This was Logan, the best specimen of humanity I ever met with, either white or red. He could speak a little English, and told me there was another white hunter a little way down the stream, and offered to guide me to his

camp. There I first met your father. We remained together in the valley a week, looking for springs and selecting lands, and laid the foundation of a friendship which never has had the slightest interruption.

"We visited Logan at his camp, at Logan's Spring, and your father and he shot at a mark for a dollar a shot. Logan lost four or five When we were about to

rounds, and acknowledged himself beaten. leave him, he went into his hut, and brought out as many deer-skins as he had lost dollars, and handed them to Mr. Maclay, who refused to take them, alleging that we had been his guests, and did not come to rob him—that the shooting had been only a trial of skill, and the bet merely nominal. Logan drew himself up with great dignity, and said, 'Me bet to make you shoot your best-me gentleman, and me take your dollar if me beat.' So he was obliged to take the skins or affront our friend, whose nice sense of honor would not permit him to receive even a horn of powder in return."

Logan was one of the most successful hunters ever known among the Indians, and supported his family entirely by killing deer, dresssing the skins and selling them to the whites. He once sold a large lot to a tailor, of the name of De Young, living somewhere in Ferguson's Valley-tailors, in those days, dealed extensively in buckskin breeches. Logan received his pay, according to agreement, in wheat. The wheat, however, on being taken to the mill, was found so worthless that the miller refused to grind it. Logan was much chagrined, and attempted in vain to obtain redress from the tailor. He then took the matter before his friend Brown, who was a magistrate; and on the judge's questioning him as to the character of the wheat, and what was in it, Logan sought in vain to find words to express the precise nature of the article with which the wheat was adulterated, but said that it resembled in appearance the wheat itself. "It must have been cheat," said the judge. "Yoh!" said Logan, "that very good name for him." A decision was awarded in Logan's favor, and a writ given to Logan to hand to the constable, which he was told would bring him the money for his skins. But the untutored Indiantoo uncivilized to be dishonest-could not comprehend by what magic this little paper would force the tailor against his will to pay for the skins. The judge took down his own commission, with the arms of the king upon it, and explained to him the first principles and operations of civil law. "Law good," said Logan; "make rogues pay."

HISTORY OF LOGAN.

97

But how much more simple and efficient was the law which the Great Spirit had impressed upon his heart-to do as he would be done by!

Lo the poor Indian, whose untutored mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind!
His soul proud science ne'er taught to stray
Far as the solar walk or milky way-

Yet simple nature to his hope hath given

Beyond the cloud-capped hills an humble heaven

And thinks, admitted to that equal sky,

His faithful dog will bear him company!

Mr. Jefferson, in his Notes on Virginia, gives the following incident in the history of Logan, after leaving the Juniata:

In the spring of 1774, a robbery and murder were committed on an inhabitant of the frontiers of Virginia, by two Indians of the Shawnee tribe. The neighboring whites, according to their custom, undertook to punish this outrage in a summary manner. Colonel Cresap, a man infamous for the many murders he had committed on those much injured people, collected a party and proceeded down the Kanaway in quest of vengeance; unfortunately, a canoe with women and children, and one man only, was seen coming from the opposite shore unarmed, and unsuspecting an attack from the whites. Cresap and his party concealed themselves on the bank of the river, and the moment the canoe reached the shore, singled out their objects, and at one fire killed every person in it. This happened to be the family of Logan, who had long been distinguished as a friend to the whites. This unworthy return provoked his vengeance; he accordingly signalized himself in the war which ensued. In the autumn of the same year a decisive battle was fought at the mouth of the great Kanaway, in which the collected forces of the Shawnees, Mingoes, and Delawares were defeated by a detachment of the Virginia militia. The Indians sued for peace. Logan, however, disdained to be seen among the suppliants; but lest the sincerity of a treaty should be disturbed, from which so distinguished a chief abstracted himself, he sent, by a messenger, the following speech to be delivered to Lord Dunmore:

"I appeal to any white man if ever he entered Logan's cabin hungry, and he gave him not to eat; if ever he came cold, and he clothed him not. During the course of the last long and bloody war Logan remained idle in his cabin, an advocate for peace. Such was my love for the whites, that my countrymen pointed as they passed, and said, Logan is the friend of the white man. I have even thought to have lived with you, but for the injuries of one man. Colonel Cresap, the last spring, in cold blood, murdered all the relations of Logan, even my women and children.

"There runs not a drop of my blood in the veins of any living creature; this called on me for revenge. I have fought for it. I have killed many. I have

fully glutted my vengeance. For my country I rejoice at the beams of peace: but do not harbor a thought that mine is the joy of fear. Logan never felt fear. He will not turn on his heel to save his life. Who is there to mourn for Logan? Not one!"

Such was the great Indian orator who once frequented these lofty mountains and rich rolling valleys. Such was the son of the great Cayuga Chief-Logan. The Juniata was the favorite retreat of the Indian, and no wonder! If it is wild and beautiful now, what must it have been in its primitive glory-when the Indian alone “was monarch of all he surveyed !"-when he pursued the roving deer amidst the solitude of the deep forest, or skimmed the blue waters of the stream in his light canoe! Apropos, a favorite song:

Twelve miles above Lewistown, on the Juniata, and nearly equidistant from Philadelphia and Pittsburg, is MCVEYTOWN, a handsome little village, doing some business on the canal. Hanawalt's Cave is near here, and has some interest. It often contains saltpetre, in a crude state, and numerous stalactitic curiosities peculiar to limestone formations. Ten miles further is NEWTON HAMILTON, another pleasant village, principally engaged in the trade of the canal. The great fertility and productiveness of this portion of the country renders this trade by no means insignificant-though much of it will ultimately be attracted to the railroad during that portion of the year when the canal is closed. An enormous quantity of pig iron, flour, grain,