ground, and especially the ice along the margin of the lake, would facilitate the transportation of his guns and munitions of war.

General Harrison in December gave the order for the whole army to move forward in three divisions: One from Sandusky, with a park of artillery and a nominal force of 10,000 strong; one from Fort McArthur; and the third, under General Winchester, was to advance from Fort Defiance to the Rapids of the Maumee, there take in their supplies of ordnance and provi sions, and proceed at once to invest Malden.

Harrison, commanding the central division, started on the 31st of December. General Winchester, who had moved six miles from Fort Defiance towards the Maumee Rapids, commenced his march on the 8th of January. It was a cold, bitter day, and the snow lay over two feet deep in the forest when that doomed column, one thousand strong, set out for the Maumee Rapids, twenty-seven miles distant. The troops, most of whom were Kentuckians, were brave and hardy, and cheerfully harnessed themselves to sledges, dragging their baggage through the deep snow. General Winchester was ordered to fortify himself at the Maumee Rapids, and wait for the arrival of the other troops. Three days after arriving at this place, on the 13th of January, 1813, while constructing huts to receive the supplies on the way and sleds for their transportation to Malden, he received an urgent request from the inhabitants of Frenchtown, on the River Raisin, to come to their assistance. Feeling the importance of fulfilling his general orders, he gave the messenger no encouragement. But another express on the next day and a third the day after, assured him that the whole settlement was threatened with massacre by the Indians, that only a small force of the enemy held possession of the place, and by a prompt answer to their prayer the ruin of all would be prevented. General Harrison called a council of officers. Colonel Allen and other gallant officers pleaded the cause of the helpless settlers, declaring that the true object of the expedition was the protection of the frontiers from the merciless Indi

appeals prevailed over the cooler and safer arguments drawn from the necessity of not damaging the success of the whole campaign by periling one of the wings of the advancing

army.

The result of this council with the officers was a determination to send troops immediately to the Raisin, thirty-five miles distant by the route they must travel. On the morning of the 17th, Colonel Lewis with 500 men started for Frenchtown, instructed to attack and rout the enemy and hold the place. These were followed a few hours later by Colonel Allen and 100 men, who joined Colonel Lewis at Presque Isle, a point on Maumee Bay a little below the present city of Toledo. There the troops passed an intensely cold night. Strong ice covered the bay and shores of Lake Erie, and over that icy bridge the little army moved early and rapidly. They breakfasted on the shores of the lake in snow several inches deep, then moved steadily forward in three lines, so arranged as to fall into order of battle with a moment's notice. They moved rapidly on the morning of the 18th, and were within six miles of Frenchtown before they were discovered by the scouts of the enemy —then about 500 strong and consisting of Canadians and Indians.

Frenchtown at this time was a settlement containing thirty-five French families, twentytwo of whom resided on the north side, and had been taken possession of by the enemy soon after Hull surrendered. At the time of the approach of Colonel Lewis and his command, it was held by two companies of Canadians, 100 in number, under Major Reynolds, and about 400 Indians led by Round-Head and Split-Log, eminent Indian chiefs. The River Raisin was frozen hard, and when Colonel Lewis reached it the enemy were on the north bank, between the residence of Mr. Dubois and where the Lake Shore Railroad bridge now is, ready to dispute the passage. They had a six-pounder, which they commenced firing diagonally down the river while Lewis and Allen were approaching the present site of the old docks. They moved steadily forward in the face of cannon and blazing musketry, and at a given signal made a furious charge upon the foe with bayonets. After a short contest with so much vigor and bravery, the Canadians and Indians of the British army were dislodged and driven in confusion to the forest on the north side of the

The

river. The enemy then formed behind fallen timber and brushwood in the forest, and a sharp encounter ensued. The battle lasted from three o'clock in the afternoon until dark, the enemy all the time falling back before the brave Kentuckians, who pursued them so heedlessly that in the darkness they fell into an ambush and lost thirteen men killed and several wounded. The exact loss in the afternoon is not known, but was supposed to be as many more. Americans returned to the Raisin, and occupied the camp abandoned by the enemy. The Indians gathered up the dead, and the allies retreated toward Malden. Colonels Lewis and Allen took possession of the quarters vacated by the British, and established guards at the picket fences and some distance from the houses in the woods. Colonel Lewis hastened to inform General Winchester of his success by one of his scouts.

Immediately after the battle of the 18th, some of the French inhabitants who had sold provisions to the British followed them, and pursued their journey to Malden to get their pay. On their return they brought word that the British were collecting in large force to the number of 3,000 to attack Frenchtown. General Winchester paid but little attention to these reports, feeling considerable confidence in his own strength, and expecting re-enforcements which would render him safe beyond a doubt before the enemy could possibly attack him. The British seemed to be aware that they must make the attack before the re-enforcements came up, if they wished to effect anything; hence they hastened their preparations.

On the 19th 200 Americans arrived, under the command of Colonel Wells, and encamped on the Reaume farm, about eighty rods east and below the other troops.

On the 20th General Winchester arrived with Colonel Madison, whose forces were stationed in the camp with those of Colonels Lewis and Allen, while General Winchester made his headquarters in the house of Colonel Francis Navarre, on the opposite side of the river, about three-fourths of a mile above the position of Colonels Lewis and Allen. The site of the headquarters of General Winchester is now occupied as the residence of Doctor A. I. Sawyer. The American forces at the time amounted to about 1,000 men.

On the morning of the 21st Peter Navarre

and his four brothers (grandsons of Robert DeNavarre, a French officer who came to America in 1749) went on a scouting expedition on the ice towards the mouth of Detroit River by Winchester's request. They saw on the ice a solitary man approaching them on the run. He proved to be Joseph Bordeau, a Frenchman who had escaped from Malden.

"My lads," said he, addressing Peter, "the Americans will be attacked by the whole Britisharmy to-night. I know it, and Colonel Proctor will be at the Raisin to-night with a large body of Indians."

General Winchester was soon apprised of the fact, but a traitorous resident of Frenchtown (who proved to have been in the British interest) by the name of Jocko Lasselle, stood by and asserted in the most postive language that it must be a mistake, and persuaded the General that there was no truth in the story. Winchester dismissed the scouts with a laugh, but made no preparation to meet the threatened danger. Another scout was in during the afternoon with intelligence confirmatory of that given by Bordeau. A number of the French residents from the rumors that reached the town also called upon the General and strove to impress upon his mind that the American forces would be attacked that night. Yet Winchester was incredulous, and retired to bed without making any efficient arrangements of sentinels or pickets to watch the approach of the enemy.

Late in the evening word was brought to Colonel Lewis's camp that a large force of British and Indians, with several pieces of artillery, were at Stony Creek, only four miles distant, and would be at Frenchtown before morning. That vigilant officer at once doubled the picket guard and sent word to General Winchester. The commander-in-chief did not believe the report, and composed himself for slumber. Lewis's field officers did believe it and remained up for some time, but they finally partook of the incredulity of their commander and retired. The small hours of the morning passed in perfect quietude, and Colonel Lewis, who had scarcely dared to slumber, began to doubt the truth of the last rumor, when suddenly just as the reveille was beaten, between four and five o'clock in the morning, the sharp crack of the sentinels' musketry firing an alarm was heard by still dull ears. These were followed by a shower of shell and canister shot, hurled from

six field pieces and mortars, accompanied by a furious charge of almost invisible British regulars and the terrible yells of savages. The sound and missiles fell upon the startled camp with appalling suddenness. The character and number of the assailants were unknown; all was darkness and mystery, and the Americans could do nothing but oppose force to force as gallantly as possible until the approach of dawn. The exposed re-enforcements in the open field had been driven in toward Captain Lewis's picketed camp.

About daylight on the morning of the 22d of January, 1813, a large force of British and Indians, under Colonel Proctor and the celebrated Indian chiefs Round-Head and Split-Log, attacked the camp of the Americans. The attack was made all along the lines, but the British forces were more particularly led against the upper camp occupied by Major Madison and Colonels Lewis and Allen, and the Indians against the lower camp occupied by Colonel Wells. The British were unsuccessful at their part of the line, where the Americans fought with great bravery and were protected to some extent by pickets, which being placed some distance from the woods afforded the Kentucky riflemen a fine opportunity to shoot the enemy down as they were advancing. An attempt was then made by the British to use a field piece just at the edge of the woods, by which they hoped to prostrate the pickets and batter down the houses; but the Kentuckians with their sharpshooters picked the men off as fast as they attempted to load it, so that they were forced to abandon the attack and suffer a repulse.

While these things were happening at the upper camp, a very different state of things existed at the lower one. The attack of the Indians was so impetuous, the position so indefensible, and the American force at that point so inadequate (consisting of only 200 men) that notwithstanding the bravery and courage of Colonel Wells and his men, it was impossible to hold the position. Colonels Lewis and Allen attempted to take a re-enforcement to the right wing to enable Colonel Wells to retreat up the river on the ice under cover of the high bank to the upper camp, but before they arrived with their re-enforcements at the lower camp, the fire of the savages had become so galling that Colonel Wells was forced to abandon his posi

tion. This he attempted to do in good order, but as soon as his men began to give way, the Indians redoubled their unearthly yells and the impetuosity of their attack, so that the retreat speedily became a rout. In this condition they were met by Colonel Allen, who made every effort in his power to call them to order and lead them into safety in the upper camp; but notwithstanding the heroic efforts of Colonel Allen and his earnest protestations and commands, they continued their disorderly flight, and from some unexplained and unaccountable reason, but probably on account of an irretrievable panic caused by the terrible cries and warwhoops of the savages, instead of continuing up the river to the upper camp, they fled diagonally across the river, up to the Hull road (so called) which led to Maumee, and attempted to escape to Ohio.

Then the flight became a carnage. The Indians, seeing the disorder of the Americans, who thought of nothing save running for their lives and escaping the tomahawks of the savages, having warriors posted all along the woods which lined or were within a short distance of the river, now raised the cry that the Americans were flying, which cry was echoed by thousands of warriors, who all rushed to the spot and outstripped the fleeing soldiers. Some followed them closely in their tracks and brained them. with their tomahawks from behind; some posted themselves on both sides of the narrow road and shot them down as they were passing; finally some of the savages got in advance and headed them off at Plumb Creek, a small stream about a mile from the River Raisin. Here the panic-stricken soldiers, who had thrown away most of their arms to facilitate their flight, huddled together like sheep, with the brutal foe on all sides, were slaughtered; and so closely were they hemmed in that after the battle forty dead bodies were found lying scalped and plundered in a space two rods square. The savages tore the scalps from their heads and carried them in triumph to Malden to receive the prizes promised by the British Government.

While these bloody scenes were in progress on the south side of the Raisin, the remainder of the troops under Graves and Madison were manfully defending themselves in their camp. The British had planted a howitzer within 200 yards of the camp, behind a small house on the road to Detroit, but it was soon silenced by

the Kentucky sharpshooters behind the stout pickets. The conflict was maintained until about ten o'clock, when Proctor withdrew his troops to the woods with the intention of either abandoning the conflict or awaiting the return of the savages from the feast of blood beyond the Raisin. Navarre and his brothers had taken possession of an old horse-mill a short distance from the camp, where they continued to do good service with their rifles during the engagement. After the withdrawal of Proctor's troops, the Americans quietly breakfasted, and while eating, a white flag was seen approaching. Major Madison, supposing it was a flag of truce to enable the British to bury their dead, went out to meet it, when to his astonishment and mortification he found it borne by one of Winchester's staff, accompanied by Proctor, with an order from Winchester for the unconditional surrender of all the troops as prisoners of war. The gallant Madison refused to obey the order for surrender. Winchester then went to Madison in charge of an Indian and told him that his own life and the safety of the army depended upon his prompt and unconditional surrender. Madison again declined, but finally agreed to surrender upon the condition that all private property should be respected; that sleds should be provided next morning to remove the sick and wounded to Malden; that in the meantime they should be protected by a guard; and that their side-arms should be restored to them on their arrival at Malden, to which Colonel Proctor agreed. Madison trusted to his promises, but the word had scarcely been passed to the foe, before the Indians began plundering. Proctor forfeited his word, abandoned the wounded prisoners, and left them to be murdered by the bloody savages.

General Winchester, impressed with the belief that an attack would not be made, had retired the night before without having made any arrangements for safety or dispatch in case of an attack. Colonel Francis Navarre from the bottom of the stairs, with his stentorian voice aroused General Winchester and his aids, urging them to make all possible haste, as the enemy were upon them, for the firing was distinctly heard. The General and his aids were greatly confused by being thus awakened from a sound sleep, all clamoring for their horses, which were in Colonel Na

varre's stable, and the servants scarcely awake enough to realize their situation or equip them with dispatch. The luckless commander became very impatient to join his forces, threequarters of a mile distant, and to gratify his desire, Colonel Navarre offered his best and fleetest horse, which had been kept saddled all night, as Navarre, in common with the French inhabitants, expected an attack before morning. On this horse he started for the camp, but on the way finding that a large number of his troops were then fleeing on the Hull road, he followed after them to rally them and if possible to regain the day. On his way he was taken prisoner by an Indian said to have been Jack Brandy, who knew by his clothing that he was an officer and therefore spared his life, but stripped him of his clothes and nearly frozen brought him to Colonel Proctor. Colonel Proctor persuaded the Indian to deliver the General into his hands.

With General Winchester as his prisoner, Colonel Proctor felt that he could dictate terms to that portion of the troops under command of Major Madison in the upper camp, who had thus far made a successful resistance.

Colonel Allen was also taken prisoner about the same time. He had behaved with extraordinary courage during the whole action in striving to rally his men, although wounded in the thigh. He was finally killed by an Indian while held a prisoner.

On the morning of the 23d of January, 1813, the General and prisoners started for Malden, not, however, until the Indians had violated the first article of the agreement, by plundering the settlement. But finally all departed except the sick and wounded American soldiers, who were left in the two houses of the upper camp to await the coming of the sleds on the morrow. Only two or three British soldiers were left in charge of them, a neglect which was shameful and criminal on the part of Proctor. The last and most disgraceful scene in this bloody tragedy was yet to be enacted. The sleds that were to take the illfated sufferers to Malden never came. In their stead came the next morning three hundred Indians painted black and red, determined on massacring the wounded American prisoners in revenge for the loss the day before. The slaughter soon commenced in earnest. Breaking into the houses where the Americans were,

they first plundered and then tomahawked them. The houses were set on fire, and those within were consumed; if any attempted to crawl out of the doors or windows, they were wounded with the tomahawks and pushed back with bayonets into the flames; those that happened to be outside were stricken down, and their bleeding and dying bodies were thrown into the burning dwellings. Major Woolfolk, the secretary of General Winchester, was killed in the massacre.

Thus perished in cold blood many of Kentucky's noblest heroes. Their death filled with sorrow many homes south of the Ohio. But little is known of the private history of those brave spirits who traversed a wilderness of several hundred miles and gave up their lives for their country-who died, alone, wounded, and unprotected, in a settlement far from the abode of civilization. Their memory should be preserved so long as the massacre of the River Raisin is remembered among men.

Never should Americans forget the heartless and diabolical policy adopted by England in enlisting in her cause the reckless animosity of the aborigines, without restraining their ruthless spirit. Colonel Proctor richly deserves the lasting condemnation of history for leaving his wounded prisoners to the mercy of infuriated and intoxicated savages.

But few of the killed were ever buried; their bones lay bleaching in the sun for years. Five years after, on July 4, 1818, a company of men under the charge of Colonel John Anderson, of Monroe, went to the battle grounds and collected a large quantity of the bones and skulls (it was noticed that all the skulls showed marks of the tomahawk), and they were buried with appropriate ceremonies in the old graveyard on the west side of Monroe street, between Front street and First street, in the now city of Monroe. Two years after, however, it was not uncommon to find a skull fractured by the fatal tomahawk, hidden away in some clump of bushes, where the dogs and wild beasts had dragged the bodies to devour their flesh.

The collection of the bones of the massacred Kentuckians which occurred July 4, 1818, was in compliance with measures taken by a publicspirited meeting at which General Lewis Cass presided, held in Detroit the 22d of June, at which time a committee was appointed for the purpose. On the 8th of August, 1818, the re

mains were exhumed, and under the escort, of the committee were removed to Detroit and buried in the Protestant burying ground, with military honors, and accompanied by a large concourse of citizens to their new resting-place.

Early in 1834 the boxes containing the remains were removed to the city cemetery on Clinton street, in the city of Detroit, and in September, 1834, they were again removed by Colonel Brooks, who carried them, with other skulls and bones collected in Monroe, to Frankfort, Kentucky, where they were received by an immense concourse of Kentuckians, and the venerated remains were deposited with appropriate ceremonies in the State Cemetery of Kentucky. The inscription on the boxes containing the remains was, "Kentucky's Gallant Dead, January 18, 1813, River Raisin, Michigan."

It is a well-attested fact that early on the morning after the surrender a council was held by the Indian chiefs, when it was determined to kill, tomahawk and scalp, in revenge for their losses, all prisoners who were unable to march; that Colonel Proctor, after providing for the removal of the wounded of his own army to Malden, did not in accordance with his positive assurances provide (with few exceptions) for the removal of prisoners captured ; that the prisoners were marched through snow nearly two feet in depth, and as fast as their strength gave out were tomahawked by the Indians. At Sandy Creek, three miles north of the River Raisin, the British army encamped the first night, and a large number of bodies of the captives were found tomahawked and without scalps. Quite a number of those that were able to walk were taken by the Indians to Detroit; those that gave out were tomahawked, their scalps taken, and left to die; while many that endured the march were hawked about the streets of Detroit, and sold or ransomed at prices varying from $10 to $100—for any price that exceeded the value of a scalp. Indians, for weeks after the massacre, came into Detroit with prisoners, from whom they were in many instances ransomed by citizens of Detroit.

Medard Couture, the father of Samuel Couture, now of California, and son of Mrs. James Knaggs, formerly Mrs. Couture, is well remembered by many of our residents, and died at Monroe. He, with Doctors Bower and Hunter,